town below. Everyone was gathered in the basement, which included a game room, a swimming pool, Jacuzzi and sauna. Paige's parents were out of town, and Paige had the place to herself.
"Hey, look who's here," Claude Kirkpatrick said when he saw Will. "I didn't think you were going to make it." He threw an arm over Will's shoulder as if they hadn't seen each other for weeks.
"Neither did I," Will said, wondering why Claude hadn't mentioned the party. He saw Aaron Thomas and a couple of other football players and recognized a few other familiar faces. Then he saw Taylor and walked over to her. She moved away from the two girls she was talking to when she saw him.
"Heard anything new about Myra?"
"Just that there's nothing new," she responded. "And I'm getting really worried, Will. I don't understand it."
"I was hoping you might know something else."
To his surprise, Aaron walked up to him, a big grin on his face. He put one hand on Will's shoulder, another on Taylor's. "You know, I always thought you two would make a great couple."
"Why do you say that, Aaron?" Taylor asked. "Because we're the only ones here who aren't white? Do you think that makes us compatible?"
Aaron raised his hands. "Hey, take it easy, Taylor. I'm just complimenting you on your good looks."
"Some compliment."
"You're just upset because you and I didn't hit it off," he said with a wide grin.
"Right." She walked off.
"Hey, chill out, Taylor." Aaron laughed, then leaned close to Will. "What did you do, send Myra to Kansas? I heard she wasn't around."
"I don't know where she is," Will said in an even voice. "You got any ideas, Aaron?"
Aaron grinned like a maniac. His eyes were glazed and hooded as if he'd been drinking, but his breath didn't give off any odor of alcohol. "I just told you mine."
"Why did you tell the coach I called that play?" Will asked.
Aaron straightened his back, tilted his head to the side. "I never told him that. I said he made a great call."
"You changed his play and now he thinks I'm the one who did it."
"Hey, that's the play you told me."
"No, it's not."
"What are you complaining about, Lansa ? That play put you in the record books."
"That's not the point."
"Hey, you're missing out on a lot, you know." Aaron walked away.
Will wasn't sure what Aaron thought he was missing. He looked around for Taylor, but didn't see her. He moved through the crowd, exchanging greetings. He asked about Myra over and over, but no one seemed to know anything.
Most everyone, though, seemed happyâalmost too happy. There was a lot of giddy laughter. Smiles seemed to stretch from one ear to the other. "We got some beer, Will," Claude said. "You want one?"
"No, thanks."
Besides the fact that he'd made a promise to his mother, he didn't really care for the taste of beer. He also knew that people of Native American heritage were susceptible to alcoholism. Whether it was genetic or not, he didn't know. But it was enough to make him wary of drinking beer or anything alcoholic.
"So what's your father think of you drinking while he's running for re-election?"
"He doesn't mind if I have a beer at home once in a while." Claude smiled. "And Paige's place is home away from home."
"Where is Paige?"
"In the Jacuzzi. I was going to join her, if I could find where I left my swim suit."
Just then the music on the stereo stopped abruptly and was replaced by the strumming of a guitar. Aaron Thomas was seated on a stool near the fireplace. He played a couple of chords, then started singing.
Â
Listen, Will, ol' buddy,
there's no reason to be mad.
You got your hotshot record
and you made ol' Leadville sad.
Â
Run, run, Lansa .
Run, run, Lansa .
Â
Listen, Will, ol' pal
about that bump on the head,
Don't take it out on me
'cause I'm the one who said:
Â
Run, run, Lansa .
Run, run, Lansa .
Â
Several others joined Aaron in the chorus and repeated the verse. In spite of himself, Will couldn't help smiling. Finally, he
"Hey, look who's here," Claude Kirkpatrick said when he saw Will. "I didn't think you were going to make it." He threw an arm over Will's shoulder as if they hadn't seen each other for weeks.
"Neither did I," Will said, wondering why Claude hadn't mentioned the party. He saw Aaron Thomas and a couple of other football players and recognized a few other familiar faces. Then he saw Taylor and walked over to her. She moved away from the two girls she was talking to when she saw him.
"Heard anything new about Myra?"
"Just that there's nothing new," she responded. "And I'm getting really worried, Will. I don't understand it."
"I was hoping you might know something else."
To his surprise, Aaron walked up to him, a big grin on his face. He put one hand on Will's shoulder, another on Taylor's. "You know, I always thought you two would make a great couple."
"Why do you say that, Aaron?" Taylor asked. "Because we're the only ones here who aren't white? Do you think that makes us compatible?"
Aaron raised his hands. "Hey, take it easy, Taylor. I'm just complimenting you on your good looks."
"Some compliment."
"You're just upset because you and I didn't hit it off," he said with a wide grin.
"Right." She walked off.
"Hey, chill out, Taylor." Aaron laughed, then leaned close to Will. "What did you do, send Myra to Kansas? I heard she wasn't around."
"I don't know where she is," Will said in an even voice. "You got any ideas, Aaron?"
Aaron grinned like a maniac. His eyes were glazed and hooded as if he'd been drinking, but his breath didn't give off any odor of alcohol. "I just told you mine."
"Why did you tell the coach I called that play?" Will asked.
Aaron straightened his back, tilted his head to the side. "I never told him that. I said he made a great call."
"You changed his play and now he thinks I'm the one who did it."
"Hey, that's the play you told me."
"No, it's not."
"What are you complaining about, Lansa ? That play put you in the record books."
"That's not the point."
"Hey, you're missing out on a lot, you know." Aaron walked away.
Will wasn't sure what Aaron thought he was missing. He looked around for Taylor, but didn't see her. He moved through the crowd, exchanging greetings. He asked about Myra over and over, but no one seemed to know anything.
Most everyone, though, seemed happyâalmost too happy. There was a lot of giddy laughter. Smiles seemed to stretch from one ear to the other. "We got some beer, Will," Claude said. "You want one?"
"No, thanks."
Besides the fact that he'd made a promise to his mother, he didn't really care for the taste of beer. He also knew that people of Native American heritage were susceptible to alcoholism. Whether it was genetic or not, he didn't know. But it was enough to make him wary of drinking beer or anything alcoholic.
"So what's your father think of you drinking while he's running for re-election?"
"He doesn't mind if I have a beer at home once in a while." Claude smiled. "And Paige's place is home away from home."
"Where is Paige?"
"In the Jacuzzi. I was going to join her, if I could find where I left my swim suit."
Just then the music on the stereo stopped abruptly and was replaced by the strumming of a guitar. Aaron Thomas was seated on a stool near the fireplace. He played a couple of chords, then started singing.
Â
Listen, Will, ol' buddy,
there's no reason to be mad.
You got your hotshot record
and you made ol' Leadville sad.
Â
Run, run, Lansa .
Run, run, Lansa .
Â
Listen, Will, ol' pal
about that bump on the head,
Don't take it out on me
'cause I'm the one who said:
Â
Run, run, Lansa .
Run, run, Lansa .
Â
Several others joined Aaron in the chorus and repeated the verse. In spite of himself, Will couldn't help smiling. Finally, he
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