Dust Storm: Chapters 20-24

Bunger Hill Dining Hall, 8:21 AM, Monday

Chapter 20

The Invader

“We ain’t gettin’ the best looks from these kids, man.” Quincy says as we walk into the mess hall.

“I get you guys were winnin’ but what did you guys do?” Quincy walks closer to us. Quincy was a wimp, but he got mad, quick. Like, lightning quick. He’s like a drop of kerosene on a fire.

“I don’t see Leroy anywhere…” Jack’s voice trails off. Leroy busts through the door.

“Now who the fuck glued me to the GODDAMN seat in the bus?!”

Jack’s eyes pop out, and he covers his hand with his mouth, stopping himself from laughing.

“Was it one of you Troop 15, fuckers?! Huh?!” Leroy points to us.

“Oh, no Leroy. We would never do that, most of our scouts aren’t the smartest.”

I nudge Jorge, who’s messing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“Huh?” he grunts.

“See, most aren’t smart. We’d never do anything like that, you saw Muddy yesterday, he was a good sport, even though he lost.”

“Well, you are a buncha losers, you couldn’t do anything like that.”

He walks off to go sit at his troop’s table; most of them are staring us down. Vin’s spaced out. He’s staring out the window watching the sun rise. I see the round, orange ball slowly lift itself into the sky. It’s calming, an amalgamation of orange, yellow, blue and pink paint the sky. He sighs and pulls out his Polaroid. He takes a few photos and softly smiles.

“Something botherin’ you, Vin?” I ask.

He looks at me, and quietly says,

“No, today’s just… starting off… detrimental.”

I have no idea what detrimental means, but I can infer what it does.

Bad.

“Troop 5! Please come up to get your meals!” a voice shouts on the intercom. They get up and line up for food.

“Come on, man. I needta get my food and bounce, I gotta get to lifesaving, like right after this.” My heel repeatedly taps the smooth floor.

“Is this a good time to talk about Leroy?” Connor breaks the silence.

Jack explodes, “You shoulda seen it, man! We were just gluing the floor, and then we saw the fatass slumped in a seat. So we just sprayed almost the entire can on him. It was the funniest shit, dawg.”

“Oh ho ho! That was you? I had a feelin’ it was one of you guys, but I wasn’t sure.” Jorge says as he slugs Jack’s arm.

“You son of a bitch, Jack. Where’d you even find glue?” Sean asks as he chugs a water glass.

“Well… I usually bring some with me for emergencies, but I forgot. So I took some from a shed, they had like four cans of that shit. I put it back at like midnight. Nobody saw anything.”

Jack knew how to pick locks, steal, and hustle, really damn well. He also runs on little sleep, but his brain is always working at its max.

“Troop 15! Please come up and get your meals!” The intercom blasts.

“Finally! I needta dine ‘n dash outta this joint.” I jump up from my chair and speed walk to the serving counter. I grab a tray and get a small serving of eggs and sausage.

I rush back to our table and start to eat.

“Brian. Slow down. You’re not trying to break a world record.” Vincent says.

“Maybe I’m just tryna eat fast so I don’t miss lifesaving, Sensei.” I snap back.

I finish and slam down my utensils. I rush over to the trash can and turn my tray and utensils in to be washed. I grab my pack and sling it over my shoulder.

“See you losers later.”

I walk out of the mess hall, and the sun hits my skin. I breathe in but I don’t have time to soak in the sun. I walk across the hill the mess hall is on. I see the pool, it’s not far, I just wanted to get there early to change into my swim clothes.

I walk down the hill and whistle random notes.

Liz enters my mind.

“Brian! Take a break, you should skip class. You’re caught up on Lifesaving, so there’s no need to attend.”

I speak aloud, “Liz, I’m going regardless, maybe I’ll finish the badge early.”

“No, no. You don’t needta. ‘s not important right now. What’s important is you getting some rest.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

I stop in my tracks. I think for a moment, “Could this be really that bad? I mean, I am caught up, maybe I should.”

I turn around and walk back to camp. The soles of my shoes scream as I walk up the hill.

I reach camp and grab my fishing rod from the trailer. I look around, no adults. Most of ‘em are still at the dining hall. I walk through camp and see someone.

A leader, one from another troop.

