“You know who Obama was?” Dave asked. “That Muslim president we had? No joke. His middle name was Hussein. Same as Saddam Hussein, the joker we fought in Desert Storm. Obama definitely was a Muslim. You want proof? All eight years that he was president, he sent out cards at Christmas that didn’t say ‘Merry Christmas’ on them.”

Crosby had heard of President Obama, but didn’t know he was a Muslim.

“You know there are parts of the country where you can’t put a Christmas tree in a public place?” Dave continued. “Or a Santa Claus? Because they’re triggers, too. Because they’re going to hurt some snowflake’s feelings. Anything like that happening where you are?”

Crosby said he was pretty sure that wasn’t a problem in Ironville.

“Well, good,” said Dave. “But keep your ears open. If you hear anything like that, let me know, okay?”

Crosby said he would. Dave signed off with his usual RaHoWa 14/88. Crosby stood up, stretched, and yawned. It was at times like this when he thought that Ironville might not be such a bad place to live. Yeah, it sucked that the middle school had lost its football team, and that there were a few feminazis like his aunt Mary around. But the town was mostly white, and people could say “Merry Christmas” all they wanted, and nobody gave a hoot where you put a Christmas tree or plastic Santa. Based on what Dave was telling him, it sounded like the rest of the country was going down the toilet.

MATCH TALLY

THE AXIS: 3

THE ALLIES: 3

“Caleb?” Mrs. Arnett called out, sounding perplexed.

Darn, Caleb thought. He’d almost gotten past the kitchen without being seen. “Sorry, Mom. Can’t stop,” he called back. “Gotta catch the bus.”

“Come back here right now, young man,” his father ordered in his “voice of authority” tone.

Caleb stepped into the kitchen where his parents were having their morning coffee. They stared at him with shocked expressions.

“Green streaks?” The worry lines in his mom’s forehead deepened.

The truth was, they weren’t exactly green. Nor were they actually “streaks.” After hearing the night before that the Axis was planning to wear new outfits for today’s match, the Allied squad had all agreed to dye a lock of hair olive green.

“It’s just for the match,” Caleb explained. “It washes out with shampoo.”

“Olive colored because you’re supposed to be the Allies?” Mr. Arnett guessed. That caught Caleb by surprise. He could only assume that his parents had been working overtime on the Hovernet. He hadn’t told them that Emma’s squad was the Allies for the rest of the semester. They’d learned that somewhere else.

“Is the Axis side dyeing their hair?” his mother asked.

“We don’t know,” Caleb said. “We just heard last night that they were going to wear gray shirts.”

“Gray?” Mr. Arnett’s eyebrows rose above his black-framed glasses.

Caleb nodded. “The Axis colors.”