Chapter Eighteen

Dominic was so afraid he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream; his fear shamed him and shocked him. How had it snuck up on him like this?

            The lights of his Up-and-Coming Artistry had arrived; the incoming event had come at last. Twenty seconds, tops, and what was foreseen would arrive, whatever it was; ten seconds. Five. Three. The lights were so bright, disorienting. One.

            Dominic awoke and at first did not know where he was. The room was dark, the floor was hard; the soft light of night came through three windows across the room, barely illuminating anything. But then he knew where he was. He was in the clubhouse, Room 44. At some point in the night he had, what… sleep walked? No, sleep teleported. That opened up some fun possibilities.

            Dominic got to his feet and at first didn’t move, merely stood there, gathering his bearings. His heart was still racing from that dream, that nightmare. As if checking to make sure a dream-attained wound was not actually there, he concentrated on his Up-and-Coming Artistry just to make sure… thank God, he thought, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It really was just a damn dream. The lights were still in the distance, slowly approaching. But he had to accept that they were much closer than when he’d first seen them.

            Elyse claimed that people dreamt of their anxieties far more often than their optimistic pursuits. She was right. He was no weakling, far from it, and neither was Elijah. But something big, unknown, and (they assumed) terrible was coming, and Dominic was scared. He walked over to one of the windows and surveyed the midnight school grounds. Would it happen here, the big, unknown, terrible thing? Such dreams filled the place: graduation, friendships, high school romances, the upcoming Eclipse Bowl. Was he foreseeing something that would kill all of those things or uplift them?

            He reached for his cell phone in his pocket and found thin cloth instead; it seemed he was at school in nothing but his boxers. He’d intended to try that phone number one more time, the number that went nowhere, the number he and Vee had thought might lead to his father. But it looked like he wasn’t going to get any help from that corner.

            “God…” Dominic said, looking at the stars over the campus. “… help us. Please.”

            And with that the air moved, the soft sound of a breeze, and he was gone.

 

Nicolle did not possess Intuition, nor any sort of Artistry that allowed her some kind of insight into the future. And yet, upon awakening on that morning, seeing that once-in-a-season brand of glorious, blue sky beauty, she said aloud:

“Today’s going to be big.”

Was it? If it was, then she would look back on that moment with self-satisfied happiness, her personal opinion proven right. If it wasn’t, then she would simply forget her wanna-be clairvoyance in the midst of the Eclipse Bowl festivities, which Vee promised to be “a whole lotta fun.” Classes were to be suspended for the entire day, giving students the time decorate the campus and build floats. The Eclipse Bowl was never anything Nicolle had cared about; essentially Maple Hills High School (whose mascot was the sunglasses wearing Sol the sun) played against Gibbons High School (whose mascot was Luna the moon) in a football game of long standing rivalry. If Maple Hills won: solar eclipse. If Gibbons won: lunar eclipse. Har har… clever, Nicolle thought. For the past three years it had been a lunar eclipse, so war cries for revenge and solar eclipse and go team were common in hallways.

This year, however, her interest was a little more piqued. Not only did she have legitimate friends to hang out with during the day but for once she knew two of the football players that would be playing in the game, Darius and Jackson. She’d never actually attended one of the games, but tonight she would.

Her car at last fixed, Nicolle was on her way to school when her phone vibrated beside her. She opened the text message, read it, forgot to look at the road, and nearly destroyed a neighbor’s roadside-sleeping dog. Back on the road, adrenaline pumping, she read it again.

 

Eli and Presley broke up last night.

 

 

Nicolle pulled into her usual parking space, turned off the car, and took a deep breath. The entire school apparently decided to arrive early today, the parking lot much fuller than usual; she chalked it up to school spirit. Already the school was showing signs of having been decorated, the cheerleaders having stayed up through the night putting toilet paper in the trees and colorful streamers and posters on every spare space. Students walked the campus freely; even in their way of walking they testified to the joys of freedom from a conventional school day, moving not with slow reluctance but with a cat-like easiness.

Elijah was standing alone on the front steps of the school, propped up against a large pillar, his arms crossed at the chest. Casual, cool, collected, exquisitely gorgeous, impeccably dressed; Nicolle had been busy living in a new world of Artistries recently, yes, but her awe of Elijah Beaumont remained, her nearly animal-like desire to claw him into a hug and kiss his face, bite his shoulders, taste his skin. It occurred to her suddenly that he was standing in the exact same spot as he had that day, the day before her eyes turned Black and her world changed forever.

