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Ryder woke before dawn.
The sky above the mountains was starlit. Snowflakes fluttered through the barn’s spotlight. A dark figure moved across the horseshoe with a limp and disappeared in the glare. Ryder waited, but the person didn’t return.
Bradley Cooper dropped off the ceiling with a mechanical click. The green eye cast an eerie glow and followed him into the hallway. The board was lit up.
GAME ON!
Chores were limited to breakfast. Free time was a larger block than usual, and there was something new on the board.
Introspection. Arf’s name was under it.
A bedroom door opened and the sounds of a flute flowed out. A square mat was on the floor with a round pillow. A candle flickered. Cherry abruptly stopped in the doorway, a towel over her shoulder. Her hair was damp, her forehead sweaty, and her eyes were oversized in the dim light. She was staring like she’d been caught doing something. Ryder broke the awkward silence.
“What’s introspection?”
She stared a moment longer then closed the door.
Maybe she needed to change clothes or wasn’t done exercising. He waited a minute longer and the flute played through an entire song. When it started up again, he went back to his room and gathered a change of clothes.
The shower room was divided into cubicles. The sinks were lined up below a long mirror spotted with toothpaste. Music filled the hallway when he was finished.
Soup was in bed with his laptop. Arf was still snoring. Ryder sat on his bed and thought about lying down, but thoughts of the day nibbled at his attention like field mice. Game on.
“How do you sleep?” Ryder said.
“What?”
Ryder repeated the question. Arf had kicked his breathing into a higher gear.
“I turn my ears off.” Soup tapped the disc on his head. “You think this was headphones?”
“You’re deaf?”
“Not anymore.” A cochlear implant, he explained. It took some time getting used to, but it brought his hearing back.
“And you were thankful for socks.”
“I thank him every year for the ears, thought I’d mix it up. And I am thankful for socks. Don’t forget the little things, bo.”
He went back to the stream. Ryder didn’t want to see it. The less he saw of himself, the better he would feel.
“What’s introspection?”
“Why?” Soup sat up. “Am I scheduled?”
“No. Arf is. What is it?”
He flopped back on the bed. “Oh, man. Never mind that.”
“Pretty much what Cherry said.”
“You talked to her?”
“Sort of. I said, ‘What’s introspection?’ and she closed the door.”
“Huh.” He paused the stream and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully, then rolled over and pointed at him. “She’s into you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Did she look at you?”
“What?”
“Did she look at you, like right at you?”
Ryder had surprised her. They’d stared at each other for like five seconds before he said something, and then she’d closed the door and never came back out. So yeah, she’d looked at him.
“It was an accident,” Ryder said.
“But she still looked at you. You said like five seconds, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“She’s into you, man,” Soup said. “Trust me.”
Ryder could feel his birthmark glowing. He didn’t want to tell him that it was more than a surprise. She had been doing something in her room. Maybe it was just exercise, but she looked like she’d been running and was more than a little guilty about it.
Ryder pried the blinds apart while his laptop booted. A hazy morning settled on the snow. The producers were already in the horseshoe. He hadn’t seen Mindy since the first day. They were here for the big game, the most popular episode of the year.
Game on.
Reluctantly, he opened the stream. He couldn’t just sit there and think about what was going to happen. And he was the only one who knew next to nothing about what was going on. He fast-forwarded through the opening—the flyover of the U-shaped building, the horse barn and pastures and endless trees.
There was a quick scene of a nicy argument. Peter had grabbed the clothes washer even though Erica was waiting for it. They actually raised their voices. Ryder watched the whole thing.
Most of the action was in the naughty wing, where Jamby, an overweight math prodigy with an annoying habit of counting the letters in words, was caught picking his nose. He studied the end of his finger before popping it in his mouth.
“Does it all the time.” Soup was watching Ryder’s stream.
Ryder couldn’t recall if he’d picked his nose since arriving. He’d definitely farted, but it hadn’t made it to the stream. Maybe Bradley Cooper did him a solid. He’d die if he was caught mining for nose gold. Jamby didn’t seem to care.
Jane and John began their narration in the interview room.
“This is my favorite time of year,” Jane said.
