Second Redd

Dalton Clyne wasn’t running when it happened, which was strange for him. It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t decided to run, or just ran back- and if the lights on Travis’s car had worked. It wasn’t really Travis’s fault anyway, or Rachel’s- or even his. Four-eyes had said that it was fate- but Four-eyes had said that Dalton wouldn’t make states this year for cross country, and he would be wrong about that if Dalton had his say in things. Four-eyes had just looked at him when he burst into class late one day and said, “D- why are you running? You’re not making states this year.” Dalton had laughed, sat down, then pulled his math binder out of his backpack, along with his pencils and erasers. Of course he would make states. He had met Coach Verdinaz in eighth grade when he and Four-eyes had challenged each other to a race across the front lawn of the school. Dalton easily won and when he turned, laughing, to his friend, Mr. Verdinaz had been there, with a peculiar expression on his face. He looked pointedly at Dalton, then asked him to join him after school to see how fast he really could run. Four-eyes had made him agree.

That school year he spent practicing with Mr. Verdinaz- now Coach Verdinaz -and learned to hunger for the run. The next he was the fastest ninth grader in the state, qualifying for states and on top of that was in the top ten runners. He was third in states during tenth grade, with a school record in the 5K. This year he was even faster, he had run four meets so far and had already beat his fastest previous time. Coach called Dalton the best runner he’d ever coached, and he had coached someone who went to the Olympics and won bronze for Jamaica. Dalton wanted gold.

When he had told Four-eyes this, he had laughed, then asked Dalton what the heck he’d want a gold medal for. “To be the best,” Dalton had said, “To show the other guys there that I’m faster than they are.”

“Yeah,” Four-eyes had replied, “But then everybody’s looking at you. What if your pants fall down, or you forget yourself and pick your nose on camera, what if you eat it on TV!” They had burst into laughter at that. Afterall, no one would pick their nose on TV, and no one eats it- or will admit it to anybody who counts- or to the girls.

Dalton never had much luck with the girls. He was athletic and Four-eyes had said that he would have found him attractive if he had been a girl, but they always made polite conversation and walked away. Four-eyes had said it was because Dalton was around him- if Dalton had no luck, girls steered clear of Four-eyes as if he carried some sort of plague, or was a known murderer freshly splattered in blood and bits of flesh. When Dalton pointed out to Four-eyes a girl named Grace Winchester who wasn’t actively ignoring him at last year’s school dance, Four-eyes looked like someone had injected thick ketchup into his pasty, pale face and practically spluttered out excuses for not talking to her. “Honestly,” he said, nervously tapping the frame of his glasses, “What would I possibly- I mean to say- It’s these glasses, I can’t exactly seem to talk because then I’m thinking to myself ‘what if she’s laughing because of my glasses’- they’re so thick, the lenses- and I can’t take them off because then everything is a big blur of color and I’d end up talking to a wall. That would be embarrassing, talking to a wall like it was her- err, what’s her name? Grace. Yes, that’s it. I’d be talking to the big colorful blob like it was Grace and she would be behind me laughing because I would look like an idiot. Or crying because she would think that I think she looks like a big, colorful blob- and she isn’t. I mean, her dress is that ugly gray, and not at all colorful- and- uh- well, she isn’t a wall. I just don’t think she’s my type.” Dalton had sighed and told Four-eyes that he was missing his chance, but let it slide. Four-eyes would never get a girl.

This night, Dalton had exactly one mission- almost as important to him as an Olympic gold medal- he wanted a dance with Rachel Grey. Not that it mattered much, really. Dalton did not have a crush on her; he didn’t believe in such things and had told Four-eyes that it was only because she was pretty and smart and a nice person to be around that he wanted to dance with her. Every single word was completely true. She had been a closer friend in the sixth and seventh grades, but started to drift back to her friends of the same gender afterwards. She had a lot of friends, not that he was counting or jealous of them- but she talked to him less and less. She probably had just decided to hang out with others now, because that was what girls did- they made circles and called three minute acquaintances lifelong friends and such.