…the Chess Club stepped through the front doors; Elijah paid them no mind, his eyes scanning the school grounds nonchalantly; though she unreasonably hoped he was looking for her, Nicolle slowly eased herself back through her open car door, fearful of him seeing her; fearful of him seeing her windblown and no-doubt tangled hair, of him seeing her rusty, ugly car, of him seeing her staring back at him. His eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, passed over where her car was parked, not seeing her at all…

Nicolle opened the car door, an aromatic gust like honeysuckles filling the car with a whoosh, and stood beside the car. Elijah’s sunglasses were on so she had no way of telling if he was looking at her. She decided that he was for absolutely no reason at all other than to make her heart swell with hope; she raised a hand into the air to wave at him, gave up halfway, and pulled it back down.

…no longer was Elijah Beaumont alone, but was now accompanied by she whom he had waited behind for, his girlfriend Presley Llewellyn. Wrapping an arm around her tiny waist, the two disappeared into the school…

Nicolle turned; going up the walk to the side door of the school " a different door than the one Elijah was near " was Presley. Nicolle had never seen her look as she did; her hair was not lusciously falling down her back as usual but had been carelessly thrown into a ponytail, and her movements were sluggish and unwilling. Her glow " at least for the day " was gone.

Presley looked up in the direction of Elijah longingly " did that mean Elijah had dumped her, or was it the other way around? " before quickly lowering her gaze and pressing on. She reached the side door of the school, opened it, and disappeared inside.

Elijah stood alone, the day’s unnaturally strong wind blowing his hair about, his head turned away from the world; with the golden morning light framing him it was a scene fit for a romantic novel.

Never before had Nicolle felt that feeling so strongly, the feeling that high school girls are particularly well versed on: that fate was on their side, that the stars were aligned in that moment for the sheer purpose of their love; the air was a fragrance of destiny, filling Nicolle’s nose and making her heart beat fast.

She stared and could not stop.

 

Vee " a happy sun painted on her right cheek " waved Nicolle over hurriedly as soon as she stepped inside Room 44.

“Did you get my text?!” She whispered loudly, unable to contain her smile.

Nicolle nodded, power-walking to Vee’s corner of the room, away from the others. “I did… what happened? Was there an argument, or…?”

“No one knows, and Dom isn’t talking about it,” Vee said, looking at Dom across the room. He was talking to Elyse about something, both of them watching Jackson as he exercised, doing one-armed, one-finger handstand push-ups. “I asked him and he said it wasn’t our business… he’s more concerned with Darius and Jackson behaving during the game tonight. He’s assured them that if he sees the smallest sign of an Artistry used on the football field he’s going to personally obliterate them.”

“Have you not picked up anything with your Artistry??”

“About Darius and Jackson?” Vee shrugged. “They seem committed to not using Artistries, I don’t think"”

“No, no, no, I don’t care about that,” Nicolle said, waving the topic away like an annoying insect. “Elijah and Presley!”

“Elijah knows things, like how to muddle my telepathy… he’s never told me how he does that, either. So I only get scraps of info from him. And I haven’t seen Presley today to read her thoughts.”

“Well let’s go find her,” Nicolle said.

            “I saw her,” a voice said. “Just a few minutes ago, sobbing her poor little eyes out, looking hideous. I read her mind, too.”

            Vee’s face crumpled with dislike; Nicolle turned and saw Brooklyn, no signs of school spirit on her at all, towering over them with the haughtiness of a queen. Nicolle’s heart turned to ice; if Brooklyn was able to read her mind, didn’t that mean Presley was thinking about sex?!

            “No, Nicolle,” Vee answered her friend’s thoughts. “Brook’s lying.”

            “I’m not the pathological liar you think, Vivian,” Brooklyn said. If her smile was a lit cannon then Vee would have a cannonball sized hole around her middle.

            “Tell that to Elyse,” Vee said. “Shall we have her come mediate your little lie-fest?”

            “Did you really see Presley this morning?” Nicolle was ashamed to care about Brooklyn’s words; it felt like she was dealing on the Black Market.

