Free The Hayloft: a 1950s Mystery by Alan Cook Page B

Carter. 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