The Impossible Knife of Memory(21)

“Great game, huh?”

I turned around, ready to spew venom about parents who were happy to pay taxes for football coaches but would be good-God-damned if they were going to waste their money on librarians or gym teachers.

“I was certain we’d be down thirty points by now,” Finn said.

In his left hand, he was holding a flimsy cardboard box loaded with cheeseburgers, greasy fries, and two soda cups. In his right, he held a third cup that was filled with marigolds that looked like they’d been yanked out of somebody’s backyard.

“What’d you think of that first-down denial?” he asked. “Great way to end the half, right?”

“What happened to your date?” I asked.

“She’s here,” he said.

“You brought your big date to this football game? You could have written the article yourself.”

“No, I couldn’t,” he said. “What girl wants to be ignored on a date? Hold this for me.”

He shoved the box that held the food and drink at me, pulled his buzzing phone out of his pocket, glanced at it, and typed a reply. Behind us, the marching band took their position on the field, drummers beating a solemn cadence.

“Okay.” Finn put his phone away. “Want to meet her?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I followed him through the crowd. “Is she a zombie?” I asked. “I bet she’s wearing Belmont Yellow. Oh, God, Finn—is she a cheerleader?”

“Definitely not a zombie or a cheerleader or a zombie cheerleader. I’m just getting to know her. Actually, it’s sort of a blind date.”

“That’s gross,” I said. “Old people go on blind dates when they get divorced and don’t know what else to do. You’re only, what? Sixteen?”

“Almost eighteen,” he corrected.

“And you already need other people to fix you up?” I laughed.

“This way.” He took the box from me and headed for the exit.

“Did you lock her in your trunk?”

“I’m meeting her up on the hill. I thought it would be more romantic than cement bleachers.”

The marching band launched into “Louie, Louie,” saving him from hearing my answer.





_*_ 29 _*_

I followed him past the giggling children rolling down the hills like sausages. Past their tired parents sitting on stained comforters with their arms around each other. Past people critiquing the performance of the band and the flag twirlers. We walked all the way to the top of the hill and into the shadows beyond the reach of the stadium lights.

“She dumped you,” I said.

“Not yet.” He put the box of food and soda at the edge of a plaid blanket.

“Maybe she had to pee,” I said. “What’s her name again?”

“Her name is Hayley.” He straightened up and handed me the cup of marigolds. “Hello, Miss Blue.”





_*_ 31 _*_

“Me,” I said.

“You,” he confirmed.

The marching band started playing the theme from the latest Batman movie.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I was afraid you’d say no.”

“What if I say no right now?”

“Do you want to?”

I watched the band move in and out of their formations.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“You could sit and eat while you’re thinking about it,”

he suggested.

We sat on the blanket, the cheeseburgers, fries, and

flowers a border between us, watching the little kids and

the band until halftime was over. It was marginally less

awkward when the game started again, if only because

there was so much to mock. Finally, the ref blew his whistle

and it was official. The Belmont Machinists had lost their sixth game of the season and I had no idea what would happen next. I didn’t know what I wanted to happen next. The stadium slowly emptied; the families on the hill gathered their kids and shepherded them toward the parking lot, and

soon we were the only ones left.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” Finn said. “The security

guard is going to walk by to see if anyone is up here partying. I’m pretty sure we’re far enough away that he won’t be

able to see us, but we should lie down for ten minutes or so,

to be safe.”

“That is the lamest attempt ever to get a girl on her

back,” I said.

“I’m serious, look.” Finn pointed to two security guards

at the far end of the football field. “I’m not going to try anything. I swear. I’ll move over here so you’re comfortable.” He scuttled about four yards away and lay on the grass.

“How’s this?” he whispered loudly.

I lay down on the blanket carefully, keeping my head

turned and my eyes open so I could watch him. “If you

touch me, I’ll cram your nose into your brain with the heel

of my hand.”

“Shh,” he said.

The lights in the stadium started to click off, one at a

time, until darkness took over the field.