            “Sure did. And let me tell you…” Chortle. “… getting dumped during the act has got to be pretty embarrassing, when you’re already all sweaty and nasty and naked"”

            Vee stepped forward, placed both of her hands on Brooklyn’s breasts, and shoved as hard as she could. Brooklyn did not fall but staggered backwards onto the arm of a couch; she straightened up and made for Vee, her teeth gritted in anger. Jackson laughed at the impromptu entertainment.

            Dominic vanished from Elyse’s side and suddenly appeared between them, catching Vee and holding her back; Peter, who Nicolle had not even known was in the room, leapt off the couch that Brooklyn had stumbled into and locked his arms around her.

            “Let me go, you little freak! Let me go!”

            “I’m sorry, Brooklyn…” Peter sounded unhappy to have had to step in. “… it’s the rules…”

            “Stay out of everyone’s business, Brooklyn!” Vee yelled past Dominic. “You hear me! I’m sick of you!”

            “Shall I tell everyone your unspoken desires?!” Brooklyn struggled against Peter’s powerful hold. “About who you fantasize about?!”

            Vee screamed liked an amazon, fighting against Dominic’s hold with all her strength, urgent to shut Brooklyn up.

            “Brooklyn! Brooklyn, look at me, girl,” Elyse said, getting in front of the Artist of the Blue. “Look at my eyes, okay? Let me calm you down…”

            Brooklyn averted her eyes, refusing to be Mood Managed. The front door suddenly opened and Darius walked in; his initial grin vanished upon seeing the scene in front of him. Without a word he ran over to where Peter was holding Brooklyn back, laid a hand on her, and the two vanished, leaving Peter to stumble over the newly vacant spot in front of him.

            Across the room, where Jackson was straightening up from doing push-ups, Darius and Brooklyn reappeared.

            “So explain to me,” Darius said, eyes closed for effect, “explain to me why, when I walked in, I saw what I saw. Somebody explain that.”

            “Why do you think?” Vee said, throwing her hands into the air. “Brook was starting up crap"”

            “Uh, EXCUSE ME, you got physical first, b***h,” Brook said, eyes wide, finger pointing.

            “Because you were talking crap, somebody needed to teach you a lesson!"”

            “Freedom of speech only for the senior officers of the Chess Club?” Jackson asked, crossing his arms.

            “Don’t play with us,” Dominic said, “you know just as well as I do how Brook can be, and in the Chess Club we don’t allow troublemakers"”

            “Vee shoved me first!” Brook yelled. “Who is starting trouble?!”

            “I think we should all just calm down first,” Elyse said.

            “I think there should be a little equality first,” Darius said. “How many points would I get deducted for restraining Vee like Brook just was? But because it’s us we can’t get away with it.”

            “Yeah right,” Vee said.

            “We do value equal rights in the Chess Club and you all know it,” Dominic said, his brow creased with frustration. “We clearly outlaw using Artistries to cause pain, either emotional or physical"”

            “Outlaw?” Jackson laughed. “Like you have the power to make the law and tell us what we can and cannot do.”

            “Come on,” Darius said, heading for the door, and Jackson and Brooklyn followed. “This is a free country. Let’em stop us from going out.”

            “None of you had better break our rules,” Dominic warned. “I mean it. There would be consequences.”

            Brooklyn smiled, extended her middle finger, and three of them left the room.

 

            The hallways were so heavily decorated that at times Nicolle wasn’t sure what part of the school she was in; banners, streamers, posters, glitter, balloons everywhere; music blasted from a classroom she passed by and then faded into the distance as she moved away, replaced by the sounds of laughing students spraying each other with silly string.

            The greatest part of the pandemonium: Nicolle was able to easily shake Timmy. He had sent multiple texts asking where she was; in the lunchroom she texted just as she exited the lunchroom; hanging out in Mr. Browning’s room she texted, only to go outside a minute later. She didn’t like lying to him, or lying at all, really, but his newly Yellow Eyes seriously creeped her out. Not just the look of them, but what he could do with them.

