Chapter 1

1994

I opened my eyes, trying to figure out what the sound was. I finally realized what I was hearing was my alarm clock. I reached over and slapped around for it a few times until I hit the button to make it shut up.

Everything felt ... wrong. Out of place. Damn. That dream hit so hard. I blinked a few times, rapidly, trying to shake off the feeling of it. The dream had been so vivid, like one of those where you go through your whole day just to wake up and realize you hadn’t done it yet, except this hadn’t been ‘just a day.’ It had been a whole life.

I’d been so old at the end of it. And man, had my life sucked in the dream. Like, really sucked.

I sat up and swung my feet over the edge of the bed, feeling the carpet in my room and hoping to ground myself a little bit. It was just a dream, but it had been so real. More vivid than any dream I’d ever had. I could also remember so much of it. Normally I didn’t remember my dreams for shit, so this was a weird feeling. It’s like every day of a life I’d never lived was just stuck in my head.

I rubbed my face. Man, I hope this faded, ‘cause it was messing with me. Looking over at the clock, reality kicked in and at least got my brain working again. It was eight forty-five, and I was supposed to meet the guys at the high school football field at nine-thirty. We lived just on the edge of town, which meant town was within walking distance, since the whole place was small, but it was mid-August and hot as hell.

Today was the first day of practice and tryouts for the high school football team, and I’d been so excited. High school football was a big deal in Texas, and a gateway to the NFL and everything I’d dreamed of. I’d been in Pee-Wee and played in middle school, but those were nothing compared to the next four years. I had a real chance to do something, and it all started today.

Another flash of memory almost hit me, but I pushed it down. It was so weird. I remembered last night, playing on my Game Boy, too excited to sleep. Just as clearly, I remembered being old, lying on a bed, and talking to a priest.

Man, I was screwed up.

I could hear Mom and Dad moving around downstairs and the smell of coffee, which meant Dad was up. Mom never drank it ‘cause she said the caffeine gave her headaches.

I got dressed in comfortable clothes, knowing I was going to be running in the heat all day. I put a few things in my small gym bag and headed downstairs.

I was still trying to shake off the feelings caused by the dream. Josh and Mom were sitting at the breakfast table already, eating. For a kid who never did anything, Josh always got up early, which seemed weird to me. I’d sleep till two if I didn’t have anything to do.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the kitchen toward the breakfast nook, Dad walked in from the living room already wearing his uniform for work. I froze in place the moment I saw him, a wave of sadness crashing over me so suddenly and intensely that I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself.

“Whoa there, champ,” Dad said, reaching out for me. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I blinked once, and then twice, shaking off the feeling. “Yeah, I’m good. Just ... didn’t sleep great.”

“Today’s a big day, Blake. You need to be on your A-game for the tryouts.”

“I know, I know. Excited, I guess. Couldn’t really settle down last night.”

He slapped me on the arm and gave me one of those smiles of his. Damn, that dream really messed me up. It was so intense.

I went to the cabinet, grabbed a bowl, and poured myself some cereal, using the moment with my back to everyone to collect myself. I was feeling kind of settled when I turned around and went to sit down. I couldn’t help sneaking glances at Dad. He was right there, alive and well, sipping his coffee and leafing through the morning paper. Why was I feeling like this?

“Yeah, gotta be at your best to run around and bash your head into other idiots,” Joshua said, looking up from where he was reading the back of the cereal box.

God, he was such a pain in my ass. He was almost three years younger than me and was starting middle school this year. He’d been annoying as a kid, but ever since he started hitting puberty, he’d become a raging asshole.

“Shut up. All you do is sit in your room and read comics like some kind of loser. You have no idea what it takes to play football.”

“Yeah, it’s real hard chasing a ball around. You’re the fucking loser!” he said, screaming that last part, going from zero to sixty in a heartbeat like he always did.

I turned to Mom, expecting her to say something about Josh’s language. But she just sighed and rubbed her temples.

“Blake, leave your brother alone,” she said, sounding tired.

“What? He started it!” I protested. “Did you not hear what he just said?”

“I said knock it off, both of you. I’ve got a headache, and I don’t want to hear it.”

I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling up inside me. Of course, Josh was getting away with it again. He always did. I was about to argue further when I caught sight of Josh’s face.

