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We drove to the game with my dad. He liked to go early to get his hot dog, soda, and popcorn, sit in his seat and chat with the other parents on the subject of our opponents and chances of winning.
The stadium had bleachers on only one side of the field, but large enough to fit fans from both teams and the entire marching band in the middle. A brand new surfaced track circled the football field, its rust-red color and bright white lines standing out against the green turf. The student's section for Olympic High was at the north end where the cheerleaders stood on the track on white wooden boxes. The students wore their blue shirts to show their team spirit. The opponent’s used the south end of the bleachers. My parents sat in the reserved seats in the middle, next to the marching band.
The concession stands, bathrooms, and doors to the locker rooms were on the backsides of the stands. Most of the kids congregated there, chatting in their cliques until the game started. Sabrina and I walked to the concession area, and I bought us hotdogs, popcorns, and sodas. Usually, I sat with the students. But today we sat with my dad.
Sabrina went to use the bathroom, and I waited outside for her.
Two of Jerry Hadler’s gang members strutted in front of me in their letterman’s jacket. My stomach tightened. Maybe I was nervous for my brother’s game, or maybe it was something more. These guys were tall and proud. They had something. What did I have? I was out of my league helping Gramps with this case. What if it got out of hand? What would I do? I hadn’t faced a dangerous situation before, never been challenged, or forced to show what I was made of. I had always cowered behind my brother, letting him defend me. Did I have the courage to take the lead? Did I have what it took to be an FBI agent? My heart rammed in my chest. I promised Gramps I’d help him.
I leaned against the wall of the stadium between the concession stand and the stairs, out of sight. I patted my coat, making sure my wand was in an inside pocket. I wasn’t supposed to use it in public, but if I had to protect Sabrina from any danger, I’d use whatever I needed. My wand, a stick from a drum set, funneled my powers, giving them a stronger punch, rather than shooting directly from my hands and fingers. In my family, they believed in earning your wand. I had many more years to go before I deserved that honor. Gramps’s came from a Yew tree, hardwood, that a tree lightning had struck, enforcing it with extra energies. Only the most powerful wizards had extraordinary wands.
Even though mine was a drumstick, a wizard's wand was his best friend. And like my grandpa always said, "A prepared wizard was a safe wizard."
Sabrina exited the bathroom and scanned the area.
I waved to her.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
I squeezed my lips together. "Just watching a few troublemakers."
"Why?"
"Not sure. Just a feeling." I kept staring.
Chad and Kyle talked to a tall, lean kid, who ran track. I think his name was Devon or Devlin. He ran cross country in the fall and pole vault in the spring. The kid was a sophomore in my class, a good guy, and didn't run with the likes of Hadler and his goons. In fact, I don’t remember ever seeing him talk to them before.
Chad pulled out a pill container and shook two white objects into the palm of his hand.
Without thinking, I gave Sabrina our box of food and drink and swaggered over to the three. She followed behind me. "What are you doing guys?" I asked, suspiciously.
Chad leveled an arrogant glower at me, his round, chubby face twisted, his broad nose flaring, and his beady eyes darted between Sabrina and me. "What's it to you, Finkleman?"
"What’s in your hand?"
Chad snorted. He reminded me of a hog at feeding time. "None of your business. Go on. Get out of here. And take your little girlfriend with you."
Devlin’s eyes danced from Chad to me, and over his shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other. He chewed on his lower lip.
"Why do you want me to leave so badly?"
"Geez, man." Kyle shook his head. "Don't you get the hint? Get out." They turned their backs to me.
I stood my ground, like a Doberman at a junk yard guarding the gate.
Chad transferred the two white tablets into Devlin’s hand.
Reacting, I pushed my way in, flicked the pills, sending them sailing through the air and landing in a mud puddle. "Don't take those. They’re dangerous."
"Why are breath mints dangerous?" Kyle’s straight brown hair parted on the side, fell across one eye, reminding me of a pirate wearing a patch. Kyle sneered at me as if I had lost my mind.
"Breath mints?" Oh, crap! "I thought they were—”
"You're such a freak. Come on." Chad jerked his head, and he and Kyle headed for the north end of the stadium. The track kid shook his head and sauntered off in the opposite direction.
Red-faced, I met Sabrina's suspicious peruse. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
I swallowed. No quick excuse or a smart remark came to mind. I sighed. I had no idea what to say without scaring her half to death. Should I assume a code of silence? I had no idea. Gazing into her blue eyes, I weakened. I made a horrible agent, spilling critical information due to a beautiful face.
“David, please tell me. My father’s life may depend on it.”
I squeezed my lips. Darn it, she was pretty and needed my help.
“What if it were your dad? What if he was the one missing and I had the relevant information. Wouldn’t you want me to share it with you? I would tell you.”
Crap. Good point.
She shifted the box to one arm, reached out and touched my hand, wrapping her fingers around mine. “Please.”
"Okay,” I said as if confessing to murder. “My grandfather and your father were on a case, something to do with a drug that’s going around. I thought it's what they were handing out. It’s why I made my best impression of the town idiot."
Her frown softened. "You weren’t an idiot, especially if someone knew the truth."
"Unfortunately, no one here knows the truth, except for you and me."
"No one else matters. Come on let's watch the game." She released my hand.
I took the box from her.
She strolled toward the stairs.
I hurried after her, wanting to hold her hand again, mine left cold.
Back in the reserved seats, I found my father waiting for the game to start. "Where have you two been?" he asked. “You almost missed the start of the game.”
"Just hanging out at the concession stand," I said.
