Initiation (2 page)

“I’m gonna do ten sprints to the top of the hill,” Carter said, his eyes trained on the slope. “The recovery period is the walk back down. The intensity level should be ninety to a hundred percent. I’ll probably start at ninety percent for the first few until I’m really loose.”

“I don’t see the point of going all the way to the top. When do you ever run that far in a football game? That’s why we run forty-yard dashes, not hundred-yard dashes.”

“Then you can stop halfway.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Who says go?”

“I’ll go on you. When you move, I’ll move.”

Ben and Carter stood side by side at the bottom of the hill with one foot forward and one back, their knees bent. Ben pushed off and sprinted ahead. Carter exploded, his legs pumping up the hill as if he’d been shot from a cannon. He raced past Ben. Carter slowed and stopped past the crest of the hill. He put his hands on top of his head as he walked back down. His gray T-shirt stuck to his skin. Sweat accumulated in dark rings under his arms.

At the bottom of the hill Ben said, “I thought you weren’t going full speed on the first one.”

“I wasn’t.”

Carter hung his shirt on a nearby tree. He was tanned from the Panamanian sun. His torso was sinewy, with athletic shoulders and a thin waist. He looked like he was carved from granite. Ben tossed his shirt in the grass. His skin was white, except for the farmer’s tan on his arms and neck. He was lean, with narrow shoulders and thin arms.

“You all right?” Carter asked.

Ben’s eyes were red, his face flushed. “I’m good. I’m just sore from the speed training with the team.”

Carter continued to motor up the hill like it was a flat surface. Ben stopped midway. After eight sprints, Carter was dripping with sweat from head to toe. His brown hair looked black and slick. Ben’s face, no longer flushed, had turned pale green.

“I’m going to sit the last two out,” Ben said.

A topless Jeep honked.

“Faggots!” a gang of teen boys jeered, middle fingers extended, as they past.

Ben grabbed his shirt from the grass and put it on.

“Do you know those kids?” Carter asked.

Ben nodded with a frown. “I should have kept my shirt on. It does look gay … us running together without shirts.”

“It’s a hundred degrees. My shirt just turns into a wet rag. Besides, who gives a shit what those kids think?”

“Everybody.”

Carter looked at Ben with a smirk.

“Seriously,” Ben said.

“I don’t.”

“You will. That’s Zach Goodman’s Jeep. He’s the only kid we have that plays both ways. He’s a lineman, six-foot-five, probably two-seventy-five or so – solid muscle. He’s a lock for a D-1 scholarship. He’ll probably play in the pros like his dad.”

“Big deal.”

Ben frowned. “Luke Brewer was in the passenger seat. He’s our quarterback. He’s really good too, but not as big a prospect as Zach. All the girls are in love with him. They both live in this neighborhood. Zach’s dad lets him have parties at his house. They have a pool and a movie theatre. Lots of girls go.”

“Have you ever been?”

“They don’t let the J.V. in. This year I’ll go.”

“What about the kid in back?”

“That was Noah Lambert. Remember the kid
you’re
going to have to beat out?”

Carter grinned. “Noah who?”

Ben shook his head. “He actually lives in our neighborhood, but he mostly hangs out over here.”

Carter looked beyond the hill to the neighborhood, seeing as if for the first time the McMansions, the swimming pools, and the checkerboard lawns.

“You can’t blame him for that,” Carter said.

Carter and Ben jogged back toward their neighborhood with their shirts on.

“Did you want to stop at 7-Eleven, get something to drink?” Ben asked, his breathing elevated.

“If you want to,” Carter replied.

They entered the convenience store, the air conditioning freezing in contrast to the sweltering heat. Ben made a beeline for the refrigerator. He opened the glass door and removed a bottle of orange Gatorade.

“Did you want one?” Ben asked Carter.

“I didn’t bring any money.”

Ben grabbed another one. “I got you.”

Outside Ben and Carter guzzled the orange electrolytes.

“Thanks,” Carter said raising the plastic bottle.

“I have to admit, you are pretty fast.”

“Thanks.”

“It would be cool if we could both start this year.” Ben took a swig of Gatorade.