            Nicolle did her best to not think of Timmy, though; most of her time went to trying to find Elijah, who she had not seen since that morning. She and Vee (who, when not worrying about Dom’s problems with “the Evil Three”, was taking her dating coach duties very seriously) had seen Presley once, though. She had been sitting with a girl friend in Mr. Meister’s classroom, heads down and talking. I can’t get a good read on what she’s thinking, Vee had said. Tough to tell why they broke up. She’s too sad, too conflicted.

            For a while Vee and Nicolle parked on the home-side bleachers, watching the Maple Hill High football team practice on the field. The wind was fierce, forcing Vee to lean in when she wanted to speak, which wasn’t very often. Everyone’s minds were overloaded; the Chess Club had never been so wounded: Timmy, refusing to actually join the Club, was a potential threat to secrecy, Darius, Jackson, and Brook seemed fed up with rules, Maria was dead, and Elijah, dismayed by heartbreak, had become more of a nonmember, staying to himself usually. Nicolle wondered if she had jumped onboard in the last days of the Club.

            “Getting a text message,” Vee said aloud, reaching into her pocket. On the football field Jackson " the quarterback " passed the ball downfield to a sole receiver " Darius. The throw was a bit overlong; Darius leapt forward, going completely horizontal in midair; the ball fell into his outstretched fingers and he crashed to the grass for what would have been a touchdown. The team cheered; one of the players, smiling, flipped him off from across the field.

            Vee’s phone, now in her hand, lit up and the face of Elyse was on the screen.

            “She knows we were looking for Eli,” Vee said. “Says she thinks he’s in the old field house. She’s picking up a weird mood out there.” She looked up from the phone with a smile. “Wanna go?”

            Stars were aligned this day; the sun was shining on her destiny; Elijah Westley Beaumont would be hers today.

            “Let’s do this. But you have to read his mind, tell me what to say!”

            “Deal. C’mon.”

            The old field house was an out of use building built forever ago on the edge of the campus, made obsolete by the shiny new field house closer to the school. Why Elijah would be in the old field house Nicolle had no clue, other than, perhaps, that he wanted to be alone.

As they walked Vee coached: “Try to act confident, guys don’t like girls that come off all floosy. You know, hold your head high, try to smile… a real smile, one that touches your eyes. In fact, once we get in there take off your shades, let him see those pretty Blacks… be sympathetic to his plight but let him know that it’s probably best it’s all behind him, because now that cow won’t be coming in our clubhouse and disrupting everything…”

The old field house was humming as they approached; a violen, a piano, a clarinet, a

French horn, all so loud as to shake the building, so loud that Nicolle could hear it from the distance away that she stood. Together they walked to the door, twisted the handle, and peeked inside.

            Music exploded from every corner of the room. Weights littered the place in no semblance of order; faded old posters from the nineties covered the walls, pictures of past football teams. The room smelled like mildew. A single light bulb illuminated the room, and beneath it, pounding a punching bag with a ferocity likely born of pain, shirtless, fit, biceps bulging, was Elijah Beaumont. 

            Nicolle inhaled.

            “ELI!!” Vee cupped her hands to her mouth. “HEY!!”

            The symphony reached crescendo " like the part of the movie when fires are raging, and the hero triumphs, and eyes widen in wonder " and Elijah slowly turned around. His face was wet with sweat; locks of brown obscured his silver eyes.

            “Stay out of my head today. Consider this your first warning.”

            Vee’s eyes enlarged. “No need for that tone. I just came to invite you to"”

            “I already know about it,” he said, turning his back on them, pulling his hanging shirt from his back pocket, and wiping his face with it.

            “… invite him to what?” Nicolle whispered to Vee.

            “After the game tonight the Chess Club’s meeting, gonna go out for some fun, try to reestablish some breaking connections in the group, calm down Brook and them… Dom’s idea,” she whispered back. To Elijah, volume up: “So you’re coming?”

            He exhaled. It didn’t come off to Nicolle as annoyed or exhausted… it came across as angry. “No, I’m not.”

            Vee nudged Nicolle with her elbow and gestured to Elijah with her head. What did she expect her to say to convince him?

            “Please come,” Nicolle said, playing with her fingers nervously. “It… it might make you feel better, to get out and stuff…”

            He dropped the shirt and returned to the punching bag. It was then that Nicolle noticed the blood on his knuckles, the blood smeared on the punching bag. And yet, before her very eyes, the blisters on his hands seemed to stop bleeding, to shrink, and at last vanish.

