The Off Season (12 page)

It was so much worse than anything I could have imagined. Brian and I talked to those guys for hours, we were so nice to them, I even made them coffee, and this was how they repaid us? By making us sound like lovebirds? "We're good at celebrating"—jeez, Mom already assumed we were fooling around. Who knows what she'd think now. What everyone in town would think.

I heard a crunching noise and all of a sudden Dad was looking down at me.

"You okay, sport?" he asked. I hadn't even realized I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky without seeing a thing.

"Yeah," I said. I didn't have the energy to move. Then all of sudden I moved really fast but it was too late because Dad can move pretty fast too, especially for an old guy with a fake hip, and he snatched that
People
up and before I even knew it, opened to my article.

"Give that back!" I shouted, but Dad held me off with one hand while he kept reading, and then I put everything I had into grabbing it but Dad still has some fight in him from all those years of semi-pro army, and I just gave up and went inside because I could not stand watching him read it.

"Where've you been?" Mom called, but I didn't even bother to answer, just raced into the bathroom, Dad behind me already roaring with laughter, and I shut the door and knelt down on the linoleum because I wasn't just feeling sick anymore. I was really puking.

I
LAY THERE FOR SOME TIME
, thinking I could just stay in the bathroom forever, with a hole in the door for food, maybe. I didn't need to see anyone.

That linoleum, though, wasn't the best place in the world to be, and not just because it's really beat up and chilly and kind of cramped but also because in a family with three boys, well, there's a bit of an odor issue. Plus I could hear Dad laughing, and Mom making noises like she at least wouldn't laugh, and finally Dad knocked and asked me to come on out.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because your mom can't stand here talking to you."

I slumped out into the living room.

"It's a good article," Mom said from the floor, holding the magazine. "You sound like a good person."

"I sound like—do you know what kind of grief I'm going to get?"

"They're just jealous," Dad chipped in.

"Oh, sure, they all want to 'celebrate' with Brian Nelson. Plus we have
plumbing
—why did you have to say that?"

"It was part of the conversation. It doesn't sound that bad."

"He didn't even mention milk prices," Dad chipped in again. "We talked probably fifteen minutes. You think he'd say something."

We both glared at him.

"What?" he asked.

Right then the phone rang. Mom answered since it was lying right there on her belly, and from the way her face lit up, I knew it had to be Win or Bill.

Sure enough. Mom handed it to me. "Bill wants to talk to you."

You could hear him from across the room. "Hey there, you gifted athlete, when you gonna celebrate with me?"

"Shut up," I said.

"Aaron bought three copies. He wants to know what you're doing with that skinny white boy when you could have a real man."

"Why didn't you tell me you talked to that reporter!"

"Aw, I talk to guys all the time. It was no big deal—"

I handed the phone back to Mom. If Bill had the magazine, if his roommate Aaron had three copies, that meant it was everywhere. I was dead.

My cell phone started ringing: Amber.

Oh jeez, I'd totally forgotten to call her back. And she was leaving town. There's no way she'd seen
People,
not yet, because she'd have mentioned it no matter how bad that fight with her mom was.

I had to get out of there. Off that stupid farm. I grabbed the Caravan keys, and the
People
right out of Mom's hands, and I guess she was too surprised, or smart, to stop me. I flipped the phone on. "Where are you?" I asked, already out the door.

When I pulled into McDonald's, I could see Amber and Dale sitting inside. They waved to me, but there was no way I was going into that building. Not unless it was guaranteed empty of people, which of course a McDonald's isn't—that's the whole point. Instead I just pointed to Dale's pickup and stood by the cab, my back to all those windows, and waited for them to come out.

Amber gave me a big hug. "Hey, I'll see you soon..." she said, misunderstanding.

I just shook my head and handed her
People.
If there was one person in the world I could talk to about this, it'd be Amber. That is, if she didn't blow me off.

"Hey, no sling," Dale said, giving me a thumbs-up. She got me settled in the cab and handed me food and stuff, a vanilla milk shake, which is my favorite, and generally just acted calm and nice while Amber read the article. Every once in a while Ambler's lips would move but she didn't say a word, just kept an
f
sound going like a hiss.

