Chapter 38

Homecoming at Orchard Valley

Coinciding with Halloween weekend, Orchard Valley’s homecoming game was a festive affair. The stands were decked out in red and black spirit-wear, with some spectators arriving in Halloween costumes.

Ruby dressed in red-and-black-striped stockings, a black skirt layered and flowing, and a bright red pea coat. In her hair she’d stuck all manner of red and black decorations. Mrs. Primm did not allow Ruby to paint her face, but Heather, in a euphoric mood, had winked at Ruby and put tubes of red and black face paint in her bag for later.

After entering through the gate, Heather found herself the subject of inquisitive eyes. So many parents were there who had heard of—but never seen—the girl with the scar. They could not help but stare and comment to each other. And so, just as it did when the wound was fresh, Heather’s scar burned and tingled under the new attention. At home, Heather had pulled her hair into a tight French braid tied at the end with red and black bows. The effect of the hairdo, however unintended, was to accentuate her bare forehead and the scar it bore. Under the renewed attention, Heather regretted the choice. Her face paled, making the scar stand out all the more.

Walking toward the bleachers, Heather endured a second type of agony. Students passing by snarled at her, as if her very presence were an intrusion on Orchard Valley’s special day. A group of girls walked by and rolled their eyes.

“You!” one of them declared, that one word summing up her complete disgust of the situation.

“Just make sure you stay out of sight. If Adam sees you, he’ll mess up again. You’re like a curse,” said a second girl.

A third, whom Heather had tutored more than once, kept her mouth shut, though Heather almost detected a sympathetic gaze in her eyes.

Behind her, Heather heard students telling the story of Heather Primm to those who had not heard it before. Instinctively, Ruby took Heather’s hand and pulled her under the bleachers. “I guess we hafta sit here again, huh?” Ruby asked.

“No. We aren’t going to watch the game from under here. Not this time. Remember the truth.”

Ruby smiled. “Okay. But could we paint our faces first?”

Just beyond the bleachers, a member of the freshman football team ran by. Following tradition, his face was completely painted, half red and half black. Heather remembered two years earlier when Adam had painted his face like that. How happy the world had seemed then.

Ruby watched the boy with delight, snapping a picture with her camera. Just behind him, a freshman dressed as a zombie cheerleader followed. “Today anyone can be anybody!” Ruby giggled. “Now let me paint your face!”

Heather knelt down to humor her sister. Ruby could do nothing to Heather’s face to make it worse than it already was. Heather handed her the tubes of face paint. With complete concentration, Ruby used the red tube to perfectly cover the contours of Heather’s scar. The cool cream soothed Heather’s burning flesh. Then, Ruby traced the red T with an outline of black paint.

“All done!” Ruby declared. Heather looked at herself in the compact. Looking at her face, her eyes were drawn immediately to the T. All else faded into obscurity. So this was how the world saw her!

“Now do mine!” Ruby said, holding out the face paint. “Exactly like I did yours!”

Heather shook her head. “Let me paint something else.” She took the face paint. “Something happier.”

Ruby crossed her arms. “I’m going to be a journalist, Heather,” she pouted. “I might as well get used to it. One day I’ll have my own for real.”

Heather shook her head. “That’s not true.”

Ruby shrugged. “Just do it. Please?”

“No.”

Ruby snatched both the compact and the paint from Heather, and with determination she painted a red T outlined in black across her own face.

Resigned, Heather led Ruby out from under the bleachers and up into the stands. The two girls with the matching face paint sought out an empty space in the bleachers. They sat in the front corner just in front of a group of sophomores. When the sophomores saw Heather, they broke into smiles.

“That’s great,” one of them said, patting her on the back. “What an awesome idea. You’re dressed like the girl with the scar!”

His friends laughed.

“Do you have any more face paint?” he asked. “I want in on this!”

Heather complied without a word, handing him the face paint. In a matter of minutes, he and his friends had branded their faces with a red and black T and chanted “Thunderbolts! Thunderbolts!” like a battle cry. Heather looked up into the stands. Her face paint had not been returned to her; rather, it was being passed onwards with more and more students joining the trend. Before long, an entire section of bleachers had tattooed the letter T on their foreheads and had taken up the chant. The visiting spectators across the field looked ready to shrink away.

