by B. N. Hale
After she’d issued her dating challenge, she’d half-expected him to call the next day. She knew him well enough to know he hadn’t forgotten, and a part of her imagined him agonizing over what to do on their next date. But she didn’t like the waiting, and it rankled to feel like he’d forgotten.
As they were finishing dinner the doorbell rang. Sitting closest to the door, Marta took a final bite and stood. “I’ll get it!” she said, the exclamation muffled by the food in her mouth.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Brittney said, and then took a bite and added. “Unless you can do it without anyone noticing.”
Kate joined in the laughter but glanced to the door, hoping and wondering if it would be Reed. Marta opened the door but the door blocked the view. She didn’t speak, and instead she stepped back into the room and looked to Kate.
“I think it’s for you,” she said.
“Who is it?” Kate asked.
Marta’s expression lit with delight. “Let’s just say he doesn’t need to call anymore.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in and then all three scrambled to the door. Positioned the furthest away, Kate arrived last, a fact for which she complained loudly as she pushed her way through her roommates. Then she spotted what was on the porch and came to a halt, all complaints forgotten.
A black kettle sat on the porch. The reflective material that lined the interior of the kettle enhancing the light placed in the center so it looked like it contained gold. But instead of coins it was filled with skittles. Pounds and pounds of skittles.
Ember stepped outside and scanned the street like a hawk hunting prey, but there was no sign of Reed or his car. Kate did a cursory look but did not expect to find him, and instead picked up the surprisingly heavy kettle and brought it into the living room.
“I don’t understand,” Marta said as they all knelt around the kettle. “What does a pot of skittles have to do with anything?”
Kate’s eyes flew to the calendar on the wall, to the date the following week. “St. Patrick’s day,” she exclaimed. “It’s next Saturday.”
Brittney picked up a handful of skittles and let them sprinkle through her hand. “And he sent you the end of the rainbow,” she said.
Her heart beating in her chest, Kate realized she’d made a fatal flaw. She’d assumed Reed would ask her on a date the normal way—but his creative dating was anything but normal. And she’d issued a challenge, one he’d said he intended to win.
“There’s a note,” Ember said, and grabbed the piece of paper sticking out of the skittles. Kate snatched it from her hands and read it first, the other girls crowding to read over her shoulder.
You are invited to attend the ________
At the ___________ at ________
Attire should be expendable.
“What’s with the blanks?” Kate asked.
“Maybe he wants you to figure it out,” Ember said, turning the paper over to examine the back.
Kate frowned in confusion, and then her eyes fell on the skittles. One was different than the others. Instead of an S, it had a different letter—a W. She reached in and picked it up, and found that a marker had been used to change the lettering.
“The answer is in here,” Kate said, pointing to the pot of skittles. “And we have to find it.”
Marta paused with a handful of skittles halfway to her mouth. “So I shouldn’t eat them?”
“Not until we find the ones with the letters,” Ember said sternly, and took charge like a diminutive general. “Get the cookie sheets. We’re going to need some space.”
Excited at the strange invitation, Kate dived into the task. Her roommates complained that there were so many skittles but with each found letter there were cries of delight, and it didn’t take long to find them all. Then they began sorting them in an attempt to decipher what they meant.
“10:00,” Brittney said. “There’s no other time it could be.” She placed the numbers on the note.
It took several more minutes before they figured out the letters, but when they did Kate was even more confused. Ember grabbed a pen and filled them in on the paper. Then they all sat back and stared at the text.
“It’s at President’s Park,” Ember said. “Saturday morning.”
Kate shook her head in confusion. “But what’s a Color War?”
Chapter 2
Kate pulled into the crowded parking lot and claimed one the few empty spots. Before leaving the car she checked herself in the mirror. She knew it was foolish to be nervous, but the prospect of another date with Reed made her heart thump in her chest.
Dressed in torn jeans and a faded shirt, her clothes were certainly expendable. Ember had insisted she wear nicer clothing, but Kate had argued that doing so would make her more uncomfortable than dressing down.
“Besides,” Kate had said. “It won’t take long before my clothing will be covered in paint.”
It had taken them all of five minutes to find the answer to Reed’s invitation. Set in President’s Park in downtown Boulder, the Color War was a battle of the rainbow each St. Patrick’s Day. Similar to a color run, participants used balloons filled with tinted foam to wage war against each other. The pictures had shown hundreds of adults and youth plastered in every color, their clothing unrecognizable beneath the paint. All three of Kate’s roommates had wanted to participate, but Kate had insisted.
“It’s not appropriate to bring your roommates on a date.”
She exited the car and joined the throng of people working their way into the depths of the park. Many carried plastic shields, others wore paintball masks, and some came with large water guns. Festive and exciting, the atmosphere brought a nervous smile to her face as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her fears at not finding Reed didn’t last, and she spotted him standing at the edge of the lot.
“I see you got my message,” he said with a smile.
“It took an hour to find all the letters,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the excited crowd.
