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“I think you mean outcasts.” Rhett shifts in his stance, clearly nervous with the spotlight on him.
“Come on, what about the time with Valley’s soccer field? That was epic.”
Carl starts to snicker from where he’s tuning his guitar on a log. “That was pretty awesome.”
“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught.”
They have my attention. “Okay, you have to tell us.”
Rhett shakes his head, turning back to his drink, but Nick jumps into the story without hesitation.
“It was senior year, and we’d pulled some minor stunts by then. The cows, a stack of tires on the flagpole, hotwiring the principal’s car and hiding it in the gym, you know, little stuff.” The crowd around the bonfire laughs, and Nick feeds off the energy. “We’d terrorized the school and we were planning something big for the finale. But,” his hands jut out, scarves flying with them, “our rival, Valley High, broke into our gym and painted their mascot—”
“A goat,” Carl supplies.
Nick points at him with deep appreciation. “Yes, thank you, a goat with stupid boxing gloves, painted dead center on our gym floor.”
“We were the broncos, so it’s not like it was even close.” Rhett smirks again. “It needed retribution.”
“Yes,” Nick’s eyes widen to emphasize the word, “retribution, reprisal, in a word, vengeance, but some measly prank wasn’t going to cut it.”
The fire feels like it grows hotter for a moment, creating a dancing light show with the shadows on Nick’s face. “Sunny, do you know what happens when potassium comes in direct contact with water?”
I’ve taken plenty of chem classes, but I’m hazy on the details. It doesn’t matter because he’s not planning to wait for my answer.
Bringing his fingers together, forming a cavern between his palms, his voice takes on the crazed wonder of a mad scientist, pushing dramatic spaces between the syllables. “It…ig…nites!”
I glance back at Rhett, but he only shrugs and shakes his head like he’s seen this act a million times. Nick’s jangling bracelets draw me back to his waving arms and dramatic story.
“Our soccer teams were caught in a tournament and the next two games were scheduled for our opponent’s field. We snuck out on the field around midnight.” He pantomimes creeping across the field with dramatic flair. Carl picks up on it and starts to pick out a rapid rhythm on his guitar. “And using ground potassium, we spelled Broncos on their field in massive letters. Then all we had to do was wait.”
Carl takes the lead, punctuating the story with music, obviously enjoying his time in the spotlight. “The next morning, the sprinklers turned on, the potassium ignited, and boom,” his hand clamps over the strings to cease all sound, “Broncos was burned into the soccer field.”
Nick points at Carl but speaks to Rhett. “I like him, why don’t you bring him more often?”
Rhett shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed by the both of them. “You just like that he comes with a soundtrack.”
“Well, yes.” Nick shrugs as though it should be common sense.
Rhett, unphased by his friend, finishes the story. “The school could either pay to rip up and resod the entire field or they could wait for the grass to grow. Of course, they chose to wait because it was much cheaper. But that meant we played the tournament with our team name blazoned on their field.”
“And your team won?”
“Of course, we won.” Nick takes a bow. “Thanks to unknown benefactors who understand that sports are played in the mind long before they ever touch the field.”
“Spoken like a guy who doesn’t play,” Carl teases.
Nick’s head pops up. “Never mind, I never liked him. Take him away. To the gallows with that one.”
Laughter resumes, always revolving around something Nick has to say. He runs the party, vibrant, theatrical and magnetic. I steal glances at Rhett, trying to understand how they fit together as friends. Nick as unique as he is, matched with Rhett’s sometimes stoic and somber personality, and yet they work. Rhett never seems to mind Nick stealing the spotlight, in fact, any time the story shifts to Rhett, he’s quick to toss it back to his friend.
“Okay people.” Nick adjusts one of the ten necklaces around his neck. “It’s time for Fire Ball. Who’s playing?”
Carl sets his guitar aside. “I’m in.”
Houston, Silas, and Buck all raise their hands, plus the two girls who’ve been hanging off Nick like barnacles.
“I’ll watch,” Rhett says.