"Is this true?" Amber asked finally, handing it to Dale, and all I could do was nod. I had to shut my eyes because I couldn't bear looking at her.

"That's quite a picture," said Dale.

"When did this happen?" Amber asked.

"A while ago. These guys came by, I thought they were farmers—"

"Turkey farmers," said Dale. She handed me the Post-it. "Nice note."

Which I hadn't even read. It was a nice note—I mean, the guy was trying. He said that he hoped I enjoyed the article, and his editors agreed that Brian was the most interesting part of the story. And that I could get copies of the pictures if I wanted.

Like that would ever happen.

"Why didn't you
tell
me?" Amber asked.

"He said it might not even run, and then it didn't—"

"Tell me about Brian! I mean, is this true? Were you seeing him all summer ?"

"I don't know! We're friends, we're just—"

"Yeah, 'friends.'" Amber sniffed. "It's gross."

"Aw, come on," Dale said, studying the pickup photo. "He's pretty cute for a guy."

"He's from
Hawley
" Amber said.

"Worse things have happened. So what are you two crazy cats doing, anyway?" Dale grinned at me, and I blushed deep red. But at least I didn't throw up. It felt kind of good, actually. Like we were just girls talking about our boyfriends. Well, with a couple differences.

"He is kind of cute," Amber admitted.

"So are you...?" Dale pressed me.

I laughed—I actually laughed. "A, it's none of your business, B, no, and C, what would you know about it, anyway?"

"Ooh, that's cold," Dale said, laughing. "You'd be surprised what I know."

"Yeah," said Amber, treating this like a big opening, big enough for her anyway, to change the subject to
their
news of how the two of them were asleep—really asleep, not anything else—in Amber's bed, which is just a twin even though she's so big, but her room's too small for anything else, and they were sleeping as close together as two people who are in a twin bed and also dating and also not wearing very much could possibly sleep, and Lori came in to check on Amber, which is extremely unusual because she's not so big on the whole mothering thing, and saw them. And flipped.

Which was bad enough, but the problem was that even though Amber was used to Lori flipping out, Dale wasn't, and she took offense at some of the things Lori was saying, and came right back with how it was pretty disgusting that Lori would go out with just about any guy including the assistant bank manager until his wife found out and walked him up to Lori's front door at eleven o'clock at night and made him break up with her, which says something about the kind of guy Lori picks, and maybe if she wasn't so busy chasing every wimp in Red Bend, she'd notice that Amber and Dale were totally in love.

That's
when Lori kicked Amber out.

Although the story took a lot longer than that, and involved Amber going back for another round of milk shakes plus a Happy Meal because we all love those things although the toy wasn't very good. Sometimes they are but not this time. It didn't even move or glow in the dark. All their talking even made me forget my problems for a while. Then all of a sudden I caught sight of a big bag of Amber's clothes.

"You guys aren't
really
taking off, are you?"

"I hate this town," Amber said. "And Dale's got a job outside St. Paul."

"Just some catering work," Dale explained.

"And I can work checkout anywhere," Amber added, which I guess she would know.

"Where are you going to live? In
this?
"

"Heck, yeah. The couple I bought it from lived in it for two years, traveled all over the country. They had a YMCA membership—that's where they'd shower."

Which was an image, all right. "What about school?"

Amber shrugged. "Who cares?"

"I care," said Dale. "You're getting that diploma." She sounded a bit like Dad when she said this, to tell you the truth. Like there was no point in even thinking about arguing. Then she went back in for a couple pies.

Amber and I sat there. All I could think was how lucky she was. Sure, her mom had kicked her out, but at least she was going places. Without a huge stupid article about her in a magazine that everyone in the world reads. "There's no point even going to school if you're not there."

"Hey baby, wish you could come with us," she offered in her Bob voice.

I shook my head, too sad to even smile. I'd be some kind of third wheel in that little camper. Besides, I had Mom. "Wish you could stay," I said back, talking normally. "You're my best friend."

