by Mike Thayer
However much I didn’t want to be the guy to bring down the Shoebox Game, Zak’s plan was probably the best one I had right now. But there was no way I could know what the ripple effect would be of nuking the Shoebox Game. With that many kids getting in trouble, there would be a few that would confess about the Brown Bag Game. Destroying this one chance could destroy all future chances as well.
It was a last resort. One I didn’t want to take. I had to figure out a way to ditch Jaxson and make this work. My stomach tied itself in a knot. Even if I did manage to make it to the Shoebox Game, I never got the chance for a dry run. I would be flying blind on the sticky day. I had no idea how and if the shadow teams would band together, whether I would make a critical error, whether I had discovered all the cheaters, or whether Noah had some other trick up his sleeve. Getting to see how the Shoebox Game played out on the discard day had been crucial to my plan. “I don’t want to give up, but I can’t see that look on Freddie’s face again. Not on a sticky day.” I pulled out some more china and tossed it on the rocks.
“Can I tell you something else, Danny?” Zak said, yawning.
“I didn’t wake you up to stare at you.”
Zak twisted his mouth and gave a little sigh. “I think you should forget the scorched-earth strategy.”
I was about to fling out another plate but stopped. “You just suggested it like two seconds ago.”
“I know,” Zak said. “I pointed it out as an option, but I don’t think it’s the solution. Consider fully, act decisively. It’s a judo thing.”
“Okay, Sensei Zak. How do I not fail Freddie, then?”
“This might sound a little weird, but I don’t think this is really about Freddie.”
“What are you talking about?” I said, tossing the plate. “Of course it is.”
Zak slowly shook his head. “Look, this whole Shoebox thing started as a way for you to bring some balance to your double day, remember? Pull your yin and yang together. I think that describes Discard and Sticky Danny pretty well. Freddie became part of it, and she’s awesome and I want her to win as much as anybody, but you haven’t been doing this just for her. It’s okay to admit you’re doing this for you, because honestly … you need it. Here, look at this.”
Zak turned his phone around and pointed it at a wooden-framed quote. Japanese symbols were at the top with the English translation below.
“‘Vision without action is a daydream, and action without vision is a nightmare,’” I said, reading the words.
“Remind you of anyone?”
“Maybe.” It was pretty clear. Discard Danny acted without much thought, and Sticky Danny thought without much action. “Okay, so what do I do?”
“You gotta pull together your yin and yang.”
I knew what he meant; I just couldn’t see how it was possible. I also knew that it needed to happen. Nuking the Shoebox Game would be like avoiding Jaxson at the escape room all over again, not just because it would let Freddie down, but because it would let me down.
“Pull together my yin and my yang, huh?” I said, fishing around in my bag for the last few pieces of tableware. “I knew there was a reason I chose the only half-Japanese kid in town to be part of the Double Day Duo.”
Zak rolled his eyes. “Yin and yang are Chinese, Danny. You chose me because I’m awesome and I’ll answer your phone calls at midnight.”
“Or on the toilet.”
“I would never.”
“You would.” I nodded knowingly. I checked the time: 11:59 p.m. I wasn’t ready, but it didn’t matter. Sticky Danny and Discard Danny had to come together on this. Somehow I had to have both vision and action and find the guts to do everything without a practice run. Before I threw out the last piece of fine china, all went black.
CHAPTER 28
YAY, BIKE RIDE
(Sticky Saturday—Oct. 16th)
Two days in a row of my Dad’s Saturday breakfasts were usually a double-day treat I would never pass up, but I hardly touched my pancakes, bacon, and eggs. After breakfast, I made sure to hide all the cereal at the top of the pantry and joined my dad in the car. I was used to having to do a bit of acting on a sticky day, but it took all my best moves to keep my dad from noticing the dread that gnawed at me like a hundred zombie rats. I’d normally use a sticky-day football game to make some amazing prediction of the score or a certain play. I’d only guess it directly on the nose every once in a while. Sometimes I’d even say the right score but guess the wrong team. I didn’t want to come off as a psychic or anything, but I did have fun with it. Not today, though. Today I was too distracted.
