by B. C. Tweedt
The man handling the snake had said something to him, but it hadn’t registered. Sydney and Sam each held part of the giant snake in extended arms and were watching him, expecting an answer, but there seemed to be no sound except for the imaginary alarm bells ringing in his own ears.
“Nolan! Just stick out your arms. It’ll be fine!” Sydney urged.
“Yeah, dude. If these cats can do it, you can, too.”
Greyson eyed the college-aged snake handler with a black “Snakes Alive” polo shirt, which obviously made him a professional. First of all, don’t call people cats. That’s an insult. Second, since when was teaching kids peer pressure a good thing? And third…why did it have to be a snake? How about petting a polar bear, or poking a wolverine with a stick? Anything but a snake.
“Come on, Nolan!” Sam encouraged, still holding on to the snake’s middle with both arms.
Greyson sneered at him and kept his arms at his side. The snake handler held the beast near its head and began to press it closer to him. Greyson leaned back, grimacing. “Stop! I don’t want to!” he finally shouted.
The handler retreated from Greyson’s intensity. “Whoa. Okay lil’ man. You’re missing out!”
Taking a deep breath, Greyson could see the disappointment cross Sydney’s face. But as quick as it had come, it had vanished into happiness as she smiled at Sam struggling to hold the weight of the slithering thing. His blue hat was turned sideways, putting his own spin on it.
Way to go, loser! First dancing and now snake-handling. It isn’t fair that Sam happens to enjoy the two activities that I can’t do.
But can I really not do them? Or am I just being a coward? There aren’t many words worse than that. I can’t be a coward.
Suddenly a thought came to him – one he kicked himself for not thinking of earlier – and he sided up to Sam and the snake.
He whispered in Sam’s ear. “Dare me to hold the snake.”
Sam turned to him. “What?”
“Just do it!”
“Okay, okay. I dare you to touch the snake?”
“You’re on!” Greyson extended his arms, grit his teeth, and closed his eyes. “Snake me!”
“You sure lil’ man?”
“Of course not! Frickin’ do it!”
He felt the impact of the snake’s scales, but he couldn’t look. The image would be forever scarred into his brain if he did.
“Yeah, Greys – Nolan!” Sydney shouted. “You’re doing it!”
Oh, I know.
“Way to go lil’ man!” the handler exclaimed. “He seems to like you.”
Greyson hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but he could hear its tongue darting in and out of its jaws like it was licking its lips before a succulent meal. “What is he doing?”
“He’s going to give you a hug.”
He felt it’s cold, scaly body rubbing against his neck, its hissing right in his ear. “A hug? You mean he’s going to wrap around me? Make it stop!”
The handler laughed. One more laugh, dude. I dare you. “No worries lil’ man. He’s just sizing you up. He just ate, so he’s not super hungry anyway.”
For some reason, he opened his eyes. Luckily the snake’s head was now behind him, but he met eyes with Sam and Sydney. Their eyes were wide and lips wavering between a smile and a frown. They didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned.
He was about to panic. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the skipped breath, the wash of cold blood through his veins. Don’t panic!
And then its head came around the other side of his neck.
In a flash, the snake was off of him and he stood in the corner of the small room, surrounded on all sides with enclosed glass displays of snakes. He was pretty sure he had thrown the hulk of a snake at the handler. Somehow he had had the strength to do it. The handler had been shocked, but was now laughing again. Sydney, Sam, and even Agent Murray joined in.
He debated pulling out the slingshot and putting a ball-bearing in the snake’s brain, but common sense stopped him short. Instead, he backed as far as he could away from the snake and the laughter, breathing in deep gasps.
“Alright lil’ man, this one may be too big for you. Turn around and you can choose one more your size.”
He turned around and glared at the disgusting, writhing bodies of dozens of multi-colored slithering demons. They seemed especially active now that he was close. Maybe there was something in his blood they could smell. Maybe it was fear.