“We fit in now, don’t we?” Ruby asked her sister.

Heather didn’t answer; instead, she turned back to the field, humbled.

Ruby did not want silence. “Why is everyone here? And why is everyone so excited?” she asked. “And why is the crowd sad, too? And will Adam be here? And will he sit with us? And if everyone is here, will the bad man be here, too? Heather?”

“Good grief, Rue! You ask so many questions. Everyone’s here because it’s Homecoming. And of course Adam will be here, but he can’t sit with us because he’ll be out on the field.”

The response was not enough for Ruby.

“And the bad man?”

“I don’t know,” said Heather.

“I do,” Ruby said with a wry smile. “I see him!”

Heather’s heart skipped a beat as she followed Ruby’s pointing finger. Standing in front of the bleachers and gazing out into the field was Burton Childress, dressed in all black as usual; the only red in his outfit was the gleam in his eye. As soon as Heather’s eyes rested on him, he turned around as if he had been tapped on the shoulder. His eyes shot directly to Heather’s. His skin was pale, and for once he had his long lock of hair tucked behind his disfigured ear.

Heather looked away, though she knew Burton was still staring. Eager to change the subject, she turned to her sister. “Now Rue, what were some of the other questions you had?”

Delighted to possess her sister’s attention, Ruby asked, “How can the crowd be so excited and so sad at the same time?”

Heather looked at the crowd. There was something a little melancholy about it despite the festive occasion. “Well, Rue, everyone is happy to be here,” she began, “but they’re also kind of sad. See, this could be the last big game of the season. And that makes everyone sad.”

Ruby considered this. “Is that because they know that Adam is leaving?”

“Shhh!” Heather demanded, turning around to make sure no one heard. “You can’t say things like that here.”

Ruby lowered her voice. “But doesn’t everyone know it’s his last game?”

“No, Ruby, and we must keep it that way.”

Ruby looked around. “Is it because the bad man is here?”

“No.”

“Is it because it’s a secret, then?”

“Yes,” Heather whispered.

“Then that isn’t honest.” Ruby crossed her arms and pouted her lip. “It’s not the truth. People have a right to know!”

But before Heather could respond, she was interrupted by someone calling her name. It was Mr. Wallace, the director of Guidance, and he stood at the bottom of the bleachers looking up. He made his way to Heather and squeezed onto the bench next to her.

“I’m glad I found you. I wasn’t sure you’d be here today.” He glanced up at the crowd. “I was looking for my wife. We got separated. She isn’t wearing any face paint or costume. You’d think she’d be easy to spot against all the black and red faces.” He turned back to Heather. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that all the paperwork went through to the academy. Monday I’ll just need you and your mother to sign some forms, but it’s all set. As of next Tuesday, the three of you will be students at Hawthorne Academy.”

“The three of us?”

Mr. Wallace’s smile faded. “You mean he didn’t tell you? I hope it wasn’t supposed to be a surprise, then. Your good friend and neighbor Burton Childress has decided to transfer as well.” Mr. Wallace glanced up at the stands again. “Oh, there she is!” He waved up at his wife before turning back to Heather. “Anyway, congratulations. Enjoy the game, and expect to hear from me on Monday. I think the three of you will be very happy together.”

He brushed past Heather, but Heather didn’t notice. Her eyes were stuck on one point in front of her, a figure dressed all in black who had turned around to give her a sinister smile so chilling it could frighten away a nightmare.

But Heather was not even allowed to dwell on the horror of it, for Ruby tugged at her sleeve.

“Look! Look!” Ruby squealed, jumping up and down and waving her arms. “Daddy!”

“Ruby, be quiet and watch the parade,” Heather said.

The little girl was jumping up and down, waving to the fence as the drumline appeared on the field.

“Look how many there are.” Heather shook Ruby’s arm.

