Chapter 28

The Captain’s Vigil

Six o’clock found Heather and Ruby standing outside the high school watching, once again, as Mrs. Primm drove away. Ruby had finally agreed to wear her journalist’s jacket. Heather had been stricter with her sister recently, leading her to cooperation with promises of short discussions about Adam and the scar. Moreover, Heather had been helping Ruby revive The Ruby Review in exchange for Ruby’s cooperation in not berating the other children in the library—or at least, not berating them so obtusely.

“Heather,” Ruby asked, swinging her sister’s hand, “why are we here so early?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be sure?”

“I have to do something,” Heather said.

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Ruby asked.

“I just don’t.” Heather pulled Ruby towards the front entrance.

It was locked. It usually didn’t open until swim team practice at six-thirty.

Heather knew there was only one door left unlocked this early in the morning. It was an entrance used only by custodians and teachers. An entrance that led to the main office. An entrance that Heather knew all too well. It was the door in the alleyway.

“Come on.” Heather pulled Ruby into the alley.

Ruby followed Heather inside.

The office was darkened. Not even the secretaries had arrived yet; it would be a full hour until they did. Heather watched her shadow creep along the walls and desks. It snuck out the door and into the darkened front hallway. A song whistled by a custodian echoed from the back hallway. Heather led Ruby quietly down the main hall to the auditorium. She hoped to find Adam, but the doors to the auditorium were locked.

Heather checked her watch. It was 6:03. If Adam’s journal was correct, he would be in the auditorium by now. Without a word, Heather led Ruby down the side hallway. She crept onto the backstage area through the tiny hallway near the vending machines.

She hid behind the dusty velvet curtain and peered onto the stage. In the darkness, she could just barely discern a human form standing on stage.

“Be as quiet as you can,” she whispered to Ruby.

“But that’s Adam!” Ruby whispered back.

“Hush!”

But Ruby was right. Adam stood at the center of the stage—nearly the very spot in which Heather had stood in front of the entire school some weeks ago.

“What’s he doing?” Ruby whispered.

“Shhh!”

As Heather’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that Adam wore his football jersey. Without his shoulder pads, it hung about his body like a shroud covering a skeleton. He kept his hands out in front of him as if he were holding some invisible object. It must have been heavy because it made his hands tremble.

“My trophy,” Heather whispered.

In the front hallway, a doorway slammed. All three sets of eyes darted to the doorways in the back of the auditorium. Echoing footsteps and jingling keys grew louder. Through the doors’ tiny glass panels, Heather could just see Principal Elders making his way into the main office. With the principal out of range, Heather turned her attention back to Adam.

The invisible object he held seemed to became too heavy for him. His arms trembled, and he let the object fall. Then all at once he grasped first his stomach and then his arms. “It was me!” he cried, his voice haunted and hollow and reverberating through the empty room.

The sounds of his own voice frightened him, and he cowered from it as if the echoing sound could physically slash his flesh.

Then, when the echoes stopped, he stood taller than before. “Good, then,” he whispered to himself. “It’s done. They’ll all know now.” He exhaled and waited for his discovery.

But no one came. No one had heard. The school was still nearly empty, with just a few students trickling in for early-morning activities. But just before Adam could breathe a sigh of relief, one of the auditorium doors flew open. Light from the hallway flooded the stage, and Heather’s eyes had trouble adjusting to the sudden rush.

She soon saw, however, that the figure was none other than Principal Elders. So he had heard Adam’s cry after all. He would wonder why Adam was on stage, and it would be Adam’s chance to confess. Heather breathed a sigh of relief for Adam. As difficult as the next few days would be for him, at least he could stop hiding. At least he could stop torturing himself.

But fate was not on Adam’s side that day.

The principal had thrown open the door, and a single ray of florescent light entered from the hallway. It danced down the aisle and onto the stage. It stopped right at Ruby’s feet. She was just able to jump out of its way before Principal Elders could see her sparkling purple boots shining from back stage.

But the light did not want to mingle with Adam’s tortured form. Had he been standing just an inch to the left, the light would have revealed his figure. But he was standing just beyond the threshold of the light; his form was shrouded in total darkness.

“Anyone there?” Principal Elders’ voice asked.

Heather held her breath. This was Adam’s chance to confess, to end the agony of his secret. Whatever consequences followed, at least he would be free of his internal burden. This was providence. A soothing relief from Adam’s torture.

But he did not take the opportunity. Instead, he shrank back into the shadow and kept quiet until Principal Elders shrugged and turned to leave.

Off at stage left, Douggie appeared. She had been creeping about backstage—probably starting her day with some illicit indulgences—and heard Adam’s screams. She shuffled in the shadows, and Principal Elders’ head darted to find her. But she disappeared into darkness. After a few more seconds of silence, Principal Elders closed the door and returned to his office.

