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With the emergence of fall came Homecoming, a big extravaganza in town, with spirit week and a pep rally, a parade, and a football game, the week’s activities culminating in a dance. Carmine should have been excited, but he had been dreading it all week.
Haven had been cold again, hiding out whenever he was home. He heard her crying at night as he sat in the library, whittling away the hours by plucking the strings on his guitar. He wanted to go to her, to console her, but he didn’t know what to say. Sorry you’re here? Sorry you’re trapped? Sorry my father is a sick motherfucker? How could he explain it, make it all right, when nothing about the situation made sense to him?
* * *
It was close to six in the evening when Haven opened her bedroom door and came face-to-face with Dr. DeMarco. He stood in the hallway with his fist raised to knock, and she took a step back as he dropped his hand. “May I come in?”
She nodded, confused why he would ask permission in his own house.
He entered nonchalantly, as if he were there for casual conversation, and looked around for a moment before addressing her. “How do your knees feel?”
“Fine,” she said quietly.
“Do you think you’re up for a trip out of the house?”
The question alarmed her. A voice in the back of her mind screamed, It’s a trick!
“Only if you say so, sir,” she said, eyeing him warily.
Dr. DeMarco reached out to her. She recoiled, her heart pounding rapidly as she braced to be struck, but he dropped his hand without touching her. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to Carmine’s football game. Make yourself presentable.”
She stood there when he left, having no idea what he considered presentable. She eventually changed into a pair of khaki pants and a sweater and brushed her frizzy hair, but nothing could tame the natural curls. She pulled it back with a rubber band and forced her feet into a pair of shoes before heading downstairs. Dr. DeMarco waited in the foyer with his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking on his heels. Hearing her approach, he scanned her. She awaited his assessment, but he said nothing as he pulled out his keys and opened the front door. Haven stepped onto the porch as he locked up the house, ushering her into the passenger seat of the car.
Durante High School’s parking lot was packed when they arrived, cars lining the road and covering the field beside the school. Haven gawked at them as Dr. DeMarco parked on the grass.
“I’ve gone about things the wrong way,” he said. “I’ve kept you in the house until you could prove you’d act appropriately in public, but there’s no way for you to do that until I allow you around people. So I’m giving you a chance, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her knees wobbled as they made their way into the stadium. People surrounded them on all sides, shoving past and blocking their path. Dr. DeMarco glided through the crowd fluidly, while she followed, feeling like she was drowning. They encircled her, voices and bodies swallowing her like a current. Dr. DeMarco paid her no mind as they headed up the packed bleachers.
A voice carried over the loudspeaker as a band played, and cheerleaders chanted something Haven couldn’t hear over the roar of the crowd. She covered her ears as everyone took their seats, only dropping her hands when it calmed down.
Familiar laughter rang out, and Haven looked in the direction of the sound. Dominic walked toward them with his arm draped around a girl, Dia begrudgingly following them.
Dominic took a seat in front of them and introduced Haven to his girlfriend. Tess stared at Haven for a moment, her gaze intense, but said not a word as she sat down beside him. Dia wedged herself between Haven and Dr. DeMarco. It startled Haven, but Dr. DeMarco simply slid over to give the girl room.
Haven turned her attention to the game, trying to ignore the people all around. She scanned the field silently as a player was hit and knocked onto his back. She winced. Ouch.
“Looks like number three took a hard hit,” the announcer said. “Let’s hope he’s okay.”
“He’s fine,” Dominic said dismissively. “Carmine’s tough.”
Her eyes darted back to the field. Carmine?
He climbed to his feet and flexed his fingers, his white number 3 jersey smudged with grass and dirt. Her mouth went dry as she gazed at it. So that was what the big black number meant.
“You don’t know shit about football, do you?” Dominic asked, glancing back at her. “I can see it on your face.”
She smiled sheepishly. “No.”
Dominic was rattling off the basics of the game, most of it lost on her, when Carmine pulled off his helmet, his skin glowing with sweat under the stadium lights. As she watched him, her breath hitched.
Carmine turned toward the bleachers, his eyes drifting in their direction as he scanned the crowd, and Haven could have sworn his gaze lingered on her for a moment.
* * *
The rest of the game rushed by, the energy in the stadium making Haven’s skin tingle. People occasionally approached Dr. DeMarco, not one inquiring as to who she was. She could see it in their eyes, though, could see it in their expressions as they surveyed her from a distance, trying to make sense of her presence.
