Keeper

Chapter 46

And then he just sort of stood there with one eyebrow raised. He had this innocent puppy-dog look on his face. I hated it.

"So are you enjoying the game?" He asked.

"What?"

"Are you enjoying the game?" He repeated.

I rolled my eyes and started walking away, back down along the crooked sidewalk. "It's alright," I answered. "Would be better if it wasn't freezing outside, though."

"Where you going?" He asked, rushing to catch up to me.

"Away," I said. "Back to the stands. And besides, shouldn't you be getting back as well?"

He half laughed. "Nobody's going to miss the water boy."

"But people need water." I shrugged.

"Touché." He said.

"Why are you even trying to talk to me?" I asked.

"Well, I've got nobody else here to talk to."

"Your parents didn't come?" I asked.

"I'm the water boy, I mean they may of possibly come if I were the quarter back or linebacker but not the water boy. They would rather spend their time writing checks then come to one of these games."

"Ouch." I said.

"And that's what they say to my face." He said.

"Ouch." I repeated.

"I suppose." He laughed.

"How have I never seen you around before?" I asked.

"Like I said, I just lay low."

"Didn't seem to shy back at that party,". I said. "Not at all."

"Oh God, I was such a creep wasn't I?" He asked, rubbing his hands over his face. And then he peeked through his fingers. "Just leave it to me to make the perfect first impression. It's what I get for trying to act all cool. And then here I am, being awkward."

"Somewhat," I laughed, rubbing my nose with the back side of my sleeve. "But it's okay, and I'm awkward like that too sometimes."

"Sometimes," Sawyer laughed. "Oh, I could only wish. Talk about every day."

I shook my head. "God, you're so drunk."

"You think I'm drunk? I haven't had anything to drink." He said. "I swear to it."

"Somehow I believe you." I said.

Back at the field Sawyer went his way back onto the field and I, back towards the bleachers. But as I walked I heard people taking behind the once bustling ticket booth, which was now dark and locked up. There was more than one voice, and what they were saying was jumbled up by the words of others.

"Can you fucking pass it already," I heard somebody say. It sounded a lot like Mikey. It must of been Mikey.

Wearily I turned the corner, my eyes refined to slits as I began to walk by. I wanted to not look. I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn't help it.

And then when I looked I instantly stopped. And I swear my heart did as well.

There stood Harry, a joint between his fingers. Beside him was Mikey, an old hospital syringe in his hand. The other five guys had joints as well, as well as other things I would rather not know of, and some substituted for cigarettes.

Just as I was about to slow back away, harry turned his head. His eyes widened as he took a drag.

"Baby," He said, the white smoke curling up around him. And then he threw the joint to the ground, stepping on it with his foot. I heard a few groans come from the group. "Baby, where were you?"