Hiding in Closets and Lofts - 2. Chapter 2

Dillon lay sprawled out across the bed, with a hand and foot hanging off. He was too big for the single mattress and rickety metal frame, but he was also the youngest and most ‘adaptable’ in the house. So he got the bottom of the barrel, sleeping in a spare bed up in the attic.

He was contentedly not moving, sleeping in only his boxers in the Nebraska heat.

He jerked awake when his phone started buzzing next to his ear. He glared at the offending device, not recognizing the number—just the Nebraska area code. He wiped his mouth before answering the phone with a dark, “hello?”

“Dillon?”

It took Dillon a second to place who was calling. “Yeah?”

“It’s Mark,” the voice sounded way too awake for whatever time it was. “I talked to coach. He says you can start coming to the camp Monday, if you want. Starts at seven and ends at ten at the school… if we’re late we run laps. Okay?”

Dillon rubbed his eyes. “Okay,” He agreed slowly.

“Alright. Come a little early and coach will get you some pads. See you then,” Mark said and ended the call.

Dillon waited for the ‘call ended’ to clear, before looking at the time on his phone. It was eight in the morning… on a Saturday. What teenager got up at eight in the morning to call someone?

“Fuck,” Dillon groaned and rolled onto his back. Now he was awake. He wouldn’t let it be known to the house.

He knew everyone else was up, but if they knew he was awake he’d be hassled into chores and the like. Dillon dragged himself up to sit, and squinted against the bright-lit window of the attic. He could see nothing but green shimmering cornfields for miles.

Boredom got the better of him, and Dillon crawled out of bed. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He went downstairs to the kitchen, surprising his mother and Grandma in being up so early.

Luckily, there wasn’t much for Dillon to do. Harvesting the corn wouldn’t start until October, and by then he would be too busy with school. Until then it was just maintenance and daily chores. Grandpa and John had already disappeared for the day, doing work in the barn and checking out the crops.

Dillon sat the table with his mother and Grandma, eating breakfast. It was pancakes and fresh fruit, and Dillon inhaled it all.

“Oh, Mom.” Dillon swallowed down a lump of food. “Grandpa introduced me to this guy at the feed store, Mark. He’s my age and on the high school football team… he invited me to their football camp for the summer.”

“When is it?” Joann asked.

“Every weekday morning till school starts. Seven to ten at the school,” Dillon said.

“Do you realize how early you’d have to wake up to make it there at seven?” Joann pointed out. “Between five thirty and five forty-five! Every day!”

“But I can go?” Dillon asked.

Joann gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m just saying I don’t think you’d want to get up that early to play for three hours… is it required?”

“Not officially.” Dillon shrugged and speared a bite of pancakes. “But it’s hard to make the team without doing it.”

Joann sighed. “I guess. But you’re driving yourself… I’m not getting up that early.”

“You said we would get me a car out here,” Dillon reminded her.

“For school… but I guess we should look into that sooner. Maybe later this week we’ll get you a car,” Joann said thoughtfully.

“Not might.” Dillon frowned. “We sold my last car so we didn’t have to bring it out here. We still have the money from it… we can get me another car with that. I don’t want to have to depend on you and dad for rides.”

“Alright, we will, relax. It’s too early in the morning for this.” Joann chuckled dryly.

Dillon noticed his Grandma was giving him a dirty look. “What?” He asked defensively.

“Don’t be so bratty to your mother,” she warned. “You know, your grandfather and I didn’t even get our first car till we were in our twenties!”

“I know,” Dillon grumbled and looked at his mother. “Sorry.”

Dillon retreated out to the U-Haul, still mostly unpacked. He rummaged through boxes until he found one with his sports wear. He dragged it out and counted out his shorts, shirts and cleats. He carried the box up to the attic and dropped it by his bed.

At least football would give him something to do until school started.

***

Dillon showed up fifteen minutes early on Monday morning, figuring that was okay. He had a water bottle of solid ice that would be somewhat melted and turned to water by the time he needed it.

Mark was already there, too. He introduced Dillon to the coach, Eric Hawthorn. He visually measured Dillon up and handed over a pair of shoulder pads. “Try these on.”

Dillon worked them over his head and let them settle on his shoulders. They were a good fit, though he wouldn’t need them for the summer practices too much. Mark showed him a good place in the shade of some storage buildings where he could leave his stuff.

More of the team was starting to show up at the field, dropping off water bottles before going to chat.

It wasn’t too hot yet, but as it got later in the morning and with the sun it would be. If Dillon thought Colorado was bad during the summer, Nebraska was probably worse. Dillon and most of the others shed their shirts within the first few minutes practice.

Practice started with stretches and warm ups, and Dillon tried to keep close to Mark. Mark seemed to know everyone, which was expected. He introduced Dillon to some of the others on the team, and most of them were surprised to hear he would be a new student.

“Why the hell would you move to Gretna?” One asked.

“I know, right?” Dillon snorted. “My grandparents are out here, so my mom wanted to move back for them.”

“That sucks,” another commented.

Talking was limited for the rest of practice. After the first hour, they got a water break. Dillon could feel his skin burning and retreated to the shade with his water bottle.

“Sunscreen?” Mark offered, digging a bottle out of his bag. “You’re turning red already,” he added.

“Fuck,” Dillon groaned and tried to get a look at his back.

Mark tossed over the sunscreen, and Dillon lathered it onto his chest, arms, and stomach. Mark applied it to his back and neck while Dillon tried to guzzle down his water, already half melted. He made a mental note to buy sunscreen on the way back.

