Blue on Blue

Chapter Twelve

In Cayder Bay, high school football is not just a pastime; it's a religion, one that everyone on the island faithfully follows.

Every Friday night, from September to November, generations of islanders come together to cheer for the Cayder Bay Fishermen under the glow of the stadium lights.

Cay is the founder and director of Cayder Bay High School's Decorating Club. "It's positions like this that will get me accepted into the top Fashion Design Schools," she tells Maggie.

Drew slides a banner off the back of his father's O'Connell and Son's pickup truck. "GO FISHERMEN" fills the six-foot sign surrounded by plump blue balloons.

Pop! Pop!

"Careful!" Cay yelps. She glances at her watch. "Where's the mascot?"

Drew lifts his chin and points. A boy in Maggie's math class is pounding toward them, dressed in yellow rain gear. He pulls a pipe from his mouth and salutes. "Fisherman Pete at your service."

"Dude, I dig the rain hat," Drew tells him.

Fisherman Pete slides his pipe between his teeth and clutches the banner underneath his arm.

Pop! Pop!

"The balloons!" Cay shouts.

The mascot gallops toward the football field, his yellow raincoat flapping in the wind. Pop! Pop!

Drew weaves the truck through a sea of people grilling food, pouring drinks, and tossing footballs back and forth. "This is our stop." A buzz of excitement fills the crisp autumn air. Drew slides the gear shift into park. "Tail-gaiting before kick-off is tradition."

Cay hands him a tin of face paint. Her lips are blue and her hair is streaked white for the occasion.

Drew dips his fingers into the tin and plants a bold blue line underneath each of his eyes.

"You too, Maggie," Cay says painting a blue football on Maggie's cheek.

Jonathan and Connie sip from red plastic cups as they listen to Senior, Drew's grandfather tell his stories about the good ol' days on the island.

Junior, Drew's father, is giving Charlie a lesson on how to work the grill.

The upbeat rhythm of the ZacBrown Band's Chicken Fried song streams through the O'Connell and Son's pickup truck speakers.

Connie takes Maggie's hands and twirls her around. "Remember we used to dance like this when you were little?" Connie straightens her arms and then curls them around Maggie, spinning her again.

"I remember," Maggie says, every memory now tainted by the secret Joe and Connie kept from her. They weren't her parents then, just as they're not her parents now.

Connie's cheeks are full and rosy. "You practiced day and night." A reminiscent smile fills her lips. "You wouldn't give up until you got it exactly right. Joe didn't sleep for weeks. He'd be up all day listening to you thump around the apartment and up all night working third shift at the JDC."

Maggie drops her hands by her side.

Connie's smile fades. "What's wrong?"

"I had the right to know," Maggie says. Tears prick the corners of her eyes.

Connie drops her gaze to the ground. "You're right, Maggie. You had the right to know the truth about your mother. About me and Joe. About all of it." She shakes her head. "I did a lot of things wrong and I'm sorry." She cups the side of Maggie's face with her hand. "If I could take it all back, I would. I would do it all so differently."