Becoming Grey: Episode 7

Chapter Seven 

September 29th,  2017 — Evening 

 
 
The final seconds disappeared from the scoreboard beneath a wall of noise. 

RIDGEMONT 17 
WEST RIDGEMONT 7 

The horn sounded, and the Ridgemont side of the stadium came apart. 

Callie was already on her feet before the clock reached zero, screaming with everyone else as the student section erupted around her. Purple pom-poms flew overhead. Someone a few rows down started pounding both hands against the aluminum bleachers, and within seconds the noise spread until the entire section seemed to vibrate beneath Callie’s shoes. 

“RIDGE-BACKS! RIDGE-BACKS! RIDGE-BACKS!” 

Across the field, West Ridgemont’s student section had gone almost completely still. 

Callie noticed. 

It made the victory better. 

On the field, Ridgemont’s players crashed together near midfield in a mass of purple jerseys and silver helmets. Coaches pushed into the celebration, grabbing players by the shoulders and shouting things nobody in the stands could possibly hear over the band and the crowd. 

Then the Paul Thomas Trophy appeared. 

The reaction somehow became louder. 

One of the coaches carried it toward midfield, the silver cup flashing beneath the stadium lights every time he turned. Four Ridgemont placards already covered the dark wooden base. 

Soon there would be a fifth. 

The captains crowded around the trophy while photographers hurried into position. A coach shouted something and raised one hand. The players leaned closer together. 

Then the trophy went over their heads. 

Callie screamed again. 

Beside her, Maggie cupped both hands around her mouth and leaned toward the field. “SUCK IT, WEST!” 

Callie turned toward her, laughing. “Wow. Really representing Ridgemont with dignity tonight.” 

Maggie lowered her hands and shrugged. “They can’t hear me.” 

“They absolutely can.” 

“Good.” 

Luke, standing on Maggie’s other side, laughed and clapped hard enough that the sound disappeared into the noise around them. “Nah, let her cook. This is beautiful.” 

Callie looked over at him. “You are the last person who should be encouraging anybody.” 

Luke put one hand to his chest. “I am a model of sportsmanship.” 

“You spent the third quarter yelling at number twenty two that his mom regretted having him.” 

Luke frowned thoughtfully. “That was motivational.” 

“For who?” 

“For us.” 

Maggie laughed. “Honestly, it kind of was.” 

The three of them were still grinning when the crowd began to loosen around them. Some students pushed toward the railing for pictures. Others climbed down the bleachers toward friends on the lower rows. Parents remained in their seats, talking over the band while younger kids darted beneath the stands. 

Callie dropped back onto the bench long enough to grab her hoodie. 

Myles sat down beside her. 

He had spent most of the fourth quarter on his feet, and his dark hair had gradually surrendered whatever shape it had possessed when he arrived. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked out toward the field for a moment before turning toward Callie. 

She noticed the look. 

“What?” 

Myles blinked. “What?” 

Callie pulled the hoodie into her lap. “You’re about to ask me something.” 

A small smile appeared on his face. “How do you know that?” 

“You have a question face.” 

“I do not have a question face.” 

From Callie’s other side, Maggie leaned forward enough to look past her. “You kind of do.” 

Myles turned toward Maggie. “You too?” 

Maggie gave him an apologetic shrug. “She’s right.” 

Luke leaned closer from the row above them. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” 

Myles looked around at all three of them. “Great. I’ve known you people for like five minutes and apparently you’ve already cataloged my facial expressions.” 

Callie smiled. “So ask your question.” 

Myles looked back toward the field, then at her. “How do you know so much about football?” 

Callie frowned slightly. “What do you mean?” 

“You were naming formations.” 

“I was not naming formations.” 

“You absolutely were.” Myles gestured toward the field. “At one point you said West was showing blitz, then you said the safety was cheating down, and then they actually brought pressure.” 

Callie shrugged. “Because they were showing it.” 

Myles stared at her for a second. “That explanation assumes I understand any of those words.” 

Maggie laughed and nudged Callie with her shoulder. “See? This is what she does.” 

Callie looked over. “What do I do?” 

