Chapter 26
MASON
“This is a bad idea.”
“I have to come to these things.”
“There’s just something in the air. I don’t know.”
Jenna huffs as she sits down next to Mason in the stands, with their hot dogs, fries, and diet colas in hand.
Mason took extra precautions to not get cold and brought three layers. His shirt, one of Callum’s sweaters, and a jacket over top. Jenna did the same, and they look like penguins waddling around the bleachers in their huge jackets.
“What makes you say that?” Mason asks as he takes a sip from his straw.
“There is sinister energy here,” she says, waving her hand in a circle around the crowd, getting a few confused looks from the people just below her as they look behind them at her.
Mason snorts. He isn’t sure if she’s joking, but he’s not feeling what she’s feeling, but maybe he has blinders on because of getting to see Callum play again for the first time in a while.
Commercials for the campus store and restaurants play on the Jumbotron, and Mason looks through his notebook for notes he had taken during previous games, trying to get back in the headspace of how he writes about Callum and the team.
Having to write more about the team than Callum himself will likely prove itself to be a more difficult job than he anticipates sheerly due to his bias towards him, and especially since Joel is breathing down his neck, he’ll have to be as impartial as possible if he doesn’t want to get even more snark from Joel or suspicious eyes on him.
His heart begins to swell as he reads his words about Callum from previous issues.
Electrifying. Fearless. Agile. Swift.
His heart soars as he imagines Callum’s eyes all over him, staring and smiling at him like he’s the only person who understands.
“Wait—is that… No. They’re coming up here—oh my God.”
The vision sours and fades as Mason immediately lifts his gaze at Jenna’s panicked voice.
His heart drops as he sees Mr. Brown, Callum’s dad, and stepmom making their way up the bleacher steps.
Mason immediately closes his notebook and sits up straight, turning his head away in hopes that they don’t notice him and that they’re going to see his gushing prose about Callum and immediately notice.
Anxiety is a twisted, funny thing.
The Browns pass by them, without giving Mason much of a glance but sit in the row above them, almost directly behind him and Jenna.
Jenna leans in to whisper in Mason’s ear. “You would think they’d want better seats down up front.”
Mason knows why they probably don’t. It would make them seem like they care about Callum, and they don’t. Mason can’t necessarily speak for Tammy, but he knows Mr. Brown clearly just attends to brag about the Brown’s being unbeatable or getting to clearly see how bad Callum screws up.
The only good thing about it being that Mr. Brown can’t touch him in a setting like this.
Montgomery is a safe haven for Callum, at least until Thanksgiving.
The commercials stop and they play booming, thumping music that gets the crowd going, trying to motivate the spectators just as much as the players.
Callum appears on the screen as the players run onto the field and the crowd goes wild. Mason stands up and cheers for Callum, not caring if anyone sees, and especially not Mr. Brown. Jenna does the same, but only claps.
Callum appears on the Jumbotron in a pre-recorded video in his football outfit, putting a hand up to his ear and motioning his hand up and down, trying to get the crowd to cheer louder.
Mason looks at the man on the screen. He thinks of the formidable man behind him in the stands.
Mason can’t help but think about how traumatized Callum really is.
That he does all this just to keep his dad off his back.
There are surely parts of Callum that enjoys football, but in the end, it will always be him running away from his dad, and Mason aches for Callum, looking at the caricature he’s creating on the screen, wondering if it’s real or fake.
“He looks ridiculous in that video,” he hears Mr. Brown say, not even attempting to be subtle.
“Not now, Daniel,” Tammy says, almost trying to shush him.
“He’s my son. I can say whatever I want, whenever I want,” he retorts.
Mason wants to punch him. Callum was just doing promotional things.
Many of the other teammates do the same thing. It’s a part of the job.
The game begins and Mr. Brown seems to stay silent as it goes on. Mason watches in awe, and Jenna sometimes grabs Mason’s leg whenever the Hornets get close to a touchdown. He swears she gets more invested in the games than he does.
Callum scores a couple of touchdowns as the game goes on, and Mason and Jenna go crazy each time, along with the rest of the crowd.
Mason’s heart swells as he sees Callum do his typical dance when he scores a touchdown. It’s cheesy, but it’s endearing at the same time. He’s just happy he’s succeeding.
Mason looks as Joel just walks away back to the line, not even clapping or patting Callum on the back.
The game goes on, but the other team isn’t trailing far behind.
