Noses Are Red

by Richard Scrimger

  “Here’s your pudding, Alan,” says one of the girls from the Owl cabin. She passes me a bowl.

  “Thanks, urn,” I say.

  Zinta checks her clipboard again and again. “I’ve added up the scores three times, and it’s even worse than last year,” she reports in a low voice. “I’m pretty sure Trixie’s ahead right now. We have to win the casino night.” She looks at me. “We have to!” she says.

  I nod.

  I’m sitting across the table from her. She stands up, grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “What am I thinking?” she says. “Come on, Alan, what am I thinking right now? You say you’re good at this. You have to know, if you’re going to win against Trixie.”

  I swallow. I don’t know what to say. She’s really upset.

  – I really like pudding, says Norbert. Especially chocolate pudding.

  Zinta drops her hands. “I wasn’t thinking about pudding at all,” she whispers.

  There’s a huge squeak of feedback from the microphone by the head table. Boomer thanks us for making this edition of the games a great success so far. She is looking forward to the casino night tonight.

  “Right now the two teams are very close in total points,” she says. “The Trailblazers (whistles and hoots from the dark side of the dining hall) won the log sawing competition, and the gunwale bobbing, and the tug-of-war. The Lumberjacks (cheers from the light side) won the swimming and the fire starting and the Red Rover. Lumberjacks would have won the war canoe race, only they were disqualified because there weren’t enough paddlers in the canoe.”

  Laughter from both sides of the dining hall. I stare at my pudding.

  “So,” says Boomer, “the Trailblazers are slightly ahead. Bragging rights for this year will be decided in a few hours, over the spin of the roulette wheel, the roll of the dice, the bounce of the skee ball, and the turn of the cards.” She wishes everyone good luck, and tells us all to leave so the staff can start to set up in the dining hall.

  Christopher is sitting at the head table, beside the nurse. He hobbles over after dinner.

  “So, how was your day?” he asks. “Did you have fun?”

  “Well,” I say.

  “I have some bad news for you,” he says. “I saw Dr. Callous this afternoon. It looks like we aren’t going to be able to finish our canoe trip.”

  I hold open the door of the dining hall so he can hobble through.

  “Stretched ligaments in my ankle,” he says. “I’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks.”

  Should I say I’m sorry about his injury? I still don’t like him. “Oh, well,” I say.

  Sun’s going down. There’s a hint of chill in the air. I wish I had a coat. Leaves on the bushes nearby are starting to turn color. Spindly bushes, with fan-shaped leaves and fuzzy dark fruit. There are lots of them around. They seem able to cling to rocks.

  “I talked to Victor earlier,” says Christopher. “He said he didn’t mind leaving early.”

  “Did you call Mom?” I ask.

  He looks embarrassed. “As a matter of fact, I did,” he says. “We had a long talk.” He seems like he wants to say more, but can’t decide how to put it. Then the nurse comes over.

  “You should be elevating that ankle, Christopher,” she says.

  “Okay,” he says.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Hurts,” he says.

  She clucks her tongue. “Oh, dear,” she says. “I’ll take you to see the doctor again.”

  Christopher hobbles away, with one hand on his crutch and the other on the nurse’s arm. He winces and draws his breath in sharply.

  “Oh, you poor thing!” she says.

  My stomach lurches. My mom says that all the time.

  Mike or Mark bounces up to me after supper. Big smile on his face. “Brown hair, brown shoes, we win, you lose!” he calls. “Got to say, I like that. Trixie nearly busted herself. What you doing now?”

  I shrug. “Not much.”

  “Good. Zinta wants to see you in the Beaver cabin.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Huh? Oh, that’s right, you’re staying in the infirmary. This way. I’ll show you.”

  We head down the hill. He’s an energetic guy. He runs ahead of me. The sun is setting right in my eyes. I squint, stumble, and barely regain my balance. Why should it bother me that the nurse reminds me of my mother? What does it mean?

  The boys’ cabin is dim and dank, and smells of wet clothes and dirty feet. There’s room inside for three bunk beds, and a long bench running across the front, under the screened windows. Four people sit along the bench: Zinta, Eric and Derek, and Lex, a chubby guy who’s the best swimmer in camp. Mike or Mark climbs into the middle upper bunk.

