Noses Are Red

by Richard Scrimger

  “Oh, poor you,” says Bernice. She’s over by the shelves, gazing up at him. It creeps me out when she talks like my mom. She even has her intonation.

  “And I thought, if I could draw the bears away from the boys, they’d have a better chance,” he says. “You see, I know what bears can do to people.”

  He stands there under the bare bulb, twisting his hands together. “I hate bears. Do you know how strong bears are? Do you know how sharp their claws are? I was on a canoe trip once, years ago, with my best friend, and a grizzly bear came into our campsite. He … I can’t say any more. It’s too painful.” He hides his face in his hands.

  Wait a minute. Something not quite right here. Drawing the bears away? Like he’s running away for our sake? That doesn’t sound right. He’s too obvious. He wants her sympathy.

  If this conversation were a poker game, I’d call his bluff.

  She believes him. “Oh, there there,” she says, going over to pat his shoulder. “You poor brave man.” She keeps her hand there.

  “You understand! I knew you would. Oh, Bernice!”

  “Oh, Chris!”

  He puts his arms around her and starts kissing her. She lets him. Then she starts kissing him back. He reaches up to turn out the light. I creep away, feeling dirty.

  “It’s a disaster!” Zinta meets me outside the entrance to the dining hall. Her face is screwed up into a knot of worry. She pounds one fist into the palm of her other hand. Sounds like a baseball hitting a catcher’s mitt. Pow pow pow.

  “Huh?”

  “I had a flush! A flush, for heaven’s sake. All diamonds! How did I know he’d have four of a kind? The big fat ape. Get in there, Alan. They’re waiting!”

  She pushes me hard enough to knock me over, almost.

  “Huh?” I say.

  Eric and Derek are inside. They look mad. I wonder who they’re mad at?

  “It’s your fault,” says Eric.

  Oh. I guess they’re mad at me.

  “I did what you told me,” he says. “There were two of us left: me and this pimply Trailblazer kid they call the Calculator. And I bet without looking at my hand.”

  “I never told you to bet –”

  “And he called me. And he had a good hand. And I didn’t. It’s your fault!”

  They all lost. The poker final is me against three Trailblazers. I represent the sole Lumberjack hope for the games. I am Zinta’s chance to hang on to the Master Tripper Scroll. Great.

  “Did Trixie win?” I ask.

  Derek nods his head. “I thought I had her at the end,” he says. “I drew two cards and ended up with two pair. She drew three cards, and ended up with three of a kind. You’d better watch her, Alan. She’s good.”

  “The Calculator is good too,” says Eric. “He’s really smart. He knows all the odds for everything.”

  Campers are still calling out, and laughing, and eating and drinking, and moving around. Fewer and fewer are playing. I guess they’re running out of chips. The roulette wheel spins slowly, slowly. Clack …

  clack………………clack. Sounds like a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

  The microphone booms out: “ALAN DINGWALL, COME TO THE POKER TABLE. THE FINAL IS ABOUT TO START.” Funny to hear your name bouncing around the rafters.

  I’m still trying to believe what I saw earlier. Christopher and the nurse! The thought makes me all creepy inside. I am not in any condition to play poker.

  “Huh?” I say. Zinta is talking to me. “What was that?”

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  “Come on up, Alan!” Boomer is standing on a chair. She waves me forward. Campers turn to stare at me. Those with the green LUMBERJACK shirts are smiling and clapping. Those in the yellow TRAILBLAZER shirts are staring coldly. There’s Victor! He smiles nervously at me, then looks away. Thanks, Victor.

  The referee for the final is a redheaded girl with a ring in her nose. The ring is gold, to match her TRAILBLAZER shirt.

  “Hi, Alan,” says Trixie. She introduces me around the table, as polite as pie, as if she’s never punched me in the nose. Very strange. Like we’re guests at a garden party. Behind me I can feel Zinta breathing heavily. A small pimply guy on my right says hello. He’ll be the Calculator. The fourth guy at the table is a lummox with long dark hair and a gold tooth. “Hey – oh!” he says, and belches loudly. He may be the only person in camp not wearing a team T-shirt. His is a vivid Hawaiian number, with a missing button.

  “Quiet, Dudley!” says Trixie.