He laughed. “My favorite dates are those that begin with a creative invitation.”
She noticed the allusion to herself and laughed nervously, but he was already guiding her into the crowd. As they approached the center of the park it became clear that many participants already knew where to go, with teams forming of the various colors.
“What color are we?” she asked.
“Blue,” he replied. “It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
She scowled. “My roommates said you didn’t enlist them.”
“They didn’t,” he said, and his easy smile returned. “Girls usually wear their favorite color on a first date, and so I guessed.”
Pleased that he’d remembered such a detail, she gestured vaguely in the direction of her house. “You really didn’t use my roommates?”
“Not this time,” he replied, his blue eyes sparkling with humor.
“So roommates are fair game?” she asked.
“For both sides,” he said.
She caught the double meaning. She could manipulate Reed’s roommate, but Reed was just as able to turn him back to his own side. Like pawns in their challenge, the roommates would be enlisted and coerced at every turn.
They reached their army’s location and found dozens of individuals dressed in blue. Arming themselves with water guns and balloons, they were preparing for war. The air gained the edge of anticipation as they armed themselves, and someone offered Kate a bandoleer of water balloons. She laughed and draped it around her neck like a sash at a beauty contest.
“How do I look?” she asked, affecting a model pose.
“Flawless,” he said, and collected a water gun from a stack.
Several large barrels were scattered about the area and most players were busy filling their weapons. Some just filled buckets, laughing like they were imagining dumping it on someone’s head. Caught up in the rising tension, Kate picked up a smaller gun and gave it an experimental squirt, accid
ently striking Reed in the chest.
He laughed. “You’re supposed to try and hit the other colors.”
“Sorry!” she exclaimed.
A nearby woman giggled and sprayed her husband. “That’s okay, dear,” she said. “Hit him when his back is turned.”
The husband laughed and sprayed her back, painting her side a bright blue. Others converged on the spot and Kate realized that the paint was a catalyst, inviting everyone to join in the fight. She hastily retreated, but a booming voice saved her from dying an azure death.
“Happy St. Patrick’s Day!” an amplified voice shouted, drawing all eyes to the clearing between the armies. Dressed in garish green, a leprechaun waved his hands and welcomed them all to the color war. As his welcome speech came to a close, he checked his watch. “You have sixty seconds to ready yourselves. The war ends when you are out of ammunition. Good luck!”
Kate laughed, unable to contain her nervous excitement. “What now?”
Reed met her gaze, his eyes filled with a wild delight. “We fight.”
He caught her hand and her rapidly beating heart increased its flutter, but he was merely guiding her to a section of trees overlooking the clearing. Then he leaned against the tree like a soldier.
“Oh,” he said, reaching into a pocket, “you’ll want these.”
He tossed her a pair of glasses, obviously intended to prevent paint in the eye, and then donned a pair of his own. She fumbled with the glasses as the speaker began to count down from thirty, the other colors joining in the chant.
At ten seconds clouds of colored smoke erupted in the clearing and surrounding trees, the smoke quickly obscuring trees and leaves, paths and benches. Kate swallowed as she leaned against a tree and looked to Reed.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“No!” she shouted.
“Too late!” He laughed as the great boom signaled the start of the war.
With a deafening shout the five armies rushed the clearing and began firing indiscriminately. Balloons were hurled into the fray and colored water blasted the erstwhile warriors. Laughter and shouts of dismay filled the clouded scene as smoke drifted across the battlefield.
“Watch the right!” Reed shouted.
She swiveled and found a group of purples ascending the slope, attempting to flank the blues. They saw each other and both began to fire. But Kate was behind the tree, so the paint splashed against the trunk, scattering color across her side as she unloaded on them.
Reed joined her on the other side of the oak tree and fired with her, but there were too many, and some came at their side. Purple splashed across her hip, causing her to laugh in surprise. She grabbed a water balloon from the sash and hurled it at them, and then another. The foes turned out to be two young men, both of whom scampered away under the sudden assault.
Caught up in the moment, she turned back to those charging up the slope and fired, striking each with precision. Her accuracy drew a shout from Reed, who fired at her side, protecting her flank.
“Where did you learn to aim?” he called.
“Military family,” she said. “Remember?” Then she spotted a group of yellow coming from the opposite side. “Look out!”
Caught between orange and purple, they were pummeled with color, and in seconds, water and foam stained them from head to toe. With adrenaline in her veins Kate ran and twisted, dodging tree trunks and other colors as she sought to escape. Reed stayed with her every step, and together they fought the horde of color.
Through the haze of smoke, they ran straight into an all-out brawl, with paint, foam, and smoke filling the air. The crowd had dissolved into a confusing war, casting paint at each other, heedless of the original armies. Kate sprayed a woman twice before recognizing her as the one who’d targeted her husband before the war. Her apology was met with a spray of blue and a giggle.