I sent Zak a text letting him know the situation, but that I knew he couldn’t do anything to help me. The football game ended the same way it did on the discard day, and we rushed home to the same chaotic situation minus the cereal, which actually saved me about five minutes of vacuuming.
“Wow, nice work, son,” my dad said, looking over the clean room.
This was it. The moment had arrived so fast, and I still didn’t know what to do. “Thanks, Dad. Hey, would it be possible for you to give me a ride to Riverside Park? There are some friends from school meeting up there, and I don’t want to miss out. I can get a ride home.”
“How about you take your bike? It’d do you good to get some exercise, yeah? Plus I need to keep one eye on the twins and one eye on your mother.”
“Or both eyes on the twins,” I added.
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Crud. I was a dead man. My time was up, and I didn’t have a plan. Defeated, I took out a business card I’d grabbed from the Pocatello Escape Room and looked at the contact number. I knew I needed to stand up to Jaxson, to meld my yin and yang, but there was no way to do that without getting my face beat in, missing the Shoebox Game, and becoming the Dud Spud of the decade. My only out was scorched earth, and I figured calling Noah’s dad would probably do the trick.
I took a deep breath and dialed *67 for a caller ID block before punching in the rest of the numbers. I glanced over my shoulder and walked out to the garage, where my dad wouldn’t hear me.
“If it wasn’t for my friggin’ little sisters,” I mumbled while dialing. “The whole world revolves around them. They could get away with murder, all just because they’re sooooo cute.”
“Pocatello Escape Room, this is Gary.”
I froze. This was it. There’d be no turning back once I made this move. Sticky Danny was in the driver’s seat, and his foot was on the gas. I sighed, glancing around the garage at the clutter of unorganized tools, camping equipment, and empty moving boxes.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
I turned and stared at the twins’ bike trailer, which currently sat on top of the lawn mower. The bike trailer. That was it! I hung up the phone and sprinted inside to find my dad.
“Dad,” I said, trying not to sound more excited than I should. “You know what? You’ve been working hard, and mom is sick. How about I pop the twins in the trailer and take them on a bike ride?”
My dad couldn’t have looked more shocked if I had asked him if I could drive the minivan to the park … but it was a good kind of shocked. “Well, I don’t know, son. That’s awfully kind of you. They do love bike rides. Do you think you can pull them?”
“Dad, no problem.” I stared expectantly at my dad. There was no way my mom would let me take the twins by myself, but my dad was way laid-back with this kind of thing. He always talked about how when he was a kid, he’d leave the doors unlocked and stuff.
“Okay, but don’t be gone too long, yeah?”
I thanked my dad and rushed upstairs. “Hey, girls, you want to go on a bike ride?”
“Bike ride?” they said in unison, popping up from under a mountain of stuffed animals.
“Yay, bike ride!” I said enthusiastically, and clapped my hands.
I ran to the kitchen and filled up two sippy cups with apple juice, checked the twins’ diapers, and shuffled them out to the gara
ge. They tottered over to the trailer, which was essentially a small tent on wheels at the end of a pole, and climbed in. I fastened the trailer to the back of my bike and buckled the twins in their seats before zipping the tent portion shut.
“Let’s go, you little stinkers,” I said, pushing off and heading down the driveway. “Let’s hope your adorable powers overrule Jaxson’s jerk strength.”
“Dorble powers!” the twins yelled as I pedaled furiously down the street.
My legs burned as I tried to keep good time. I’d saved a few minutes by not having to clean up cereal but had spent those minutes getting the twins in the trailer. I needed to hustle. At the corner of Tyhee Road and Rio Vista, I spotted Jaxson’s two friends about twenty yards back. I brought my bike to a stop and made a show of going around to check on the twins, unzipping the door and talking very loudly.
“Hello, Alice. Hello, Sarah. Are you being good girls?”