  He belches again, and smiles at me. His gold tooth winks.

  I wonder where Dudley has been all day. I’m sure Pd have noticed him.

  I say hello. There’s only one empty chair at the table. I take it, and look around. Come on, Dingwall. Pay attention. There’s nothing you can do about Christopher and the nurse. This is something you can do. Play cards. I try to get my head back in the game.

  I think I like my spot. Pm behind the Calculator. He’ll probably be cautious. Dudley looks like a wild and crazy guy. Pd rather be in front of him. Trixie is right opposite me. I take out my stack of forty chips.

  The counselor with the ring in her nose speaks up. “We’ll still be playing draw poker, no wild cards. Pot limit. Three raises.” She doesn’t explain the rules. This is the final. We know the rules.

  Trixie is shuffling the deck. I find myself thinking about the scene in the storage shed. Do I really feel…

  – Did you come here to sit around or to play cards! shouts Norbert. Deal!

  Calculator stares at me and doesn’t say anything. Dudley chuckles. Trixie drops the deck so that it spills all over the table. Dudley laughs loudly. Trixie glares at me.

  The first few hands pass in a daze. I don’t see any really good cards. I don’t bet. I’m still processing the information. Christopher and the nurse. What does it mean to me? To Mom? I don’t like him kissing her, but I don’t like him kissing anyone else when he should be with her. Do I tell her? Do I tell anyone? I wish I could stop the world for a bit, and take some time to pull myself together.

  Calculator deals. I pick up my cards automatically. All black. Like my thoughts. I put the hand facedown on the table.

  Everyone looks at me. Must be my turn to bet. “Check,” I say.

  “Five!” That’s Dudley. He has a glutton’s approach to poker: more is better. He shovels poker chips into the pot the way Victor shovels potato chips into his mouth.

  “Your five, and five more,” says Trixie. Her lips are thin with strain.

  Calculator is taking his time. He blinks rapidly, checking his hand once more.

  “All right. Ten chips to me. I’m in.”

  Silence. “Hey, Alan,” says Dudley. He’s fingering his pile of chips.

  “Huh?” Oh, no! I’ve forgotten my cards. I pick up the hand.

  – We’re in, says Norbert. Your ten and ten more!

  I don’t move. What has Norbert done to me? That’s half my stack of chips!

  “Come on, Alan,” says the counselor. “Put the chips in.”

  “But I… I didn’t….”

  They’re all staring at me. I don’t know how to explain about Norbert. I find myself pushing twenty chips into the middle.

  “Oh, boy,” I mutter. Just what I need right now is Norbert feeling feisty.

  – Let’s play poker! That’s fifteen to you, big guy!

  Dudley stares at me. “You didn’t bet right away, and now you’re raising the bet,” he says. “Check and raise? Smells fishy. I don’t like it. I’m out.”

  That’s the first time he hasn’t bet.

  I lean back in my chair. “Where did you learn to play cards, Norbert?” I whisper.

  – We have poker on Jupiter. Everyone learns at school Poker and hopscotch.

  “Quiet,” says Trixie. “I’m trying to think.”

  – In or out isn’t too hard, girlie. Flip a coin.

  “Hey,” says the counselor.

  “Sorry,” I say.

 
Trixie pushes a pile of chips into the middle.

  – Should be ten chips there, says Norbert.

  “Why, you little…. There are ten chips.”

  She spreads them out to show. There are ten. Calculator hesitates, then he counts out his chips too. Three of us are in so far. Now the all-important draw.

  “How many cards?” Calculator asks me. I still haven’t checked my hand. Before I can look, Norbert answers.

  – No cards.

  Calculator pauses a second. Dudley’s out, so it’s Trixie’s turn next. She glares at me, keeps three cards and takes two. Can she have three of a kind? Maybe. Probably.

  Calculator himself takes three cards. He must be holding a pair of aces. Nothing else would be worth twenty chips to him.

  A ring of people is forming around the table, watching the game. No one says much, but the attention is a bit disturbing. “Keep back, please,” calls the counselor. “Give the players room.”

  My bet first. I still don’t know what I have.

  – Might as well bet ten more, says Norbert. Either you can beat a flush or you can’t.