In the haze of color and smoke, Kate looked at Reed. His features were obscured by layers of paint, but his eyes shone the brightest. Even through the glasses speckled with green, they pierced into her, an unspoken challenge, an invitation to stand at his side. She smiled and stood at his back, and in the midst of a war she marveled at the sense of home.
Chapter 3
The color war seemed to last for hours, but barely topped twenty minutes before everyone was out of ammunition. Plastered with every color of the rainbow, the disparate armies now stood together, and none could distinguish who had come from where. Shouting and laughter filled the park and there was much smearing of paint as people tried to wipe their faces clean.
Trees looked like a color bomb had exploded in their branches, the colors reaching surprisingly high and staining the leaves. The ground was a tapestry of vivid colors and footprints, interspersed by patches of mud.
Reed’s black hair had turned a bright green, but a patch over his ear was all orange. Purple dripped down his face onto his shoulder. Splotches of red trickled down his glasses and onto his chin, darkening the yellow on his chest.
“You’ve never looked better,” Kate said with a laugh.
She reached up and attempted to wipe the paint off his face, succeeding only in smearing the colors together. He protested and did the same to her, causing her to fend him off before he could make the mess worse. Paint splattered nearby people, nearly causing a renewed conflict.
Reed wiped the paint from his hands. “I’ve always wanted to do this war.”
She looked up from wiping color from her arms. “I assumed you’d done this before,” she said.
“Nope,” he said. “I heard about it a couple years ago but never had a date I thought would appreciate it.”
“So why me?” she asked.
“You’d mentioned your family had been military,” he said. “I hoped it had rubbed off on you. You’re certainly a good shot.” He pointed to her water gun leaning against her leg.
“I used to go shooting with my brothers and my dad,” she said. “My brothers would complain that I was better, but I think they let me win.”
He raised a purple eyebrow. “You’ll have to teach me to shoot.”
“You certainly need it,” she said with a laugh. “You missed more than my grandmother.”
“Hey!” he protested. “I contributed.”
“To our loss,” she said.
He laughed. “I can’t tell if anyone won,” he said, gesturing to the paint covered people.
“True,” she agreed. Her phone buzzed and she wiped her hand enough to pull it out. She snorted and lifted it up so they could take a picture. “The blondes want to see us post-war.”
“It’s rapidly becoming a tradition,” he said, leaning down so she could snap the picture. He smiled, and then asked, “How’s the picture?”
“Colorful,” she said.
He grinned. “That’s an understatement.”
“I don’t think I want to get into my car,” she said, examining the picture and then herself. “This may wash out, but I can’t exactly put my car though the washing machine.”
He looked at his own drenched clothing. “In my car the colors would be an upgrade.”
She laughed. “Seriously. How are we going to get clean enough to leave?”
Overhearing her question, a nearby girl pointed to the edge of the parking lot. “Don’t worry about getting clean. That’s the best part.”
“What’s the best part?” she asked.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you,” Reed said. “The fire department should be here any moment.”
“The fire department?” she asked, turning to the parking lot.
A fire truck pulled into the lot and flicked its siren, the sound drawing the paint-spattered crowd. The firemen unloaded and began hooking up the hose to the fire hydrant. Realizing their intent, Kate’s eyes widened.
“Don’t tell me they’re going to . . .”
“Yep,” Reed grinned.
“No,” she breathed.
The firemen opened the top and water exploded from t
he hose. Aimed upward so as not to knock anyone down, the geyser became a sudden rainstorm that washed the colors from their bodies.
Kate gasped as freezing water fell on her and she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Shivering, she tried to escape, but the press of bodies did not allow it. Then Reed shook his hair, sending paint and water onto her.
“This is not how I like to shower!” she exclaimed.
He merely laughed and wiped his face clean. All around them others were doing the same, rinsing the colors into the ground at their feet. Many stood huddled against the cold, while the more adventurous danced about, calling for more.
Eager to escape the chill, Kate rinsed what she could. By the time the hose was shut off she was drenched, but passably clean. Her feet squished in the mud as they exited the park and made their way to Reed’s car.
“I have towels,” he said.
“Of course you do,” she said, shivering.
March had warmed considerably from February, but it had yet to fully embrace spring. Everyone in the lot was busy wrapping towels around their shoulders and drying off, and she noticed several families standing together, the children disappointed that the event was over.
She watched two young girls giggle as they threw lingering paint at each other. Their mother became exasperated in her attempt to usher them into the van. Kate found herself wondering what type of mother she would be.
“Ready?” Reed asked, handing her a towel.
She wrapped it around her shoulders and dried herself off, grateful she hadn’t worn clothing that would be revealing when wet. More towels were in the car and she did her best to keep any color from getting on the seat. Reed was less concerned.
“It’ll wipe out,” he said, turning the car on.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” she said, gesturing to the park.
“There’s a lot of fun things to do if you have the inclination to look,” Reed said.
“Few have the inclination to look.”
He raised an eyebrow at her tone, and she smiled sadly. “I’ve had several boyfriends,” she said. “None would have thought to do this for a date.”
