Erik vs. Everything

by Christina Uss

Erik gave him The Toddler Art of War and said, “Take this one out for me, too, cousin.” So what if it was meant for preschoolers? If it gave him the words to take a successful stand against Brunhilde, he’d consider it the best book he’d ever read.

  Erik studied the toddlers in the book and tried to come up with an escape plan that afternoon, but most of Sun Tzu’s advice didn’t make much sense to him, even with the colorful drawings. He still couldn’t make up his mind about what to do. Every plan that began with skipping the race got short-circuited by uncomfortable visions of a massively disappointed Fuzz being dragged away from the starting line by his mom because his riding buddy was a no-show. Every plan that involved showing up at the race got short-circuited by images from Brunhilde’s race map, especially that disturbingly cute squirrel at the center, smiling, smiling, smiling away.

  * * *

  Coach Gary had contacted everyone’s families to ask if they could make it to two extra practices this week to prepare for the race, so Erik came to practice the very next afternoon. Coach Gary told them that more than twenty teams from around Minnesota were coming to the competition. The Lake Park All-Stars had to make the most of their sole advantage: access to the racecourse before race day.

  The team drilled each section of the race thoroughly. Coach Gary had them chanting different tactics to cement them in their brains so they’d become second nature, like “Loose Wrists, No Fists” to keep their hands light on the handlebars in the Slice and Dice section. Allyson helped make up rhymes when she could, like “We don’t wanna BONK, we don’t wanna BIFF, so make sure your knees are not too STIFF! Gooooo, Dylan!!!”

  Brunhilde added her own chants to the mix, although only Lily, the youngest rider, embraced them. The elfin eight-year-old dodged rocks and boulders, gaily singing, “The strike of a hawk breaks the body of its prey, we time our strikes in the same fearsome way!” to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

  Brunhilde had also demonstrated Dragon Breathing to the mountain bike team. Almost every rider on the team got into it, even Dylan, who muttered to himself, “I breathe in, and I am the Dylan. I breathe out, and I am still the Dylan.” Then he would smile. Erik caught himself smiling too.

  Two days before the race, Coach Gary showed up with a large cardboard box. “Swag for my All-Stars!” he yelled. “Gather round!” The kids made a circle as he cut open the tape holding the box shut. “Thanks to Patsy’s Print Shop”—this was the sponsor for Lily’s bicycle, which had decals of the entire alphabet printed in different fonts covering the frame—“we’ve now got team uniforms to wear on race day. Check them out, they are too cool.” He pulled open the box flaps and held up the neon yellow shirts with the name LAKE PARK ALL-STARS (EVERYONE WELCOME) emblazoned across the front and back. Every sponsor had a small logo either on the body or arms of the jersey, including the Hair Shack, Whisk­ers and Wings, Ed’s Live Bait and Tanning Salon, the US Post Office, the Pie Slab, Hardware ’n’ Stuff ’n’ More, Wet Your Plants, Good Food Emporium, and Patsy’s Print Shop.

  Coach Gary enlisted Fuzz’s help to distribute the shirts, and everyone started trying them on. Allyson cheered, “Victory, victory, victory is OURS. We’re gonna win ’cause we are the STARS!” She did a toe-touch jump.

  Erik admired how good the team looked in their bright uniforms. Then his inner voice piped up, At least they’ll find my body easily if the bears attack. He shook his head hard. No bear attacks! I’m not riding this race! I am Erik Sheepflattener, son of Inge and Thorfast, grandson of Golveg and Vigdis, brother to Brunhilde and Allyson, and I’m going to AVOID STUFF. I will have this figured out by tomorrow night.

  * * *

  The night before the Race Down Bonebreaker Hill, Brunhilde and Allyson started a tag-team wrestling match against Ragnar and Hrolf.

  Hrolf complained, “Unfair, unfair! Girls are too strong to form one team together, we’re never gonna win!”

  Ragnar hollered back, “Even when faced with rough, tough girls, we must never give up, brother!” He launched himself toward Allyson, crushing (or possibly smashing?) a small table in the process.

  Slipping away from the chaos, Erik passed Brunhilde’s purple notebook and glittery pen unattended on the couch. He spontaneously grabbed them and hid them behind his back as he slunk down the hall. Maybe her notebook would have a blank page where he could organize his thoughts.