Heather’s scar burned for Adam. He had missed his chance to escape the secret that tormented him.

But Adam did not necessarily share her disappointment. Like an escaped criminal, he breathed a sigh of relief. So he would not be found out after all! But his relief turned to panic. The scabs on his arms itched and burned as he realized his self-inflicted torture would have to continue.

Through the window in the creaky old door, Adam saw Wilson Johnson walking with Jared Winters. Jared still wore his football jacket. Although his letter had been revoked, he had paid for the jacket, and he insisted upon wearing it around school. It seemed he was engaged in a conversation of some interest with the student body president, for the two walked down the hallway at a snail’s pace, allowing Adam to watch them through each successive doorway.

A burst of adrenaline caused Adam to cry out to him. “Come here, Jared! And bring Wilson with you! Come and see who I truly am! Come stand with me, and I’ll tell you who it was that led Heather Primm to her sorry state!”

He waited in horror as his voice echoed through the auditorium. Soon his former teammate would join him, pummel him. Now he had done it. From the wings, Heather and Ruby waited, too. Surely Jared and Wilson had heard the cry. They would come to investigate the matter, and Adam would confess his secret once and for all.

Once again, all four pairs of eyes tracked the two students walking in the hallway. Douggie sighed, and her invisible footsteps disappeared further backstage. A moment later, her footsteps echoed on the catwalk above the stage—a notorious hangout for drug use. Then all was silent.

The tension on stage relaxed as Jared and Wilson continued down the hall. They hadn’t heard after all. Adam’s pulse slowed. So he would not be found out. A part of him celebrated. But another part of him knew that this pardon from social punishment just meant more cutting. More blood. More ulcers.

Thinking about the torments his future would bring aggravated his stomach. He felt weak from not eating, and he had—as usual—spent another night nearly sleeplessly in front of his closet. He trembled and collapsed into a pile on the stage. So he would be discovered after all! After the adrenaline rush of nearly being discovered—and consequently experiencing a reprieve—he would be found.

The thought of it sent delusions spinning about his brain, and before long, he was laughing hysterically. His own echo joined in. His laughter delighted Ruby, who stepped closer to him.

“Ha ha!” Adam cried. “I see the form of Ruby. Why do you torment me at night? Why do you haunt me? How I remember the times we spent together! Are you here to punish me again for what I’ve done to your sister? Why won’t you leave me alone, you ghost?”

“I’m no ghost,” Ruby answered matter-of-factly. “It’s just me, Ruby. I remember a boy once who looked a little like you. He used to read me stories, and he helped me play newspaper. He used to like my sister, and they used to spend time together. But you’re not him. He was an honest boy.”

“Is that really you, Ruby? Is it you?”

“Of course it is!” Ruby laughed.

“Come here and let me touch you. Are you really real?”

Ruby skipped towards him. Adam held out his hands to her, and she grasped them.

“You’re like ice!” Ruby squealed, dropping his hands.

“Ruby, is your sister with you?”

“I am,” said Heather, stepping out of the shadows.

“Stay with me a while,” Adam whispered, holding out his hand.

“I can’t stay long. I’m due in the library soon. I’m tutoring someone.”

Adam nodded. “I’ve heard of your tutoring services. Why do you treat these students so kindly when all they do is look at you with contempt?”

Heather did not respond.

“Has your scar and the openness of your deed so freed you from their ridicule?”

“No.” Heather glanced down at her shoes. “I’m tormented every day. But I suppose the worst of it is over. Teenagers forget things over time. Their hatred of me will dissipate. Nothing worse can happen to me now that hasn’t already happened.”

Ruby took Adam’s hand in her right hand and Heather’s in her left.

“Will you stand with us like this in the library?” asked Ruby.

“No,” Adam said, his hand trembling in Ruby’s. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Ruby asked. “You used to spend so much time with my sister, and you used to read to me, and I used to love it, and now you never do anymore!”

Adam squeezed Ruby’s hand weakly. “I don’t know. Maybe you were right. Maybe it was another boy—one who only looks like me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Adam.” Heather snapped to attention and burrowed into his eyes. “What’s happened to you? You’re sick.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are, Adam. Don’t kid yourself. You’re miserable. I know what you do.” Heather paused, fighting the urge to avert her eyes. “Do you even remember the happy times we had anymore?”

Adam’s voice weakened as he spoke. “I remember them, but they’re fading. It’s just, I can’t tell what’s real anymore. I have a new friend, and he goes out of his way to help me. And I know I should appreciate that, but sometimes all I can think about is how much I hate him. Maybe I’m just becoming a terrible person. Hating people I shouldn’t.”

Heather frowned.