“Pick one out and I’ll let you hold that one instead.”
Greyson sneered at the snakes. Yeah, that would look good. Sam holding a gigantic snake while I held a tiny one. ‘Mine’s bigger than yours’, he’d say with his stupid smile and crooked hat. And Sydney would laugh.
“I’m going to get some fresh air.”
They watched him leave, unable to move because of the weight of the snake.
Outside in the sun again, he took in a deep gulp of the fresh Iowa air that smelled of both living animals and fried ones. He found a spot of grass next to a large tree and dragged his back along the bark as he sat, frustrated.
His phone buzzed in his fanny pack and he pulled it out. It was a text message from the twins saying that the pack of kids had left and still weren’t back. He texted ‘ok’ back and put the phone away.
“Who was that?” Kip asked from behind him.
He jolted. “Oh, hey. It was the twins. I might meet up with them in a bit.”
“You mean ‘we’.”
“Uh…right. If you’re okay with it.”
“Maybe.”
They shared a look of regret as if there was a wall between them. Greyson wanted to tell him what the twins were doing, but something stopped him. He was upset with Kip and Kip was upset with him. Telling him would only make it worse, and it would take him away from Sydney and Sam.
“Look,” Kip started, sitting down next to him with a groan. “I’m only looking out for you. And if I thought this fair wasn’t safe, I’d bring you home, okay?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“And last night, I yelled at you pretty hard.”
“Yeah.”
“But it was for your good. You can’t keep thinking you’re above all this. The world’s more dangerous now than it was a few months ago. More crazy, unpredictable. Even adults are scrambling to understand it.”
“Got it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You want me to not do anything. To stay out of it.”
“That’s right. Just like your dad kept you close to home. To protect you. I didn’t even want to bring you here, you know?”
Greyson looked at him. He was looking straight ahead, as if he was debating something in his mind. “Really?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t my decision. But it doesn’t matter. You just promise me you will drop all this daring stuff okay? Think about kid things. Have fun while you can until the world doesn’t let you anymore.”
Greyson gulped. There was nothing he could tell him anymore. He just had to drop it. “Okay.”
Kip let a few moments of silence take away the awkwardness of the last conversation. “So, what are you out here for? Had enough of the game already?”
“The game?”
Looking past the crowds passing by Snakes Alive, Kip nodded at the door. “The game you’re playing. You versus Sam. Winner takes all.”
Greyson picked at the grass and threw the blades into the wind. “I think I’m losing.”
“Nah,” Kip said, crinkling his nose. “If she had to choose right now between you two, who would she choose?”
He had to think, but only for a few seconds. Though she did have a lot of fun with Sam, he hadn’t been her friend but for a few hours altogether. And they hadn’t gone through what Greyson and she had.
“Me, I think.”
“Then you’re winning.”
“For now.”
Kip turned to him. “Is that how a winner should speak? Complain about how you’ve let the c
ompetition score a few points? Moan about your inevitable defeat?”
Greyson rolled his eyes. “Noooo.”
“Then speak like a winner. What would a winner say? Are you going to win?”
“Sure.”
“That,” Kip said, pointing at him with a smirk, “was pathetic. Where’s your confidence?”
“Back in that room, being eaten.”
Kip laughed. “Ah. He got you in there, huh?”
“Majorly.”
“But she’d still choose you. So, how can you win the next one?”
Greyson blew out a big sigh, trying to show his growing frustration with the conversation. “Why do I have to even play the game? It’s not like she should be some trophy or something. Girls aren’t groceries you can just buy.”
Kip took a moment to try to understand. “Right. You’re a smart kid. A good kid. Not many boys stick up for women like that.”
He nodded, still playing with the grass.
“But girls want you to want them. They want you to pursue them, to fight for them. They want you to be willing to die for them. So I think calling this thing a game is actually a weak metaphor. Maybe it’s a war.”