I look at the uniform, it’s decorated with knot awards. They climb up his tan shirt. His face is plump and red, he wears a green BSA cap, with a branding on it. I can’t make it out, it might be from Philmont, but he’s too far away. He’s rummaging through the adult’s tents, he’s looking for something. He enters Bronson’s tent. He takes out his footlocker and tries to unlock it. I slowly take out my flip phone out of my back pocket. I open my camera, and I shakily take pictures from a far. It feels like I’m a wildlife photographer taking pictures of some beast in the jungle. I take a rock, about the size of an apple, and I chuck it at him. The rock flies across camp, and it clocks him in the head.

“Oooh, shit. That musta fucking hurt.”

I walk over to him, his head looks like Jack’s leg from yesterday. Gorey and bloody.

I wrap his head in gauze and leave him, for someone else to find.

I’ve got bigger fish to fry today.

The Pier, 9:13 AM, Monday

Chapter 21

Snatched

I’m fishing. I’m also skipping class. I stand on the wooden pier, rod over the water. The water’s still, calm, dead. Fish weren’t biting today, despite it being in the morning and it’s so warm out. I breathe in, I smell algae, dirt, and worms. Bugs buzz in the air, dragonflies swooping about. Over the pier, a big fish swims past my rod. Its scales reflect the bright sun. I leave him be, I didn’t come out to catch, I came out to unwind. To relax, to just… take a break. Just what Liz wanted. I reel in my line and cast out again. The line soars across the water and plops into the lake. The bobber floats above the water, and then it drops. My rod shakes about. I grab it and start to reel in. The fish jerks back and forth.

“Goddamn, this guy’s a beast.” I say under my breath.

I keep reeling in, and I see it, it’s not a fish. It’s a snapping turtle, a big one. I decide to keep reeling this guy in. He’s against the pier and he climbs up it. This hunk of a creature is climbing up to come and end me. He jumps at me and I grab him by his shell. His tail tries to whip me but I hold him out. He seems to weigh a thousand pounds.

“Ugh, this bastard is heavy.”

I set him on the pier bench and just look at him, he’s just sitting, looks like his aggression died down. I pull out my phone and take a selfie with it. This guy’s the size of my torso.

“Now what?”

It probably would’ve looked dumb from a far, just a teenager and a snapping turtle just staring at each other. It was awkward, almost. I looked around, the pier was on the other side of camp, near the dam. I look out and see the sailboats going out on the lake.

The turtle starts to walk towards me. I walk back, but then I stop. I don’t know why I stopped. But I did.

The turtle comes closer, and closer. He stops in front of my feet and just looks up. I stare down at him. I pick out some worms from my box and give them to him. He munches on them and then he just stays. I pick him up and start walking to Cooking. It’s dumb, never in my life thought I would be carrying a snapping turtle around with me like a pet.

I put him under my shoulder,

“Worms, I think today’s gonna be good.”

Jorge runs up to me, out of breath.

“They took our plans, man! They found what Vin had written down. All his strategies and plans. It’s all over, man!”

“Wait, Vin wrote shit down?!”

“Yeah, man! They took his journal! Straight up swiped it! Snatched it! D’ya think it was Leroy?”

I don’t need to think, because I know.

“There was a guy in camp, going through Bronson’s shit, it was him. I conked him with a rock, he musta gotten up an’ stolen Vin’s notes.”

“Why the- why didn’t you tell anyone?!”

“I dunno.”

“Oh, okay. Nice turtle by the way.” Jorge points to Worms.

“Oh, yeah. I caught him over by the pier.” I show him to Jorge,

“He’s calmed down, he was a little hostile once I caught him.”

Jorge touches his shell, and Worms just rests in my arms.

“Aight, let’s go find that adult who stole Vin’s shit.” Jorge and I jog down the trail. We see 457’s campsite from a distance. It’s blocked by some trees, but we can see people over there. We hop over the creek and Jorge slips on a rock.

“Ah, shit!”

I reach for him but someone gets to him first.

Vincent.

“Damn, Vin. Where the hell did ya come from?”

“I was in the area.” He lifts Jorge up.

“I’m gonna get those guys. I swear, they’re taking this too seriously.”

“Hey, Vin. I know who did it. I point at the campsite and there he is.

The snatcher.

“Brian, what did I tell you about messing with sea life?” Vin points to Worms.

“No, no. This is lake life. Not sea. And he’s cool, man. Don’t worry. His name’s Worms ‘cause he likes ‘em.”

I sound like a child. Vin pets Worms, and the turtle just kinda chills in my arms.

“Alright, Soggs. You do you.” Vin waves us on. We look at the campsite. The leader that was in our campsite is there, sitting down at their pavilion, writing.