The drummers marched like an army in front of the crowd and down the track, dividing Ruby from whatever was distracting her on the other side of the fence. Behind the drumline, the freshman football team marched, waving to the stands. Following tradition, their faces were painted red and black. Next, the color guard marched, twirling and throwing their silver and red flags for the crowd. It was the start of the grand pomp of Homecoming.

Next came a rolling wooden platform pulled by the varsity football team. On it stood Principal Elders, senior singer Stacy Taylor, and Adam Hollowcast. The football players pulled the platform with ease, but they made quite the show of it, flexing their muscles and winking at the crowd as if they were thoroughbred stallions.

Behind Heather, the crowd had taken up a chant: “Hollow-cast! Hollow-cast!”

Adam did not look as sickly as he normally did. His body was poised and energetic, ready for the game. Heather watched him pass by and nearly waved. But she stopped herself. Adam still had not come forward, and it was not her place to contact him in public. Still, Adam gazed into the crowd as if looking for someone, and Heather held her breath in hopes that he would see her. Even a smile would have melted her heart. But Adam’s gaze was directed far above, his eyes still searching.

And what a sight they had to take in! Everywhere he looked, faces were painted with a large T across the forehead and down the bridge of the nose. Heather watched him clench his fists at the sight of it. As he floated by on the platform, Heather was forced to watch him swallow a bout of pain.

“He didn’t see us,” Ruby pouted.

“I know, but at least we’ll get to watch him play.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby looked up at her sister. “I didn’t know Daddy was playing in the game.”

“Daddy? What are you talking about, Rue?”

“You mean you didn’t see him?”

“See who? I was talking about Adam.”

“Well, I did see him. He was standing right there.” Ruby pointed to the other side of the fence.

“Who?”

“Daddy!”

“Daddy?” Heather raised an eyebrow. “Remember what I told you about always telling the truth.”

“I am telling the truth. Right before the parade I looked over there, and I saw Daddy!”

“Rue!”

“I know what I saw!”

“I think you’re just excited you’re going to see him later this weekend. But he’s not supposed to get here until tomorrow morning. I think someone’s imagination is working overtime.”

“That’s stupid!” Ruby brushed her hands together. “I’m gonna go take pictures, then. And find Daddy!”

No sooner had Ruby descended to the ground than Douggie emerged from beneath the bleachers, slithering up from beneath the feet of the crowd. She took a seat right next to Heather and nodded.

“Is that face paint your way of blending in?”

“No, I’ll never blend in. Ruby painted it for me.”

“She’s got quite the knack. I like creative minds like hers. Too bad she isn’t a few years older.”

Heather’s mind was swimming. Adam. Painted faces. Her father. She could barely process Douggie’s words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heather asked, snapping back into the conversation.

“I just think she’d fit in well with my little group.”

Heather shuddered to think that, being away at Hawthorne Academy, she’d be leaving Ruby unguarded. Who would protect her? She might fall prey to people like Douggie. Heather’s mother had been a space cadet recently. Heather swallowed a lump of guilt over her transfer plans. In leaving, was she condemning Ruby to a dangerous life?

Heather turned back to the procession. Cheerleaders had joined the mix. The only thing missing was last year’s championship trophy, which normally would have been displayed at such a game. The procession was now so long, it wound halfway around the track. Everyone watched as the cheerleaders dazzled the spectators, but Heather stole glances at Adam. He, too, seemed to be watching the cheerleaders, but his eyes stared through them as if he were looking without really seeing. What was he thinking about?

“He’s changed,” Douggie said.

“What?”

“Adam Hollowcast. He’s changed. Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. You’re staring at him. And I know he speaks to you. He’s been much happier lately. Tell me, what is he on?”

“On?”

“Come on, Heather. It isn’t anything natural causing him to act like that. What is he on? I want to try some! Is it some super drug from Burton’s garden? Everyone knows the two of them are practically attached at the hip. And maybe next time the two of you get happy you can party with me and my friends. We’re always looking for some new blood.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Heather said, eager to dismiss Douggie. She had a thousand things to worry about, and Douggie just wasn’t one of them.

Heather searched the field for Ruby. Finally, she spotted the little girl snapping pictures of everything, flitting from one attraction to the next like a bee looking for pollen.

