WALKING DISASTERS

026 | puke boy scores a touchdown

❝i may look alive but inside i'm dead

then let's make it true, let's make it true

do you want to die together?

yes i do. yes i do.❞

  ➼ stars, "do you want to die together"

During Friday's long-awaited football game, Charlie sat in the bleachers in the same spot from the week before. The field was the polar opposite of that day with the fog and emptiness—everything glistened; the overhead lights shone onto the players with their blue and gray jerseys, running across the mass of green.

Lucky for her, Jonah was nowhere to be found. And twenty minutes in, Mateo scored the night's first touchdown. His family cheered the loudest, spinning jerseys in the air and waving a Venezuelan flag. The crowd clapped, stomped, and chanted, "Let's go puke boy! Let's go puke boy!" while Charlie watched from behind her camera.

She took picture after picture. She'd promised to support Peter at every one of his games—despite not knowing anything about football, or sports in general, even though her parents had owned a sportswear company.

The players moved too fast for her to snap a good shot, and she zoomed in on the cheerleaders dancing in distractingly short shorts. Even Raquel was there in the back of the ensemble. She threw her hands toward the bright, UFO-esque lights, a bow in her perfect hair.

At half-time, Quincy hurled himself against the cheerleaders like a five foot nothing tornado in his tiger costume. Girls toppled over, pom poms went flying, their school spirit song cut off by hooting and laughter. Quincy and the rival team's mascot, a bull, threw air-punches at each other. Charlie could feel Quincy's massive, shit-eating grin from behind his tiger head. He twirled then bowed to the crowd, the saber-teeth and large eyes of his costume unchanging.

Sabre College won. It surprised just about everyone—especially the University of South Florida boys used to their winning streak—and the loud cheering made Charlie's ears hurt as she and the students poured down the bleachers.

Peter took off his helmet and threw his fist in the air. He was smiling brighter than she'd seen in weeks, and he shocked her by crushing her in a hug.

"Congrats," she said.

He pulled away to high-five Mateo. "Next time, the ones with the stomach virus will be them."

Mateo laughed. "Look at you coming to the dark side."

"Did that long ago, bro."

Quincy came running at her. "Did I hear this right—it's your birthday today?" The tiger head muffled his voice until he took it off, and Charlie felt the full impact of his excitement. "We have to celebrate!"

"How did you know?"

"What was that?" he shouted. "But yeah, you're nineteen now. Can't drink, though, but Evan's got us covered. What do you think?"

"I'm not sure," she said, straining to speak over the noise.

"And we won the game!"

A hand touched Charlie's shoulder. Mateo. "Hey, happy birthday."

She managed a shy smile. "Thanks."

Quincy grabbed Mateo's arm. "Help me out here. Think we're due for a party?" He looked at Charlie. "I was thinking your house since your parents are out."