Page 1 of The Golden Receiver

Prologue

KIERAN - MARCH

Music flooded my headphones, drowning out the sound of my footsteps as I ran my umpteenth lap around the cracked track.

My college didn’t have the best facilities, the best team, the best classes, the best anything, but I was determined to make the most of it. Going here meant I could stay at home with my dad, working part-time at his bar, and taking out less student loans. It saved money, even if I could feel my dreams of ever playing professional football or making a name for myself outside of this tiny ass town slipping away with each passing day.

Maybe things would’ve been different if I’d gone to a different high school, but the high school team I’d played on hadn’t so much as whiffed any kind of notice since before my dad was alive. Scouts didn’t come around, and people who played on that team didn’t get showered in scholarships or choices. It was just the way that it was.

Scouts didn’t come around my college either, which is why I noticed him right away. That and there was something other about him. He was a bit too tall and I’d never seen a human with eyes like his, almost fiery. His skin had a grayish tint when the sun hit him just right. Or maybe it was just the gray suit he was wearing. He stood out, and he drew my eyes right to him.

I tried to ignore him as I ran another lap, but it was hard. I’d never seen a monster on campus before. There weren’t a lot of monsters in town either. I could probably count on both hands how many monsters I’d seen in town, and I might have fingers left over. I tried to focus on the music in my headphones. I tried to focus on the feel of the pavement under my shoes. I tried to focus on anything but the man standing on the side of the field, but I couldn’t.

He was eerie and unmoving, and after another lap, I gave up entirely.

I stopped in front of him. Up close and personal, I could see that the gray undertones of his skin weren’t just from shadows or caused by his suit. He was even taller than I thought, too, towering almost a foot over me. His lips had a blue tint to them, and when he smiled, his teeth were unnaturally white. It didn’t do much to quell his menacing vibes. I wiped my sweaty palms on my gym shorts and looked up at him. He wasn’t saying anything. Just looking at me.

I sighed and pushed my headphones down to the back of my neck. “Can I help you? Are you lost? Looking for something?”

“Are you Kieran Sawyer?” he asked. His voice was deep and gravelly, but it wasn’t unfriendly. It was probably the first non-menacing thing about him. “Coach Carver said I would find him here.” He blinked slowly. “Find you here?”

“I am,” I answered. I could hear how flat my voice sounded, but I was taken a little aback by the fact that this man knew my name. Had come here looking for me. Had asked my coach where he’d find me. He didn’t say anything. God, did I need to insert a coin in this man to make him talk? Could he only answer direct questions? “Why are you looking for me?”

The man looked at me for a moment and then smiled another one of those eerie smiles. “Oh, I should introduce myself. I am Coach Bernt Erikkson from Creelin University. Have you heard of it?”

Heard of it? Creelin University had made the news the year before. It had been the first university exclusively for monsters, founded shortly after the Halloween Wave hit just over two decades ago. Last year, the university opened their gates to humans. It had been national news. I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I just nodded.

“Good. Then I don’t have to go over the history of our school.” He pulled a thick envelope out of the black bag he was carrying. “I am the assistant coach of our football team. Last year, every team except for ours had humans join their rosters. We had hoped that, when we held tryouts for this season, we would have at least one human sign up. None did. However, I was at one of your games last season. I took notice of you, and when we were discussing human talent, I did some basic research to find your name.” I looked up at him and then down to the envelope in his hand. “We would like to invite you to attend Creelin University and join the football team. Your talent is wasted here.”

I couldn’t disagree with that last fact, but did I want to go to a new college? I would be transferring as a sophomore. I wouldn’t be able to live at home. It would probably cost more than my dad could afford and more than I’d get in any kind of financial aid, which would mean more loans. But it would also mean more opportunity. It would mean playing on a better team. If I was the first human on their team, it would also mean legacy.

And it would probably stand out a lot to the recruiters in a few years if I ever put my name up for the draft.

Coach Erikkson took my silence as an invitation to go on. He extended the envelope out toward me, clenched in a hand that was almost skeletal. “Everything you need to know is in here.”

I took the envelope. “Can I think about it? Discuss it with my dad?”

“Of course,” Coach Erikkson answered. “Read over everything. Talk about it with your family. I hope that you’ll decide to come to Creelin.” A beat of silence passed between us. “You have great form, by the way. I was watching you run. You’re faster than some of the players on our team, and I think you’ll be an asset.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me with an oversized envelope and my thoughts.

That night, I opened the envelope alone in my childhood bedroom.

The first thing that fell out was a brochure on Creelin University. It must have been made in the last year because it mentioned the recent inclusion of humans. It showed pictures of the campus, which admittedly looked a lot nicer than ours. It went over a brief history of the university and some of the offered extracurriculars. I skimmed the paragraphs, hoping to feel a spark of connection that would tell me what to do. All I found was a QR code at the back that linked to the school’s website.

I pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope. It was an offer letter for a walk-on spot to the football team. It included a bunch of boring stats about the team and the league they played in, a different league entirely from the one my human school was in. There was a paragraph about what the average in-season day of a Creelin football player entailed: team lifts, classes, film study, practice. It went over team culture and when players would be expected to report to campus: two weeks before everyone else. It was signed by Coach Erikkson and the head coach, Coach Shaw.

The final piece of paper was signed by a Dean Yaga, and if I’d seen it first, it probably would have influenced my decision immediately. It had instructions on how to enroll in the college and accept the full scholarship provided by the athletic department. It would cover my room and board and my classes. There would be a small stipend for my schoolbooks. A full scholarship would put an end to my need for student loans.

And it was only a few hours away. I could come home. I could visit my dad and his bar.

My dad.

I wanted to talk this over with my dad because he’d know what I should do. I grabbed my car keys from my desk. The drive to my dad’s bar was only ten minutes. One good thing about the small town we lived in was minimal traffic and only one stoplight that was almost always green when you went down the main drag. The parking lot of my dad’s bar was crowded, like it always was. I found a spot near the back and locked the car behind me.

My dad was behind the bar when I walked in. He had three other staff members with him, all moving fast to make drinks and chat with the regular clientele. One of the town’s three police officers was sitting at the end of the bar, drinking a beer from a brown bottle. He smiled brightly when he saw me. “Didn’t know you were twenty-one yet, Kie,” he teased.

“Not yet, Chuck,” I called back. “Just here to talk to Pops.”