Douggie shook Heather’s arm. “You tell him what I said. We’d be so honored to have the two of you. We wouldn’t even charge you. You could pick from our best stash.”

Heather muttered in dismissal and watched Douggie creep back under the bleachers to rejoin the Homecoming celebration of her own. Heather turned her attention back to Ruby. Whether it was an autumn chill in the air or something she saw, Heather pulled her coat tight. Down by the field, she saw Ruby talking to someone in a black trench coat. Someone whose figure was slightly stooped, as if it were accustomed to bending over for long periods of time in a garden.

Burton Childress.

Heather’s skin prickled. What could Burton possibly be saying to Ruby? And why would Ruby, so adverse to this “bad man,” allow such a conversation? Heather barely had time to process it, for something was happening on the field. Principal Elders was speaking:

“… pleasure to introduce Stacy Taylor. Stacy is a senior who’s been chosen twice for All-State Chorus. And this year, the senior class voted for Stacy to sing the National Anthem.” He handed the microphone to Stacy.

“Thank you, Principal Elders.”

The crowd silenced as Stacy began to sing. Heather stood for the National Anthem with everyone else, but her eye was drawn to something down along the far end of the fence. As Stacy thanked Principal Elders by name, a figure tensed in the distance, gripping the metal fence as if to temper his rage. Although Heather could not see his eyes, she could easily imagine them. They were stoic but determined with anger welling in deep pools beneath. They were relentless eyes, eyes that would not give up until they had taken what they came for. Heather knew all this because she had seen these eyes before.

They were the eyes of her father.

And they were directed at Principal Elders.

The stands erupted in applause: Stacy had finished singing, and the teams took to the field. The Thunderbolts lined up in bold red and black against the Bears’ green and white.

Adam stood next to the Bears’ captain as the coin was flipped. The Bears’ captain called it in the air: heads.

It landed tails.

All eyes looked to Adam. The referee held out the microphone to him. For a moment his eyes flashed, and Heather was sure he was going to say something, to confess to being her source. But the expression faded, and he focused back on the game.

“Kick! Kick! Kick!” spectators shouted.

“We’ll kick,” Adam said, directing his face at the crowd without looking.

Everyone cheered approval as the two captains took their places. Heather’s head swam. The world blurred into a swirl of color, mostly the black and red of the crowd and the field. Her eyes struggled to find her father, but he was gone. So was Ruby. Everything was dizzy. The earth below her was slipping away.

She steadied herself against the bleacher’s railing, fending off an anxiety attack. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heartbeat. Slow, slow, slow, she reminded herself. She blocked out all noise until it became a low rush like the ocean. She had found her calm. “This too shall pass,” she reminded herself, something Ms. Phillips always told her students.

“Heather!”

“Come what come may, time and hour runs through the roughest day,” she whispered, something else Ms. Phillips quoted from Shakespeare.

“Heather!” The world just wouldn’t let her have her peace. Not yet. “Heather!”

Heather snapped open her eyes. Ruby stood in front of her, shaking her. “Heather, Daddy’s here! I found him!” She pointed, and Heather craned her neck to peek around the bleachers. There stood her father holding two Styrofoam mugs of cocoa. He smiled.

Heather tried to harden herself against her father. She was supposed to hate him for what he did. That’s what her mother said, anyway. But Heather couldn’t help remembering all the times he was there for her. Growing up, her father had been the only one to truly understand Heather and her non-conformist nature. With her mother, it was always about gaining acceptance.

Now, seeing her father again, Heather felt comforted. Here was someone who understood her more than Adam or Ruby or Mrs. Primm. Heather had missed him these past months, and seeing him now made her realize it. She didn’t know whether her parents would never get back together, but she wished her father would be closer regardless.

“Hot chocolate,” Ruby explained to Heather’s silence. “For us.”

“Mom wouldn’t like this,” Heather muttered.

Ruby shook Heather’s arm. “But he’s our dad! I’m gonna go with him.”

“Wait.” Heather grabbed Ruby’s sleeve. “What was Burton saying to you down there?”