The last two hours of practice were spent scrimmaging. It was skins versus shirts on the field. Dillon was glad he was on the skins—he wasn’t sure he’d want even that mesh jersey on, heat wise.

He was a little nervous about the strange faces on the other practice team to start. Mark smiled at him reassuringly from down the line before the first scrimmage started.

Dillon managed to hold his place for a few seconds, long enough for the quarterback to get the ball out and down the field. Mark was already there, and that’s when Dillon lost his balance and fell forward as the defensive linemen started to head the opposite direction.

Dillon swore and picked himself up, but Mark was already down the field with the ball. The coach blew the whistle and drew them in, giving the defensive line a good long lecture on trying harder.

“Good job.” Mark bounced over before smiling at the lecture defense was getting.

“You’re fast,” Dillon commented.

“Well duh, I told you, I’m a running back,” Mark laughed.

“Yeah but you were like way the fuck over there.” Dillon pointed down the field. “In like four seconds.”

“I can do a 4.03 on the forty yard dash,” Mark boasted happily.

“I can do forty yards around 5 flat, if I’m lucky,” Dillon grumbled.

“You’re bigger than I am,” Mark shrugged. “I only weigh one-seventy-five. I bet you’ve got ten or more pounds on me.”

“Way to make me feel fat.” Dillon pretended to pout.

“That’s not what I meant!” Mark corrected himself, laughing. “I need to be light to be fast. You’re good solid muscle, so you weigh more. You’re not fat. You’re broader than me, too.”

“So now I’m big-boned?” Dillon raised an eyebrow.

“I swear.” Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re not even the biggest guy on the team, shut up. Aaron is over two-hundred pounds!”

Dillon laughed, and the coach ordered them for another scrimmage. Each time, Dillon couldn’t help but be amazed at Mark’s speed.

Practice finally ended, and Dillon hid under the shade drinking his water bottle. Food seemed like a really good idea, now.

“Mark,” Dillon called out. “You want to go get something to eat?”

“Like what?” Mark asked, switching out of his cleats and into regular shoes.

“I don’t know…” Dillon admitted.

“Runza’s,” Mark decided excitedly.

Dillon raised an eyebrow, never having heard of that.

“Runza’s?” Someone else—Aaron—asked. “I want to come!”

“Me too.” Another person hurried over. “Man I am so craving a beef runza and ice cream now…”

“What the fuck is a Runza?” Dillon asked. He got so many appalled looks.

“Well, they are only in Nebraska…” Mark sighed in explanation.

“Are they frog legs?” Dillon asked. He would not eat a frog.

“We’re not rednecks!” Aaron slapped him on the back of the head.

“Traditionally, it’s like cabbage, meat, and some other vegetables wrapped in dough… kinda like a hot pocket. With steak fries.”

“And they have ice cream,” someone added with great importance.

Five people concluded they were heading to Runza’s, and Dillon followed Mark’s car across town.

Dillon stared suspiciously at the menu while the rest ordered their food. Some got Runza’s, and some got burgers. Dillon went with familiarity and ordered a burger with fries. He joined the others at a table with an extra chair pulled up to fit all five.

“You didn’t do too bad out there,” Aaron commented, taking a long pull on the straw of his soda.

“Thanks,” Dillon mumbled.

Aaron really was a big guy. Some of it was muscle, and some of it was just weight. His skin was coal black, and his black hair was buzzed.

They all talked about the upcoming season, and how many seniors had graduated off the team last year. Most of them were sure Dillon would be on the team, if not just so a freshman or sophomore didn’t get onto varsity.

“So where are you living?” Another one of the guys, Tyler, asked.

“Right now, on my grandparents farm, until school starts. Then we’re moving into town… till then, it’s a forty-five minute drive,” Dillon explained.

“Shit, you drove forty-five minutes to get to practice this morning?” Tyler gawped.

“If I’d known you’d lived that far I wouldn’t have invited you,” Mark said, taking a bite of a runza and stuffing a fry in his mouth.

“It’s fine, gives me something to do instead of chores,” Dillon chuckled.

“True,” Aaron agreed.

Mark offered up some of his runza for Dillon to try. Though he didn’t want to, Dillon accepted it and took a decent bite. The cabbage was different than he was used to, but it wasn’t bad. Different from a burger; he didn’t mind it. He handed it back to Mark.

“What one is that?” Dillon asked.

“Beef,” Mark answered and tore off more for himself.

When they finished eating, most got some ice cream afterwards. They stood around to eat it, staying inside in the air-conditioning. Mark looked at his cell phone and started to flounder around. “I have to be at work in an hour and haven’t even been home to shower,” he said, tossing the last of his ice cream. “See you all tomorrow!” and he was out the door.

“Time is it?” Aaron asked.

“Just about noon,” Tyler answered.

“I need to get home too, my mom wants me home for lunch,” Aaron announced.

“You’re going to eat again?” Dillon asked in dismay.

“Hell yes I am,” Aaron grinned, said his good-byes, and left.

The rest of the crowd dissipated and Dillon left Runza’s as well. He stopped by a small convenience store and got some sunscreen for himself, and a few candy bars. He finished the candy on his way back to the farmhouse and parked by the barn.

“How was practice?” Joann asked when he got inside. “Oh honey, you’re red!” she added and got up from her chair.

“Yes, I know mom,” Dillon mumbled.

“You really should wear sunscreen,” she said.

He held up the bag from the store. “Bought some on the way home,” he headed upstairs to shower in the one bathroom of the house. He had the water on less than warm, just because he didn’t think he could stand anymore heat—even lukewarm.

He had bought Aloe Vera as well, and rubbed it over his chest and everywhere he could reach. And he had a month of this.