There was something in his eyes, something cold and empty. For a split second, I saw him older, sitting in a courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit. The him in my dream, as the judge listed off crimes too despicable to even think about.

It was just a dream, but the look in Josh’s eyes ... there was just nothing there.

I let it drop.

“Whatever,” I muttered, shoving a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

Dad set down his paper and picked up his coffee cup. “So, how’re you feeling about tryouts, champ? Think you’ve got a shot at quarterback?”

He was playing mediator, like he always did when the rest of us started shouting. Maybe it was because of the stuff he saw at work, but he never let any of our petty stuff get to him. He was always the one to calm everyone down and get us back in our own corners.

I always admired that about him.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ll get the starting spot for the freshman team. Unless I totally blow it, you know?”

“Good. I like that kind of confidence.”

“I don’t know if it’s confidence,” I said through a mouth full of cereal. “I just know the competition. There was this kid from Midland who was supposed to give me a run for my money, but I heard his family’s moving to Houston. So that helps.”

“What about JV or varsity?”

“Maybe JV, but I doubt it. And varsity?” I shook my head. “Kenneth Ward’s still got that locked down. He’s a senior this year, thank God. Otherwise, I’d be warming the bench till I graduated.”

“Hey now, don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got talent, Blake. If you work hard, who knows? You might surprise yourself.”

I just kind of shrugged, but when I met his eyes, the wave of sadness hit me again. It was so strong I had to look away, pretending to be super interested in my cereal. How long was this dream going to screw with me?

“I’m going to go lay down. I put your lunch in the fridge. Make sure you grab it before you go,” Mom said as she got up, set her dishes in the sink, and headed for their room.

She’d had it rough in my dream, too, although I didn’t have the sadness when I looked at her, as I did when I looked at my dad. I could remember things about her from the dream, but for whatever reason, they didn’t hit as hard.

“Thanks, Mom,” I called after her.

Dad glanced at his watch. “Speaking of going, I’ve got to hit the road. I can drop you off at the school on my way to work if you want.”

I nodded, grateful for the chance to spend a few more minutes with him. Plus, it was already hot as hell and I didn’t want to make the ten-minute walk into town.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

As I stood up to clear my bowl, Josh muttered something under his breath. I chose to ignore it, not wanting to start another fight. But I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in my gut as I looked at him.

“You coming, Blake?” Dad called from the front door.

“Yeah, just a sec!” I shouted back, grabbing my bag and lunch from the fridge.

As I headed out, I caught one last glimpse of Josh, hunched over his cereal bowl, but looking at me, a creepy assed smile on his face. The image from my dream flashed again ... him in that orange jumpsuit. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

It was just a stupid dream, right?

They had a person out in front of the gym directing us where to go. We had temp lockers where we could drop our stuff, although they had no locks on them, so they warned everyone not to leave anything valuable in them.

I had left my wallet at home for that exact reason. I didn’t know they’d let us put our stuff in the locker rooms, but even if they hadn’t, I wasn’t crazy about the idea of my wallet just sitting in my bag on the bleachers. Then I had this strange thought where I almost asked where we could leave our cell phones when I realized that was nuts. No one our age had cell phones! The per-minute costs on those things were crazy. Hell, I’d never even seen someone with a cell phone, except on TV.

And yet, I had a distinct image in my head of holding this ... rectangular screen kind of like a big calculator, and I knew it was a cell phone, even though it was nothing like the cell phones I’d seen on TV.

Then it hit me. The image was from my dream, again.

I shook off the thought. So weird!

After dropping our stuff, we headed out to the field. They had two sets of bleachers, and they had the freshmen go to one side and everyone else go to the other. Most of the coaches went that way, while two followed us.

I recognized pretty much everyone on our side of the bleachers since the whole county only had one middle school and one elementary school, so we’d all been together since we were little, for the most part. We all played in the same pee-wee league and on the same middle school team.

I knew these guys better than I knew probably anyone else. There were a few exceptions. There were about four faces I didn’t recognize and two faces that were missing, although both those kids I’d known were moving near the end of middle school. The new faces were probably people who moved into the area over the summer or whatever. We didn’t get a lot of transfers in, but every couple of years, a new kid would show up. The four I was seeing were more than I remembered at one time, but middle school to high school was a big leap, so there was probably a reason.

