Free The Rule of Won by Stefan Petrucha Page B

my nose clean, whatever that meant. I picked up Vicky first, so she’d wind up in the front, next to me, but as soon as we reached Ethan’s ranch house, she climbed into the back anyway.
    He looked at the old oily interior and wrinkled his nose a bit. I don’t think it was a money thing, like he was too good to get in, more like he was afraid of dirt. Somehow he managed, and of course Vicky stayed in back with him. She did look a little annoyed when Erica got in the front, next to me, and that pleased me a bit.
    Regis, the town where the game was taking place, was a good forty-minute drive. The muffler on the van was shot and the interior acted like a big drum, so when I hit the highway and took it over forty, it was too loud to talk to anyone except whoever was right next to you. In the rearview mirror I could see Vicky and Ethan chatting merrily away. I turned to Erica, and there she was, of course, writing in her journal.
    â€œThat thing stitched to your hand?” I asked her.
    â€œYes,” she said vacantly. “The staples hurt too much.”
    I wound up mostly keeping my eyes on the road.
    After we parked, which was easy at Regis compared with SNH, Ethan hopped out and looked down at his pants, worried.
    â€œDamn. I’ve got some kind of stain.”
    I didn’t see anything myself, but hey, I don’t bleach my shoelaces either.
    â€œYou know where the bathroom is here?” he asked.
    Vicky half climbed out and sort of posed. She was dressed to kill in a tight orange sweater and short skirt. Her fingernails had little basketballs on them. It was kind of retro for her, but she looked terrific. “Why don’t you show him, Caleb? Erica and I will get seats and see if anyone else from the Crave is here yet.”
    â€œFine,” I mumbled, and I led super-cool Ethan to the john.
    Regis High School was Ethan to my Screech Neck. It was a newer, bigger structure with porcelain-sided brown brick and visible steel girders that gave it a twenty-first-century gleam. It was more brightly lit and had much nicer vending machines. The huge gym, nearly a separate building, had these neat bleachers that folded straight into nooks in the walls. Ethan nodded with approval as we made our way to the sparkling bathroom, where all the stalls had doors and the tiles gave off a minty fresh odor.
    As we went in, two guys in Regis Hurricane uniforms were exiting. They were stooped, slouching so much that I, at five eight, was nearly as tall as they. Their hanging faces looked white and sweaty, as if they’d seen a ghost or been puking their guts out. Turned out to be what Mrs. D would call the latter.
    Another Regis kid was behind them, but giving them a wide berth, like they were lepers, so I said to him, “Hey, they looked sick.”
    He nodded. “Stomach flu. Half the team and most of the school’s got it. Our best players are on the sidelines, and I think we just lost two more. No offense, man, but if they were playing any other school, they’d just cancel the game.”
    â€œNone taken,” I said.
    He left. Ethan and I looked at each other. The game hadn’t even begun and already the odds were stacked in our favor. It felt good for a second, giddy, but then . . . it just didn’t. I mean, how good can you feel about people puking?
    Ethan didn’t have a problem. “
The Rule
works in weirdways,” he said as he walked over to the sink. He wet a paper towel and rubbed it against that invisible stain on his pants.
    â€œIt’s . . . kinda freaky, isn’t it?” I said. “Makes you wonder—what if someone got really hurt making one of our dreams come true?”
    He stopped rubbing, that mad scientist glint flashing. “Don’t go there, Caleb. Everyone gets only what they ask for. If these guys have the flu, if they lose, or even if a building falls on them, it’s because they wanted it that way.”
    The look vanished, and