The announcer told everyone to stand for the national anthem. The band rolled the drums and blasted the horns. After the captains of both teams had met in the middle of the field, the referee tossed the coin to see which team started.
We lost the toss, so States High School, a cross-town rival deferred, choosing to receive the ball after the half and kicked us the ball to begin the game. We caught the ball, and after a poor run back our offense ran out on the field. My brother jogged out to the huddle, poised and confident.
Nerves rattled me every time Henry played. I'm not sure why since he consistently had good games. Maybe I sensed the anxious energy from my father. I had to remind him it was a game, and in the scheme of life, it wasn't important. Of course, this advice came from the son who wouldn’t have any scout looking at him, let alone a college recruiting scout.
Dad sat on the edge of his seat, his fingers curling and flexing. His shoulder jerked back when Henry fell back to make a pass. “Henry has to play good tonight. Every pass is the difference between having a future at a Division One school, and sliding to Division Two. That’s when the recruiters noticed me, in my senior year, and I played every game as if it were the State championship game. Henry must do the same.”
At times like this, I was grateful I wasn’t Henry!
“He’ll do fine, Dad. Relax.”
“See the man sitting at the top of the bleachers behind us?” Dad jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
I spotted a man in a black overcoat, purple and gold scarf, a notebook in hand and scribbling in pencil. “Yeah. So?”
“He’s the scout from the University of Washington. Henry has to outshine the boys from California. It isn’t going to be easy.”
“Dad. Henry ranks in the top ten of quarterbacks for high schools in the country. If the U of W doesn’t want him, someone else will.”
“Yes, but I played for the University of Washington.”
I returned my attention to the field.
On the first play, Henry made a fifty-yard pass. Jerry, who had talent, but usually chose to be lazy, zoomed down the field. His long legs stretched like a gazelle, outrunning the defender by yards and ran with coordination and control. The ball settled in his arms, and he glided into the end zone. The crowd went wild.
After the extra point, States got the ball and went three downs and punted, giving Olympic the ball back. Shelby Baxter, Jerry's best friend, sprinted so fast he missed the ball because he had overrun it. I had never seen them this fast or play this well. I had to read the numbers on their jersey’s to make sure it was them.
The next play Olympic ran it up the middle, gaining only two yards. They needed eight more yards to get a first down and two more tries to do it. The coach switched back to a passing play, and again, Jerry and Shelby flew as fast as . . . animals. My gut tightened. Their superhuman speed came from animal characteristics they had gained from Canis, the deadly pill. It explained why they had turned into the fastest humans on earth.
I feared for my brother being close to these creatures. How safe was he? He had to shower with these guys after the game. If Jerry or Shelby bit my brother would he turn into a chupacabra?
As the game continued, I was equally terrified and fascinated as they ran back and forth, chasing after the ball. My mind wandered to how the drug worked. Was the point to eventually turn the kid into a chupacabra permanently? What triggered transformation besides anger? And once a person took the pills, did they ever get back too normal? Did one have to continue to take the pills to keep the animal speed and characteristics?
"What's wrong?" Sabrina asked.
I jerked my head in her direction. "What?"
"What's wrong?" she repeated.
"Something's not right."
"Like what?"
"Jerry and Shelby. They're playing better than I've ever seen them play."
"That's good, right?" Her brows knitted together
"I think they might have taken the drug.”
"Just because they are playing well? Those were breath mints, right?"
"They're so fast. No one can keep up. It’s as if they’re as swift as an animal."
She scanned the field. "They are quick. Too quick."
"And their stride. It's as smooth as the gait of a greyhound."
Sabrina pieced the puzzle together. "Or a chupacabra." Her eyes widened, red rushed to her cheeks, and lips parted. "Those pills turn a person into one, don’t they? It’s why my father was reading up on it.”
I nodded, realizing how smart she was.
“You don't think . . . my father is one of those creatures?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. He was tracking the drug, not taking it." I wanted to be reassuring to those mesmerizing blue eyes.
"Then where is he? Why haven't we heard from him? He should have called home or called my mom by now. If he’s been changed into one of those things, it would explain why we haven't seen or recognized him."
The crowd roared and stood as Henry made another completed pass.
We remained sitting. "I don't think that's what happened." Right now, I needed Sabrina to trust me, whether I spoke the truth or not. Why should she worry? At this point, we didn’t know anything.
My dad sat back in his seat, a broad smile on his face. “Your brother’s on tonight.”
By the end of the third quarter, the coach pulled most of the starters because Olympic led by thirty points. By the look on Henry’s face, he didn't want to come out, not with a scout in the audience. But the coach didn't give him a choice. He remained glued to the head coach, Mr. Brighton, eyeballing the junior quarterback.
I spotted Jerry and Shelby sitting on the bench, giving high-fives and laughing. I curled my lip to one side. Taking these pills was nothing but a joke to them. They found a way to cheat and capitalized on it. They made me sick. More, though, I worried they’d cheat my brother out of his opportunities and threaten his safety.
I turned to Sabrina. "Would you like to go to the dance with me after the game?"
"There's a dance?"
"Yeah. We have one after the home games, and though States High School shares the stadium with us, we’re Home team tonight. So there's a dance in the gym."
“But I’m not dressed for a dance.”
“No problem. Everyone goes from the game. No one dresses up. Haven’t you been to a high school dance before?”
“A homeschooled kid doesn’t have high school games or dances, so these are my firsts.” Sabrina tilted her head; her tone turned suspicious. “What’s going on at the dance?"
I frowned. "Okay. You got me. I want to make sure Hadler and friends don't get my brother to take those pills.”