“I know he’s trying to help.” Adam looked down at his arms. “But with all those herbs, sometimes I think—no. I’m just being paranoid. I’m not sleeping very well. It’s gotten me seeing visions. I just sometimes wonder if the teas he gives me are—”

But Adam could not finish, for from the catwalk above, Douggie coughed violently and screamed. She must have mis-stepped in the darkness, and a can of paint from the set construction crew came crashing down from above. It popped open with the impact, splattering blue paint all over the stage. Luckily, the bucket landed a few feet from the trio; but they were not spared from its blue spatter.

“Oh no!” Adam moaned. “It’s all over my jersey. And your clothes, Heather. And your jacket, Ruby. Your favorite jacket.”

At this, Ruby giggled. “See, you do remember me! Maybe you are the same boy. Maybe he’s just trapped somewhere in you.”

But Adam was already preoccupied. “The paint is all over the stage, and now it’s on the three of us.”

“It’s okay. We learned in school that blue is the color of truth. It’s kind of good that it falled on you, ya think?” She giggled capriciously.

But Adam had more pressing concerns. “It’ll link us all to this location. We’ve got to change. Quick!”

Adam tore off his jersey, revealing sagging flesh that he tried to hide under a baggy t-shirt. But before he could gauge Heather’s reaction, the door to the auditorium opened. Adam turned pale as a ghost and would have collapsed were it not for Heather, whose shoulder he grabbed for support.

All three eyes turned to the doorway, which opened to admit a shadowy figure. It was Burton Childress.

“Who is that, Heather?” Adam asked, squinting into the light.

“It’s Burton,” Heather whispered.

“I thought so.” Adam struggled to remain standing. “But who is he? Who is he really? What does he want from me?”

Heather did not have time to answer, for Burton was fast approaching.

“What a strange gathering,” Burton groaned as he sauntered down the aisle. “What business do you have, Adam, with these two outcasts? Their presence will only aggravate your condition. Let’s hurry away. I’ll walk you to class.”

Adam looked from Burton to Heather to Ruby.

“Don’t go with him.” Ruby plopped onto the ground and grabbed Adam’s leg. “He’s a bad man. He’s not true. He’s not blue.”

Adam leaned to whisper in Heather’s ear. “Who is he, Heather? You know, don’t you? Tell me.”

But Heather feared to tell Adam the truth. She promised Burton she’d keep their former interactions a secret. What evil deeds could Burton accomplish to retaliate if she were to tell? If he could poison a teacher’s dog with no qualms, if he could attempt to cut off his own ear, then what else could he do? What could he sneak into Adam’s tea to harm him even more severely than he had already done?

“I know!” Ruby said.

“Tell me!” Adam begged. He leaned down for Ruby to whisper in his ear. But all she did instead was giggle. “You were not true. You were not blue.” She pointed to Adam’s blue-speckled jersey lying on the stage. “You used to be nice to my sister, but you’re not anymore. I won’t tell you who he is!”

By this time, Burton had ascended the steps and approached the group. “Come, Adam. Let’s go. In your condition, we can’t afford to have you stressed out. You’ve got a game later this week. The school needs you.” He took Adam by the arm and led him down the steps and up the aisle.

At the door to the auditorium, Adam turned with great effort and looked back. “Oh, God!” he cried as he saw the stage.

“What?” asked Heather.

“The paint!” He pointed to the stage and moaned. “The paint!”

Indeed, Heather turned, too. The spilled blue paint had run towards the front of the stage and also from stage left to stage right to form the semblance of the letter T.

Burton laughed once before leading Adam, still moaning, to the auditorium’s exit.

“Heather,” Ruby asked, taking her sister’s hand. “Will the bad man always have a hold of Adam?”

“I don’t know,” Heather said, leading her off the stage. “But we’ve got to get cleaned up now; I’ve got an appointment in the library, and I shouldn’t be late.”

Before first period had finished, rumors of the paint spill had circulated around the school. Of course everyone speculated about the mysterious shape the paint had taken. Most people said it stood for Thunderbolt and was a good omen for the upcoming Homecoming game. For Heather, it was an awful reminder of the miserable hour she’d spent on stage in front of the school that September. And for Adam, it took on more terrifying meanings, as if a divine hand were pointing a finger directly at him.

That afternoon, Heather stood in front of the school waiting for the after-school rush to dissipate. The football team gathered under the tree at the front of the school before walking across the parking lot to practice. Heather opened her notebook and pretended to be reading, but she couldn’t help listening in.

“Man, I’m worried about Homecoming.” One of the players slammed his bag down and stretched his quad. “The Bears are tough to beat. It’s too bad we don’t have Jared. He could knock through anyone. He was unstoppable.”

“Yeah,” another answered. “I still wonder who the traitor was who told Heather Primm about the steroids. I mean, come on. I’m sure lots of students have dabbled in steroids. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Jared was strong to begin with. It’s so not fair.”

“What do you think, Adam? You think we’ll beat the Bears?”