  “Do you know skee ball, Alan?” asks Lex right away.

  – His bridle was silver, sings Norbert. His mane it was gold. And the worth of his saddle has never been told.

  Lex chuckles. “That’s Stewball,” he says. “Not skee ball.”

  “I don’t know what skee ball is,” I answer.

  Zinta has her clipboard out. She makes a mark. “Count that as a no,” she says.

  There are, Zinta explains, four main games at casino night. Skee ball – and I know I’m getting ahead of myself again, but I’ll say right now I never do find out how to play – roulette, dice, and poker. Each camper gets ten chips at the start of the night, and the team with more chips at the end wins. The Trailblazers won last year by saving all the chips they won at skee ball and dice and roulette, and giving them to their players at the poker table. Trixie was the big winner – she ended up with all the chips in play.

  “Can you beat her, Alan?” asks Eric. He’s the dark-skinned one. He’s sweating more than the rest of us. “Zinta tells us you say you’re pretty good. Are you?”

  “Eric was in the poker final with me last year,” says Zinta. “To get to the final, you have to clean out your first table.”

  There’s a deck of cards on the bench. I pick it up, fan the cards out and back quickly, do a waterfall shuffle, and then cut the deck one-handed. I don’t drop a single card.

  “Pretty good!” says Derek. Mike or Mark gives a whistle of appreciation from the bunk.

  I deal two hands. Why am I doing this at all? Why bother? Why risk the extra humiliation? I’ve had plenty already today.

  Partly it’s gratitude. I want to help Zinta, to pay her back for helping Victor and me. But it’s pride too. I want to show them I’m good. I’m sick of being the guy who can’t do anything.

  The cards sit on the bench in two piles. Five cards each. “Okay, Eric,” I say. “Let’s play, you and me. Straight poker, no draw. Pretend you have a stack of chips. Would you bet this hand?”

  He picks up his cards, studies them intently. “No.”

  “I bet two pretend chips,” I say.

  He cocks his head. “You didn’t look at your hand.”

  “I don’t have to. I was looking in your eyes. I know you don’t like your hand. So my hand is bound to be better.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I’ll see your pretend two chips, and raise two more.”

  “But, Eric, why would you do that? You’re bluffing, trying to scare me. You want me to think you have good cards. But I know you don’t like them. What’s the point in bluffing if the other guy knows? I see your two chips and raise twenty.”

  His mouth opens. He checks his hand again. “I …”

  “Do you want to put out twenty chips for a hand you don’t like? Twenty chips is a lot. Does it make sense to bet a lot on a hand we both know is lousy? Come on, Eric.”

  “I…” He turns over his hand. “I fold.”

  “Yes. That’s the right thing to do.”

  He smiles. “It is, isn’t it.”

  I sit back. Zinta stares at Eric, then turns to me. “But… but, Alan, you won without even looking at your hand. How did you do that?”

  I wink at her.

  “Hey!” says Lex. “This guy’s good!” He pats Eric o
n the back. “Too bad, Eric. Beat by a guy who didn’t even pick up his cards.” He holds up a hand for me to slap. “Hey, we might win after all. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants for Trixie, if a guy like Alan can beat her.”

  What does he mean by “a guy like Alan”? What’s wrong with being a guy like Alan?

  – Oh, Skeeball was a racehorse, sings Norbert. And I wish he were mine. He never drank water. He always drank–

  The bell from the dining hall rings.

  “Show time,” says Zinta.

  The campers are milling around. Colored lights around the door spell out OMEGA CASINO. Victor pulls me away from the crowd. His TRAILBLAZERS T-shirt is too small for him. “I want to warn you about Trixie.” He looks over his shoulder.

  “What about her?”

  “She really has it in for you, after this afternoon. I told her you played poker, and –”

  “Hello, boys!” Boomer’s chins wiggle. “Are you having fun, Victor? Alan, how’s that hypothermia?”

  I’ve learned my lesson. “I’m feeling a bit low,” I say.

  “That’s the spirit! Enjoy casino night.” She wanders away, slapping backs as she goes.

  “What about Trixie?” I say.

