by Mary Frame
“Well, you’re a little . . .”
“Fun?” she offers. “Exciting? Best teammate ever?”
“I was going to say controlling and competitive, but those work, too.”
“Aw, you’re such a good friend, Ruby.” She ceases her stretching and points at me. “Now get in that sack because you’re going first. And you better not screw this up, because if they beat us, we can never speak again ever.”
“Right.”
The potato sack race is done relay style, the starting line about fifty feet from where Tabby and the other partners will wait. I have to hop over to Tabby and then give her my sack so she can hop back to the starting line to win the race.
“Good luck. Don’t let me down.” She claps me on the back before jogging over to where the second line has been drawn.
Holding my sack up to my waist, I glance down the line of participants. Mr. Godfrey is next to me; his partner is Mrs. Olsen. She’s haranguing Tabby about wearing sunblock, her voice carrying across the field.
On the other side of him amongst others are Mrs. Hale, Troy, and Mr. Newsome.
Miss Viola is running the show, still in her unnecessary wheelchair. She’s sitting at the end of the starting line with some kind of starting pistol.
I really hope someone made sure it isn’t a real gun.
There’s quiet down the line when Miss Viola pulls out a megaphone. She calls a countdown. When she pulls the trigger, we all jolt into action. I hop as fast as I can across the grass in my sack. It’s harder than I thought it would be. Teammates and spectators are shouting alike but I’m focused on getting to Tabby without screwing up so she doesn’t murder me.
Miss Viola yells something into the megaphone, but the resulting screech makes the words indecipherable. I glance her way. Someone has stopped to talk to her, bending slightly over her wheelchair. Their back is to me but the sleek dark hair pulled back in a chignon is unmistakable. Mother. Miss Viola smiles and pats her hand and Mother hands her something small. Maybe a business card. I can’t tell from my vantage point. I’m straining, trying to see, and since I’m not paying attention to what I’m doing, my hop falters.
The misstep causes me to trip over the bottom seam of the burlap sack and down I go, tumbling to the ground.
Thank god it’s grassy. I don’t injure myself too badly—except for my pride. Tabby yells something at me, and while I can’t quite make out what she’s saying, it doesn’t sound like words of encouragement. I pull myself back up and jump over to her.
She practically pushes me out of the sack before throwing herself inside of it and leaping away.
I’m not too concerned about the sack race or Tabby’s temper anymore, though. I scan the nearby crowd, looking for Mother. Miss Viola is talking to someone else now, Mother nowhere in sight.
I try to shake it off, but I can’t stop. Are they here? Will I have to deal with them today?
What did she say to Miss Viola? I’m going to have to find out.
I shove the parents out of my mind as Tabby hops like a demented gazelle across the finish line.
Miss Viola has her megaphone still in her hand. She pulls it up to her mouth. “The winners are Troy and Eleanor.”
“No!” Tabby’s yell echoes over the lawn of people.
I almost don’t want to walk over there. She’s going to kill me.
Troy is triumphant and Eleanor is smiling, but the motion is pinched. Her hand rubs her left side and she’s watching Tabby.
“Calm your tits, Tabby, there’s three more events,” Miss Viola says into the megaphone, her voice booming over the park.
Three more events?
Tabby’s mouth firms into a thin line and she stalks in my direction.
Oh, boy.
“We still have a chance,” she says when we reach each other in the middle of the field. She doesn’t seem angry, more determined. “The next event is the water balloon squat. We don’t have to get first place. If we just beat Troy and Eleanor, I’ll be happy.”
“Really?”
“Well, I’d be happier if we beat everyone, but I’ll settle for beating my brother because you’re obviously a bit special.” She pats me on the shoulder twice. And not lightly.
“Hey.”
“If I’d known Eleanor could move like that, I would have had her on my team.”
“Hey!”
“What? You suck, Ruby. And did you see Mrs. Ramsey? She totally pulled one leg out early. That bitch is going to get it.”
I laugh. “Mrs. Ramsey is like the sweetest woman in the world.”
“Whatever. She’s still a damn cheater.”
Miss Viola gets back on the megaphone and calls for everyone to line up again. Behind her, some guys are pulling bins full of water balloons to the starting line.
As they line up the balloon bins, Tabby explains the process.
For this event, we have to hold the water balloon between our thighs and walk—or waddle—with it all the way to the other line where there’s an empty bucket we have to put them in. We get points for each balloon we get into the new bucket without dropping or breaking it, and an extra five points if we get all the balloons transferred first. Oh, and we can’t use our hands.
“We’re going to kick ass,” Tabby says.
“We’re going to look ridiculous.”
“I know your thighs have been getting a workout lately.” Tabby nudges me with her shoulder.
I groan. “You’re worse than your brother.”
“Now that’s just cruel, Ruby. Why would you say such a thing? I’m going first this time.”
“I have no problem with that.”
We line up again; this time we’re both on the same side. As soon as Tabby gets her balloon in the other bucket, I can start my way over and then she’ll have to run back to get her next balloon. There are ten balloons total to move from one side to the other.