“What?” John said.
“Well, Christmas is my favorite, obviously, but you know what I mean. It’s the anticipation. Everything is about to happen. We only have so many holidays to celebrate. It’s all in front of us. It’s not like we can start over and do it again.”
They laughed a little too long. They were always sharing a secret and never let anyone in on it. Even the nicies didn’t know what they were laughing about half the time.
“They’re in charge,” Ryder muttered.
“Mmm,” Soup half-agreed.
Ryder had been at Kringletown almost a month, and it was clear they were running things. They’d interviewed him. The producers talked to them. This was supposed to be Billy Big Game’s show. It was his ranch, but everything went through Sweet Jane and Jocko John. Ryder hadn’t even seen BG yet.
Not in person.
There were segments of him trekking the North Pole and photos in the office. The hologram in the library could’ve been animated. This was all for show, just one big semi-serious boardinghouse that made millions in the stream. They didn’t really need BG.
“He’s not real,” Ryder said.
“What?” Soup said.
Ryder was surprised by the sudden answer. Soup’s eyes pinned him in crosshairs. Ryder wasn’t sure what he said. Soup leaped off the top bunk and closed the blinds. He looked in the hall and closed the door gently. He shouted at Arf, telling him to strip down to his boxers. The big boy rolled over and snored.
Soup took off his pajamas.
His skin was white as snow and thinly stretched over his ribs. He crossed his pointy arms, already shivering, and had second thoughts about whatever he was thinking. He put his shirt back on then rummaged through his junk drawer. Pen and paper in hand, he tore the blanket off his bed and draped it over his head.
“Come on.” Ryder shook his head, but Soup nodded aggressively. “Get in, man.”
“Uh—”
“Just for a second.”
Ryder reluctantly peered in. Soup threw the blanket over him. He could feel the drones orbiting around them. There was just enough light to see the pad of paper. Soup scribbled giant letters and held it up.
Ryder squinted. “BG isn’t—”
“Stop. Just...” Soup frowned. “I’m writing for a reason.”
Ryder read the message silently so the room wouldn’t hear. Short of stripping down to their boxers, which was guaranteed not to get them on a stream but not necessarily from being heard, this was the only way to tell a secret.
BG isn’t real, his message said.
“You’ve never seen him either?” Ryder said.
“What? No.” He shook his head and started writing again. None of them are real.
“Who?”
“The nicies,” Soup whispered.
“I don’t get it.”
“They’re not right. Too nice, know what I’m saying?”
Ryder didn’t know how to answer that. But there was something going on right in front of them and they weren’t seeing it. The entire world wasn’t seeing it. And it wasn’t just the way Jane and John laughed or BG having an excuse not to be there in person.
It’s like the secret is out in the open.
“What should we do?” Ryder said.
Soup shrugged. That was all he had. Something wasn’t right and that was it. He was no help. In fact, he was making Ryder more nervous.
It was hot and suffocating. Soup threw the cover off and wadded up the papers. The snoring had stopped. Arf was looking over his shoulder.
“What?” Soup said. “We’re playing fort. Not like you can fit in here.”
Arf dropped his man-sized feet on the floor and yawned like an elephant. His hair stood like hay. He grabbed a towel. A sock fight had broken out in the hall. Soup scooped a handful of sock rolls out of the hall and fired them like snowballs.
“You ready for the big game?” Soup screamed at Ryder. “You jacked? Huh? I know I am.” He shouted down the hall, “N-A-U!”
“G-H-T!” someone answered.
They did this several times. Ryder didn’t want to point out they were spelling it wrong. The naughties didn’t stand a chance anyway, but winning really wasn’t the point. That was how Ryder had come to see everything at Kringletown. Everything had a secret purpose.
Even a stupid game of football.
***
The tables were dusted with snow. Boxes were filled with red flags. The producers were carrying clipboards in thick mittens, their breath streaming through wool scarves.
Jane and John wore black cleats and long-sleeved jerseys with numbers on the back. A yellow belt was cinched around their waists, flags dangling from their hips.
Team Nicy.
