In Cayder Bay, high school football is not just a pastime; it's a religion, one that everyone on the island faithfully follows.

Every Friday night, from September to November, generations of islanders come together to cheer for the Cayder Bay Fishermen under the glow of the stadium lights.

Cay is the founder and director of Cayder Bay High School's Decorating Club. "It's positions like this that will get me accepted into the top Fashion Design Schools," she tells Maggie.

Drew slides a banner off the back of his father's O'Connell and Son's pickup truck. "GO FISHERMEN" fills the six-foot sign surrounded by plump blue balloons.

Pop! Pop!

"Careful!" Cay yelps. She glances at her watch. "Where's the mascot?"

Drew lifts his chin and points. A boy in Maggie's math class is pounding toward them, dressed in yellow rain gear. He pulls a pipe from his mouth and salutes. "Fisherman Pete at your service."

"Dude, I dig the rain hat," Drew tells him.

Fisherman Pete slides his pipe between his teeth and clutches the banner underneath his arm.

Pop! Pop!

"The balloons!" Cay shouts.

The mascot gallops toward the football field, his yellow raincoat flapping in the wind. Pop! Pop!

Drew weaves the truck through a sea of people grilling food, pouring drinks, and tossing footballs back and forth. "This is our stop." A buzz of excitement fills the crisp autumn air. Drew slides the gear shift into park. "Tail-gaiting before kick-off is tradition."

Cay hands him a tin of face paint. Her lips are blue and her hair is streaked white for the occasion.

Drew dips his fingers into the tin and plants a bold blue line underneath each of his eyes.

"You too, Maggie," Cay says painting a blue football on Maggie's cheek.

Jonathan and Connie sip from red plastic cups as they listen to Senior, Drew's grandfather tell his stories about the good ol' days on the island.

Junior, Drew's father, is giving Charlie a lesson on how to work the grill.

The upbeat rhythm of the ZacBrown Band's Chicken Fried song streams through the O'Connell and Son's pickup truck speakers.

Connie takes Maggie's hands and twirls her around. "Remember we used to dance like this when you were little?" Connie straightens her arms and then curls them around Maggie, spinning her again.

"I remember," Maggie says, every memory now tainted by the secret Joe and Connie kept from her. They weren't her parents then, just as they're not her parents now.

Connie's cheeks are full and rosy. "You practiced day and night." A reminiscent smile fills her lips. "You wouldn't give up until you got it exactly right. Joe didn't sleep for weeks. He'd be up all day listening to you thump around the apartment and up all night working third shift at the JDC."

Maggie drops her hands by her side.

Connie's smile fades. "What's wrong?"

"I had the right to know," Maggie says. Tears prick the corners of her eyes.

Connie drops her gaze to the ground. "You're right, Maggie. You had the right to know the truth about your mother. About me and Joe. About all of it." She shakes her head. "I did a lot of things wrong and I'm sorry." She cups the side of Maggie's face with her hand. "If I could take it all back, I would. I would do it all so differently."

Maggie swallows the lump in her throat. The last thing she wants to do is burst out crying at a tailgating party. "Don't. Not here." She takes a step back. 

Connie pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I get it. You're still mad, but I was right to take you away from Fallowshill, wasn't I? I mean you're happy here in Cayder Bay, right?"

"We had to get away," Maggie says, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion.

"Do you forgive me for keeping the truth about Mary...about your mother ... a secret?"

Maggie has been holding on so tightly to the hurt that came with learning the truth about Mary Stone that it's occupied every inch of her. In a weird way, the pain she has felt has kept her connected to the mother she never knew. She has heard that forgiveness is a process of letting go, but what if by forgiving Connie, she lets go of the pain too? Will her lifeline to Mary Stone fade? She lifts her eyes to Connie. "Will you help me remember her?"

Connie's chin quivers. "Oh Maggie, I've spent so many years trying to forget the hurt that losing her caused me, I'm afraid I've pushed away my memories of her too." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I promise to try. For your sake, Maggie, and for mine."

Maggie lifts her fingers to her necklace and smooths the gold cross between them. She gulps at the lump expanding in her throat. "I forgive you," she says.

Connie's eyes spill over with relief. She lets out a sob from deep inside and cups her hand over her mouth.

The lump in Maggie's throat loosens. Her chest expands with air. Her shoulders lighten. "I forgive you," she says again.

Connie wraps her arms around Maggie and holds her in a tight embrace.

Maggie rests her head on Connie's shoulder. For a moment, it feels like it's just the two of them, cradled in some sort of certainty that from this point forward, all will be okay.

Crowds of eager fans flow past the ticket booth and into the stadium. Just over Connie's shoulder, Maggie spots Eli and Dr. Banes shuffling past in the middle of the pack. She hasn't talked to Eli - or more accurately, he hasn't talked to her - since that day in his room, when he told her about the Soul War and they shared that crazy sleep terror.