“It’ll happen.” Carter half-smiled and took a drink.

Ben exhaled. “I hope so.”

Chapter 2: Three's a Crowd

– 2 –

Three’s a Crowd

Carter opened the refrigerator and grabbed a gallon of milk. He filled his glass and his bowl of cereal. He sat on a stool at the counter bar in the open-plan kitchen. From the next room he could see a rerun of
Magnum P.I
. playing on the thirty-six-inch television. He heard light steps from the adjoining stairway. He saw thin legs, short shorts, and a tank top with exposed bra straps. The girl carried a duffel bag.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” he asked.

“None of your business,” Alyssa said.

Alyssa Arnold was short and thin, bumps developing on her chest. Her body reflected her twelve years of age. Her face was cute, from her button nose to her round blue eyes. Her hair was dyed blonde, the ends heated into curls. Her smile was infectious and loaded with metal.

“Dad’s right downstairs,” he said.

She put a hand on her hip, the other clutching her bag. “So.”

“If he sees you wearing that – ”

“I got a change of clothes.” She held up the duffel bag.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What do you care?” She slammed the front door behind her.

Carter drank the sugary milk from his bowl and washed it in the sink. The front door opened. His mother appeared, loaded down with shopping bags from clothing outlets. Her thin arms were taut from the weight.

“Hey, Mom,” he said.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said as she breezed into the kitchen.

Grace Arnold was proud of the fact that she’d stayed thin even into her late thirties. Her dark hair was shoulder length, parted on the side, no bangs. Her face was caked in high-end makeup, her small blue eyes enhanced by the optical illusion of the eyeliner. She wore designer jeans that were more high school than mom. Her low-cut T-shirt exposed her protruding collarbone and skin that had seen one too many tanning bed sessions.

She kissed Carter on the cheek with tacky lipstick.

Carter discreetly wiped his cheek on the shoulder of his shirt.

“What are you doing, standing here all by yourself?” she asked, her head cocked.

“I just finished eating. I was gonna go over to Ben’s in a few minutes.”

She was quiet for a moment, listening. “What’s your dad been doing?”

He frowned. “When I went running this morning, he was on the computer. When I was lifting this afternoon, he was on the computer. Wanna guess where he is now?”

His mother exhaled and pursed her lips. She stomped downstairs to the basement.

Carter heard sharp voices.

“Is this what you’re planning to do with your life?” she said.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want – I’m retired,” his dad said.

“We can’t live on your retirement. Especially not around here.”

“You’d better get a job then.”

“I thought D.C. was full of defense contractor jobs?”

“You need to get off my
fuckin’
back.”

“I knew this was going to happen. It would all fall on me. I can’t count on you for – ”

Carter heard the squeak of the computer chair, and the slamming of something against the wall.

“What did I just say?” his dad said.

Carter gripped the handrail at the top of the basement steps, his knuckles white. He took one step down.

“If you ever fuckin’ talk to me like that again,” his dad said.

Carter released the handrail, turned around, and marched out the front door. He stood on the stoop, humid air settling on his skin. The sun was setting, the sky a searing orange. He took several deep breaths. There was a faint crash from the basement. Carter jumped from the stoop and dashed down the sidewalk. He stopped at the end unit townhouse, just seven lots down from his own. The front door was on the side wall of the house a floor up. He took the steps two at a time to the landing and rang the doorbell.

The door swung open. The spicy, sweet smell of cooking oregano, basil, and tomato wafted outside. “Carter, honey, how are you?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

“I’m good,” he said, looking away.

“Come in, come in… Ben’s in his room.” She stepped aside and motioned with her hand.

Carter stepped inside. A black cat with white paws rubbed in and around his legs in a figure of eight. He bent down and petted her head.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having spaghetti and meatballs.”

He stood up. “It smells really good.”

She smiled. “It’s settled then. I’ll add a chair to the table.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Tell Ben it’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

With each step up the stairs, the scratching of records and the pumping of bass grew a little louder. Carter knocked. Ice Cube was talking about goin’ toe to toe with the police. He knocked harder.

“Come in,” Ben said over the bass.