The naughties dressed like it was just another day, like they’d rolled out of bed and came outside. Only half of them had flags around their waists. Soup had them around his head. Instead of practicing, they were having a snowball fight.
Arf leaned against the building.
He had never come to lunch. They’d waited for him to come back from introspection, but he’d met them in the horseshoe. He hadn’t said much since then, mostly staring at the ground.
“You all right?” Ryder asked.
He nodded, kicking at the snow. His shoulders were slumped a little more than usual. It was cold; maybe that was it. The sky was a gray sheet, the sun a dull disc rising from the mountains. Drones circled like turkey buzzards. A small plane was silently crossing the gray sky. It was the first one he’d seen. He had been told this was restricted airspace, that nothing was supposed to fly over Kringletown, for proprietary reasons. No one got to cash in on the stream without BG getting his cut.
“Ryder!” Mindy was calling from the tables. “Ryder!”
“I think she wants you,” Arf said.
The producers were gathered like penguins, their noses bright red. Mindy hopped through the snow, clapping as he approached, like a mother watching a toddler take his first steps.
“How are you?” she sang. She knew exactly how he was doing. “You look great, you really do. These are fun times, right? Are you excited?”
He offered his best shrug.
“It’s an annual event, you know that, right? A big deal at Kringletown, bragging rights to the winner for a whole year. You’ve seen the big game from last year, right?”
He was tired of explaining that, no, he’d never seen the stream before coming there and, no, he hadn’t watched anything from the archive.
Mindy hugged the trophy. It was taller than her. The nameplate was engraved with past winners. Team Nicy was stamped on it fifteen times. Since the game was invented.
The year I was born.
“Have you ever played?” she asked.
Ryder shook his head. He was forced to watch it at one of his foster homes every Sunday. It had been dumb then too.
“Don’t worry.” She put her arm around him. “It’s nothing extreme. It’s fun, you know. A way to get to know your family, challenge each other, and develop teamwork. Most of them have never played either, so you’ll blend right in. Just have fun, okay? Like you’ve been doing.”
Fun? What stream is she watching?
“By the way, you’re one of the captains.”
“What?” His insides suddenly chilled. “I don’t—”
“It’s no big deal. Just join the others for the coin flip. They’ll tell you what to do. We just want your handsome face.” She grabbed his chin. “Go, have fun.”
He didn’t want to hear the word fun ever again.
A small group was waiting in the middle of the horseshoe. Soup was one of them. He was making a snow angel. Mindy walked with Ryder. He really wished she wouldn’t.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
Jane and John were there and another nicy named Kraig. Kraig—spelled with a K, he reminded everyone—was the only nicy close to Arf’s size, but beneath that sweatshirt was solid muscle. Arf was just mass.
“Yeah,” Kraig with a K said. “Good luck.”
They shook hands and pretended to introduce each other. Soup insisted they high-five. None of the nicies went along with it. Bryant was the only naughty who had any idea how to play the game. He was lanky with a protruding Adam’s apple. His eyes were always a bit too relaxed.
“Good luck, Campbell,” Kraig said.
“That’s not my name,” Soup deadpanned.
Kraig let a dark smile creep under his nose. “Yeah. It is.”
“That’s not my name.”
“Okay, Campbell.”
Soup threw snow in his face and charged. Kraig caught him in a headlock and barely moved, laughing as he spun around. Soup threw swings that just bounced. John wrapped his arm around Kraig. Soup’s face was blotchy and bright. Kraig laughed hard and loud.
“All right, all right.” Jane got between them. “He’s just getting under your skin, Soup.”
“That’s not my name!” Soup pointed. “Say it! Make him say it!”
Kraig threw up his arms in surrender. It was only after John muttered in his ear did he say it. “Sorry.”
“That’s not my name, say it.” Spittle bubbled in the corners of his mouth.
“But—”
John stopped him.
After another quiet conversation, Kraig said, “Okay. That’s not your name.”
Soup walked off. Jane went with him, but he shrugged her off. Kraig was muttering back to John. Ryder heard him say, “That’s his name.”
“Just go with it,” John said.