“Yes, Danny,” Sarah said. “We be da best girls. Bike wide!”
I leaned down and gave them each a hug before zipping them back up and continuing down the road to the park. I glanced over my shoulder a few times but saw no trace of the two goons. A few minutes later and I came up on the spot where Jaxson had beaten me to a pulp. I slowed down as I turned the corner and braced myself for Jaxson. I hit my brakes and came to a stop. There he was in the middle of the trail, just like on the discard day.
“Hey, Jaxson, what’s up?” I said, trying and failing to steady my voice. As if my heart wasn’t beating hard enough from the ride, it now it felt like it was about to erupt from my chest and flop onto the gravel.
He hesitated as he noticed my sisters in the trailer. “What are you doing?” I could tell he wanted to add on an insult like turd or doofus, but the way he said the phrase was enough of a threat.
“Oh—you know—out for a ride,” I stammered as I glanced back at my sisters before forcing myself to meet his eyes. It was the same look of restrained anger I’d seen at the escape room. I got an idea. “Trying to be a good older brother and all. You know how it is.”
“Danny’s da best!” one of my sisters yelled from the trailer. “Bike wide!”
“You know how demanding siblings can be,” I said, forcing a laugh.
Jaxson narrowed his eyes, then slowly pedaled his bike next to mine. He spoke low so my sisters couldn’t hear. “You’re a dead man. Turd stain.”
I must have been holding my breath, because by the time he turned the corner, I felt like I was going to faint. I’d done it. Sticky Danny had gotten past Jaxson.
“Let’s go to the park!”
“The park,” I said, turning the word over in my head. I checked my phone. “The Shoebox Game. I can still make it.”
I pushed off and pedaled like I was in the last leg of the Tour de France. The girls squealed with excitement every time I went over a bump. I pulled through the trees and saw a group of what had to be a hundred kids scattered around the small clearing, either idly chatting or with their faces buried in their phones for some last-minute practice. No doubt some were talking about the message I had sent earlier in the day. With only fifty-four confirmed players, the remainder of the crowd must have been there for support. Freddie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw me.
“I was getting nervous,” she said, glancing down at the time on her phone.
“What—that I wouldn’t show?” I laughed, removing my helmet and wiping the sweat from my forehead. “Nothing in the world could have stopped me from making this.”
“Glad to hear it,” she said. From the look on her face I could tell that she was focused. “You ready to roll?”
“Yeah, I just gotta go pay first.”
I walked over to the central picnic table, where about a dozen kids gathered around Noah. The shoebox, spray-painted gold, sat in the middle of the table.
“Hey, no little kids allowed!” Noah said, looking over my shoulder at my sisters, who pressed their faces against the mesh siding of the trailer.
“Stuff it,” I said, pulling out my money and jamming it in the shoebox. “It’s on like Donkey Kong!”
“We want to play!” one of my sisters screamed.
“One moment,” I said, holding up a finger and running back to my bike.
“Okay, girls, you need to sit here and be quiet for a few minutes while I play my game.” I bent down and looked at my sisters through the mesh siding. I might as well have asked a fish to stay dry, but it was worth a shot.
“We want to play a game,” Alice said, pointing to my phone.
“Yeah, we want to pway a game,” Sarah echoed. “We want the game.”
I glanced back and saw a scrawny kid with long black hair stand on top of the picnic table and cup his hands around his mouth. “The Shoebox Game starts in five minutes!”
I had to think of something to keep these girls busy.
“Do you girls want ice cream?”
“Ice cream!” they yelled, throwing their little arms up.
“Okay, we can get ice cream, but you have to be good while I play.”
“We don’t want ice kweam,” Sarah said, her chubby features scrunching.
I grunted a sigh. “If you girls weren’t so darned cute…” I trailed off, getting an idea. I looked around at the crowd. I needed someone I knew who looked like they were bored.