The Hornets are still winning, but the opposing team are only a couple points behind them, and it’s not the usual victory lap that each game seems to be for the Hornets.
At one point, Callum throws the ball, and his teammate doesn’t catch it.
“Come on, Callum. That was such an easy pass,” Mr. Brown says, not so quietly.
Jenna looks back at Mr. Brown, but he’s not looking at her. She opens her mouth, but Mason stops her.
“Don’t. Please. We can’t draw attention to ourselves,” Mason whispers.
The fire in her eyes doesn’t die, but she nods in understanding as she realizes not only is Mason’s safety at risk, but so is Callum’s. Making Callum’s dad angry will only make things worse.
In the third quarter, Callum messes up a throw into the end zone, and a player misses catching the ball.
The crowd sighs in defeat, but Mr. Brown stands up.
“What the hell! Get your shit together, Cal!” he screams.
Mason clenches his fists as he writes something down in his notebook. Jenna whips around and gets up.
“That’s your son, not a freaking show dog. Act like a decent father and get your shit together,” Jenna hisses at him.
“Excuse me?” he retorts, but Mason is already grabbing at Jenna and pulling her down.
She’s right, but he’s furious with her.
Anxiety seethes through his bones and veins like he’s on fire.
He’s in trouble without even doing anything. He’s going to get exposed. Everyone’s going to find out.
She tries getting up again, but he pulls her down and gives a furtive glance at Mr. Brown, whose eyebrows perk up upon meeting eyes.
Mr. Brown scoffs. “Mason Fanning. Of course you’re here.”
Everyone within the vicinity is looking at them now. They’re giving Mr. Brown confused looks, but Mason gets some as well.
Mason averts his gaze and goes back to focusing on the game, but he can’t stop thinking about everyone’s eyes on him and the sheer look of rage and condescension in Mr. Brown’s eyes.
“If you’re going to write about my son again, make sure to say how much of a shit player he is if it means he’ll play any better,” Mr. Brown whispers into his ear, making his blood run cold.
He knows that Mason writes about him. He knows how much he gushes about Callum. He’s catching on. He has to know.
The players on the field blur together and the taste of his drink sours in his mouth and tastes metallic, like he’s drinking liquid mercury.
His hands tremble as he tries to write something, anything in his notebook, but he pictures Mr. Brown looking over his shoulder, laughing at whatever Mason has to write, surely going to read the next issue and tear it to bits, trying to read between the lines and give himself another reason to hit Callum.
“I think I’m going to puke,” Mason says, putting his hand on his stomach as he starts breathing quickly. He’s getting warmer, even though it’s freezing. His three layers feel like a corset on him and like it’s going to asphyxiate him.
“Mase. Just breathe. Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Jenna says, grabbing his arm and trying to breathe deeply with him.
“I—I can’t—”
He pictures everyone furrowing their eyebrows at him and grimacing. He pictures his parents’ disappointed looks. He pictures the football team laughing at him. He pictures Fiona and Alex’s embarrassed expression.
He sees it all. It’s his future. Everyone’s going to know and everyone’s going to hate him.
He breathes in, closing his eyes and trying to picture him and Callum running away somewhere else. To another country, living in a cabin in the woods, sitting by a crackling fireplace with hot chocolate and a boatload of marshmallows. It’s autumn all the time and the sun doesn’t burn his skin.
Jenna lives next door. And no one else ever hears from them again.
He starts calming down, but he’s more surprised that that’s his happy place. His ideal fantasy. A world where no one knows him and where he can exist without prying eyes or critical opinions. All he wants is to exist without perception or criticism.
He opens his eyes and notices that the third quarter is over, and the teams are both tied.
“That’s it, Mason. Just breathe,” Jenna whispers, glancing briefly behind her.
He knows he’s being dramatic. It’s just a football game, and no one cares this much about Mason, but he can’t help it.
Jenna’s right, there’s something sinister about this specific game tonight, but he isn’t entirely sure that he isn’t a part of it.
“If they lose… I’m going down to the field and talk some sense into him,” Mr. Brown says.
Tammy sighs behind him, and he looks back to see her shaking her head like she’s a helpless bystander in the matter, like she can’t stop him.
He hasn’t officially met her. She made her way into Callum’s life after they stopped talking in high school, but she doesn’t seem like the friendliest woman. She’s a strong contrast to Callum’s birth mother, who could make the harshest and darkest of moments in life seem like transient storms.