“Nufin’,” Ruby said tauntingly.

“Nothing? I saw him talking to you! What did he say?”

“Um…” Ruby looked around as if she might find the answer in the crowd or the sky.

“Ruby!”

She frowned. “He said to tell you…”

“Yes?”

It was clear Ruby didn’t want to say it.

“He said to tell you… that not to worry about Adam at your new school. He said he’ll take care of Adam. He said he called the school up and said that now he and Adam are gonna be roommates.”

“Roommates?” Heather gasped.

“That’s what he said. What’s that mean, Heather?”

Heather doubled over with worry. “You go stay with Daddy for a while, Rue. I have something I need to do.”

“What should I tell Daddy? He says he’s worried about you.”

“I don’t know, Rue. Think of something. Be creative.” With that, she pushed Ruby in the direction of their father.

She turned to the field for just a moment. Adam was yelling encouragement to a teammate who had recovered a Bears fumble and was getting ready to take the field. The crowd was going wild from the play and in anticipation of Adam taking the field. Adam smiled at the stands. For a moment it was a prideful smile, his ego growing with the accolades. It was the same Adam smiling who had been acting brazen for the past week. But then when Adam actually looked at the crowd, his smile changed. Among the cheering spectators he must have seen the countless T’s staring back at him. Heather could read it in his face. The T’s humbled the pride in his eyes. His smile shrank. He remembered the guilt of his former action, and his smile turned into a humble one, a smile of service. He bowed modestly as the crowd cheered for his entrance to the field.

His modesty only impressed the crowd further, and Heather took a moment to watch the spectators. They were happily decked out in school colors and Halloween costumes. Their proximity to each other kept them warm against the autumn chill in the air. They munched happily on hot dogs and nachos. They were models of hedonism, and they were oblivious to the blatant pain experienced by people like Heather and the secret pain of those like Adam—people who daily suffered with little or no measure of human sympathy, and whose pain was often made worse by a hateful comment or snide remark dished without thought.

Heather frowned. There was a time when she had lived in such ignorant happiness, a time before her notorious deed awoke her from her bliss. And now this was her reality. Awoken now, she could never fall back to sleep. She was an outsider at Orchard Valley. She would never fit in there again.

Remembering her reality set her back on her necessary task. She had to confront Burton. Hadn’t he tortured Adam enough? What could he gain by following Adam to the Academy? What did he have to gain by stalking Adam as his roommate? Was this truly all that was left for Burton in life? Was his sole purpose now to torment Adam?

Heather resolved to find out. Unnoticed by the cheering crowd, she descended the bleachers and stepped in the direction of the most serious spectator in attendance. A spectator whose predatory muscles tracked Adam’s every move with frightening intensity. A spectator who denied himself the basic comforts of friends, food, and even a seat, for a more sadistic pleasure.

She stepped in the direction of Burton Childress.

“You look ridiculous,” Burton said.

“We need to talk.” Heather looked around. “In private.”

Burton frowned. “After you.”

Heather took the long way past the restrooms and concession stand and around the field to the visitors’ bleachers. She hurried underneath before her red and black attire was spotted among the sea of green and white.

Burton followed her under the bleachers. The visitors’ side of the field was already shaded from the early evening sun, but under the bleachers was even darker. The visitor’s bleachers were smaller, and both Heather and Burton had to stoop to fit safely underneath. Crouching there under the bleachers and dressed all in black, Burton looked to Heather like a sinister shadow come to life. But he smiled a toothy smile, and in the darkness his teeth flashed all the whiter.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked suavely.

“Well—” Heather tried to face him, but it was difficult to do with the bleacher’s low clearance. She tried a number of positions, but none afforded her the opportunity to speak with the full power of her voice. She contemplated sitting on the concrete under the bleachers, but it was soiled with spilled soda and popcorn from the visiting spectators.

“Ah!” Burton exclaimed. Remaining overly-suave, he removed his trench coat. It did nothing to diminish his shadowy presence, however, for his clothes underneath were just as dark. “For my lady.” He spread the coat on the concrete and with an elaborate wave of his arm motioned for Heather to sit.