When Soup came back, his cheeks were pink, but he’d calmed down. He stared bullets through Kraig. There was a long pause before Kraig offered a hand. John and Jane brokered peace with a brief handshake. Soup wiped his hand on his pants afterwards.
“We’re flipping a coin,” John said, “to see who gets the ball—”
A chopping sound echoed in the distance and quickly got louder. Everyone turned toward the mountain. Something soared toward them.
“You all right?” Ryder asked.
Soup ignored him. They watched a black helicopter approach. It landed far from the horseshoe. Snow scattered beneath it as the reflective door opened. A big man climbed out and cupped his hands.
“Not without me, you’re not!”
It was followed by cheers and an avalanche of nicies. They raced toward the heroic figure with an enormous black dog at his side. He greeted them with hugs. The naughties were out there too, they just didn’t beat the nicies to fresh hugs and hearty handshakes.
“I thought he was on the North Pole?” Ryder said.
“That’s what he wants you to think.” Soup pointed at the mountain. “Most of the time he’s over there.”
“Where?”
“Other side of the mountain.”
“Why?”
Soup shrugged. “Why does he do anything?”
Billy Big Game allowed the drones to capture his confidence from every angle. His eyes were firmly aimed at Ryder, a visual harpoon that stuck him in place, and he marched toward them. His cologne arrived first. Ryder held out his hand.
“I don’t know what they told you about family...” He grabbed Ryder’s coat and crushed him.
So he is real.
Billy Big Game wasn’t an animated hologram. He was an overperfumed lumberjack who laughed while he squeezed him until he couldn’t breathe.
“Let me get a look.” Billy Big Game was a little misty. “I’ve been watching you, son. Welcome home.”
He hugged him again. Judging by the awkward silence, this didn’t usually happen. Ryder wished he’d watched the stream to know if this was normal. The dog sat obediently at his feet, eyes never leaving BG. The teams gathered around. There was no escape.
“Back up.” The dog went to the exact spot where he was pointing.
“I’ve waited a long time for this day,” he muttered.
“What day?” Ryder said.
He shook his head. It was like he was talking to someone else, his eyes slightly unfocused. Ryder tried to pull away, but he held him firmly. The drones captured what Ryder assumed would be all over the morning’s stream.
He was so wrong.
“Hold out your hand.” When Ryder didn’t do it, BG grabbed his hand. “It’s him, Figgy. Come say hello.”
The dog got up and smelled Ryder’s hand then licked it. BG looked like he was about to weep. He scrubbed the dog’s ears and began laughing then stood up and did it again, only this time it sounded like Christmas.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
And then everyone cheered right on cue. The awkwardness dissolved into a less awkward moment of rehearsed laughter and sitcom comradery.
“I have a feeling about this year.” BG took the coin from one of the producers. “This might be the year of the naughties.”
Boos cascaded from the nicies.
Was he doing this for the stream? Ryder hadn’t done anything to deserve this. In fact, everywhere he’d gone had ended in disaster. Why was BG acting like he was a saint?
“Call it!” The coin tumbled high into the air, the dull sunlight glinting off the edges. Bryant elbowed Ryder.
“Heads,” Ryder called just before it landed in the snow with a dull thump.
BG leaned over. “Heads!”
The naughties cheered, sort of. The nicies booed. It was like the intergalactic World Series of coin flipping had been decided. Everyone returned to their sidelines. What just happened?
Ryder was happy it was over. He was already guaranteed a starring role in the next morning’s stream. Now to engage his disappearing powers. Cherry was leaning against the building. He found a spot near her.
BG was on the opposite sideline, log-sized arms crossed over his chest. The dog was at his side. Ryder felt like they were looking at him.
“Good girls and boys,” Cherry said, “do what I tell them.”
She was looking at BG and his dog.
“Ryder!”
Bryant waved from the middle of the field. Ryder waved back.
“I think he wants you,” Cherry said.
Ryder didn’t budge. The game was about to start. He was just being friendly. The naughties came for him. They pried him off the wall.
“Stop,” he said quietly, hoping Bradley Cooper wasn’t recording.
They didn’t stop. Unless he went limp like a five-year-old, he had no choice but to go. He trotted out to cheers from the naughties, all because they didn’t want to be out there. Ryder joined the huddle.