  I’m glad I’m not looking at my hand because I might have missed Trixie’s eyes widen when Norbert says the word “flush.” She can’t beat it. Three of a kind is a good hand, but a flush is better.

  Well, well.

  Dudley is staring at me and shaking his head. “You trying to make us mad?” he says. “Talking all the time?”

  “No,” I say.

  – Yes, says Norbert.

  “Which is it?’

  – Angry people have bad judgment. They think about punching someone in the nose, when the best thing to do would be to smile and fold their cards. Isn’t that true, Trixie?

  She’s staring at me. Her left hand is clenched into a fist. Her clean, tanned knuckles stand out like pecans. Her jaw works.

  “Very … funny,” she says. “I’m not mad. I don’t need to chase the pot. I can act rationally. I … fold.”

  Calculator folds too. Well, well, well! I’ve won a good pot without showing my cards. I have more chips than anyone else. Zinta is standing off to one side. She claps her hands loudly, and calls, “Come on, Lumberjacks!” Trixie shoots her a glance of pure hatred, and grabs my cards.

  “Let’s see this flush, this … what?” She stares. “WHAT IS THIS? I can’t BELIEVE it! You were BLUFFING!!” She throws the cards onto the table for everyone to see.

  “Was I?” I say.

  – No, says Norbert.

  But the cards don’t lie. There they are, four clubs and a spade. All black, like I remember. But not a flush. I guess I was bluffing, after all.

  – Pretty good, eh? says Norbert. Ace high.

  “Um … that’s not a flush,” I whisper.

  – They’re all the same color. On Jupiter, that’s a good hand.

  “Well, here, a flush is all the same suit.”

  – Suit? What do you mean, “suit”? Like all plaid? All pinstripes? That’s a flush?

  “Forget it, Norbert.”

  Dudley shakes his head. Zinta laughs. Trixie is so mad she picks up my cards again, and rips them in half. We have to get a new deck.

  My favorite book about cards offers this piece of wisdom. There is, says the book, a sucker at every card table. Look around the table. If you can’t spot the sucker, get up and go. It’s you.

  I expect Trixie to go ballistic now – to make a run at me every chance she gets. But ripping my cards seems to have calmed her down. The counselor finds another deck. Trixie plays quietly, with concentration. She seems to be biding her time. Dudley keeps betting. You might think it’s hard to tell what he’s got, since he bets high with a bad hand and with a good one, but in fact he’s easy to read. When he’s bluffing, he puts his cards down on the table with a slap. When he has a good hand, he lays it down more carefully. My card book calls this a tell. The action tells me what he has.

  Trixie’s deal. As usual I watch the other players as they pick up their hands. Calculator’s eyes widen slightly. May be a good hand. Dudley chuckles to himself. Trixie looks blank.

  I check my cards quickly. A good hand, for once. Trip fours. Three of a kind, even three fours, is good enough to win most pots. And who knows – I might improve when I draw.

  Calculator bets four chips. I call his bet. I have a good enough hand to raise, but there’s no point in advertising yet. Dudley slaps down his cards. “Well, well! See your four, and raise five,” he says.

  Across the table from me, Trixie folds. Calculator stays, and so do I. He draws one card. Must have started with two pair. Probably high pairs. I hem and haw, and then draw two cards. The hemming and hawing are to make Dudley think I don’t like my hand. He makes a big deal about drawing only one card, then slaps the hand down on the table. I pick up my two cards. I’m hoping to pick up a pair. With my three fours that would give me a full house – a really really good hand. Mind you, three of a kind will beat Dudley’s bluff and Calculator’s two pair.

  Final round of betting. Calculator slides out two chips. I decide to call instead of raising. This might backfire. If Dudley backs down, I won’t have won much. But I have confidence in Dudley. And he doesn’t let me down. He yawns, stretching his arms over his head. His Hawaiian shirt rides up over his round brown belly. He scratches himself. He seems to fill the table. “Time to get the kids off the streets,” he says, and bets the pot limit.

  It’s a big bet. Thirty-one chips. Dudley’s only got a couple left. He might as well quit if he doesn’t win. He pulls down his shirt.

  Calculator stares past me. He’s thinking. I can almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. “You’re bluffing, Dudley,” he says.