Maggie settled back against the bleacher behind her, already smiling. “You act like you barely care about football, and then the game starts and suddenly you turn into somebody’s dad.” 

Callie’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?” 

“You know exactly what I mean.” 

“No, I absolutely do not.” 

Maggie deepened her voice into a terrible imitation of Callie. “‘They’re stacking the box. Why are they trying to run it up the middle?’” 

Luke immediately laughed. 

Callie turned toward him. “Don’t encourage her.” 

“I’m not.” Luke was grinning broadly. “I just remember you saying literally that.” 

“It was third and one!” 

Maggie pointed at her. “There. That.” 

Callie looked between them. “That does not make me somebody’s dad.” 

“It makes you somebody’s dad who is very angry at the Vikings,” Maggie said. 

Myles laughed. “Okay, now I need to know. Do you actually like football?” 

“Yes.” 

Maggie and Luke answered at the same time. 

“She loves football.” 

Callie turned toward her. “I do not love football.” 

“You yelled at the referee for five straight minutes.” 

“He missed holding.” 

“You were personally offended.” 

“It was obvious holding.” 

Luke nodded toward Myles. “She gets like this during Vikings games too.” 

Callie twisted around to glare at him. “Why are you helping?” 

“I’m giving Myles context.” 

“He doesn’t need context.” 

Myles was still smiling. “I think I do.” 

Callie sighed and looked back toward the field. “I grew up watching it with my dad. That’s all.” 

Myles studied her for a second. “That doesn’t explain how you knew what West was going to run before they snapped the ball.” 

“I didn’t know.” 

“You said, ‘Watch the slot receiver.’ Then they threw to him.” 

Callie shrugged again, this time with a little more satisfaction. “Because the corner was playing too far off.” 

Myles waited. 

Callie looked at him. 

He spread his hands. “Still meaningless.” 

She laughed. “Okay. Football isn’t random. It just looks random if you don’t know what you’re looking at.” 

That got his attention. 

Callie shifted on the bleacher, one leg tucked slightly beneath her as she glanced back toward the field. “Everybody has a job. Where people line up tells you what they might be trying to do. If somebody moves before the snap, the defense reacts, and that tells you something else. You just keep narrowing it down.” 

Myles tilted his head. “So you’re saying it’s basically a puzzle.” 

“Kind of.” 

“A violent puzzle.” 

Callie smiled. “Pretty much.” 

Luke leaned over the seat behind them. “With concussions.” 

Maggie pointed at him without looking back. “Nobody asked you.” 

Luke sat back. “Wow.” 

Myles looked at Callie again. “So football is science.” 

Callie smiled sweetly. “Everything is science, my dear Myles.” 

Maggie groaned immediately. “Oh, God.” 

Callie looked at her. “What?” 

“You cannot say things like ‘my dear Myles’ while explaining defensive formations and then pretend you’re not a nerd.” 

“I have never pretended I’m not a nerd.” 

“That’s actually true,” Luke said. 

Callie glanced back at him. “Thank you.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.” 

“I’m taking it as one.” 

Myles was still watching her with an amused expression. “Do you know all the Vikings players too?” 

Callie hesitated. 

Maggie saw it. 

Her eyes lit up. “Ask her who the backup running back is.” 

Callie turned sharply. “Maggie.” 

Myles looked delighted now. “Who’s the backup running back?” 

“I’m not doing this.” 

“That means she knows,” Maggie said. 

Luke leaned forward again. “Oh, she absolutely knows.” 

Callie looked around at all of them. “Why am I suddenly on trial?” 

“Because you’re a secret football freak,” Maggie said. 

“I am not a football freak.” 

Maggie crossed her arms. “Then answer the question.” 

Callie did. 

Immediately. 

For half a second, nobody said anything. 

Then Maggie started laughing. 

Myles stared at Callie. “You didn’t even have to think.” 

“That proves nothing.” 

“It proves everything,” Maggie said. 

Luke nodded solemnly. “Case closed.” 

Callie pulled her hoodie over her head, partly because the breeze had picked up and partly because it gave her something to do while everyone laughed at her. She tugged her hair free from the collar and looked toward Myles. 