            His response was calm. Calm like the quiet threat of a coiled snake. “I’ve said no already. Now go away.”

            “Ahem… might I remind you, Mr. Beaumont, that the Chess Club is crumbling up like a cookie and you, sir, are one of its founders, a.k.a. one of the people responsible for fixing her back up again.” Vee’s hands were actually on her hips. Nicolle thought it was obvious: taking a tough stance against Elijah right now, or ever, really, would bring bad results. He would need to be gently persuaded, not coerced…

            “Go away, Vee,” Elijah said, and his fist flew, crack, once across the bag, crack, twice, boom, an elbow strike, crack, a hard jab; his movements were furious, unhappy.

            Vee nudged Nicolle again and mouthed say something. Nicolle looked at him, attacking the bag as if it were his problems incarnate, and shook her head. Vee sighed.

            “Elijah, if you’ll just turn off the music and"”

            He turned: “GO!! NOW!!”

            Nicolle and Vee jumped. Elijah turned back around; Vee walked to the door, frustrated, and walked out. Nicolle watched him for only a second more " both afraid and mystified; blood was beginning to run down his knuckles again " before following.

 

            Timmy saw them. Everyone, everyone in the school, their outlines through the walls; some sitting, some running, some laying down, some eating; one jock in the distance was apparently punching midair. Some were on the first floor, some were hovering above him on the second; no one inhabited the third floor " or that room the Chess Club meets in " so he had no real way of knowing which outline was Nicolle.

He saw two girls outline’s in the women’s bathroom, both of them sitting, one playing with her hair as she did her business, as Timmy’s mama would say; Timmy waited outside the bathroom until they exited. Neither was Nicolle.

Two students were snuggled up in the corner of a classroom on the second floor, one of them being roughly Nicolle’s size. The outlines met in a kiss, and anger flamed in his cheeks, hot and throbbing; he stomped up the steps to the second floor and looked into the room. The girl had blonde hair, not Nicolle’s wavy black.

He made a complete one-eighty, spinning and looking up and down, examining every outline for those most resembling his partner. He thought he saw, outside near where the floats were being built, a trio of outlines chatting, one standing in the socially awkward way Nicolle did, another standing in the confident way of the girl Nicolle had been hanging around with. Timmy pulled out his phone and texted Nicolle, asking her where she was. Then he waited. One second… two seconds… three…

The socially awkward outline reached into her pocket and extracted her phone.

Excelsior, Timmy thought.

 

It was a rare thing for Nicolle to feel socially superior to someone " unprecedented, actually " but compared to the withdrawn demeanor of Peter Bones her shyness was the absolute life of the party. His hands were stuffed all the way into his pockets and his head was so downcast that his chin touched his chest; his long emo hair covered his face completely, giving no hope of seeing so much as a square centimeter of skin.

“… we’re hoping it is a calmer meeting than what happened this morning,” Vee said, arms crossed. “But if it’s not… that’s the point I’m making, that safety’s the key… if for some reason those three decide to do something stupid then I want you to already have a fair bit of power charged. Just in case.”

Peter nodded.

“Do they know about the meeting yet?” Nicolle asked.

“Dominic texted Darius and Jackson and told them,” she said. “I texted Brooklyn. Just saying that we were all on the same team here and that we didn’t want any bad water under the bridge, all that crap. Which is true, we can’t have fighting amongst ourselves… a divided house can’t stand.”

“Where is it again…?” Peter asked, peeking out from behind his hair.

“We’re meeting in the school parking lot, then we’re gonna go out and… I don’t know, bowl or something,” Vee said. “If Maple High loses, we’ll meet right after the game, if they win then we’ll meet at eleven or so… gives Darius and Jackson time to celebrate with the team and all. So you can come?”

Peter nodded.

“Excuse me if I come off as uncouth by inserting myself into the conversation without invitation, but may I inquire as to what you’re talking about?”

Timmy walked up from behind, his movements slow and self-assured. Nicolle didn’t hide her disdain at seeing him at first, but then she remembered her assignment " through her kindness he may obey the rules " and forced herself to smile.

“Hey Timmy… where’ve you been all day?”

“I could ask you the same,” he said, looking to the sky thoughtfully. “So what were you talking about?”

