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JON FREDERICK

8:45 P.M., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2002 PIERZ

t was 46 degrees today, the warmest it would be all month. My cool cheeks felt like a mask on this starless night. I traipsed along the riverbank on our farm, sinking into the snow with each step. I carried my book and one of my dad’s empty beer cans, now filled with gas, to a thicket of trees on a bluff overlooking the river. My Sorel boots were snug due to a recent growth spurt, but they kept my feet warm. I suppose all my winter gear could be replaced, but it served its purpose, and now wasn’t the time. I carefully set the can in the snow and the book on a fallen tree while I gathered dried brush for a fire. Once I had piled the wood in front of a tree stump, I poured the gas on the stack and tossed a match into it, enjoying the ominous “huff” it made when it ignited. As the fire started, I stepped to the side and looked out at the river. The steep banks were covered with snow. The river was never safe to walk on in the winter. While much of it was covered with ice, it never froze over completely. I loved this farm. We were losing it, and I imagined it would be bought up by some corporate farmer who would never walk these banks.

I had to get out of the house tonight. My older sister, Theresa, had apparently been caught in a state of undress with a firefighter in one of the trucks as the local volunteer force rushed into the station for a call, so she was now the talk of the town. Perhaps it’s one of the perils of having the Pierz fire station next to Frosty’s bar. When I left the house, Mom was kneeling in front of the couch, praying for her soul. Dad wasn’t angry like he used to be. He’d given up and was now depressingly quiet. It didn’t help that when confronted, Theresa never minimized her behavior. Instead, she embellished the story further by suggesting, “They had to turn the hose on us to get us to stop.”

My older brother, Victor, struggled with schizophrenia and was convinced aliens were trying to communicate with us in Morse code through the flickering lights on our Christmas tree. Having a brother who tells tales of false inventions and declares people are trying to kill him casts a shadow on our family. I don’t blame Vic. The delusions and paranoia are real and scary for him. Regardless of the stories, I love my family. I respect my parents, laugh with Theresa, and take care of Vic. But I’m alone and not loved in the manner I desire. I’m loved in the sense that I’m provided for. My parents aren’t the ‘Is something bothering you?’ type. They’re the ‘Do you have your chores done?’ parents. Theresa visits home as little as possible, and Vic is detached from the world. I had a good year in football, but not good enough for a scholarship. The same is true for my grades. Most of the kids in my grade are considerate, hardworking people trying to figure out life. Unlike the movies, the homecoming queen and king candidates are decent people.

I’m not in the selection as people have kept a safe distance from me ever since I assaulted an older boy for bullying my schizophrenic brother four years ago. Other than a bloody nose, the boy wasn’t seriously hurt. My anger worked for Vic. The bullying ended. I, however, am viewed as someone with the potential to go off the rails. I probably should have explained myself since it happened in front of my class, and my peers weren’t aware of the torture Vic had been through. I was too ashamed to desire sympathy, so I quietly took the consequences. I’ll never forget the bus ride home. No one sat within two seats of me for the first couple of stops. Then, a courageous girl with flowing brunette locks and scintillating green eyes sat next to me. Serena Bell is the brightest and most beautiful girl in our school, but because she expressed her kindness without reservation, she also had her critics. It was consistent with my theory that there is nothing you can do to get everyone to like you. If you tried, someone would hate you just for that. But I didn’t see Serena outside of school as she belonged to a ballet company and didn’t date anyone around Pierz. I want someone to talk to who isn’t going to judge me based on everything happening with my family—a girl who will at least try to understand me. I’m not sure that person exists.

I returned to the fire, picked up my book, and read forward from the bookmark:

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before—more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.”

Charles Dickens wrote my thoughts so succinctly. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. Tears had been beaten out of me years ago. Even if I couldn’t participate, I felt Dickens’ sentiment deeply. I returned to immersing myself in his written words. “What are you doing?” an angel’s voice asked.

I glanced up to see Serena approaching the fire. Her long brunette locks flowed from underneath her slouchy beige knit hat, and her body was covered by a forest green peacoat. My sixteen-year-old classmate only lived a mile down the road from me, but I never saw her around. God, if you could get her to love me, you could take my life at thirty, and I’d die a happy man.

Embarrassed, I held my book to the side, away from her. I stood up and offered her my stump. “Here. I was just sitting here thinking.” Trying to make light of my family’s misfortune, I quipped, “If you’ve heard the rumors about our farm, it’s all we can afford to do.”

“Where are you going to sit?”

I set my book on the ground and dragged a log over to the fire. “Here.”

After I sat, Serena smiled at me and, instead of going to the stump, picked my book up out of the snow. “You wouldn’t want people to know you’re reading Great Expectations.” She slipped her mittens off, opened the book, read the pages that embraced the bookmark, and then stepped in front of me.

“I just needed to get away,” I explained.

“I’ve seen you here before. I finally had the courage to come and speak to you. I would have come sooner if I had realized you were reading Dickens. I mean, you never know what a teen boy might be looking at in the middle of the woods by himself at night.”

I laughed. She sat close to me on the log. The warmth of her body made me pleasantly nervous. Her green eyes were mesmerizing.

She continued, “I heard you made the WCCO all-state team of the week in football. That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t been to a game.”

“It’s okay. I don’t play because I expect people to watch. I play because it’s like chess performed at one hundred miles per hour with all the pieces in motion during every move.”

“Can you explain it to me in words I can understand?”

“I’m quarterback, so I can change the plays. If I can’t figure out what the defense is doing, I send someone in motion.” I stood up and pumped my right leg. “Let’s say there’s a defender covering the wide-out on the right side. When the wide-out sees my foot moving, he runs behind me to the other side of the field. After he crosses, I see the defender on the left side isn’t picking him up. Then I know the defender is coming after me instead, on a blitz. More defenders are coming after me than I have blockers, so I have to change the play and get rid of the ball quickly.” I laughed at the look of confusion on her face. I sat back down by her. “So, I guess the answer is ‘no.’ I can’t really explain it in a manner you could understand.”

She gripped my bicep with her mitten. “I promise I’ll try to get to a game next year, even if I can’t understand it.”

“I went to your ballet.”

Surprised, she leaned back. “With whom?”

“By myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“It’s not something football players brag about.”

“You should have found me after.” She leaned against me.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”

“Of course, I wanted you to—goof. I have to get back home, or Mom will send the Sheriff, police, and fire department after me. I was at the end of my walk when I noticed you.”

“My sister might be able to distract them.”

Serena laughed knowingly. “That isn’t on you.” She stood. “Okay, read me a line from Great Expectations before I go.”

“I don’t have to read it.” I stood facing her and recited,

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Without hesitation, Serena kissed me. I will cherish that moment forever. It was a moment of warmth for a boy, lost in a blizzard, trying to find home. The night had split open, and the light revealed Serena’s requited love for me for the first time. I was flabbergasted by the possibility that Serena could love me. It was a warm, loving kiss that continued while the endorphins in my brain danced in ecstasy. I felt bulletproof. She stepped back and said, “Tell me the next time you’re coming out here so we can have a little more time.”

“I can walk you back.”

“No, you can’t,” she grinned. “If my parents see you, there won’t be a next time.”

I sat on the stump and watched her disappear into the night. It was the best moment of my life.

(3 DAYS LATER)

10:02 P.M., TUESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2002

DAD WAS A RUGGED VETERAN who had a habit of calling me into the living room to view the bad...