Halloween come and gone. It’s the month of November, and it is a miracle: Jessup is still playing football. The first time in forty years that Cortaca High School has made the playoffs. Jessup is a senior. Seventeen years old and big. He was athletic even when he was small, but he’s grown into himself. Played all four years on varsity. Four years of snot and blood. Freshman, sophomore, junior year they got bounced before the playoffs, but this year they’ve only lost two games. Tonight they play Kilton Valley High. Win or go home.
His cleats click and splash on the wet cement as he jogs to the stadium. Rain started in the middle of the night, and it’s been near freezing all day; he could smell the coming snow before he even walked out of his house this morning. A wet bruise on the air. All day, during school, sitting in math or English, the familiar itch of game day making his knee bounce, Jessup kept looking out the window, waiting for the sky to decide it was time to turn from rain to snow. Now, with the sun down, the sky has decided on neither: sleet. But he can feel the temperature still dropping. The sleet will make the transition to water-heavy snow soon enough.
He’s in the middle of the pack of boys heading to the stadium. He steps off the sidewalk as they cut across the asphalt parking lot. There’s a puddle of slush that the other boys jump over or dance around, but not Jessup. He’s on a straight line. He’s not moving for nothing. Steps right in the puddle. The icy water splashes his ankle, soaks through his sock. He doesn’t care. He’ll be soaked soon enough.
Only a few days earlier it was warm. In Cortaca, mothers make sure that children pick Halloween costumes that can be worn with winter jackets, hats, and gloves. More years than not, the ghouls and goblins can see their breath in the air. This year, however, the jack-o’-lanterns spit shadows into a fall night that held a heat that seemed like it would last forever. Jessup’s sister, Jewel, is eleven. Twelve in February. Sixth grade. Old enough to almost be too old to trick-or-treat, old enough to go with just her friends, but Jessup tagged along. Drove her into town in his truck. Walked with them but stayed on the sidewalk as they sprinted up to houses. Comfortable in his T-shirt despite the end of October. Just there to keep an eye on you, he said. I’m not asking for candy, not hitting the doorbells, Jewel, so I don’t need a costume. Jewel rolling her eyes, she and her friends dressed as zombies. Zombies never go out of style, Jessup thought. He helped her with her makeup. Mom’s eyeliner, ketchup for blood. By the end of the night she was sweaty from running, hopped up on sugar, and cranky, the makeup smudged. She let Jessup have all her peanut butter cups.
It stayed warm like that all week. As if winter were just a rumor. At practice, the smell of falling leaves and cut grass mixed with sweat. It was hot enough that it felt like an echo of summer. Practice in full pads, but only light hitting. Lots of water breaks. Coach, mindful of the heat, wanted them fresh for the playoffs. Yesterday, during practice, the first hint of chill. And overnight, things changed. Summer gone and skipped past the crispness of fall. This is the cold drudgery of sleet. The temperature dropping.
Tomorrow, Jessup knows, will be winter. Tomorrow it will be snow. Tomorrow, when he goes deer hunting, the woods will be a different world from the one that exists today. It will be ice and snow and the magic of whiteness, the crunch of his boots, the quiet hush of blanketed woods while he waits for a clear shot, for a buck with a rack worth taking. Fill the freezer with good meat they can’t afford to buy. His girlfriend, Deanne, has asked to come but he’s said no. The whole point isn’t the hunt but the wait. The quiet. To be in the trees, alone. Nobody looking at him and thinking about Jessup’s brother and his stepfather in prison. It’s been four years since Ricky beat those two boys to death. Black boys. His stepfather didn’t touch anybody, but he was there, and he has a history. History is everything in a town the size of Cortaca.
Ricky has another sixteen years, at least, if things go well. His stepfather, David John Michaels, was supposed to serve five, but he’s out early. Today. Jessup’s mom drove up north this morning to bring David John back. She brought Jewel with her, since she’s David John’s kid. Jessup argued that Jewel shouldn’t miss school, but it wasn’t a real argument. The kid’s only in sixth grade, and besides, she’s smart as hell. Smarter than Jessup, even. Honor roll in her sleep. A day of school won’t make a difference. There was never a question of Jessup going along as well. Even if he didn’t have football. They’re supposed to be back by now. Sitting in the stands. His stepfather up there with Jessup’s mother and Jewel. They’ll be expecting him to go out for dinner with them after the game. He’ll do that and then head to the party and, after that, what he’s really looking forward to tonight: time with his girlfriend.
But tomorrow, tomorrow Jessup can be alone.