Nicolle looked to Vee. Almost unperceivably she nodded. Nicolle cursed mentally.

“Tonight the Chess Club is getting together after the game… would you like to come?”

He smiled. As were all of his smiles lately, it looked completely unnatural. “A gathering with the Chess Club? I’ll pass.”

Nicolle nodded sadly; relief filled her up silently.

            “We can get together, however, and teach each other the intricacies of our Artistries,” Timmy said. “You’ll be fascinated by what I’ve learned.”

            “Hey, watch your mouth in public, my friend,” Vee said; Nicolle noticed that her chastisement, while usually sharp, was in this instance soft, an effort to keep from offending Timmy. They really were having to walk on eggshells with him.

            Timmy ignored her. He looked to Nicolle and asked, “Would you like to do that? Meet me tonight?”

            “I was expecting you to ask,” Nicolle said, that forced smile beginning to hurt her cheeks. “I’ll be there.”

            Timmy smiled and this time it seemed a little more genuine. She expected Vee to later voice herself impressed with Nicolle’s skillful dodging of Timmy’s question; had she said yes he would have known she was lying. In truth nothing sounded more unappealing to her, but she really did need to spend some time with him, not only to learn more about his Artistry, but to maybe rein him in a little.

            “Lovely,” he said.

 

            They walked away, heads together, nattering like a couple a children. What were they saying? Perhaps admitting the lies they withheld in his company? He didn’t like the girl Vee… she thought she could replace him… and he didn’t like the direction Nicolle was going in her life. But he had no worries… she’d told him right then that she wanted to see him after the game, and he could tell it was the truth.

            Maybe, he thought, maybe tonight will be the night. I’ll confess my love to her tonight, and"

            “Got the hots for Nicolle?”

            Timmy spun around. What was her name? Brittney? Brook? She was pretty, and she exuded confidence like a sun exudes heat. The boy Peter had apparently melted away without Timmy even noticing; this one, this girl with the B-name, whatever it was, had apparently come from the crowd of students working on the floats nearby.

            “You’re in the Chess Club,” he said.

            “Mmhm… that’s right. I’m Brooklyn,” she said with a grin. His eyes, unable to help themselves, fell to her chest before quickly moving back up. This girl had sex appeal. Why was she talking to him?

            “Why"?”

            “I’m talking to you because I want you to know the truth about Nicolle,” she said. Still smiling.

            “Please,” Timmy said, clenching his jaw. “Before now you would never have even spoken to me. You have no interest in aiding me at all.” And yet he had to admit: her prior statement had been true.

            “I know you have intense feelings for Nicolle,” Brooklyn said. True. “She has strong feelings as well, you know.” True.

            Timmy’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?”

            “You know I’m not lying,” she said, her voice cool. She must be used to being the one in control during conversation with males. “Nicolle has very strong feelings about you.”

            True. “How do you…?”

            She tipped her shades down " a move she made sultry " giving him a peek at her gorgeous Blue eyes. Blue… Blue… wasn’t that the Artistry that allowed telepathy?

            “I have seen her inner desires, Timmy,” she said, moving a little closer to him. True. “She has very strong, yet very hidden, romantic desires.” True. Timmy felt one hundred billion butterflies fluttering in his stomach. What this girl was saying couldn’t possibly be true… and yet he knew it was, he could sense it…

            “Nicolle… loves me back…?”

            “Don’t hold back tonight when you meet, Timmy,” she said. “Now that you know the truth. Don’t hold back.”

            He couldn’t even speak. A tear slipped out from behind his shades, something that would normally embarrass him. But not today. She would be his queen… he now knew that for sure!...

            “T-thank you…” he croaked out.

            “Good luck,” Brooklyn said, dropping her shades again to flash him a wink, before walking away.

 

            Brooklyn waited until he was inside the school again before she exploded into laughter. Who knows? Maybe the after-game meeting would be a little fun after all.

 

            The school day ended but Nicolle’s thoughts were whirling still. She had Elijah on her mind (his terrible anger, his understandable pain), she had Timmy on her mind (his newfound oddities, the mood boost he attained after their talk), she had “The Evil Three” in mind, along with the after-game meeting, hoping it all went smoothly. And then there was the game itself (a much lesser worry); what would she wear? What was it like attending an Eclipse Bowl? She was worried that, somehow, she’d walk away with egg on her face.

