Free The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery by Alan Cook Page B

I knew I should be rooting for Carter, but my heart was still with Atherton. However, I decided that I had better sit on the Carter side of the field, since I attended Carter High now. Besides, the visitors’ bleachers faced west, and the spectators had the afternoon sun in their eyes. I was sure the field had been designed that away on purpose.
    It was unseasonably warm—shirtsleeve weather. Perhaps too early to be called Indian summer, since it was officially just barely autumn, but the leaves were starting to turn to their autumn colors. The reds and golds made it the most beautiful season of the year—except for winter when a blanket of white covered the ground. And spring, when new green life appeared. And summer, when yellow grain filled the fields scraped flat by an ancient glacier. It was the kind of day that made me almost forget about my problems and just be happy I was alive. Until I saw some Atherton people I knew across the gridiron. That brought a pang in my heart that I had been trying to quell.
    I arrived just before the game started, by design. The Carter stands were pretty much filled. The Carter band played the school fight song in the middle of the field with more enthusiasm than skill. The band members stood in the shape of a large C. I walked along in front of the bleachers, looking for a friendly face. The first one I saw was Sylvia’s. I turned away, feeling like a traitor. The band stopped playing, and I heard my name called. It was Sylvia.
    I climbed up several steps to where she was sitting in the middle of a group of girls and boys. She was wearing a red skirt. Most of the girls wore red skirts. The Carter school colors were red and black. She motioned for me to sit beside her. I put on a fake smile and sat down.
    “Do you see anybody you know from Atherton?” she asked.
    “A few hundred people.” That was an exaggeration since there weren’t that many spectators from Atherton, but I recognized many of them, even from across the field. After all, I had been there since seventh grade. “I know all the football players…”
    “And all the cheerleaders,” Sylvia cut in with a smile.
    Yeah, I knew all the cheerleaders at Atherton, but none of them could hold a candle to Natalie, who was leading her girls in a cheer in front of us. Maybe life here at Carter wouldn’t be so bad, after all. I was having a clandestine relationship with Natalie that her big-man-on-campus, quarterback boyfriend didn’t know about. True, it was a nonphysical relationship, but in my fantasies it achieved a much greater level of intensity.
    At that moment the Carter football team ran onto the field, led by quarterback Joe Hawkins, and Natalie gave an especially enthusiastic cheer. I wondered what it would take to get Mr. Hawkins out of her life.
    A few minutes after the game started, Barney Weiss came strolling up the steps of the bleachers, looking nonchalant, worked his way among the fans along the row below us, and sat down right in front of Sylvia. He was wearing a Carter sweatshirt and his dark hair, which was always the first thing I noticed about him, was as usual immaculately combed.
    Between plays, Sylvia tapped him on the shoulder and said, “I see you’ve come out of hibernation.”
    Referring to the fact that he had been very quiet, at least in the lunchroom, since Natalie had beaten him at nim.
    Barney turned around and said, “Can’t miss the game. Root root root for the home team and all that. I’m even wearing my Carter sweatshirt.”
    “Admirable school spirit,” Sylvia said. Then, indicating me, “Have you met Gary?”
    “He’s in my math class.” Barney gave me the eye. “He’s already shown up us dumb ones by answering a couple of tough questions.”
    When Barney turned back to watch a play, Sylvia spoke in my ear, covered by the noise of the crowd. “I thought you were keeping a low profile.”
    I shrugged. “I’ll get a note from my aunt saying that I get ear infections when I