Page 74 of Spiral

“SO, WHAT EXACTLY are you needing us to do?” Danny asks, his attention turned towards me completely – even though Jujitsu Kaisha is blaring on the living room TV.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna watch, dude?” I’d asked him earlier, not wanting to distract him from what is undoubtedly his favorite television show in the world.

“Nah, it’s a rerun.”

He’d insisted, but I knew it wasn’t. Danny’s just that good of a friend.

Make a mental note, Henry: you’ll need to repay him for this later.

It’s just us two gathered in the living room – Georgia promised she’d come by the moment the new episode of Jujitsu Kaisha ends – and I’m trying my hardest to begin the planning process for what Eleanor and Georgia have affectionately named the “Fuck Coach Bryer Project.”

What exactly do I need them to do? Perform a series of miracles.

“Well,” I sigh, scratching my neck in uncertainty. “Honestly, dude? A little bit of everything.”

“I’m listening.”

I break out the overflowing manila folder filled with research papers, notes, and phone numbers that Georgia and I had compiled a few nights earlier. Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer amount of information before him, letting out an exaggerated gulp.

“I know,” I chuckle, rubbing a calloused hand over my chin. “Georgia’s a bit… neurotic. In a sweet way.”

“Uh huh,” he replies, one eyebrow raised skeptically as he lifts a paper from the coffee table.

“So, essentially, they want to sell lanterns at my mom’s garden?” Danny asks as he tentatively sorts through the pages of information in front of us.

“Not just lanterns,” I explain. "Huge, biodegradable, glowing ones. People purchase tickets to release them into the sky, dedicating them to certain people or making wishes on them. Apparently the Parks Department did something similar a few years ago and it was a huge hit.”

He nods his head as a smile slowly forms across his lips.

“Got it – that’s a good idea. I bet a lot of the jersey chasers would kill to have a football player release a lantern with them. Perfect photo-op.”

“Dude, you’re a fucking genius!”

“I am?”

He looks at me, a confused expression contorting his features.

“Yes! We can pass out flyers for the FCBP at the next game–”

“The FCBP?”

“The Fuck Coach Bryer Project.”

He breaks out laughing, and I shoot him an indifferent shrug.

“Whose tryna fuck Coach Bryer? The dude’s built like an old, leather suitcase.”

Jonah’s disgusted voice cuts through the living room as he saunters through the front door, a dirty gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Nobody,” I reply, shaking my head. “It’s the working name of the fundraiser we’re throwing to help the Tribune.”

“Could Jonah go up to the jersey chasers at the games and tell them that, if they go to the FCBP, a player will be waiting there for them?” Danny asks, a glimmer of excitement flashing through his eyes as he speaks. “But they have to bring a friend – that’s the catch.”

“Talk to the jersey chasers? Count me in. I’ll be the player waiting for all of them.”

Jonah smirks as he sits down beside Danny on the couch, instantly causing a shockwave of movement from his weight.

“That’s perfect,” I respond, ignoring Jonah. “So we’ll have all the jersey chasers – and a friend each. How else can we get the word out?”

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