“Hey, Amy!” I called out, walking up to one of the girls I’d done the mind-reading trick to the very first day at school. She was standing by herself with no phone, the most desperate of all positions to be in. “Sorry to bother you, but I had to watch my sisters and really wanted to play in the game today. Do you think you could play with them for a little while?”
“Did you read my mind again, or could you just tell from my face that I was already bored?”
“Uh, both?”
She followed me over to my sisters, who were just beginning to finagle the zipper open on their trailer.
“Hey, twinsies, I brought a friend.” I unzipped the door the rest of the way and then turned back to Amy. “I owe you big-time.”
“I require an IOU of one free mind-reading trick of my choosing.”
I held out my hand, and we shook on it. I would have agreed to just about anything at that moment. “Deal.”
I got my phone out, fired up the game, and joined the private Shoebox Game lobby. All the training, all the planning, all the strategizing, it was all behind me now. I had made it. I felt like just getting here was challenging enough, but now we had to take down Noah. This was a sticky day weeks in the making. It would be a sticky day to remember. “Now, it’s on like Donkey Kong!”
CHAPTER 29
STICKY SBG
(Sticky Saturday—Oct. 16th)
The same scrawny kid with the long black hair got back up on the picnic table with a small clipboard in one hand. “Registration is now closed. There are fifty-four participants for this year’s fall event. The Shoebox Game is Champions Royale, solo variant with three lives each. All items, monsters, and weapons are unlocked and available on the map. Best of luck and may the best player win!”
I sat against the trunk of a thick oak tree and jostled my earbuds into place. Butterflies spun around my gut like rocks in a clothes dryer. This was supposed to be my second time going through this. There were too many unknowns. Would the shadow teams band against Noah and his cheaters, and for how long? In the end, there could be only one winner, and even the non-cheaters would eventually have to turn on each other. Luckily, I had three lives to figure it all out, so that at least gave me a fighting chance.
You ready for this, Texcalibur?
A text from Freddie flashed across my screen. She sat about twenty feet away from me to avoid suspicion that we were working together. I looked in her direction, and we locked eyes. She was ready. I tried my best to reflect that same confidence, but I didn’t feel it. I gave a shallow nod and wiped my sweaty hands on my pants, cracked my knuckles, and watched the countdown timer on my screen ti
ck away: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
“And so it begins!” the in-game Champions Royale announcer bellowed.
My character dropped from the sky. I floated over to the far south of the map near a formation of rocks called Ogre’s Boulders. Noah had sent me a message the day before saying that he planned to drop on Lonely Island, which was directly west of Ogre’s Boulders. We were supposed to meet near the bridge by the edge of Wishing Well Woods as soon as we geared up.
Two other players floated in to my right and landed about a hundred yards to the northeast at Buried Boneyard, a giant overturned skeleton of an ancient dragon. I checked all the usual spots under loose rocks, in hidden crevices, and on top of the tall boulders and came away with a ten-pack of throwing stars, some light armor, a blue-strength short sword, and the Staff of Vipers, which would allow me to command an army of snakes at Bandit’s Bog. Not a bad start. I scrambled to the top of the boulders and peered at the other two players grabbing loot at the Boneyard. They definitely weren’t in any hurry to attack each other, which was good, because one of them was FreddieCougar and the other one was BuckinBlueBronco, a non-cheater from my second-period class. They were also both wearing white sashes on their belts. The item was part of the default skin, so every player had one, but no one ever wore it. Today, unbeknownst to Noah and his crew, it was the marker of someone who had accepted my invitation to the Grand Shadow Team.
I selected the emote to have my character wave and then point to the west. They waved back in reply, and I hopped down and ran to my meeting point with Noah. There were plenty of ways I could play this, yet another reason to want a discard-day practice run. I could sabotage Noah right off the bat, kill a couple of people for him to gain his trust before stabbing him in the back, or wait until the very end. They all had their pros and cons, but Champions Royale, like many other battle royale games, was all about momentum. You wanted to take an early lead, gather the good gear, build a bigger lead, and ride it to the end. A slow start was usually a quick end.