Adam grew pale as all eyes shifted to him. “I don’t know. If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”

“‘If it’s meant to happen?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” The first player pounded his chest. “We’re here to skin the Bears! That’s what’s meant to happen! And you’re our captain and quarterback. You of all of us should have the most confidence!”

Adam looked at his teammates. They stared back at him, awaiting one of his famous inspirational speeches. Heather watched, being sure to keep the trunk of a tree between Adam’s line of vision and herself.

“You all look up to me for my talent on the field, but what if my talent comes from a dark place?” Adam asked.

The boys drew up their faces in confusion.

“A dark place?”

“Are you trying to tell us that you’ve done steroids, too? They tested all of us like three times. Yours came out clean.”

“No,” Adam said. “I haven’t done steroids. But what I’m trying to say is—you all look up to me as a hero. But maybe you should reconsider. I’m not even worthy enough to be your captain. If you knew the truth…”

But Adam’s weak attempt at a confession was interrupted by Principal Elders, who dashed out of the building and headed straight for the football team.

“Hollowcast!” he called.

Adam turned to his teammates. “I’ll see you on the field,” he said. The rest of the team jogged across the parking lot.

Heather couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw an expression of relief wash over Adam’s face at Principal Elders’ interruption. Though Adam had started to confess, it was clear that a part of him wanted to remain hidden.

Principal Elders held out a black and red football jersey. “I found this in the auditorium this morning. I’m afraid it was splattered with paint, but I had my secretary clean it for you as best she could. There are just a few specks of blue left. It’s curious that it was left at the scene of such a strange occurrence. You’ve heard, I’m sure, about the blue paint that spilled on the stage this morning. Probably a freak occurrence, but one never can tell.”

Adam took the jersey and mumbled a thank you.

“I’ll bet that some sinister group of students took your jersey.” Principal Elders snickered. “Maybe someone jealous of you, someone who wants to make you look bad. But don’t worry. I know your true character. I’d never accuse you of causing an incident like the mess in the auditorium.” With that, Principal Elders patted Adam on the shoulder the way a coach would.

Adam seemed to shrink back from the intensity of the touch, as if Adam’s body were too frail to endure it.

The principal wrinkled his brow. “I’ll tell you what’s weird, though. I’m sure you’ve already heard. The paint dried in the shape of a T. I’d almost guess that the notorious Heather Primm was involved, but I know even she couldn’t have gotten the paint to spill in that shape. Not even if she tried.” He laughed. “Let’s just take it as a good omen. All eyes will be on you during the Homecoming game. Hopefully the paint is a sign that things will work out in our favor. Have a good practice. Go Thunderbolts!” He disappeared back into the school.

Adam stood there staring after him for a moment before one of his teammates called him from the field. “Hollowcast! Are you coming?”

“Yes,” Adam mumbled. “Yes!” he called again with forced fortitude. “I’ll be right there.” He gripped his jersey tightly in his hand and for an instant caught Heather’s eyes peering out from behind the tree. “I’ll be right there.”

Heather decided to walk home that afternoon. Her encounter with Adam on the stage that morning had disturbed her. That, coupled with the alarming notes he’d left in his journal, made her worry. Adam starved himself and cut himself—what else was he thinking about doing? She hoped he wouldn’t hurt himself any more than he’d already done—but could she be sure?

At least he had football. Though his time at home was filled with utter torment, his time on the field was full of praise. Football was something he enjoyed. Wasn’t it?

Instead of taking the bus, Heather lingered around football practice. With Adam so weak, so sleep-deprived, so sickly, how could he possibly practice football every afternoon? And what gave him such prowess on the field?

At practice the other players revered Adam. They looked to him for advice, for praise, for criticism. As Heather watched him run the length of the field, she noticed that he did not grab his stomach. Not even once. Instead, he pushed himself to the brink of physical exhaustion. More than once, the coach called out to him: “Hollowcast! Save some for the game!”

As Heather watched Adam continue to push his limits, she realized that football was not an escape for him as she had hoped. For Adam, it was yet another form of torture. Instead of enjoying the game and his position on the team, he used practice as another form of physical torment. He pushed himself through severe pain, pushing his body beyond what it should tolerate.

Adam led the team through some warm-up drills and calisthenics, grass drills, wind sprints, and all manner of bodily torture. Then Adam insisted nearly to the point of arguing with the coach to have the offensive team scrimmage the defensive team to practice play calling and play strategies. The point of contention was, at least once per practice Adam would run the ball himself in a quarterback sneak, sometimes into the waiting arms of the defense so he could practice breaking tackles and avoid being sacked. The coach was concerned Adam would injure himself before game day.

But the abuse his body took was too much. Heather bit her lip to keep from crying for him. She drew in a sigh, touched her scar for strength, and started for home.