Four-eyes told him point blank that he liked her, but he was again wrong and Dalton didn’t blame him. Four-eyes couldn’t hold a two sentence conversation and thought that any conversation with a girl meant you liked them. But Travis Mills always talked to fifty-something of them, and came to dances with a different date every year. He never stuck with any of them, and didn’t even have a crush on one. Travis was a post player on the basketball team, and had blue eyes and dirty blond hair. He could smile too, and used it free and often. Dalton supposed that Travis was the sort of person who got straight A’s and scholarships, he just looked like it, but he had no confirmation of that fact in either of the two classes he shared with him. His brawn combined with his good look and smooth talk made Travis unofficially the top guy in school, almost without him even trying.

Dalton had prepared himself for this dance. Rachel had worn the same dark blue dress each year to this event, and he had used some cash he had stored up from his summer job as a cashier for a grocery store to buy himself a new suit jacket of the same color. His gold and navy tie would go well with it, he told himself when he bought it, he had been needing a suit jacket to go with it for years. It was tighter than expected in the shoulders when he put it on for the first time that night, but on it stayed, and no ominous sounds came from it when he bent down to find where he had put his dress shoes just five minutes before. His parents ended up driving him to the dance in brand-new bright white and orange Hokas, the dress shoes too far gone in the annals of memory for physical recovery.

Four-eyes met him at the door, dressed in a leather jacket that looked at least sixty years old and hair slicked back so that it stuck out the back like he was some strange exotic bird. “Dude, you ready?” He asked. Dalton shrugged, then they both entered.

The music was loud, and the decorative lights were dimmed by the oppressive factory white sheen from the ceiling lights. High Schoolers milled about laughing- very little dancing had started yet. Dalton checked his watch, and took a moment to interpret its analog face. They were late by a minute or two, but to be fair, most teens weren’t known for their timing and no one gave them a second glance. Why should they? There was no reason, nothing special to notice- just two friends walking in practically on time. Four-eyes pointed out the food and soft drinks and the two navigated the shifting and drifting tides of people towards them.

With arms loaded with soda and chips, they grabbed a table at the far side, from which Dalton made sure he could see the main doors. “I honestly don’t know why I go to these things,” Four-eyes said over his pepsi, “I’d rather be at home reading- or watching the game. They have a game on now, you know? We play Georgia State tonight. At seven. Five minutes from now.”

Four-eyes had a thing for college football, Nebraska, of all teams was the team he cheered for. “Is Georgia State good?” Dalton asked, with feigned interest. Watching men move up and down a semi-green stretch of grass or turf had never really appealed to him. Four-eyes nodded solemnly. “Yeah, they’re good, especially this year. We are going to get absolutely demolished. I wish I could watch the game.”

“Why don’t you?” Dalton asked. Had scanned the group and hadn’t located Rachel. Perhaps she was in the restrooms, or hadn’t arrived yet.

“Well- I mean- you need me here, right?” Four-eyes said, “I-I don’t mind talking to you here, but it’s just everyone else- It’s so loud, you know? I feel like we have a chance you know, of getting the win. We’ve only lost to Penn State so far- I mean, not that we’ve played a better team, but only because we chose to go for three instead of the touchdown. They beat us thirty-six to thirty three.”

No sign of Rachel. She must be late. Or sick. Dalton couldn’t remember the last time she missed class- she always showed up- right? She was never sick and never missed anything. “Why did they go for three points instead of seven? That seems stupid, honestly.”

Four-eyes rolled his eyes. “Because sometimes it’s too hard. The team’s too good and they play it safe. Better points on the board than not. Seriously, I don’t have ”

“But isn’t the scoring place whatsit- the end zone- just a little bit further? Shouldn’t the main guys be able to get there? Isn’t that like their whole job? That sounds like a basketball team getting the whole way to the hoop and just sitting there under it.” Funny, Dalton felt like he was missing someone in the group. Someone else was gone. If he could just remember who he should be thinking of….