  He closed the boys’ bedroom door and lay on his back, head propped up on a pillow. Worrying plus mountain biking had worn him out. He wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t have time to be tired. I have to have a perfect plan. Come on, brain, let’s make a perfect plan.

  Before picking up The Toddler Art of War, he flipped through the purple notebook. He pawed through page after page of maps and lists and plans labeled in Brunhilde’s careful printing: ALLIES VS. AXIS, SPARTA VS. GREECE, MONGOL HORDE VS. THE WORLD, MINUTEMEN VS. THE REDCOATS, BRUNHILDE VS. ALGEBRA, ERIK VS. FEAR, CRUSHING VS. SMASHING, and finally MOUNTAIN BIKERS VS. BONEBREAKER HILL. He flipped past a sketch without a VS. on it and then flipped back.

  The header on this page said ERIK + SHEEPFLATTENERS. Brunhilde had drawn a group of people seated around a campfire with their eyes closed. He recognized Brunhilde’s drawing of herself as a Valkyrie warrior, and also recognized Allyson with her cheer outfit on, Ragnar with a pike impaled on an arrow, and Hrolf holding the triplets on his lap. She had also drawn some of the grownups in the family—Aunt Hilda, Uncle Bjorn, Mom, and Dad. There were a few unfamiliar figures that might have been some of the old gods. Erik saw a sketch of himself, small and unimpressive, sandwiched between his two sisters. He noticed that Brunhilde had drawn everyone in the picture holding hands.

  I wonder what this is supposed to show? he thought. How Brunhilde’s going to have everyone in my family drag me toward my fears? Then he saw tiny printing at the bottom of the page. There were two runes. The first was FAMILY. Below it was a twisty slashing symbol that looked a lot like Brunhilde’s CONQUER. Erik traced his finger over it and tried to remember the translation. “Vanquish”? No. “Pulverize”? No. Oh yes, he remembered the word now. The rune said UNCONQUERABLE. He traced the pattern over and over, and thought and thought, and yawned, and thought. Then he took out the book of warring toddlers and got to work.

  * * *

  Erik was jolted out of a doze by the sound of a knock. “No, no, don’t make me share the alphabet blocks, no, no,” he muttered, and then saw he was safe in bed, no toddlers anywhere. He must have fallen asleep. Ragnar and Hrolf were already in their own bunk beds nearby, snoring like dragons gargling pieces of meat.

  Aunt Hilda pushed the door open. “I saw the light was still on, nephew.” She came over to the trundle bed and knelt down, pulling the covers up to Erik’s chin. “Big day tomorrow. You’ll need your rest, so no more reading.” She gathered up the board book, purple notebook, and glitter pen and set them on the floor, glancing at the open notebook page. “Or no more writing, I guess I should say.” The open page had the rune for UNCONQUERABLE in Erik’s slightly messy handwriting at the top. Underneath, the page had been filled from top to bottom with nothing but the words NO and AVOID surrounded by glittery question marks.

  Hilda smiled. “Unconquerable. That’s probably the second most tattooed rune that Sheepflatteners have chosen since the Lore was created. There’s only one that’s been chosen more, of course, and that’s . . .” She looked down and saw Erik’s eyes had drooped closed and his mouth had drooped open. He was asleep again.

  She brushed the hair off his forehead and whispered, “Family.” Aunt Hilda turned out the light.

  Fifteen

  Race Day

  Never give in. Never give in,

  never, never, never, never.

  —The Lore (incidentally later said

  by Winston Churchill, 1941)

  Erik woke up with the feeling someone was watching him. He turned over and saw three pairs of eyes peeking around the edge of his door. As soon as the triplets were sure
he was awake, they started howling like wolf cubs. Siegmund nudged the door open with his face, and they tumbled in, wiggle-crawling and rolling toward the bed, drooling proudly.

  “Good job, kids!” Allyson strode into his room with a big plate of bacon, eggs, smoked salmon, toast, and dried apples. “I knew he’d wake up soon. Thanks for giving me the secret signal.” She plopped the plate and a fork on Erik’s lap as he pushed himself into a seated position. “Eat up, little brother. Today is your race day, and I know you’ll need plenty of strength to keep up with Dylan!” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Where’s your uniform? I’m going to plan my outfit to match.”