The crowd noise buzzed and murmured around them as they sat, playing with the grass and scanning the people. Greyson was thinking. A war? Between me and Sam? They definitely had their differences, but overall he was a nice kid. He hadn’t threatened him, lied, cheated, or done anything to start a fight. He’d even asked Greyson permission to dance with her. Could I see him as an enemy? Would that be right?
“But Sam’s a good kid, too,” he whispered almost to himself.
The breeze picked up as the door to Snakes Alive opened up. Sam held the door for Sydney and Greyson noticed. Kip leaned in to whisper to Greyson. “Then this war will last a long time. Unless you end it while you’re on top.” He helped him up and whispered again. “Know the saying, ‘All’s fair in love and war’?”
Greyson nodded and Kip winked.
“Then it’s all fair game.”
----------------------
Ten minutes later, Jarryd had decided to finally try reading the paper he held in front of him. It was a special State Fair edition of the Des Moines Times.
“Hey, bro. Look at this! There are four different presidential candidates at the fair today.”
“Really?” Nick’s face squinched in thought. If Jarryd was reading it correctly, which was no guarantee, it would mean that the fair could be a likely target for anyone wanting to mess up the American political system.
“Yeah. They’re saying it’s a record.”
The realization hit Nick quickly. Anyone wanting to disrupt the United States would want to screw up the election process. And there wasn’t much of a better way to do that than to kill the candidates all at once.
“I think they’re going to attack today,” Nick said solemnly.
“Who? The candidates?”
“No, Jarryd. The Plurbs! Think about it. Four presidential candidates at the same place, suspicious activity, and the security is in on it! Why wouldn’t they?”
Jarryd peeked over the top of his newspaper and clenched his chin. “You might be right for once lil’ bro. But we can’t be sure.”
“Right. But we might need Kip’s help here, like Greyson said.”
Jarryd whipped out his phone and typed out the message.
-----------------------
Greyson felt the buzz of his phone, but Kip was right next to him, watching the gladiator fight play out in front of them. Two circular plastic podiums rose from the center of the inflatable stage where two gladiators were given large jousting sticks with stuffed pads on both ends. The last gladiator standing on the podium won. There were no prizes, just pride.
The giant inflatable stage had caught Greyson’s eye and he had suggested they try it. Watching Sam’s face flinch at the idea had buoyed his hopes for a battle he could win. Perhaps it was time they face off on turf where Greyson felt comfortable and where Sam would pee his tight pants. This would be a battle of strength, and he was confident.
“See, it won’t hurt, Sawyer,” Greyson said with a smile as two other opponents whacked at each other’s helmets.
“I’m not afraid of getting hurt,” Sam defended. “I just don’t want to hurt anybody.”
Sydney snickered and Greyson eyed Kip and Agent Murray behind them.
“So, want to take me on?” Greyson asked. “It’ll be fun!”
Sam glanced at Agent Murray, searching for some sort of reassurance. Agent Murray shrugged.
“How about we each fight Sydney?” Sam suggested as an alternative.
Greyson and Sydney shared a look.
“What? You’re afraid of hurting me, but not Sydney?”
Sam smiled. “That’s about right. I think she’d dominate me.”
Is he trying to out-humble me?
He cleared his throat. “Well, I agree with you there, but I’ll dominate you both.”
Sydney folded her arms and took a defiant stance. “We’ll see about that, tough guy!”
Kip suddenly appeared with two padded helmets. He handed them to Greyson and Sam. “Put these on. You two are up first.”
Good work, Kip.
Sam held his helmet for a moment, about to hand it off to Sydney, but he couldn’t say no to Kip’s demanding stare. Kip watched them put on the helmets and then ushered them up onto the bouncy stage where they were given the two jousting sticks.
Greyson confidently bounced up onto the podium and adjusted his grip on the stick. He began thinking through the possibilities. He could jab at Sam’s middle or his face, he could try to sweep him off his feet, or he could pummel him with big swings from the side. If Sam could manage a swing at him, he could block it or even grab it, pulling him off his podium.
