Free Spree (YA Paranormal) by Jonathan DeCoteau

with his starter, Tom. I’d never really been into soccer, practically sacrilege in our town. Watching the footwork between the two as they alternated step-over strategies with one another, however, I couldn’t help but admire the skill it took to dominate the ball and your opponent. Everything about soccer was teamwork, and to have a striker with anything on his mind but goals was to invite defeat.
    “Stop stepping too fast,” Tom told Alex.
    “Sorry,” Alex said.
    Tom looked down. His face had my name written all over it, but he didn’t say Fay , not once.
    “I’m sorry for how it all turned out,” Tom said, “and I know today’s fight at lunch got you down. But we have to pull through for both of them.”
    “I know,” Alex whispered.
    “This is the state championship. We’ve been waiting for the chance to lead the team since freshman year, and I’m not about to let four years of work—”
    “I know,” Alex said louder, nearly yelling. “I heard you the first time.”
    “It’s screwed up,” Tom said. “This should be the biggest moment of high school for us both, and all we can think about is, well—”
    “I won’t let it get in the way of Friday’s game.”
    They drilled again, this time alternating the ball, doing something with the forwards that they called the outside foot hook and reverse. Alex messed up the drill, and Tom came to a stop, shaking his head.
    “We’ll try again,” Tom said.
    “Later,” Alex said. “I need some water.”
    Coach Ryan stood and watched, muted by the events at hand. Normally, he’d scream up and down Alex, but he had a daughter who was friends with Cindy, and I sensed from the blue pervading his aura that even he was a bit down.
    Alex stumbled towards a water cooler lying on the side of the field. A few kids hanging out in the bleachers called out to him.
    “Hey, man, we need to talk about the party after the game,” one of the kids said.
    “We got three full kegs,” the kid’s friend called out.
    They laughed, and Alex nodded, his eyes on a kid standing on the side of the field. It was Zipper, dressed in a groundskeeper uniform. That was his after-school job. Alex stood up, water in hand, and looked at Zipper while he imbibed the water.
    “Hey, joining the team?” Alex called out. “You can start by picking this up.”
    He threw his cup towards Zipper. The two soccer groupies laughed, taken with the excitement of the upcoming game. It was so huge that it was the only time I could remember when the players would be let out of class early just to warm up.
    Zipper said, “No need to get jumpy. Just celebrating an anniversary.” He then disappeared.
    “You have a girlfriend?” Alex asked.
    By that time, Zipper was far gone, but the groupies still had a good laugh at his expense.
    It began to occur to me what Zipper meant. The day after tomorrow was the same day Crazy T shot up the gym class. Judging from his aura, Alex’s thoughts were too much on the game and on me for him to get it. That’s how much our town tried to the put the past behind us. But one kid hadn’t, and even though he was showing the warning signs, walking into the school with concealed weapons, no one was noticing.
    Two full days from today Crazy T and his protégé would have the perfect opportunity. Everyone was going to the game. Everyone. Brothers and sisters of the team, making a special trip from work or college—some of the very kids Crazy T set out to kill years earlier. That year they’d come close to the title, but lost in the finals to Franklin Shore. Now their brothers and sisters would have their chance at high school legend, and Crazy T would have his shot at immortality. Seeing the Takers circling around Zipper, Alex, and the two groupies, I began to realize that everyone going to the game didn’t mean everyone would be leaving the game without stretchers and body bags. But how to warn them when soccer was the only thing on their minds?

     
     
    TWO DAYS TO