“Here we go.” Bryant told everyone what to do. He diagramed a play in the snow that made no sense. “Ready, break!”
Ryder followed everyone to the football. Bryant pulled him back and whispered, telling him where to stand. “Just run,” he said. “Straight.”
I can do that. I can run.
Jane followed him to the sidelines. Her hair was tied back. She looked serious and, honestly, a little intimidating. It was the mouthpiece that scared him a little. Crouched, hands up, she didn’t take her eyes off him as Bryant shouted nonsense. The ball was hiked.
Ryder hit the ground.
Jane stood over him, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring. He didn’t even see it happen. He was supposed to run and she’d driven him into the snow. The little plane was still soaring in the gray sky above her, a black speck far above.
I thought there wasn’t supposed to be planes, he thought.
“That’s it, Janie!” Kraig barked.
The football was moved back. Bryant called another play; this one he said was a screen. It didn’t change what Ryder was doing.
“Run,” Bryant said. “That way.”
They went backwards again. When the play was over, Arf was standing over one of the nicies. No one could get past him, but it didn’t matter. There were too many of them. Jane didn’t knock Ryder down, but he couldn’t get around her. She had chopped her feet and hand-checked him until the whistle blew. She was surprisingly strong. And the way she was frowning made him uneasy.
One more play.
Just get this one over with and he could double-down on his invisibility powers. Bryant drew a play. They had to go thirty yards for a first down. Ryder didn’t know what that meant, but thirty yards was a long ways. And they had been going in the wrong direction, so this was almost over.
Jane was standing far away this time. She was watching Bryant when the ball was hiked. Ryder did what he was told. He started running. Jane turned to run with him.
She couldn’t keep up.
Ryder flew past her and the guy behind her. There was a sudden cheer, and he turned around in time to see a big brown object spinning toward him.
It thumped into his stomach.
Ryder cradled the football. He didn’t so much catch it as it stuck in his arms. He didn’t slow down. His feet kept moving. The wind was in his ears as the cheers pushed him forward. He went past the orange cones and kept going. The nicies had stopped.
The naughties were chasing him now.
It wasn’t just the team on the field but everyone on the sidelines, too. They buried him in a dogpile of bodies, smacking his back, grabbing his hair, and screaming his name. He didn’t know how this worked, but it couldn’t be the end of the game. Arf picked him up and spun him like a figure skater.
Soup was pretend-crying.
Ryder’s face hurt. He’d never worn a smile that big. It sketched his cheeks and dried his gums. His chest inflated like a helium balloon. If Arf let go, he’d float through the sky.
Ryder rode Arf’s shoulders back to the sidelines, where they were reminded the score was only 7-0. The celebration continued while the game continued.
Cherry was still against the wall. She was looking at him. Not a glance, but actually looking at him.
The nicies scored and no one seemed to care. Ryder was still floating somewhere in the gray sky. He actually wanted to go back out there. All those years he’d made fun of high school pep rallies and it took one touchdown for him to get it.
“You’re up.” Soup slapped Ryder on the butt. “Win it for the naughties, bo.”
He jogged out to cheers and boos. BG was clapping loudly, his hands coming together in huge wallops. Mindy was leaping next to him, her mittened hands barely making a sound. Ryder tried to kill his smile.
“Here we go,” Bryant said.
Ryder was going to block Jane or at least try. Arf would come out and pretend to block. Bryant would throw a short pass to Franken, a tall naughty with long hair. It didn’t matter if he caught it, because that wasn’t the play they were going to score on.
Jane was guarding him. She was more serious, if that was possible—squatting, scowling and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“We naught, we naughty. We naught, we naughty.” Soup was leading a cheer. “You nice, you nicy.”
When the ball was hiked, he did like he was told. Jane shoved him down. Snow went up his shirt. When the play was over, Arf helped him back to the huddle, brushing his back.
The second play was a lot like the first—a short pass and nothing. Arf picked up Ryder again and wiped the snow out of his hair. His head was ringing this time. Jane barked like a dog.
Sweet Jane was gone.
“Here we go,” Bryant said.