“My dad watches a lot of football.” 

“Sure,” Maggie said. 

Callie ignored her. “You pick things up.” 

Myles leaned back against the bleacher. “I think it’s cool.” 

That took a little of the fight out of her. 

Callie glanced at him. “You do?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I barely know what’s happening half the time.” 

Luke gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from behind. “That’s okay, buddy. Neither do the Lions.” 

Myles laughed. 

Callie pointed at Luke. “See, now that was somebody’s dad.” 

Luke looked offended. “That was quality football analysis.” 

Maggie shook her head. “You’re all terrible.” 

Another roar rose from the field before anyone could answer. The Ridgemont players had started carrying the Paul Thomas Trophy toward the home sideline, angling it toward the stands for the crowd to see. 

Every student around them surged back to their feet. 

Maggie grabbed Callie’s arm. “Oh my God. Look.” 

Callie twisted toward the field. 

The trophy gleamed above the players’ heads as they carried it toward the student section. 

Luke shot upright behind them. “FIVE YEARS!” 

Several students nearby immediately picked it up. 

“FIVE YEARS! FIVE YEARS!” 

Callie laughed as the chant spread. 

Maggie looked toward Luke. “That doesn’t even make sense!” 

Luke cupped his hands around his mouth. “DOESN’T HAVE TO!” 

Myles leaned closer to Callie so she could hear him over the noise. “Is this another football thing I don’t understand?” 

Callie laughed. “No. This is just Luke being stupid.” 

“I HEARD THAT!” 

“You were supposed to!” 

The trophy rose higher. 

The band played. 

Students pounded their feet against the aluminum bleachers until the whole section trembled beneath them, the chant rolling outward in waves that seemed to gather strength instead of fading. Callie shouted with everyone else, caught up in it despite herself, Maggie pressed tight against one shoulder and Myles against the other while Luke bellowed something behind them that was either another chant or simply noise for the sake of making noise. 

Then the crowd began to move. 

At first it was only the students closest to the railing, climbing down the last few rows and spilling toward the track. Then somebody slipped through an opening near the fence, somebody else followed, and within seconds the careful separation between spectators and field had ceased to mean much of anything. Purple poured out of the stands. Students vaulted the lowest railing, parents shouted warnings that nobody listened to, and clusters of former players and alumni joined the rush from farther down the sideline. Security made a brief attempt to keep people back before apparently deciding that stopping several hundred ecstatic Ridgemont fans was a battle they were not going to win. 

“Oh, we’re going,” Luke announced. 

Callie barely had time to turn before he was pushing with the flow of students toward the steps. 

Maggie grabbed his sleeve. “Wait for us!” 

Luke looked back over his shoulder, grinning wildly. “Then move!” 

The crowd swallowed them. 

Callie tried to follow, but the aisle clogged almost immediately. Someone bumped hard into her from the side, forcing her back against the bleacher, and by the time she regained her balance she could see only flashes of Maggie’s hair and Luke’s purple hoodie disappearing between shoulders farther down. 

“Maggie!” 

Her voice vanished beneath the noise. 

Myles caught Callie lightly by the elbow before another group squeezed past them. “I think they’re gone.” 

“No kidding.” 

She rose onto her toes, trying to see over the heads in front of her. The field below had become a moving mass of purple. Students surrounded the players. The marching band had abandoned any recognizable song and was simply playing louder. Somewhere near midfield, the Paul Thomas Trophy rose above the crowd for a second before disappearing again. 

Callie pulled out her phone. 

A message from Maggie appeared almost immediately. 

WE’RE ON THE FIELD 

Callie stared at it. 

Then another arrived. 

LUKE ALMOST ATE IT JUMPING THE RAIL 

Callie laughed despite herself and typed back. 

of course he did 

Myles leaned closer to hear her over the stadium. “They okay?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

He smiled. “That sounds reassuring.” 

“It’s Luke. ‘Okay’ is relative.” 

Another surge of people pushed toward the exits behind them, and Callie slipped sideways to keep from being carried along with it. Myles reached for her hand almost instinctively, catching it before the crowd separated them. 

