Page 72 of The Backup Plan
The banners. The magazine. Whatever his face was on, everyone, including city police officers, saw it and knew who he was. He envisioned the next headline: Cameron Porter Requests Sideline Accommodation for Pom Pom the Emotional Support Bee.
“It was a rough one, but it’s fuel for next week. Thanks for cheering us on.”
“Get in, buddy. I’ll give you a lift home. You look exhausted.”
“I’m okay, really. Thank you though, sir.”
“You’re not sleeping out here, and nobody wants you in the news as an intoxicated minor tripping on broken sidewalks and breaking his arm.”
Cam tipped a few drops of water into the hole he made and frowned when the dirt dried in a blink. “Dammit, Pom,” he muttered. “I’m trying.”
“Porter.”
“Just a—yes, sir. Thank you, I’m coming.”
“Sit up front. I’m not your limo driver.”
They rode in silence toward campus, each block busier than the last, leaving Pom Pom in the shadows, as comfortable as he could make him in a makeshift nest away from his friends. He didn’t know if it was his heart or the whisky, but his chest ached the way it did on the field when Jordan’s ghost pushed him back.
He spoke up as they neared his residence hall. “I appreciate the ride, sir.”
“I appreciate your wise decision not to drive tonight. I guess you were coming from the football houses. Those guys don’t cause trouble. They still take everyone’s keys when you get there?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have to dig mine out of a pile tomorrow.”
The officer stroked his gray sideburns. “They’ve been doing that a long time. We never get called for the guys on your team who live in that area. Closer to campus, well.”
Cam nodded, unsure what to say.
“From everything I’ve read about you, Porter, you’re a good kid, and even drunk as a skunk—don’t lie to me, whisky breath—you made a good decision.”
“Whisky isn’t a very good decision.”
“You didn’t drive. That’s the most important thing.”
“I guess.”
“A kid like you is in a position to be a role model. My son is twelve, and he’s a big fan. Always sad when the guys kids admire make bad choices.”
whisky was the least of his poor choices. The good thing about having a bee for a friend was that he didn’t lecture or talk back. Cam nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s a good reminder.”
“And between us, I would have gone for it at fourth-and-two.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Would have made the difference, you know.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The notion of sleep evaporated before his head hit the pillow. Pieces of the evening swirled behind his eyelids in a blur of orange flames and yellow fuzz, and the organic, earthy smell of dead leaves and damp mulch.
Cameron
Who’s up?
Hayden
Meeee hey loser. We’re cool.