  Erik pointed the fork toward his All-Stars jersey, draped over the back of a chair. There was a commotion in the front hallway, and he heard his mother’s loud voice. “Hilda, so wonderful to see you! Thank you for inviting us to come.”

  Erik froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. “Is that Mom?” he asked his sister.

  “Yeah! Mom and Dad came to be here for the race today. I called them to plan their visit as soon as you signed that entry form. No surprise there, right?” Allyson answered.

  “Uh, big surprise there, actually. Why would you invite them to see the race?” asked Erik. Brunhilde can now make my family drag me across that starting line. That is why it was so hard to come up with an escape plan. Because there is no escape. He slapped his forehead. Stop thinking that way! You came up with a plan last night. It’s going to work. It has to work.

  Allyson laughed and whacked him on the shoulder hard enough to make his stack of toast wobble. “I invited them to meet Dylan, of course. I mean, I’ve told Mom about him.” She gazed off into space in rapture, probably imagining what she and her beloved Dylan would be wearing when they got married. She added offhandedly, “Oh, and because I am totes proud of you, Erik. This is a big deal! It’s your first race, your first, like, anything, that you’re going to finish all the way to the end.”

  Brunhilde entered the room and added, “Plus, it does not hurt to enlist a few more warriors to support you on this day. Our preparations come to this. Today your fears will know what it means to do real battle with a Sheepflattener. Your phobias will be obliterated by the time the sun sets on Bonebreaker Hill.”

  “Where’s my boy and girls?” They heard their mother coming down the hall. “The house has been so quiet without you all!” She entered the room. “Oh, my darling beasts! Have you been good guests?” She gave Brunhilde and Allyson a hug apiece and then sat down next to Erik and ruffled his hair. “Just waking up, are we? Well, growing boys need their sleep. And you have grown. Look at you! Practically ready to build a house of your own.”

  Erik’s father came into the room too and sat on the other side of the bed. He reached over and took a slice of bacon from Erik’s plate and nodded to Erik. His mother slapped the bacon out of his father’s hand. “Don’t you dare, Thorfast. The boy needs all the strength he can get! Remember what Brunhilde told us about his race today.”

  Thorfast grabbed another slice, dodged his wife’s hand, and popped the bacon in his mouth. He smiled at Erik and chewed.

  “Well, let’s give him time to eat and get dressed,” his mom said, standing up. “You girls show me your rooms, and let’s talk about what you’ve been up to out here in Minnesota. Did I tell you already that Spjut misses you? He sniffs under Erik’s bed every day to see if he’s secretly been hiding under there all summer . . .” She strolled out the door with Brunhilde and Allyson. Thorfast followed behind after palming another bacon slice.

  Erik looked out the window as he got changed. He scanned the sky for clouds, wondering what the chances were that Thor would reach down from the heavens and lightning-bolt the whole racecourse into nonexistence. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, he sent up a respectful appeal for all available lightning, thunder, hail, sleet, and rain to hit Bonebreaker Hill before the starting gun went off.

  Family members kept wandering in and out of his room to see if he needed anything (Aunt Hilda and Allyson) or to remind him how important the day was (Brunhilde, and his mother, who wanted to check he had put on clean underwear) or to swipe food from his breakfast plate (Ragnar, Hrolf, and his father). Eventually, the food disappeared and he was dressed in his shirt, shorts, and sneakers (yes, with clean underwear). The whole family swept out the door toward the park before he had even the slightest chance to consider hiding under any beds. Good thing his new plan didn’t involve them.

  After working out his options, his new plan ended up being simple. First, he would cross the starting line with Fuzz and ride until they were both out of sight of Fuzz’s mom. Once behind the cover of some trees, he would pretend to fall off his bike, fake a horrible upset stomach, and insist that Fuzz go on without him. Once Fuzz continued on, Erik would lie there like a hopeless slug until a race official collected him.