“There he is. That’s the guy I clocked in the head, he’s still got the gauze ‘round his head that I put on ‘im.” I point to him, he’s happy, he’s writing away.

“I’ve got an idea, why don’t we sneak around the bus, go up behind him, and leave Worms behind him. Nature’s attacks are inevitable, so it’s not like he could blame anyone. All we have to do is hide behind the tents and make our way out.” Vin starts to sneak across the gravel road. We follow close behind. We crouch against the bus and look around the corner. His back is facing us. He’s writing quickly.

“Give me Worms, Soggs.” Vincent puts his arms out.

I hand him Worms, and Vincent’s arms don’t drop.

“This guy’s pretty heavy. He has to be at least thirty pounds.” Vin lifts him up and down.

“Alright, go plant him.” Jorge urges Vin.

“Give me a minute, Knuckles.”

Vin creeps around the corner of the bus and slowly walks over to the pavilion. He sets Worms on the bench right next to the snatcher. Vin’s holding his breath, and the snatcher coughs.

“Ugh, somethin’s in my throat.” He grabs a water bottle and Vin crouches under him. We urge him to get out. He holds up a finger.

“AAAAGHH! There’s a damn turtle nexta me!!”

Worms chomps on the snatcher's leg, and Vin bolts out of there. He slips past him and comes behind the bus with Jorge and I.

“Where’s the plans?” I ask.

Vin pulls out his notebook from his pocket.

“I didn’t want to leave without a diversion. Otherwise, he might have seen me.”

We walk away quietly and start to look at Vin’s plans. He has pages worth of moves, tactics, and practice drills. It’s like he’s some genius.

He is a genius.

Paul Gregor Nature Lodge, 10:24 AM, Monday

Chapter 22

Losers

“Let’s just have a normal class session, I don’t want no emergencies or problems to deal with. This might be the first time I’m sayin’ this, but let’s just learn about birds.”

I say to myself as I walk into the nature lodge. The room’s filled with nerds, geeks, and dorks. I’m probably the biggest guy there. I set my pack down on the floor and I pull out the merit badge book. Everyone's looking at me, even the instructor’s giving me a look.

“What? What’d I do?” I shrug.

A kid across the room points at me,

“Y-you’re Soggy. T-the Cook. You are a legend here now. Word has spread how you and your friends had the courage to take on L-Leroy Stark. You are seen as a wonder here at Bunger Hill.”

“Okay.” I look at the instructor, who is maybe just a couple years older than me, and say.

“Can we start?”

And so we do.

These guys are invested with the idea of birds, I really only signed up, ‘cause I lost a dare. Connor bet me I couldn’t stuff three donuts in my mouth at the last campout. I only could get two in. So my punishment is learning about birds with nerds all week. I look through my book, and it’s just birds upon birds. Every single page. I’d read the entire bible rather than read this.

“S-soggy?” The instructor stutters.

“Huh?”

“What bird is this?” He points to a small stuffed bird.

“Oh, that’s a hummingbird.” I point out the obvious.

“Yes, but what kind?” The instructor sighs.

“A red and orange one.”

The geeks chuckle. I look around proud of myself for cracking a joke. The instructor tries to speak, but no words come out.

“What species, sir?”

I look at it closer and I see a poster to my left. It’s decorated with the birds of Oregon. I glance over and I see the small bird’s name.

Rufous Hummingbird.

“Oh, that’s a Rufous hummingbird.”

I go sit back down and continue looking at the poster.

“V-very good, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir, I ain’t your dad. I prefer my nicknames, really.” I swat the air. “Don’t get your tongue twisted tryin’ ta talk to me.”

We continue identifying birds and it feels like it just keeps going on, and on. I was s’posed to study up on Oregon’s birds last night, but yesterday was a mess. To be honest, even if yesterday wasn’t as shitty as it was, I still wouldn't've studied. I’m slumped over on the table. I’m awake, but I don’t want to be. I want to drift off. I want to sleep. I want to rest. I want this class to be over. I look at my watch.

10:37

It feels like I’ve been here for years. Everyone starts to get up and leave.

“Come on, Soggy! We’re going to the Bird Tree!”

“Hell is a bird tree?”

The goof explains. “It’s a tree here at camp that birds come to often. It’s a great way to see the native birds of Oregon!”

“Okay, let’s go look at a bird ‘er somethin’.”

I grab my water bottle and a pen and walk out with the rest of the geeks. I chug the water and follow the instructor.