“Come on,” he said. “Before we get trampled.” 

Callie looked down at their hands for the briefest second. 

Then somebody shoved past her shoulder again, and deciding whether holding Myles’s hand meant anything became significantly less important than not losing him in the crowd. 

“Parking lot,” she said. 

“Parking lot.” 

They worked their way against the current of students still trying to reach the field, descending the bleachers one crowded step at a time. Myles kept hold of her hand as he went ahead, turning sideways to make space whenever the aisle narrowed. Callie followed close behind, her shoulder brushing strangers, the metal steps ringing beneath hundreds of shoes. 

“This is insane!” Myles called back. 

Callie laughed. “You wanted the full Ridgemont experience!” 

“I thought that was football!” 

“This is football!” 

They finally reached the bottom and slipped through the gate toward the parking lot. 

The difference was immediate but hardly quiet. The stadium still roared behind them, only now the sound arrived as one enormous body of noise rather than individual voices. Car horns had begun answering from the streets around the school. Somebody had started another Ridgebacks chant near the entrance, and people walking toward their cars joined in without even slowing down. 

Then the first firework went up. 

Callie heard the whistle before she saw it. 

A bright streak climbed into the dark sky above the stadium and burst into a white-and-purple bloom that briefly illuminated the parking lot beneath it. A second followed almost immediately, then a third, the reports cracking through the night and echoing off the school buildings. Heads tilted upward all across the lot. Children shouted. Someone nearby cheered as though the fireworks themselves had scored another touchdown. 

Callie stopped walking long enough to watch another burst spread above the stadium lights. 

“Okay,” she admitted. “That’s pretty cool.” 

Myles looked up beside her. “Pretty cool?” 

Another explosion scattered silver sparks across the sky. 

Callie smiled. “Fine. Very cool.” 

The celebration behind them showed no sign of settling. If anything, it seemed to be getting louder. The field remained packed, students still pouring down from the stands while the band hammered away beneath the fireworks. 

Myles glanced toward the stadium, then back at Callie. “I don’t live far from here.” 

Callie looked at him. 

He suddenly seemed aware of how that had sounded. 

“I mean, my house,” he added quickly. “My parents’ house. Obviously.” 

Callie’s mouth twitched. 

Myles rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “We could go there for a while. Just until this dies down. Trying to get picked up right now is going to be impossible.” 

Callie looked across the parking lot. 

He was not wrong. Cars were already trapped bumper to bumper near the exits, brake lights glowing red in long unmoving lines. Every side street around Ridgemont High would be clogged for at least the next hour, and judging by the chanting still coming from the stadium, nobody on the field appeared particularly interested in leaving. 

Her phone buzzed again. 

Maggie. 

WE ARE NOT LEAVING YET 

A second message followed. 

LUKE IS TRYING TO GET A PICTURE WITH THE TROPHY 

Callie showed the screen to Myles. 

He laughed. “So I guess they’re busy.” 

“Looks like it.” 

Another firework burst overhead, washing his face briefly in pale light. 

Callie slipped her phone back into her pocket. “How close do you live?” 

Myles pointed beyond the far edge of the school grounds. “Like ten minutes walking. Maybe less.” 

Callie raised an eyebrow. “And this isn’t some elaborate plan where I get there and suddenly Luke jumps out of a closet?” 

Myles stared at her. “Why would Luke be in my closet?” 

“I don’t know. He seems like somebody who would think that was funny.” 

“That is disturbingly possible.” 

Callie laughed. 

Myles gave her hand a small tug toward the sidewalk. “Come on. We can wait there until everybody remembers parking lots have limited exits.” 

She let him lead her away from the stadium. 

Behind them, Ridgemont continued celebrating under the lights, the crowd roaring each time another firework burst above the field. Ahead, the neighborhood streets were darker and quieter, tree-lined sidewalks stretching beyond the school grounds beneath pools of yellow streetlight. 

Callie glanced once over her shoulder. 

The stadium still glowed against the night sky, purple and silver sparks breaking above it. 

Then she turned back toward Myles and kept walking. 

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