Heather bit her lip. She needed to be serious, yet for Burton this seemed no more than a game. With hesitation she sat, and Burton sat next to her, too close to her, on his coat.

“Now, then,” he said once again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Why can’t you just leave Adam alone?” she asked.

His smiled widened. “I take it Ruby delivered the good news, then. Yes, Adam and I will be roommates at Hawthorne. I’ll be able to look after him all the time now.”

“Haven’t you done enough? I mean, where does it end? You won, okay? Adam is tormented, tortured, miserable, self-loathing. He’s practically ignored me since the beginning of August. There’s no way he’ll go to the Homecoming Dance with me. You’ve ruined his life. And mine. What else do you want? When will it be enough?”

Burton stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s so hard to take you seriously with that ridiculous face paint you’ve got on. Why would you hide your beautiful face from the world?”

Heather glared at him. “I’m serious. Leave him alone.”

Burton’s smile faded. “I wish I could. I wish many things, but it’s beyond me now. I can’t help myself. It’s like a hunger inside me, the need to keep at him. Like an itch that gets worse the more I scratch it. Like an infectious puss that spreads and spreads and has now taken over my whole body. I live to see the results of my work.”

“You mean you live to see him suffer.”

Burton lowered his head. “Yes. I live to see him suffer. It’s my life now.”

Heather drew her lip up in disgust. “I thought Adam was sick, and I’ve hit some lows myself, but neither of us is as messed up as you. You’re the one who needs help. And I’ll bet all those rumors are true, aren’t they?”

“What rumors?”

“The one where you killed your teacher’s dog with poison. The one where you got so high on a strange herb concoction that you sliced off half of your own ear. It’s all true, isn’t it?”

Burton’s lips drooped. “I never asked to be the way I am. It’s just how I was made.”

“Burton, please.” Heather forced herself to maintain eye contact. “Don’t transfer to Hawthorne. You won, okay? Stay here. Leave Adam alone. Isn’t there any way I can convince you?”

Burton’s eyes flashed with possibility. “What about the dance?”

“The Homecoming Dance?”

Burton nodded.

“What about it?”

Burton smiled.

Heather gasped. “You want me to go to the Homecoming Dance with you?”

“Yes.”

“And if I do you’ll withdraw your transfer papers?”

“Perhaps I could be convinced to do so, depending how amenable you are to our date.”

Heather’s skin crawled with the implications. Instinct screamed at her to refuse, but she had to think of Adam. She was the one who pushed him for details, the one who pushed him to let her break the story. Sure, he had come to her in the first place, but wasn’t the whole thing her fault, really? All of Adam’s suffering…

“Okay,” Heather whispered.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll go to the dance with you.”

Burton smiled, and Heather could swear a thrilled tremble undulated through his body. He reached his arm around and put it over her shoulder. He traced his fingers along the contours of her neck, and he leaned in close, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “What a magnificent evening it will be.”

“But you have to promise not to transfer to Hawthorne Academy,” Heather said, fighting the urge to push him away. “Deal?”

“I said I’d think about it,” Burton whispered in her ear.

Heather leaned away. “That’s not good enough.”

Burton shrugged. “What choice do you have?”

Heather considered this. He was right. What else could Heather do to help Adam? Burton’s eyes flashed as the resolve melted from Heather’s face, and he put his hand on her thigh. She fought a twinge, and she realized that as long as Adam kept his role a secret, Burton would always hold power over him.

And that gave Heather an idea.

More screaming in the crowd forced her to look up. The Bears above her booed: it was already half-time, and the Thunderbolts were ahead. The color guard and marching band were taking their places on the field. Heather bolted from the bleachers, her eyes already seeking Adam in the colorful mess of the crowd across the way.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Burton called as Heather rushed off. Above him, someone had tossed a soda in disgust at the Bear’s losing quarter, and it landed right next to Burton—right where Heather would have been sitting had she stayed just a moment longer. Burton watched the sticky mess soak into his trench coat, but he did not move. Instead, he licked his lips and flicked his tongue the way a snake would when it had just gotten a whiff of prey it very much looked forward to devouring.