            She went home only long enough to grab some clothes and other small items; she and her mother said nothing in the short time Nicolle spent passing through the living room. The smell of cigarette smoke turned to the smell of brisk countryside when Nicolle pushed open the door and walked out to her car, knapsack in hand. She was headed to Vee’s.

            From four o’clock to seven o’clock they were in Vee’s room; the mood was generally one of excitement, trying on clothes for the big game, or laughing for no good reason; when the topic turned to Elijah Vee was adamant that his anger would pass, that in time he would calm and, during the wait, Nicolle would lay a foundation for success. Nicolle simply nodded; her optimism from that morning wasn’t gone, not much, anyway, but going to the old field house had wounded that a little.

            At last the time came. Vee and Nicolle loaded up in her Bug and began the drive back to school; the sun was in the process of setting, and the cloudless sky turned soft indigo in the east, shining golden in the west.

            We’re meant to be together, Nicolle thought. I need him… and he needs me. It will happen.

            “Yes it will,” Vee said, patting Nicolle’s knee.

            By the time they reached the school parking lot it was already beginning to fill up nicely; the Gibbons High School bus was parked out on the grass beside the gymnasium. The Maple High team was on one end of the field stretching " Darius and Jackson among them, though from the parking lot Nicolle couldn’t pick them out " and the Gibbons High team on the other. The wind still blew hard, and on it Nicolle smelled freshly cut grass, she heard the sound of children laughing as they played on a nearby hillside; she had to squint when looking toward the field from the bright lights overhead.

            Vee flung her arm around Nicolle’s neck.

            “Come, Darling,” she said with a grin, making the Maple High Sol painted on her cheek widen, “let’s have some fun.”

            Nicolle smiled back. But something… what was it? Her nerves were rattling…

            …

            It was probably nothing.

            “Let’s,” Nicolle said.

 

            “WELCOME… TO… THIS YEAR’S ANNUAL ECLIIIIIIIPSE BOOOOOOWWWWL!!”

            The stands, on both sides of the field, full to bursting, exploded with cheers. Nicolle and Vee found a seat with Dominic and Elyse; Dom had in his lap what appeared to be a fifteen foot long hot dog, smothered in whatever the concession stand was giving out for toppings.

            “You like football Elyse?!” Vee asked over the roar. Elyse nodded.

            “Yes ma’am, you kidding? My family eats this stuff up.” A little softer, she said, “Thought I might give the ol’ Mood Manage a try, give our boys a little something something…”

            “Don’t even joke,” Dominic said, his mouth full of food.

            “That’s disgusting,” Vee said.

            “I’m already about to bust a vein nervous about Jackson and Darius pulling that kind of stuck on field, just talking about it makes me nauseous,” he finished.

            “GIBBONS HAS WON THE COIN TOSS,” the announcer declared; the sound system squeaked slightly. “THEY HAVE DECIDED TO GIVE MAPLE HIGH THE FIRST POSSESSION!”

            “That’s Jackson, number sixty-six… he’s our quarterback,” he said, pointing at a player watching from the sidelines. “The one receiving the ball down there on the end is Darius.”

            “That’s Darius?” Nicolle asked; it seemed a little weird, actually knowing one of the football stars, knowing the guy everyone in the stadium was about to be looking at. Gibbons kicked the ball down the field"

            “… IT’S A HIGH ONE!...”

            " and Darius caught it; he tore into a run, dodging tackles, nearly tripping once"

            “… HE’S STILL ON HIS FEET, NUMBER ELEVEN!... TO THE THIRTY… THIRTY-FIVE! FORTY...!”

            … a Gibbons player, at last, came at Darius from the side and tackled him, bringing them both to the ground in a heap.

            “He’s good,” Nicolle said.

            “Someone at the concession stand said there might be scouters here, from a few places,” Dominic said.

            “That would be weird… either Darius or Jackson in college,” Elyse said with a laugh.

            Nicolle’s phone rumbled. Timmy.

 

            We still on for tonight? : )

 

            Nicolle replied with a yes and forced the thought of him away; she wouldn’t enjoy herself if she worried about it. She had to root for Maple High extra hard: she had a notion that if they pulled off a win then maybe, fingers crossed, the Evil Three would be a little more manageable come postgame.

