Thick clouds rolled in over the stadium on the back of a stiff breeze. The Friday night lights already burned bright over twelve thousand fans for the varsity game, most of them wearing Jericho Cowboys’ gold and black. The visitors, whose stands only allowed for two thousand of the twelve, wore orange and white. Jericho took the field and the crowd roared with applause.

It deafened and delighted Danny and his two friends. His mom gave him a knowing smile as well. This was Friday night football in Jericho County. Even the long walk through acres of parked cars wasn’t bothering him like he had feared it might, and that cheered him.

Danny thought it was like strolling down the midway at the state fair. People with cowboy costumes and painted faces lined the way. Grills sizzled and smoked between parked cars and trucks, and the hiss of beer and soda cans being opened was everywhere. Laughter, music, banners, and balloons were everywhere too. Danny ached for the party to be in his honor, for his team, and it made him more determined than ever to play in the big game.

The junior high championship wouldn’t be a sold-out crowd like it was now for a Friday night varsity game, but there might be as many as seven thousand. That’s how many had gone to last year’s county title game. A win for Crooked Creek this year could put him on the Jericho varsity—on his way to being part of the Friday night spectacle next year. The thought gave Danny chills.

As the Cowboys did their thing down on the field—a slow, steady grind, running the ball, chewing up time, and playing a vicious brand of defense—Danny cheered along with the rest of Jericho County. But, unlike most, he felt connected to the players. The crowd’s energy charged him.

When Jericho scored their second touchdown with a ten-yard run up the middle, Danny raised his own hands and slowly rotated around, soaking up the cheers and smiles around him. He found himself thinking about the permanence of Friday nights in Jericho, how this was the present, but he was the future. That led him to the past, when his father tore up the field with his moves.

As memories of his dad began darting through his head, and the roar of the crowd became deafening, Danny suddenly lunged for the aisle, pushing Janey and Cupcake out of his way.

“Danny?”

He heard his mom cry out behind him, but he was already halfway down the bleachers when her words registered in his brain. He hit the bottom of the steps and split the middle of a teenage couple to double back on the stairs leading to the concessions. He jumped the last three steps, sprinted around the corner, and slapped both hands across his mouth as he rushed into the men’s room.

The urinals were full and he wasn’t going to make it to the stalls. He turned toward the sinks. Before he could quite get there, a spray of vomit blasted through his fingers, coating the mirror and two sinks with a brown-and-yellow spatter.

“Aww!” A chorus broke out around him.

Another wave of nausea rocked Danny’s stomach and he heaved again, this time hitting the bowl of the sink. Still, it spattered all around.

“That is disgusting!”

“What’s wrong with you, kid!”

“Aw, what a mess!”

“Gross!”

Danny spun around and kicked a stall door, crying out in pain. The door slammed inward, then banged back at him. His foot throbbed. Danny cursed and headed for the exit. People scattered to avoid his smell—or maybe it was his rage they feared.

A boy just a bit smaller than Danny bumped into him. Danny thought he recognized him from somewhere, but he gave the kid a shove anyway and kept going toward a grassy spot beside the concession stand. He staggered and doubled over, choking and gagging although nothing came up. His eyes watered, and deep inside his nose the stomach acid burned.

“Hey!”

Danny turned and saw five kids in a half circle, fists dangling by their sides.

“What’s your problem?” the biggest kid said.

Danny peered through the shadows and stumbled back.

It was Markle.