"Hungry?" Charlie asks, oblivious to their eyes glazed over with emotion.

Connie and Maggie can't help but laugh at the sight of him holding a spatula in one hand while waving a hotdog bun in the other.

Maggie grabs a hotdog, leans against the O'Connell and Son's truck and listens to Senior's story-telling.

"Did you know? In the late 1930's, long before houses existed on this part of the island, the stadium was built as a Depression era project?"

"Those were tough times on the island, weren't they Dad?" Junior says.

Senior nods. "Sure were. St. Margaret's church and this here stadium were the only places of hope for us islanders." A smile brightens his face. "Football on Fridays and church on Sundays. What a life!"

Jonathan raises his cup. "To Sand Dollar Stadium!"

Everyone clicks cups and cheers, "To Sand Dollar Stadium!"

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The stadium fills to the brim with blue and white. Fisherman Pete runs up and down the sidelines, chanting along with the crowd. "Go Fishermen!"

The aroma of popcorn and greasy burgers pours from the Snack Shack, catching a ride on the autumn breeze. It flows directly under Charlie's nose. He sniffs like a bloodhound catching a scent. His mouth gives way to a wide grin. "Ah, the smell of a football game."

Maggie's eyes pan the crowd. She points. "There's Cay. Let's go." They weave through the crowd to where Cay is sitting, high up in the stands.

Drew climbs the stadium steps. "Look who I found." He gestures behind him. It's Eli. "He was standing under the score board with Dr. Banes so I dragged him up here to sit with us." He slaps Eli's shoulder. "Trust me, Dude, it's a lot more fun up here."

Drew piles in between Cay and Charlie. Eli squishes next to Maggie at the end of the bench.

Cay throws a fleece blanket at them. "You're going to need it. It gets cold up here."

Maggie spreads the blanket on her lap, offering a side to Eli.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

Maggie's eyes widen. She covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh my, he speaks. I thought you had lost your voice or something."

"It is now time for our National Anthem," a voice booms through the speakers. "Singing for us today is American Idol second runner-up and Cayder Bay's very own Angela Dillaby."

The crowd cheers as Angela Dillaby saunters onto the field. Her sequenced top sparkles under the Friday night lights. The stadium grows quiet as everyone lifts their hands to their hearts and their chins toward the flag, snapping in the wind.

"We love you, Angie!" The woman sitting two rows down screams as Angela belts out the final notes of the anthem. "You'll always be number one to us!"

The drum beat rolls and the punter kicks the football high toward the Fishermen's end zone. Fisherman Pete lifts a megaphone to his mouth. "Beat those Panthers!" he shouts like a warrior blasting out a battle cry. The crowd roars.

Maggie glances at Eli, who couldn't care less about the action unfolding on the field. He's staring at the oak trees, towering high around the stadium. Red and gold leaves shimmer and shake like frightened children.

Maggie nudges his arm. "What are you looking at?"

His jaw clenches.

"Why have you gone silent again?"

He grips her hand underneath the blanket and caresses her palm with his thumb. His touch is warm against her cool skin. She spins her hand, intertwining her fingers with his, allowing a dance of caresses to unfold underneath the blanket.

Eli tilts his head toward the scoreboard. In the crowd, looking directly at them is Dr. Banes. The wrinkles around his eyes spread like ice cracking across a lake.

The stands shake and rattle. A Cayder Bay running back catches a Hail Mary pass and runs straight through the end zone. Touch Down! The stadium erupts. Fisherman Pete bounces like a rubber ball down the sideline.

Eli pushes Maggie's hand away and swipes the blanket to the ground.

"Hey Dad," Cay says.

"Dr. Banes! What brings you all the way up here?" Drew asks.

Dr. Banes sinks his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. He stares down at Eli. "It's nearly half-time. It's time for Elison to go home."

Drew's eyebrows smoosh together. "Home? Now? The game is just getting started. We're having fun. Eli doesn't want to go home yet." He slaps Eli's shoulder. "Do ya?"

Eli shakes his head.

"You need your rest, Elison." Dr. Banes gestures toward the stairs. "Come now. Let's go."

Eli glances at Maggie and then lifts his eyes to Dr. Banes. "I want to stay."

Dr. Banes pulls his collar up behind his ears. His mouth is a straight, hard line. If looks could kill, Eli would drop dead instantly. Maggie can practically see steam coming out of Dr. Banes's ears.

"Ah, come on Dr. Banes, let him have some fun," Drew says. "He can rest all day tomorrow."