 

            Why did he even come? Not to see her " Presley, sitting on the first row with her friends, talking about who knew what " but to support his brother. That was all.

            Elijah stood with his arms crossed to the far left of the field, away from the stands and everyone else, leaning against a pole and watching. Darius was a good player, and so was Jackson; his completion rate of successful passes was upper seventy-something percentile this season. They would likely be the MVPs for this game, assuming Maple High managed a win, even without using their Artistries.

            Dominic knew. He wouldn’t say anything out loud, nor would he let his mental defense down around Vee, but Elijah understood his brother too well. Dominic knew the Chess Club was a failed experiment. Darius, Jackson, and Brooklyn proved it; that Timmy Stoker proved it. Maria proved it, in her own way. The Artistry phenomenon couldn’t be ruled. It could for a little while, maybe, but not forever. So they took away points and awarded points based on behavior… how long would that work? What about when high school was over, and they separated, multiple Artists going different ways in the world; what Chess Club existed then to make rules and set standards? When he and Dominic have families, and lives, and jobs, should they be expected to chase the others around forever and make them behave?

            He hated his father for forcing this life onto them, but he did not hate his brother for living it. Like it or not, he loved Dom, and like it or not, as Vee exquisitely put it, he was a co-founder.

            In the distance he saw Dominic, Vee, Elyse, and Nicolle Darling sitting and laughing. He felt bad about yelling at her; doing what his father never understood, she was only trying to help someone out.

            Tonight he would also do what his father never did. He would accept responsibility, be a man, and own up to that failed experiment.

           

            The score: 21-27. Gibbons had the lead; Jackson threw for two touchdowns, Darius ran for one; Gibbons scored four touchdowns but missed the extra point on the fourth.

            “… which means that all Maple High needs is one more touchdown to win,” Dominic explained.

            “Can we do it?” Nicolle asked; she was just as into the game as the crowd was, somehow, on the edge of her seat; both teams were huddled together separately on the field, frantically gesturing and planning.

            “There’s thirty-eight seconds left and we’re on the wrong end of the field, so we only have time for a few plays,” Elyse said.

            “Really good plays,” Dom said. Then, a little quieter: “I don’t think we have this. I think it’s a Lunar Eclipse.”

            “Shh!” Vee said; the teams broke apart and got in place. Someone yelled hike and the ball was in Jackson’s hands. Gibbons players broke through the defensive line; Jackson ran to the side to avoid them. Thirty-two seconds.

            He passed the ball twenty yards to a teammate; incomplete.

            “Crap,” Elyse said.

            “Hurry, the clocks ticking,” Vee said, gripping her knees tight.

            Hike. The ball was given to Darius, who plowed up the middle into a run, making ten yards, fifteen yards"

            Tackled, and not even yet at midfield. Time-out Maple High. They discussed the game plan; the crowd waited impatiently. They returned to their places and prepared to give it their all.

            Hike. Jackson had the ball; Darius blasted off downfield, covered by three guys.

            “Oh, crap, I can’t watch,” Elyse said, covering her eyes.

            Jackson’s pass was like an explosion " the ball crossed the field like a jet of laser " and Nicolle had no doubt that the charged energy of an Artist of the Red empowered that throw. The crowd rose to its feet"

            Darius lunged for it with all of his might, but he would miss it, the ball would be a good two feet from him when it passed by, it was no use, it was going too fast"

            Darius " like a trick of the eye " was suddenly two feet farther ahead than before; he clasped the ball tight and slammed into the ground with a crash.

            “TOOOOOUCHDOOOOOOWN MAPLE HIGH!!!! UNBELEIVABLE!! WHAT A PASS, WHAT A CATCH!!! HOW WAS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!! AMAZING!!”

            The crowd erupted into a celebration so outrageously loud that undoubtedly those miles away could hear it still. Maple High players hugged one another; Gibbons players banged the ground in anger; Darius rose from the grass with a triumphant smile.

            Nicolle and Vee turned to Dominic, their jaws slack with shock.

            “Was that…?” Nicolle asked.

            “Yes,” he said, and Nicolle was now afraid; afraid of the coming night, afraid of the coming tomorrow, afraid of the future altogether. “It was.”