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Perry took a swig from the bottle, lifted it high into the air and let the tangy cheap wine splash into his mouth. He swallowed. He’d swiped the bottle from the linen closet, where he could always count on his Mom having tucked away a bottle. He looked down at his cell phone. 12:14 AM he read.
He sat in the middle of the football field, home to the Dunway Dragons. The grass was cold and wet beneath his ass. He could already feel the moisture soaking through his shorts and his underwear. A light, chilly breeze made the grass dance around him, but Perry was warm enough in his hoodie. He took another drink of wine and checked his phone again. 12:15 AM.
Thirty minutes ago he’d received a text-message: “Meet us down at the field.” His buddy and former teammate, Tim, had sent it. He started typing in a new text — “where the fuck r u?” — but before he hit send, he heard footsteps behind him.
“Perry!” Tim shouted, drawing the name out like a foghorn in the night. His voice echoed off of the empty bleachers. Tim carried a six-pack of beer in one hand, a football in the other.
Logan followed closely behind Tim. The two guys were dressed similar to Perry: shorts, tennis shoes, and school-issued hoodies. Logan had the green hood pulled up over his head, but Perry had no trouble recognizing him. Tim and Logan were damn near inseparable.
Perry pushed himself off of the ground, careful not to spill any wine as he did so. He locked hands with Tim and they pulled each other into a half-hug. Perry did the same with Logan and handed off his wine bottle. “What’s up, boys?”
Tim pulled a beer free from the plastic rings and handed it to Perry. Tim’s older brother worked at a convenience store off of Main, so cheap beer was easy to come by despite the fact that the three guys on the field were only eighteen. “We figured we’d come down here and play some ball.” Tim handed a can to Perry. “Last chance any of us will have to play here together. Figured this field brought us all together, we should give it a proper goodbye.”