  Dudley laughs. He doesn’t look nervous.

  “I call,” says Calculator. He counts the chips carefully.

  I feel, rather than see, Dudley sag. Yup, his “tell” gave him away. He was bluffing. If I had any doubt before, I don’t now.

  Calculator notices the sag too. He looks pleased with himself.

  My bet. Time to step in. “I’ll see the thirty-one, and raise twenty more.”

  Trixie groans. Calculator gasps. He’s forgotten about me.

  Dudley throws in his hand. “I’m done,” he says with a laugh. “I quit. I’ll take a couple of turns at roulette.”

  Calculator is staring at me. I wink at him.

  – Is this as good a hand as the pinstripe suit? asks Norbert. On Jupiter, fours are not good cards.

  “Shhh?” I say.

  Dudley gets to his feet. “I been meaning to tell you, Alan. That squeaky voice of yours is really –”

  “Distracting?” I answer for him. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s kind of a long story.”

  “I was going to say ‘weird,’” says Dudley. “See you!” He lumbers away from the table.

  Calculator is talking to Trixie. “Come on!” she says. “You can’t fold.”

  “I don’t think he’s bluffing.”

  “Didn’t you hear about the pinstripe suit? Remember the flush? He’s bluffing. He fooled Dudley.”

  “Yes, but twenty chips is all I have left. I’ll be out.”

  “You’ll win. You’ll be fine. He’s got nothing! He’s worthless!”

  She’s staring at me.

  – Boy, the number of times Nerissa has said that to me, says Norbert. I feel like I’m back home on Jupiter. Mind you, Nerissa doesn’t look like a horse.

  Trixie chokes. “A horse!”

  “Shhh, Norbert.”

  “Are you saying I look like a horse?”

  “No,” I say.

  She grabs the Calculator by his TRAILBLAZER T-shirt, and pulls him towards her. “I’ll lend you some chips,” she says.

  “Hey!” I say in a loud voice. “Can she do that? Can she lend him chips?”

  The crowd around our table is bigger than I remember. They’re all paying attention. I turn around to look for Zinta. She’s got her back to me, talking to some other Lumberjacks. I notice the ros
e tattoo on the back of her leg.

  The referee nods. “I don’t see why not.”

  “But then it’s like I’m playing against both of them.”

  “Well, you are,” she says. “You’re a Lumberjack, and they’re Trailblazers.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say.

  Trixie and Calculator are talking in low voices. “Do it,” she says.

  The entire dining hall has gone quiet. No one is playing skee ball or roulette. The circle around us has grown. And it has moved closer. And the expressions on people’s faces have got uglier. Green shirts are jostling against yellow shirts. Owls against Skunks, Chipmunks against Weasels, Hummingbirds against Foxes. I feel like I’m part of some primitive food chain.

  Calculator swallows. “See your twenty,” he says, “and raise … a hundred.”

  “What?” I say.

  Trixie is reaching behind her, into the crowd, grabbing handfuls of chips and pushing them across the table. Calculator is counting them. Stack after stack. The table is filling up.

  “Three raise limit,” calls the referee. “That’s the last raise. Alan, you must fold or call.”

  “But… I haven’t got a hundred chips.”

  Referee says nothing.

  One hand can change the whole game, says my card book. Luck, skill, power – they all flow together towards the winner. One hand can change that flow for the whole game. And it looks like this is the one hand. I look across the table. I can’t see Trixie or the Calculator as a sucker. Does that mean I should get up and go?

  “Yes, you do.” Zinta’s voice in my ear.

  “What?”

  “You do have a hundred chips.”

  Zinta’s hand on my shoulder. I feel her fingers digging in. Ouch. “I’ve been collecting from the Lumberjacks here. There’s over a hundred chips in this bag.” She holds out a plastic bag, solemnly, formally, like it’s some sort of sacred trust. I am the hope for the Lumberjacks. I take the bag, as seriously as I can. Actually, I’m trying to resist an urge to laugh. This is casino night at a summer camp in Ontario. We’re not talking about the fate of the galaxy here. Luke, I am your father sounds okay. Luke, I am your baby-sitter doesn’t have the same ring to it. Oh, and Luke, you’re not supposed to play video games until you take out the garbage.