Sam tried to step on the podium, but slipped the first time. The second time was a success, but the stick was heavy for him. If he could even swing it, the force would be so little that it would just bounce off the sturdier Greyson. He looked to the side of the stage where Sydney bit her lip in anticipation, eyeing them both.
“Woohoo!” she shouted with nervous eyes. “You guys look beast! Have fun!”
The referee checked both of their helmets and explained the rules. “No jumping on the other’s podium, no holding the stick like a baseball bat, and no holding on to your podium. First to hit the floor loses. Best of three matches.”
Greyson narrowed his eyes at Sam. Sam glared back. He’d been forced into this fight, but he’d give it his all. He was quick and smart. And the underdog. If he could frustrate Greyson’s temper, maybe he’d make a mistake.
“Gladiators ready?”
Greyson bent his knees and grasped the handle tighter. He had to make this decisive. This was war.
“Fight!”
Chapter 13
It took five seconds. A jab to his face disoriented him, a right hook into his knees knocked him off balance, and a tall left strike into his chest from above slammed his body into his own podium and toppled it to the bouncy stage below.
The cheers from the crowd immediately went to a shocked silence.
It had been perfect. Greyson had won decisively. He raised his jousting stick in victory and looked to Sydney.
But she was watching Sam, who was slow in getting up. He was holding his back where he had hit the podium before falling to the floor, and the referee was helping him up as he tried to regain balance on the bouncy ground. His helmet was askew across his face and his stick was at his feet. He’d been completely dismantled.
For a moment, he almost felt sorry for him.
But with renewed determination, Sam straightened his helmet, rubbed at his back, and grabbed his stick. After taking a deep breath, he bounced up to the podium. Both exchanged fierce looks.
“That was a good one, Nolan,” Sam said, straight-faced.
“Thanks, Sawyer. Ready for another?” Greyson smirked, shifting back and forth with pent-up energ
y.
“Not really,” he laughed awkwardly.
Seeing Sam’s resilience, Greyson had been worried for a moment, but Sam’s answer reassured him. He had the upper hand. Sam was weak. This was the moment he could take advantage of. “Then let’s make an agreement,” he whispered. “You leave us alone after today, and I’ll let you win.”
Sam smiled, his face smooshed inside the tight helmet and chinstrap. “You gave me permission, bud.”
He knows exactly what I’m getting at.
“For one dance. And you got it. Now she’s mine.”
“That’s not what she says.”
“Gladiators ready?” The referee raised his hand in the air. Neither of them acknowledged him.
“It’s what she wants,” Greyson said.
“Oh yeah? Have you asked her what she wants?”
Greyson shirked. Despite all his uncertainty, all his worry about what she felt, he’d never asked her.
“Ask her. She wants friends.” Sam gripped his weapon firmly. “And I’m gonna be one of them.”
“Fight!”
Still stunned by his realization, Greyson’s first strike was delayed, giving Sam the time to form a strategy. With one great blow, Greyson swung from the right, straight at Sam’s helmet, but it found nothing but air. Sam had ducked all the way to his knees.
Greyson had expected resistance from the blow to Sam, but when there was none, his body went with the blow, reeling to the left. He was on one foot, flailing his stick, but it was of no use. He was going to fall.
But at the last moment he jabbed his stick into the inflatable floor, propping himself up. Teetering from the podium, he pushed again and again at the floor, trying to propel himself back to the platform.
Suddenly his stick was struck out from underneath him and he face-planted into the bouncy floor. Sam had acted quickly, smacking Greyson’s stick with his own.
Sam let out a whoop from his platform and the crowd cheered. It was tied one to one.
Greyson hit the bouncy stage in a rage and almost swore. He couldn’t take the humiliation. Scrambling to his feet, he bounced to the podium and took his stance. “Gladiator ready!”
Shocked, Sam took his stance as well, looking defeated already. “She’s looking for friends, Greyson.”