Carter opened the door and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. A single bed sat along the right hand wall with a disheveled Washington Redskins comforter. The walls were covered with football heroes and bikini models. A desk with a computer sat in one corner, while a Kenwood stereo with stacks of CDs and tapes stood in the other. Across from the bed there was a forty-eight-inch television and a black leather chair. Ben sat holding a game controller, scoring touchdowns with tiny pixelated football players. He wore a North Potomac Marauders Football T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms were veiny.

Ben glanced at Carter and lifted his chin, then went back to his game. Carter turned the music down, wheeled over the chair from the desk, and sat down next to him.

“You don’t like N.W.A.?” Ben asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

“N.W.A.?”

“Niggaz Wit Attitudes. This shit gets me pumped.”

Carter smirked. “Are white people allowed to say that?”

“It’s not the N-word. It’s niggazzzz, with a Z.”

“Seems like the same thing to me.”

“Damn, Panama must really be behind the times.”

“Would you say it to one of the black kids on the team?”

“Well, no. But if I did, it’d be cool.”

Carter nodded.

Ben glanced at Carter’s loose khaki Bermuda shorts and his black “
Cerveza Panama
” T-shirt.

“What do you listen to? Panama salsa or some shit?” He looked back at his game and called another play.

Carter shrugged. “Your mom said dinner is gonna be ready in twenty minutes.”

“You’re not staying, are you?”

“Your mom invited me.”

Ben paused the game and tossed the controller to the floor. He turned to Carter with a scowl. “Sarah’s coming over. I can’t have you cock-blocking.”

Carter smiled, shaking his head. “Have you told her how you feel?”

“I’m working up to it.”

“She thinks you guys are friends.”

“If she didn’t like me, she wouldn’t be hanging around all the time.”

“Maybe.”

“Seriously, man, I’m sorry, but you need to go. She gets all weird when you’re around. It’s like you’re this novelty, being the new kid and all.”

“All right.” Carter stood up.

The door burst open. “What up,
bitchez
,” Sarah said with a grin. She wore short blue athletic shorts and a white T-shirt.

Ben turned toward the door. “You could knock,” he said.

“Afraid I might catch you jerking off?”

Ben blushed. “Funny.”

“Hey, Sarah,” Carter said with a smile.

Sarah smirked, pushing her red hair off her glasses. “Hey, Carter.” She looked at Carter, then to Ben, back to Carter, and then back to Ben. “You two don’t have something going on, do you? If you want to come out to me, I’ll be cool with it.” She glanced at the stereo. “Now Dr. Dre on the other hand, he might have an issue with it.”

Carter laughed.

Ben shook his head. “That’s enough with the gay, Sarah. It’s really not funny anymore.”

“Carter’s laughing,” she said.

Ben narrowed his eyes at Carter.

“I was just leaving,” Carter said.

He started toward the open bedroom door. Sarah stood with her arms spread apart, blocking his exit. She had a crooked smile, her dimples on display.

“Not without the magic word,” she said.

“Abracadabra?” Carter asked.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He looked at the ceiling, then back to her. “Sarah’s the coolest girl in all of Virginia, and I wish I was as cool as her.”

She blushed and put her hand over her chest. “What a good guesser you are. I thought you’d be stuck in here forever … with your
lover
.” She smiled wide.

Ben scowled.

“So where are you going?” she asked.

Carter shrugged.

“What kind of an answer is that?”

He shrugged again. She punched him in the arm.

“You hit like a girl,” Carter said with a grin.

“Didn’t want to hurt you. If I did, your mom would be upset. She’d call my mom. My mom would get mad at me and tell me how I’m not supposed to use my superpowers. Then I’d have to explain that I was just trying to toughen you up for football – that it was for your own good. Then the government would find out about my powers and I’d be on the run for the rest of my life, living in the shadows, fighting for justice. It would have been a big mess.”

Carter laughed. “Clearly … I’ll see you guys later.”

“No seriously, where are you going?” She pressed out her lower lip.

“I have work to do at home.”

“Oh bullshit. Mrs. Wheeler made you a place for dinner. She already thinks you’re staying. It would be super rude to leave now.” She looked at Ben. “Don’t you think Carter should stay?”

Ben shrugged.