Four-eyes laughed. “Football and basketball are different sports. But you have a point- seriously, we have a management problem. Our coaching staff just won’t….”

The normally quiet kid could go on this topic for hours, Dalton knew. But it was endearing to hear him chatter away in a high passion about quarterbacks and coaches and games- Dalton could feel himself start to smile. The door opened, and a red tied Travis Mills walked in with Rachel on his arm. Her dress was crimson.

It took a minute to comprehend, then and when it did Dalton closed his eyes and groaned. “What’s the problem, D?” Four-eyes laughed, “Our receiver’s injury that important to you? It’s really no matter, we run the ball enough for-”

“Will,” Dalton said quietly, “Shut up.” He had time to see Four-eyes’s shocked face behind those absurdly oversized glasses of his- no one ever called him by his real name, he hated it- then Dalton was gone, shouldering his way through the crowd, past kids with their dates all laughing and eating and suddenly the noise seemed oppressive and loud and he just wanted to be out. Out the doors, out the dance out, out, out! He started running when he was on pavement, and for- a moment or several moments he couldn’t tell- just ran. He was good at running.

It took twenty five minutes for Dalton to calm down again to a reasonable state of mind. He was five miles from the school and winded. He had run faster than he had meant too, and whenever he started to slow down he ended up seeing a red car, or a red mailbox, or something like that, and he had started running again. Eventually he had to stop from, well, he had to stop at some point, right? Dalton roughly tugged off the jacket, despite ominous ripping sounds, and threw it to the sidewalk. He fumbled with the tie, but his numb hands couldn’t deal with the knot, so he plopped down on the cold pavement and let it cool him as he tried to slow his breathing. His dress shirt was soaked in sweat.

He lay there for a short time then sat up and ran his hand through his hair, trying to decide what to do. He could hardly go back like this, disheveled and dirtied… but perhaps it was for the best. He could blame everything on the run afterwards and Four-eyes would understand. Dalton grimaced, stood, picked up the blue jacket and began the exhausting walk back.

Four-eyes called it fate, but that was upon reflection. Rachel said it was Everance- but then while she retracted her statement, she said it was no true accident. Travis was unable to give his opinion of the matter. Dalton called it unlucky, later, but certainly then he thought of it as an undeserved kindness as Four-eyes rolled up next to the sidewalk in his dented, tan Corolla. “You need a ride D?” The junior’s glasses shone red in the light reflecting off of the stop sign in front of him. Dalton found the energy to laugh, and hopped into the passenger seat next to his friend.

“I got a Pepsi can and a bag of Doritos from the dance,” Four-eyes said to him when he buckled on his seatbelt, “They charged me a buck for the can. I can’t believe they actually have you pay there. Thankfully I drove there- I usually never have my wallet with me unless I drive, and I almost didn’t because I was afraid I’d lose the wallet there. But I did and now you owe me a buck.” Dalton cracked the top of the can and listened to it make noises like a carbon snake. Soda would dehydrate him further, but his body needed the illusion of drink. “Bet you I can drain this dollar in one gulp.” Dalton said. “Bet two bucks you can’t.” Four-eyes replied, “I can never keep it all down if I chug it- Pepsi is one of the tickly ones.” Dalton threw his head back and poured the soda straight down his throat.

Suddenly Four-eyes shouted and slammed on the brakes. Dalton succeeded in pouring a third of a soda can into his eyes, and ejecting the rest out his nostrils onto the front dash when the Corolla jerked to a stop. Looking up he caught a glimpse of a red car swerving from the middle of the fourway in front of them driven by a figure in a black coat. Four-eyes was shocked, he had never been cut off so narrowly by another driver in his three months of licensed driving.

“What was he doing!” Dalton shouted, and Four-eyes in a rare moment of passion, flipped some choice sign language at the retreating driver. Dalton couldn’t help bursting into laughter at how seriously offended his friend looked. When he reached for the fallen chip bag while Four-eyes put his hands back on the wheel Dalton thought to himself, I guess I do owe him three. Then he picked up the Doritos and the world shattered like glass.