He changed the play. It was genius. The first two plays were setting up the third one. Jane’s face was red as coals and not from the cold. Rage melted the snow off her cheeks; it came out in long steamy breaths. She stomped the snow down to bare ground.
“We are naughty; you are nice. We get totaled; you get lice. We eat cake; you get rice. We ride cheetahs; you get mice—”
The ball was snapped.
Ryder pretended to block. Jane pursued the short pass. Arf came around full gait when Franken caught the ball. He took two steps. Just before his flags were stripped, he tossed the football. Jane recognized the play, but it was too late.
She was bounced off the ground.
Arf didn’t do it on purpose. His momentum was a fully loaded freight train and she stepped on the tracks. The football sailed over her, but she was seeing stars.
Ryder caught it in stride.
The last thing he saw were the bottoms of Kraig’s shoes. He’d tried to cross the tracks like Jane, and Arf the Unstoppable was right on time. Ryder wrapped the football with both hands.
And the naughties came screaming.
Soup led the way and the others trailed behind him. The entire naughty wing was going to form another dogpile. Even Cherry was walking toward them. But Arf wasn’t.
He was still on the field.
The nicies had formed a circle around him. They were trying to hold Kraig back. The drones were divebombing, hungry for drama. Arf was all alone while the nicies took turns shoving him.
“Hey!” Ryder shouted.
He ducked around the oncoming naughty avalanche and sprinted up the field. They turned to follow him and saw what was happening. Ryder’s face was cold, his chest burning. He pumped his arms and closed the gap just as Kraig tossed John off him. Arf held his hands out, shaking his head. His cheeks were bright red.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he was saying.
Snow still dusted Kraig’s uniform. He shoved through two more of his teammates and balled up a fist.
“No!” Ryder jumped on his back. “Leave him—”
Kraig turned his hips and threw an elbow before Ryder could latch his arms around his neck. It caught him in the temple and lit up the sad sky.
A high-pitched whine filled his head.
Lightning flashed behind his eyes. White pain flooded his forehead. Voices went underwater and distant. The ground was below him, but the world shimmered. Dark forms blotted out the dull light.
And then they heard it.
Ryder was looking up from the bottom of a huddle when they all heard it.
Something cried from deep in the trees. It was long and lonesome, starting out low and guttural and peaking with a howl that shook snow from limbs. The hairs on his arms rose. It was an animal, but it wasn’t in pain or frightened. Ryder had heard it before.
It’s a warning.
Everyone looked at the mountains. The howl went on. And when it stopped, silence grabbed them. BG glanced at the nicies, squinting. He nodded.
John and Jane took off.
The other nicies followed. The drones swarmed in formation, a spearhead soaring for the trees. A few minutes later, the roar of four-wheelers shattered the silence. The nicies roared out of the barn, two on each machine, leaning into the cold wind, some with flags still attached to their waists. BG watched them lay tracks into the forest, snowy rooster tails in their wake.
“What was that?” someone asked.
“Come on,” BG said. “Get him inside.”
“I’m good.” Ryder sat up. The planet was still spinning too fast.
BG put his hand on his shoulder. “Boys, give him a hand.”
Arf lifted him up. Ryder stopped him from holding him like a toddler and grabbed his shoulder. His cheek was numb. Pain radiated through his face to the other side of his head. A few molars felt loose.
One at a time, the naughties patted his back and shoulder. Two of the girls hugged him. He was one of them now. It was a touching moment, guaranteed to be mopped up and edited for public consumption. But there were no green eyes in the sky.
We’re off stream.
“Everybody inside,” BG said. “Free time until dinner.”
“Is the game over?” Soup asked. “Did we win?”
The producers kept their distance. BG separated himself from the group, staring at the mountains. The whir of all-terrain motors called from somewhere in the trees.
“We all did.”
“What?” Soup said.
But BG wasn’t talking to him. He was sort of talking to himself.
Arf kept an arm around Ryder, and the naughties went back to their wing. The secret that Ryder felt was coming to the surface. It had something to do with whatever was out there. It wasn’t the pain that bothered Ryder the most or the strange sound. It was the smile crawling across BG’s face.