Equally surprising was the coach who followed us, carrying a clipboard. Especially, since he was followed by Mr. Plummer, who owned the feed store in town, which serviced just about every farm and ranch in a seventy-five-mile radius.

“Alright, listen up!” the younger guy said. “I’m Coach Heidemann, and I’ll be leading the freshman team this year. Helping me will be Coach Plummer, who I’m sure most of you know from the feed store. He’s volunteering his time to help out this season. While you may know him as the guy who helped your grandma figure out her azaleas last year, when he’s on this field, he’s a coach! You will respect him as such, is that clear?”

We just kind of looked from him to Mr. Plummer.

“I said, is that clear!” Coach said again.

“Yes, Coach,” we all responded.

Mr ... or rather Coach Plummer chuckled in that genial way he always had about him and said, “Glad to be here, boys.”

“Alright. Now, I know you’re all itching to make JV or Varsity, but with very few exceptions, you’ll be starting on the freshman team. This is where you learn the Wheaton way of football and how things work at the high school level. Now I know you were hot stuff in middle school or club ball. This, however, is five-A football. It’s a whole different kind of ball than you’re used to. It’s gonna be harder, faster, and more aggressive than anything you’ve played before. The guys who excel in this program go on to D1 and D2 schools in college. We’ve even had a few make it all the way to the pros.”

He paused to let that sink in. I think we all had dreams of getting recruited into a good program, which was the next step on the way to the big goal. The NFL.

“Now, don’t think of being put on the freshman team as a sign that you’re less important or not good enough. This is your training ground. We’re bridging the gap between playing as kids and playing like men.”

When he paused, Coach Plummer said, “Y’all are gonna learn a lot here. More than just football.”

Coach Heidemann nodded. “The next two weeks are crucial. We’ll see who’s cut out for this and who’s not. You’ll be run hard and taught our system, and those of you who fit in will make the team.”

I wasn’t worried. I knew he was probably right, and this was going to be a whole new level of ball, but I knew I could keep up with anyone on these bleachers. Some of these guys, though, looked nervous. Especially the four new guys.

“Alright,” Coach Heidemann clapped his hands together. “First things first - we warm up. Let’s run!”

For the next three hours, we ran drills. It was the middle of August and it felt like we were practicing under a heat lamp as we ran, did footwork, and basic fundamentals. So far, everything was stuff I knew, although I hadn’t really played much since the season ended the previous fall and hadn’t done any drills since middle school ended.

I probably should have spent a little more time conditioning and a little less time goofing off all summer because we were only halfway through and I felt wrung out.

We all sat on the bleachers and pulled out our lunches. Thankfully, the school had Gatorades and water, so we at least had something cold to drink. I found a place with my friends from middle school and pulled out the sandwich Mom made me. I was starving.

“Did you see that new kid eat it during sprints?” Elijah, my best friend, snickered and elbowed Hunter.

“Yeah. Fucking hysterical. He was, like, two seconds from crying,” Hunter laughed as they both looked down at the guy, who very clearly heard them.

Normally, I thought Elijah was hysterical, but for some reason, he was rubbing me the wrong way. They were just kind of being jackasses for no reason. The kid, Miguel I think he said his name was, didn’t do anything. Yeah, he’d fallen down, but he wasn’t the only one. Jake, who was part of our group, tripped on the tires and no one said anything to him. They were also being a lot louder than normal, I think so he would hear them.

“Guys, lay off,” I said before I’d really even thought about it.

Elijah looked at me like I’d grown a second head, but then kind of shrugged and switched topics.

“Did you guys see Brenda? Man, her ti...”

I more or less stopped listening. For once, I was hungry and just wanted to eat. But also, everything he was doing, stuff I knew I would have contributed to before, was now annoying me, and I honestly just didn’t want to deal with it.

I also started having the weirdest sense of déjà vu all of a sudden. I could almost remember the first passing drills, which weren’t even starting until the afternoon session, and feeling sick as a dog. My passes sucked and I wasn’t hitting anything. Again, it took me a second to realize I was remembering that stupid dream. It felt real though, and Gabriel was here.

He’d sat on the bench seventh and eighth grade, only playing when I needed a breather or we were up enough to let the B team go in. He wasn’t a bad guy, he’d just never had ... it. And yet, in my dream, he completely out-threw me that day, while I struggled. I remembered, halfway through the session, running to a garbage can and throwing up.