  He knew lying limp and sluggy wouldn’t necessarily save him from Brunhilde. In case she somehow intuited his giving up and stomped down the course to tie him to his bike and shove him down Bonebreaker Hill, the final piece of his plan was a whole Art of War–inspired speech he’d worked out. He was going to lead with “There are some roads not to follow” and then segue into “Those skilled in war subdue the enemy’s army without battle” (in The Toddler Art of War, this advice had a picture of a kid drinking another kid’s juice box behind his back). There were a few more quotes he’d memorized after that. He didn’t completely understand some of them, but he was sure he would be telling her NO in warrior language. In fact, he was going end by telling her that saying NO was very Viking. Then he would go the limpest and sluggiest he’d ever gone and, copying his sister’s stubbornness, refuse to listen to anything else anyone had to say. Maybe he couldn’t hide, but he surely could do nothing.

  He didn’t give up hope that Thor might demolish the course, though. If he’d learned one thing from listening to his family’s old epic poems, it was that lightning bolts could and did strike when they were least expected.

  * * *

  Lake Park had been transformed into a hive of mountain bikers. Twenty teams of nine riders had registered, and each one was clustered together wearing matching jerseys. A registration table was set up where riders got their numbers and their guardians signed the “grievous harm” waiver if they hadn’t already done so. Officials dressed in black with the word RACE STAFF stitched in white on their backs were making sure all was in order. A big black screen showed a digital clock that would track the length of the race with red numbers glowing 00:00:00 to show hours, minutes, and seconds. A fleet of passenger vans were ready to bring spectators down to the finish line once all the riders were on the course. Local newspaper writers and television reporters were there to cover the story of the big Race Down Bonebreaker Hill.

  One television reporter with unusually white teeth addressed a video camera. “After five years on hiatus, the Race Down Bonebreaker Hill is back! The race was canceled when many riders became lost for days or had their internal organs end up in places they were never meant to go. Natural disasters have also mysteriously dogged its running for several years, capped by the infamous Great Mosquito Swarm of ’08. Now, however, with increased security and a new route, we have over a hundred young mountain bikers eager to pit their skills against Bonebreaker Hill.” She turned to Erik, who happened to be standing nearby. “Want to tell the audience listening at home your name and how excited you are to be here?” She pushed the microphone into his face.

  Erik stared down at the microphone and wondered if he threw up on it what that would sound like to the audience listening at home. After a moment or two of Erik’s pale, motionless silence, the television announcer found someone else to chat with.

  “Would you like to tell our audience at home about your plans for the race today? What’s your name, son?”

  “’Sup. Dylan.”

  Erik put some distance between himself and the cameras. He was briefly reassured to see an ambulance with EMTs at the start lin
e, but then immediately began to get sweaty. What could happen at the start line that they’d need an ambulance for? He started panting in shallow breaths, but noticing this, he was able to switch over to Dragon Breathing and get his body back under control. He stroked his forearm where he had drawn the runes for NO, NEVER, and NOT IN A MILLION YEARS. For the first time, he understood why his sisters and cousins liked sketching rune tattoos on themselves. It was comforting to have words to live by right there on your skin.

  The head race official stood up at a podium with a bullhorn and called for attention. “Greetings, racers! If you have not yet picked up your number and registered, please do so. We will begin the race in ten minutes. When the air horn goes off, we’ll start the first wave of racers, and this year’s Race Down Bonebreaker Hill will begin. We’ll be tracking racers’ numbers and times on the course to determine our winners in each age group. Emergency personnel are already on the course if they are needed. Let’s make it a day to remember! In a good way!”

  “Hey, hey, our Hair Shack Hero has arrived!” Coach Gary brought over Erik’s paper race number and pinned it to the back of his jersey. He also duct-taped some bear bells to the middle of Erik’s handlebars. “You and Fuzz are going to be in the first wave down the hill, so you get to line up in front. They figured if they sent the younger riders down first, the older riders can offer the younger ones help or encouragement if they need it.” He looked Erik in the eyes. “Remember that everyone gets nervous about new things, but you’ve got the training you need to keep out of harm’s way. When the air horn blasts, you go for it! I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Erik looked down at his handlebars, relieved when Coach Gary moved on to help Morgan and Leo with their race numbers.

  Fuzz arrived with his race number half pinned and half fluttering in the wind. “Sorry I’m late, I almost fell down the stairs, but I then caught myself. Then I jumped up to celebrate so I did fall down the stairs, but I tucked and rolled, so I’m okay,” he said. Coach Gary taped on Fuzz’s bear bells. “Guess what? Lily asked if she could ride with us, so all three of us can ride together now. We’ll be like a constellation of All-Stars!”