Chapter 80: The Hype Section

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"You have the right to remain silent," Katherine said, delivering the Miranda warning with theatrical gravity. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

She snapped the paddle in her hand through the air.

Katherine wore a cropped black uniform top, a peaked cap, leather gloves, tall boots, and a short skirt. The way she lifted the brim looked startlingly professional.

This hotel truly had a complete prop department. It could satisfy almost any request.

Katherine’s performance ability was also better than Nolan had expected.

Nolan’s wrists were locked in silver cuffs. His body was stretched out on the floor with his back against the wall.

"Still looking?"

Katherine swung the paddle down. It struck the wall beside him.

"If you like looking so much, I will let you see enough."

Her expression was fierce as she planted one boot against the wall.

Both posture and expression looked professional enough that Nolan began to wonder whether this was some hidden talent.

Then the phone on the bedside table rang.

Katherine picked it up, looked at it, and immediately handed it to Nolan.

"Home," she warned.

"There is a young woman here with luggage," William said over the line, looking suspiciously toward the doorway as he spoke. A young blonde stood outside Nolan’s room with two large suitcases. "She says she is looking for you."

"Oh. I know."

William hung up.

"Sit down for a minute," he told the girl. "Nolan is coming back."

She sat directly on Nolan’s bed as if it were the most natural place in the world.

"Are you... Nolan’s boyfriend?" she asked, looking William up and down.

"How would that be possible? I am his brother." William snorted. "Who are you?"

"My name is Charlize Theron."

Her accent had not improved much since Nolan met her a month earlier.

"Okay." William glanced at the two large suitcases she had brought into the room. "Where did you meet Nolan?"

"At a bank. Because I was a foreigner, I could not withdraw my money. Nolan helped me."

"I understand."

William felt as if he had already reconstructed the whole story, especially after his conversation with Nolan the other night.

Naturally, he assumed the "girl" Nolan had mentioned was Charlize.

Now she had come to his door. Would Nolan take her in or not?

If he took her in, he had to pay her expenses. If he did not, he would feel guilty. No matter what, it was trouble.

In William’s mind, women equaled trouble.

"You are not pregnant, are you?" he asked suddenly.

"How could I be?"

Charlize rolled her eyes and pulled her cardigan back onto her shoulder.

She and William started chatting in short, cautious circles, each probing the other.

About forty minutes later, Nolan and Katherine returned together.

"Let me introduce you," Nolan said. "This is an actress I am helping manage. Her name is Charlize Theron."

"Actress?" William looked as if he had heard a fantasy.

"Helping manage?" Katherine’s face went blank with disbelief.

"Yes. Long story. Charlize, this is Katherine, and this is William."

Nolan introduced them, then pointed toward the door.

"I will get you checked in. For the next few days, you can stay in the room next door. We will discuss the rest after the final."

When Nolan went downstairs, Katherine immediately pulled William aside.

"Where did this woman come from?" she whispered.

"How would I know? She appeared out of nowhere and said she met Nolan by chance. I do not think she is some actress. She is probably one of Nolan’s little girlfriends from outside. Now she has nowhere to live, so she came to him."

William lowered his voice further.

"When I mentioned pregnancy, she got angry. Eighty percent chance she has his child."

"What?"

Katherine froze. Then she realized Nolan had not had the spare time for that.

Still, the words planted a seed.

When Katherine returned to the room, she studied Charlize carefully.

’Not prettier than me.’

Then she looked deliberately at Charlize’s stomach.

Charlize was studying Katherine too.

Nolan’s family member was very pretty, and her figure was close to Charlize’s. But no matter how pretty she was, the two of them could not be together.

These three were strange. All of them had different hair colors.

Nolan came back and tossed the key to Charlize.

Charlize stood with it in hand. Before leaving, she reminded Nolan to rest early, sounding almost caring.

Katherine immediately announced that she would make Nolan an extra meal tonight, and she said it loudly enough for Charlize to hear.

"I am not hungry," Nolan said.

He truly was not. He and Katherine had eaten after the hotel.

"No," Katherine said. "You are hungry."

There was a kind of hunger only Katherine could declare for him.

"Win. Only win. Only win..."

Inside the locker room, the players stood fully equipped, arms around one another’s shoulders in a tight circle. Their bodies swayed with the chant, and the sound shook the room.

Nolan stood in the center, clapping for them. He was the only one without a helmet.

"Send them home crying!"

He raised one arm, teeth clenched, veins standing out across his face. The expression was fierce enough to look almost distorted.

"Woohoo!"

Players beat their chests and howled upward like they were trying to become Tarzan.

As the Southern Section final, this game was on a scale none of their earlier opponents could match.

At the tunnel exit, a giant inflatable arch had been set up. Smoke machines ran at full force, covering the opening in white fog. Nolan stood at the front of the line.

Flea, Ford, and Boar were near him.

"On my command, run out!" a staffer said, arms spread to hold them back.

It looked like a special entrance ceremony.

Nolan could not see what waited beyond the smoke. He could only hear the heavy electronic music pounding through the stadium speakers. Everything felt less like a high-school football game than a star walking onto a concert stage.

An assistant coach came forward carrying two flags.

"Run out with the flags. Nolan, you are the flag bearer."

Nolan looked at the American flag the coach offered and shook his head without hesitation.

He chose the school flag instead.

"Okay! Go!"

The staffer received the signal over his radio and dropped his hands.

Nolan lifted the school flag and charged into the smoke. Behind him, the Normans burst forward like horses breaking loose.

He passed through the white fog, and the field opened in front of him.

The BHHS cheerleaders formed two lines, welcoming the team. Beside them, other cheerleaders held human pyramids. Pom-poms flashed as Nolan ran past, each pair of arms rising in sequence.

At the end of the path, cheerleaders held a banner across the lane. Nolan saw Sarah Gellar pulling one side hard.

He crashed through the banner easily and led the team toward midfield.

Once the flag run was complete, the stadium lights began flashing bright and dark, turning the Friday night into something almost like a dance floor.

"Know what high-school football is also called?" Flea asked beside him, helmet on.

"FNL. Friday Night Lights."

Most high-school football games were played on Friday nights. The week ended, students gathered at the field, and the game became half sport, half carnival.

Nolan could finally feel that special atmosphere.

The problem was...

Where was everyone?

He looked toward the protruding south stand. Orange tape crisscrossed the railings, and banners named nearly twenty school groups: Dance Club, Highlights, Music Club, Choir, UFO Research Club, Humans vs. Zombies Club, Nerf Club, Rubik’s Cube Club, and more.

But the stand itself was empty.

Across the field, the St. John Bosco student section was packed. Their supporters booed the BHHS players in waves.

Nolan even saw enlarged versions of his Los Angeles Times photo held up on posters. A shoeprint had been drawn over his face. His name had a huge red X across it. The slogans were not kind.

When the St. John Bosco players entered, their student section began waving props in perfect rhythm.

"Braves! Braves!"

"Braves! Braves!"

Their chant shook the field.

In pregame momentum, BHHS had already been pressed down.

"Do not worry," Flea said. "Our student section never disappoints."

The words had barely left his mouth when the stadium lights snapped off.

The entire field fell into darkness.

The next second, a spotlight hit the front of the south stand.

Michael Jackson’s Thriller began to play.

A crowd of stiff-bodied, blood-smeared, ragged "zombies" jerked into view under the light, moving one shoulder at a time with the beat.

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