Miss Viola is back on the megaphone, yelling at us to get ready, set and go.
Tabby takes off like a penguin on speed, the balloon squeezed between her legs.
They all look so funny, waddling across. Mrs. Ramsey loses her balloon somewhere in the middle and laughs so hard she can hardly get back up. The only people not laughing are Tabby and Eleanor. They are like women on a mission, their feet shuffling while they eye each other across the field.
Not wanting to let Tabby down, as soon as she plops her balloon in the bucket, I’m waddling after her. It’s harder than you might think to hold a wiggly, water-filled balloon between your legs, and I probably look like an idiot—everyone else does—but I know I’m doing good when Tabby runs past me, slapping me a high five on her way back to the starting point to get another balloon.
It takes a few seconds of positioning to get the balloon to drop into the second bucket—you basically have to crouch like you’re pooping, but I get it done without incident. As I’m jogging back, I pass Tabby again. She’s grinning like a madwoman, and I know why.
“Hurry up, you’re going to make us lose!” shouts Eleanor.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak louder than a murmur, but she’s giving it to Troy pretty good and Tabby is loving every second of it.
It doesn’t take as long as I thought, and at the end, Tabby and I win by a landslide. Maybe because of our massive skills, but probably because no one besides Tabby really cares—except maybe Eleanor.
Troy is talking to her, smiling, resting his hand on her shoulder, but she’s not looking at him. She’s flushed in the face and glaring at Tabby.
Today is full of surprises.
The next event is a beanbag toss. The teams are each given their own uniquely colored beanbags and we have to get as many of our bags as we can into a bucket about thirty feet away—the same one we used for the water balloons. Each team gets a point for each bag.
The euphoria from winning the last event fades when I realize Tabby has the worst aim ever, and Eleanor has a great arm.
Troy and Eleanor handily
win the event and Miss Viola announces there’s a tie between two teams. The fourth and final round will determine the winner. Some of the competitors have meandered off, losing interest in the competitions, while others plop down with lunches to watch the end. It’s down to two teams, me and Tabby versus Troy and Eleanor.
Miss Viola tells us each team has to pick one teammate to compete in the final game.
“What’s the game?” I ask.
“Sumo wrestling.”
As if it were preplanned, a door slides open from the back of the truck parked next to the field and two people jump out carrying giant, inflatable sumo suits.
“I’m not doing that.”
Tabby has a feral grin on her face. “I’m so in.”
They won’t let Troy put on the sumo suit due to his size, so the final competition is between the two most competitive people on the field: Tabby and Eleanor. How appropriate.
They suit up. The sumo suits are giant, flesh-covered plastic suits stuffed with air and sporting fake G-strings.
It’s going to take a while to push them in there, so I use the opportunity to sidle over to Miss Viola.
“Hey, Miss Viola.” I stop next to her wheelchair.
“I’m not changing the scores.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not asking you to. I saw you talking to my aunt Leah.”
“Oh, right. The charity lady. She mentioned her niece was competing. She seems nice. She was asking about the activities at the senior center. And about the library and if I knew anyone there.”
Of course. They would be seeking intel on their main source of income. How else could they weasel their way into people’s lives? But the library?
“Ruby!” Tabby yells at me.
Tabby and Eleanor have been poured into the suits and filled up. They both look ridiculous, but they don’t seem to care.
Troy is with Eleanor on one side of the grassy field, evidently trying to pump her up for the final battle. Tabby is glaring daggers at the both of them.
“I need water,” she tells me when I say goodbye to Miss Viola and make my way over to Tabby. I squirt some into her mouth from a water bottle we’ve got off to the side. It would feel like a real wrestling competition if it weren’t for how silly the whole thing is.
“She’s been favoring her left side,” I tell Tabby.
“You think?”
“I know. Ever since the potato sack race, she’s been rubbing her left thigh. Go there and she’ll topple like a stack of bananas.”
Miss Viola calls the opponents to the center of the field and explains that the last person standing is the winner. It doesn’t matter whether they get knocked over by the opposing team or roll over on their own. I can see what she means since Tabby and Eleanor can barely stay upright, waddling around in the rounded, air-filled suits.
Miss Viola is back on the megaphone. “Three, two, one, go!” She shoots the gun into the air, grinning and whooping like Yosemite Sam.
The game is on.
At first, Tabby and Eleanor bob around each other, each of them looking like fat chickens that can’t quite walk right. Then, unsurprisingly, Tabby goes for Eleanor’s weak side.
“That’s cheating!” Eleanor yells. “She’s trying to kick me.”
“I can’t kick in this thing. I can barely move my leg.” She demonstrates, kicking one leg up. It barely moves.
Eleanor grumbles but they get back into their bobbing stances.
“Go for her face!” Troy yells to Eleanor.
“Okay, that would definitely be cheating,” Tabby says.
Troy shrugs. “You deserve it.”
Eleanor lunges toward Tabby while she’s distracted with Troy and bounces her stomach off of Tabby, sending Tabby over on one side.
“No!” she yells, reaching for Eleanor. She grabs her by the fabric of the suit and they both topple to the ground on their backs.