Dr. Banes inhales a deep breath and lets it go. Perhaps he's using one of the calming techniques he taught Maggie at the psych ward - silently counting to ten or visualizing a relaxing scene.

"I expect you to come home immediately after the game, Elison. Do you understand? You need your rest."

Eli nods.

Dr. Banes shifts his gaze to Maggie. "You must pay a visit sometime soon, Margaret." His eyes turn as sharp as a razor. "It'd be good to chat."

Maggie shivers. She scoops the blanket up and wraps it tightly around her shoulders as she watches Dr. Banes make his way down the stadium steps.

"Let's get out of here," Eli whispers to Maggie.

"Wait. What?"

"I'm leaving. Are you coming?"

Maggie glances over at the others. Cay is wagging a finger in Drew's face, mumbling something about him minding his own business.

Eli bounds down the stairs.

Maggie's eyes lock with Charlie's. "I'll see you later. I'm leaving," she says.

Charlie's eyebrows stitch together "With Eli?"

"Yeah. Make sure Cay gets this." She hands him the blanket.

Charlie grabs her hand. "Be careful, Maggie."

"Of what?"

He lifts his eyes to Eli. "Of him."

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Eli slides head first into the art room.

"Are you trying to get us arrested?" Maggie whispers.

He grips Maggie's coat collar and pulls her through the opened window. "Lower your voice. Ms. Lane lets me come here after hours. She doesn't care."

Moonlight streams through the stained glass windows, basting them in a red-yellow glow.

Maggie follows Eli past tables, splattered with paint and plaster. "What did you see in the stadium, Eli?"

He pulls up a stool in front of a sketchpad. "You know." He smooths a pencil tip over the paper in bold curves and fine lines until a row of oak trees stand tall around Sand Dollar Stadium. He sketches snake skin wings and talon blades tangled in the trees.

Maggie lets out a shaky breath. "They're everywhere."

"The demons are everywhere, but here," he tells her.

Maggie pulls up a stool and sits next to him.

He sketches fire and light onto the pad. "Only the good ones are here."

"The angels?"

Eli nods. "Only them."

Maggie breaths in the scent of sawdust and pulp. She lets out a sigh of relief. "Why did Dr. B want you to leave?"

"He thinks I'm on the verge of a psychotic episode. He doesn't want me hanging out with you. He said that since we were in the hospital together, we could trigger each other into a psychotic break. He told me staying away from you is for our own good."

"Our own good? That's why you haven't been talking to me?"

Eli nods.

"You're not having a psychotic break, Eli and neither am I. The worst thing we could do is stay away from each other." She reaches for his hand and intertwines her fingers with his.

Eli examines her face, as if she's a riddle he's trying to solve. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"We're friends."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, you know, friends," she says repeating Charlie's words from the first night she met him. "Those people who are usually around your age. You hang out with them. You trust them. You share secrets with them. Friends. We're friends, aren't we Eli?"

He stares at her hand intertwined with his. He squeezes tighter. "I've never held hands like this with my friends before. Have you?"

Maggie's cheeks turn pink. "Ummm," she says caught off guard. "I guess not."

Eli lifts his hand to her face and caresses her cheek. "I've never touched my friends like this before. Have you?" His voice vibrates like a bass tone in her ears, sending pulses of electricity throughout her body, head to toe.

Maggie glances up at him through her lashes. Her cheek turns warm underneath his touch. She shakes her head no. "Never," she admits.

Eli leans in close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her face. He reaches his hand to the nape of her neck. His fingers tangle in her hair.

She lifts her chin.

He presses his mouth against hers.

She parts her lips. She closes her eyes. 

Their arms wrap around each other. Their bodies entangle in softness and warmth.

Her head fills with a warm, hazy glow. Her eye-lids are heavy. "I thought you hated me," she says.

"I never hated you," he tells her in between kisses.

"Then what was it?" She pulls away from him and lifts her eyes to his. "Why have you been so hot and cold with me?"

"I've been afraid."

"Of me?"

"Of the truth," he says. "As hard as it was to accept my mental illness, it's been harder to accept that my hallucinations are actually real. I mean, to know there are demons and angels fighting an invisible battle for human souls, and I can see it, is...is," he says, struggling to find the words. The crease between his eyebrows deepens. "And to know there is a demon hunting you...it's....it's..."

Maggie wraps her arms around his shoulders.

He pulls her close. "I don't know what any of it means." He clasps his hands around her waist. "And I don't know what to do or where to go from here."

"Whatever you do or wherever you go, you're not alone." Maggie sprinkles his cheekbone with kisses until her mouth finds his. She's heady with his earthy taste.

"I'm not?" Eli says.

The moonlight's red-yellow glow pours down on them like summer rain.

"There's a reason we found each other, Eli. We're not alone in this anymore. We have each other now."

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