  “Yes, what about me?”

  I stand away from Victor and look up. It’s her, all right. Tall, slim, washed, and changed. Her hair is away from her forehead, pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. She pushes Victor out of the way and stares down at me.

  “What did Victor say about me?”

  She towers over me. I’m glad she’s Zinta’s problem, not mine. I wonder how good a poker player she is. I can’t think of anything to say now. I don’t want to get Victor in trouble.

  – He said he saw bottles of horse liniment in your cabin.

  Victor sputters. “Alan! Listen, uh, Trixie, I did not say that. I …”

  “Would you leave us alone for a second, Victor?” she says. “Maybe pick up your chips and get over to the roulette wheel. I want to talk to Alan about six things.”

  “Huh? Oh, sure.” He smiles nervously, and goes.

  Trixie puts her arm on my shoulders and leads me around the side of the dining hall. We’re out of sight now.

  “You’re a funny guy, Alan,” she says. “Brown hair, brown shoes, ha ha ha. And Victor tells me you’re a good card player. But you won’t win tonight.”

  Her eyes jump around in her head. Her chin sticks out. “That’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about. Here’s five more.” She waggles the fingers of her left hand in front of my face. She clenches them into a fist, and punches me in the nose with it. Then she spins on her heel, and walks away.

  I am in shock. There’s a ringing in my ears, but it’s not the bell from the dining hall.

  – Earthquake! shouts Norbert.

  “Are you okay, Norbert?” I feel my nose. Doesn’t seem to be broken. It hurts, though.

  – Something spilled here in the back room.

  “Blood?”

  – I think it might be cocoa, says Norbert. I was sitting in my easy chair, and now my mug of cocoa is gone. What happened? The lights flickered and I ended up on the carpet.

  “She punched … you,” I say.

  Punched? She punched me? That tall one?

  “Her. Trixie Mintworthy.”

  – Punched me? Like I was a pillow?

  “Uh … yeah.”

  So. It’s war.

  He doesn’t say anything else. I move around to the front of the dining hall.

  Victor comes up to me with his eyes wide. “What happened?” he says.

  “Trixie.” I wipe my nose cautiously on my sleeve. “She’s got a good left,” I say.

  “She’s good at cards too. Did you know she went to Las Vegas for a week, to take lessons from a poker teacher?”

  I swallow. Las Vegas? I’ve never played poker in a room that didn’t have a furnace in it. Why am I doing this again? I do not want to let Zinta down, but I may be out of my depth here.

  “And she’s out to get you, Alan. I’m glad I’m not going to be at your poker table.”

  I wait in line to get my chips. The counselor giving them out has shiny hair and chewed nails. “You’re Alan, right?” he says. “The new kid. Here you go.” He hands over my stack of chips, and writes my name at the bottom of a typed list.

  Four round tables are set up along the far wall of the dining hall. I sit at table one with three other players. There’s a counselor in a green LUMBERJACK T-shirt to act as referee.

  “Draw poker is simple,” he explains. “You get five cards. You bet. You get a chance to improve your hand by discarding the cards you don’t want and drawing new ones. If you don’t like your hand, you fold. If you like it – or if you want to bluff the other guys – you bet some more. The other guys either fold, or bet along. Everyone who calls the last bet shows their hand. Best hand wins. Understand?”

  We nod. “Good luck, everyone,” calls the counselor. “And now, ante up!”

  We all throw chips in the middle of the table. The cards are in front of me. I deal.

  The evening is under way. All I have to do is win. All I have to do is be the best. No pressure. None at all.

  Five cards facedown. I stare at the familiar blue-backed cardboard rectangles. Relax, I tell myself. Pretend you’re in Victor’s basement. I check my cards, keeping them close together. Two tens and some garbage. Not a good hand. I put it down. I never look more than once. The cards won’t change. Anyway, I’m more interested in the other players. The guy on my right drops a card on the table, picks it up, and drops his whole hand. Clumsy. The girl across from me thumbs carefully through her cards, and puts two of them in a special place. I figure she has a nice pair, kings or aces. On my left is a kid wearing mirror shades. I’m not kidding: mirror sunglasses at a poker game! That’s not cool; that’s stupid.