"You too." She gave me a big hug. We both got a little teary to tell you the truth. And Dale came back with a pie just for me, and I hugged her as well, and they drove off into the sunset. Really. They were heading west.

I on the other hand headed back home because there wasn't a single other thing to do. I thought about calling Brian, but it was probably too late to warn him. Besides, I wasn't sure how to explain. I chewed on this the whole drive back, and then just as I turned onto the last road to our farm there was a squeal of brakes and gravel shooting everywhere, and Brian pulled up in front of me.

I'd never seen him so upset. I wanted to hug him or something just to calm him down, but he was pacing too much.

"Did you see it—that article? You've seen it, haven't you?" He rubbed his face like he wanted to wipe the whole experience away. "Jesus, D.J. It's illegal, you know, to print that. It's false representation or something. We can sue. We're gonna sue them for a million dollars."

"Brian—"

"What was school like for you today? Because I just finished the worst football practice
ever.
I almost got beat up!"

"Brian, those two guys, those turkey farmer guys—"

He shook me, staring into my eyes. "It
was
them! I knew it. We are going to sue their butts. They never even told us, just walked around pretending—"

"Yeah, they did," I whispered.

Brian let go of me. "No, they didn't."

"After you left. They'd called but Curtis didn't believe them—"

"You knew?" Brian asked, and all that distress in his face melted into anger. "You never told me? You never warned me—"

"I was going to, but then it didn't come out, I didn't think it would—"

"You didn't
think?
About
me?
Do you have any idea—any clue—how screwed I am?"

You might recall I don't think so fast when I'm being yelled at. All I could do was nod.

Brian opened his mouth to say something else—a bunch more things, it looked like. But then I guess he changed his mind. Instead he just shook his head. "Why do you always do this to me?" he asked, his voice cracking almost, he sounded so upset.

Still shaking his head, he walked back to his Cherokee. He climbed in like an old man, like Dad would, and drove off without looking back at me once. I stood there all alone on that dirt road, nothing but trees in the distance, and empty cornfields edged in barbed wire, and the ditch tangled withdead brown weeds.

O
H, I WAS UPSET
. It hurt as much as when I'd separated my shoulder. I stood there for a long while, my mind too jumbled to process anything but pain, and then the wind started cutting through me and I climbed into the Caravan feeling like an old lady myself, and drove home.

I sure didn't feel like going inside, though. The very last thing in the world I needed was Mom and Dad. Instead, without even really thinking I headed up the hill, Smut racing out to keep me company, the only company I wanted.

We walked for a long while until I ended up by the hay field—the field Brian had helped me hay last summer when we were first working together and hated each other so much. I sat under a tree on the far side from the wind, and Smut lay her head on my knee and watched me, her eyebrows seesawing up and down, she was so worried.

Why do you always do this to me?
I knew exactly what he was talking about. Why did I always keep secrets—only they weren't secrets. I never meant to lie to Brian; he's the last person in the world I'd want to lie to. But I didn't tell him things that I should, things that affected his life a lot. I just wimped out like everyone else in my family: oh, that might make me look bad, I might have to apologize, I'll just not say anything and see what happens. That's what happened last summer. I'd spent weeks training so I could try out for the football team, doing this at the same time I was training Brian to QB Hawley. And because I was nervous that I wouldn't make the team, and scared Brian might laugh at me, I never told him. So instead he found out in the worst possible way with all his friends around him, and all my friends making fun of him and bragging about how good I was.

That's why we hadn't spoken to each other for a couple weeks last August, and if it hadn't been for Jimmy Ott, we still wouldn't be speaking, maybe. But Jimmy made Brian come and talk to me, and Brian was brave enough to do it because he's so good at bringing up uncomfortable subjects and somehow making them okay. And I'd promised myself that I'd really work on talking more, talking about uncomfortable things, because I could see from Brian how well things could work out if you did, and from that big fight between Dad and my brothers how bad it could get if you didn't. I'd promised myself to be brave, the way Brian was.