“For those who don’t know, the bird tree is over by the swimming pool. It is truly a wonder once you get a good look at it.”

We walk up the hill and back down to see the tree. I break off from the group to take a few pictures and I see someone. A younger scout, running up to me.

It’s Frankie, a first year. A nice kid. The kid knows a lot about different culture’s foods.

His eyes are watery and his face is pink. He wraps his arms around my waist and he buries his face into my chest.

“Frankie! What the hell happened to ya? Yer face is pinker than, than…than uh…” My mind goes dirty. Too dirty for an eleven year old. Way too dirty to possibly break Frankie’s innocent, pure, mind.

“Pinker than w-what?” He says shakily.

“Nevermind. What’s important is what happened to you, who did this?”

I get on one knee and put my hand on his shoulder. Tears run down his face, he’s not sad, he’s scared. His chubby face is red hot, but his presence feels cold, dead, as if something terrible has happened. A breeze goes through the air, it gives me chills. The ones that make you feel like it’s all over, like something slipped away, that something’s gone.

“What happened, Frankie?”

“One of th-the b-big kids thr-threatened m-me with a knife. H-he wanted t-to know a-about what y-you and your fr-friends were d-doin’. I t-told ‘em e-e-everything I knew. P-please don’t be m-mad. Th-they said they w-were g-gonna k-k-kill me.”

…

Bastards, fuckwads, dipshits, goddamn sons of bitches. What a bunch of absolute shitheads. I want them gone, I want them ridded of this place, I want them dead. I want them to burn in the fiery pits of hell.

I breathe out.

“Frankie, who did this?”

“It w-was a b-big kid. He w-was wearing d-dirty clothes an’ he had a b-beard.”

He stutters as he speaks.

Leroy.

“Okay, Frankie. I’ll take you to the admin building, okay? We’ll sort this whole thing out.”

“O-okay. Th-thank you, Brian.”

I hold Frankie’s hand and we walk to the admin building. His round hand clenches mine. I open the door and ring the bell.

Ding!

“I’m a-coming!”

It’s Mr. Shellbuhrn, the guy who welcomed us the first day.

“What can I do for.. Hey! You're that Soggy kid! Everyone here’s talkin’ aboutcha. You’re quite the celebrity ‘round here.”

He puts out his hand and I shake it.

“Listen, sir. We’ve got a problem, and it concerns Leroy, Leroy Stark.”

“He tried to kill me, sir! He did, I swear!” Frankie shouts.

Shellbuhrn puts his hand over his mouth, and then he drops it. He grumbles under his breath,

“Not in my camp, not on my watch, not him again.”

He grabs a phone on the counter behind him. He looks at a paper on the wall. It’s a list of phone numbers. He runs his finger down the list, and he stops and bangs his fist on the wall. Frankie jumps.

“Hello, this is Nelson Shellbuhrn calling from Bunger Hill Reservation. Yes, this is about Leroy. Please come here immediately, your son has done something.”

He slams the phone down and rubs his face with his hairy hand.

“Sir? If ya don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask any questions? Ya know, how’d you know Frankie wasn’t lyin’?”

Mr. Shellbuhrn sighs.

“When kids get hurt, they don’t lie. I’ve run this camp for years, I know how they act. Some act like angels. Some act like losers.“

Bunger Hill Dining Hall, 12:28 PM, Monday

Chapter 23

Comeback

“Hey, where’s Leroy? He ain’t sittin’ at 457’s table. An’ all of ‘em look depressed ‘er somethin’.” Connor says as we walk to our table.

“So…” I sit down and tap my hands on the table.

“Turns out the big behemoth held Frankie here at knife point.”

I stick my thumb out and point it at Frankie.

“We told Mr. Shellbuhrn, and he took it very well. He delta with it, I think he’s already outta this joint.”

“Ya think he’s in another joint right now.” Connor cracks. He elbows Vincent, who snaps out of a daze.

“Hm? What did I miss?”

“You ain’t missed nothin’, man. But, hey it’s good that his big ass is gone. Now we ain’t gotta worry ‘bout ‘im so goddamn much.” Jorge says.

We all nod our heads and agree. We take a look at 457, all of them are talking amongst themselves, they seem to be planning. They’re pointing at a piece of paper on the table, and they discuss and write down things I can’t make out. I rest my cheek on my arm. I stare out the window. The lake reflects the bright sun, the stray light going everywhere.

“Troop 15! Come get yer chow!” The speaker blasts.