  Nobody bets before the draw. Everyone takes three cards. I don’t look at mine. I watch the others’ faces, especially the girl’s. If she draws another king or ace to make three of a kind…. She’s disappointed. She didn’t improve. Good.

  I check my hand. I didn’t improve either. Still the pair of tens, and that’s all. Oh, well.

  Shades’ turn to bet first. “Nine chips!” he says confidently.

  That’s his whole stake. All he’s got left after the ante. Sounds like he’s got a huge hand. A straight or flush. Maybe better. The girl hasn’t looked up from her cards. She’s a cautious player. She folds. Good. The clumsy guy puts his cards down quickly. Good.

  “Nine chips to you, dealer,” says Shades. “Unless you want to fold too.” He sounds eager. If I don’t call his bet, he wins.

  This is such a gift, it’s hard to keep a straight face. You see, I know Shades has a terrible hand. I can see it reflected in his sunglasses. “I’ll call your bluff,” I say.

  Shades gulps, turns over his cards. King high. No pairs.

  I show my pair of tens. He’s out of the game and I have more than doubled my stake.

  “Hey,” says the cautious girl. “I had a pair of kings. I would have beat you.”

  Would have. “You didn’t bet,” I say. “You have to bet, to win.”

  “Next deal,” says the counselor.

  “How did you know I was bluffing?” Shades asks me.

  “Let’s say that I had a vision,” I tell him.

  We keep playing. Cautious gets a couple of really good hands, and cleans poor Clumsy out. Just two of us now. I bet five chips, and Cautious thinks I’m bluffing. She screws up her courage and throws in ten chips to scare me out. I raise her ten more. She uses her last chips to call with two pair – a pretty good hand. But I’m not bluffing this time. Two pair loses to three of a kind, and I have three sixes. I stand up from the table with forty chips.

  “The poker final starts at eight o’clock,” says the counselor. “You’ve got a half hour.”

  It’s getting pretty raucous over at Trixie’s table. “Ha HA!” she calls, slapping her cards dow
n. “Kings full of aces. Read ’em and weep, Four Eyes!” She grabs a pile of chips. A kid with glasses looks unhappy.

  I check the other tables. At table two, Zinta has a stack of chips in front of her. So do Eric and Derek at table three. Lumberjacks are winning. Maybe I won’t have to do it all myself. “I’ll be outside,” I say to my table’s counselor. “Don’t you want to play dice or skee ball?” he asks.

  “No.”

  The bathroom looks like one of the regular cabins, but the smell is different, even from the outside. And from the inside it’s worse.

  – When are we going to beat her down?

  “Who?” I’m washing my hands. I stare at the bathroom mirror. My hair is sticking up. My checked shirt is rumpled. I wet my hair, but it doesn’t stay down.

  – You know who, Dingwall. And you look a mess. Don’t worry about it. Are we going to beat her down?

  “Trixie? No, of course not. She’s bigger than I am.”

  – So what are we going to do? We can’t let her punch us!

  “We’re going to take her poker chips away. Then the Lumberjacks will win the games, and Zinta will be happy.”

  – I want to beat her down.

  “You mean beat her up.”

  – No I don’t. When I’m finished, I want her DOWN.

  I step out the bathroom door, and stop dead. Christopher’s voice is coming through an open window next door. “I feel so bad!” he says. Not the way a patient normally says this. “I left those boys alone in the woods,” he says.

  “But why?” asks the nurse. “Why did you do that?”

  I want to know the answer too. I run up to the cabin, crawl past a prickly shrub, and peek in the window.

  A storage cabin. Crates of canned goods on shelves. Bare walls, board floor. Harsh overhead light. Christopher limps back and forth underneath the light.

  “Why?” he says. “You want to know why, Bernice? I’ll tell you why. It was the bears.”

  Oh. I almost say it aloud. Time to reconsider, perhaps. Can I forgive him for running from bears? I think so. I think so. After all, I ran from them too.

  “They were after me, Bernice. Following me. Faster and faster. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I should warn the boys. I wanted to … but I didn’t. I dropped the food pack. I dropped everything except the canoe. I couldn’t think of anything except getting away from those bears. I was … scared, that’s why. Plain scared.”