“I’m going to get you,” Eleanor says, waving her arms and legs.
“Not if I get you first!” Tabby is in the same position. They both look like turtles who’ve fallen onto their shells, hands and feet waving uselessly in the air.
“Ruby, help me up!” Tabby yells.
I can’t. I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe. “You both look ridiculous,” I say and then dissolve into laughter again.
“Well, who won?” Tabby asks.
“Neither of you won. You both went over at the same time,” Miss Viola says.
“I demand a recount!” Tabby yells.
“There’s nothing to count. You both win. I need a drink.” She pushes a button on her wheelchair and drives it off toward the concession stands.
“Is someone going to help us get up?” Eleanor asks.
“I don’t know, I kind of like you in this position.” Troy considers her, rubbing his chin with one hand.
Tabby groans. “Oh, gross.”
“If you don’t help me up, when I do get up you will be sorry,” Eleanor fumes.
“Yeah, same here. I will put itching powder in your jock when you least suspect it.”
Eleanor laughs. “He would totally deserve it.”
“Hey.” Troy looks wounded. “Now I really don’t want to help you.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“We don’t need you anyway. Ruby!”
I take my time walking over, still chuckling as they wiggle around on the ground. It takes a few minutes, and Troy ends up helping Eleanor despite his words, and eventually we get them both back onto their feet and out of the suits.
“It was hot in those things.” Tabby pulls on the front of her T-shirt. “I think we need a cold drink. Come on, ladies.” She grabs my hand and then Eleanor’s and drags us away from Troy.
“Hey, where are you guys going?”
“Don’t worry about it, you big jerk,” Tabby calls over her shoulder.
“Eleanor?”
Tabby keeps walking, still holding on to us both. “I’m going to tell them about the time I caught you wearing my dress.”
“I was five!”
“It’s still funny!”
Troy grumbles something behind us, but we keep walking.
Eleanor is not acting shy, not anymore. She’s laughing and asking questions and as I watch them, a warm glow spreads through my chest.
Tabby will have a friend once I’m gone.
~*~
“There was a cat fight and I missed it?” Jared asks.
“It was more of a mouse fight.”
Paige is dancing along about twenty feet in front of us while we walk back to Ruby’s. How the girl still has so much energy is beyond me. My feet hurt.
After celebratory drinks with Tabby and Eleanor, Jared found us and stole me away. Then we in turn found Paige, who was playing carnival games with Greg and Gary. We sat in the grass in the late-afternoon sunshine and ate dinner from a food truck. Later, when the band started up, Jared and I danced under the stars.
I didn’t see any sign of the parents. It was a good night.
Jared smirks. “I always miss all the fun.”
“You didn’t miss much. I’m glad Tabby and Eleanor are getting along now.”
“Haven’t they always gotten along?”
“I suppose so. I guess I’m just glad they’re becoming better friends.” And I really am. Tabby will need someone to talk to once I’m gone. But with the gladness comes a pang of something else. Guilt? To hide the emotion from my voice, I end the words on a big yawn.
“Well, I’m glad I’m bringing you home to tuck you into bed.” Jared swings our linked hands up so he can kiss the back of my knuckles.
“It is a good thing.” I smile up at him.
“What are you guys doing tomorrow night?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you want to come over for dinner, with Paige?”
We haven’t gone to Jared’s since the parents made their appearance. I haven’t exactly been avoiding it, but not going there has made it easier to be
lieve that I’ve been protecting Jared somehow. But have I been, really? He’s still here, with me. They still want me to use him for their own ends, and I still haven’t figured out a way to stop them. Maybe I can go to his house and use it as a way to keep them at bay. Not by giving them what they want, but by appearing to do their bidding and buying me some time.
I shrug. “Sure.”
“You have nothing planned? Are you sure?”
“Should I have something planned?”
“No,” he says quickly, but I think he’s hiding a smile. “You should invite your aunt and uncle, too. I really want to get to know your family more.”
I swallow. “I’ll check and see if they’re free.”
I’ll do no such thing.
Chapter Seven
Everybody has had to deal with an uncomfortable family reunion.
Drunk uncles and fighting cousins. Shut-in aunts and busybody grandparents. Skeletons that trot out of the familial closet as soon as the eggnog starts flowing.
But when it comes to awkward-relative stories, I’ve got them all beat.
“You distract him and we’ll search his office,” Mother tells me as we’re driving to Jared’s for dinner.
I wish I could have prevented this. I didn’t tell them about Jared’s dinner invite. I had planned on making excuses for why they couldn’t make it. But wouldn’t you know it, they “happened” to run into him when he was taking his morning jog.
And since my car isn’t working—or you know, I have no idea where it actually is or what they did with it—they so kindly offered to drive us over. And Jared, the bighearted sap, so kindly invited them to join us.
Giant eye roll.
Paige and I are in the back seat of the Mercedes, and even though the leather seats are plush and comfortable, we’ve both been squirming the entire ride.
Probably because as soon as we got in the car, the parents started grilling us for information on the layout of Jared’s house, where he keeps his documents, likely places he would hide things of importance, all of that.