“Aight, guys. Let’s get grub. It’s gonna be a long day, today.”

I say as I shove my hands off my knees. I walk over to the lunch line. I smell fresh bread, ham, and potatoes. I grab a tray and ask for a turkey and swiss sandwich with a baked potato. I go to the condiments table to get a few pieces of bacon bits and a packet of butter. I walk back to my seat and start to chow down.

I finish my food, turn my tray in and head out the hall. I breathe in, and I breathe out. I walk down the hill to head to Exploration. I’ve gotta go to “uncharted territory” today. It’s just gonna be me exploring the outskirts of camp.

It’s gonna be a long day.

Time feels like it’s running past me. It’s now 4:34 in the afternoon. I feel dazed. All of my classes whizzed by. A game starts soon, so I start to head down to The Pit. Most of the guys are down there, practicing with a few randoms.

“I hope you guys take down 457, them guys are annoying.”

A kid says to Quincy as they both watch the game.

“Now, that Leroy’s outta here, you guys might be able to win.”

“You don’t want your troop to win?”

“Oh no, no, no. Other troops have tried to beat them for decades, but no one’s got the grit and determination you guys have. Especially that kid, I thinks his name is Vincent, but everyone’s calling him Sensei, Teacher, Master, Tutor. Anything to do with being a whiz at gaga ball.”

I walk up to them both and set my pack down.

“Really? You guys just want someone else to win?”

“Oh, everyone does. If one troop can beat 457, we’ll be celebrating for days. You heard what Shellbuhrn said, ‘no one’s beat them for over three decades.’ That’s a crazy streak to crack, an’ I hope you guys crack it.”

Quincy smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Vincent climbs out of The Pit, and finishes off his water bottle. He climbs back in and waves for us to get in as well. We jump over the wooden walls and start a game.

“Ga-Ga-Ball!!”

The ball bounces at the wall, hurling towards me. I duck down, my knees touching the dusty floor. The ball flies across The Pit, kids hitting it from every which way. I pound the ball at the wall, it bounces back at me.

“Hey, who the hell is that?”

“Everyone stop! Stop hittin’ the ball!”

I stop. The dust swarms The Pit.

“Nobody move! You’re making the dust build up!” I hear Vin shout.

The dust clears off and in the middle of The Pit, a boy stands.

The Pit is silent, only the chirping of the birds is heard.

My mouth drops.

“Knab?”

I walk up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. I turn him around and it is him.

“It’s good to see you, Brian.”

He hugs me tight and I hug him back. Everyone starts to pile on Knab. I lift him on my shoulders.

“Knab has come back from the dead! Knab’s the ghost!”

“Ghost! Ghost! Ghost!”

Knab’s face turns from pale white to a warm tan. A smile from ear to ear. He throws his arms up and whoops.

“Wooooooo! Ghost’s here to stay, baby!”

We keep chanting his name. It’s like something out of a movie, we’re chanting and shouting and throwing up our arms. I look around and I see the Clipboard walk up to The Pit.

“Hell are you boys chantin’ fer?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, Clipboard. We’s just happy is all.” Jorge grunts.

We’re so happy that Knab’s back. Let’s just see what Ghost can do.

And the game starts.

The Pit, 5:02 PM Monday

Chapter 24

Ghosted

BOOMP!

The Pit is a swarm. Kids are running around The Pit, scattering for the ball. Knab and Vin are in The Pit. Vin’s out for blood, Ghost’s just trying to keep up. Ghost gets the ball, and he comes down to swipe at it, and he misses.

“Ha! You missed it!”

A boy shouts from behind him. Ghost swipes at the ball and misses again. We go crazy from the sidelines.

“Oh, shit! He’s juking ‘em out!”

We grab each other and shout.

Ghost swipes at the ball again, his arm swings forward, and his arm comes back down. His hand hits the ball, causing it to fly behind him. His arm’s like a pendulum. It was insane.

“Oh, goddamn! He just got ghosted!”

We jump up and down. The kid who got out was the one who mocked Ghost. Ghost keeps ghosting. Vin adjusts to Ghost’s techniques by getting the ball to him. Ghost keeps juking out other players. Then he gets out.

BOOMP!

“Damn, I was doin’ good for a minute.” Ghost says as he climbs out of The Pit.

Vincent goes all out. He’s hitting every kid that comes into his field of view. Some kids are letting him get them out. Vincent doesn’t realize it, but we do. The kids who get out come up to us and cheer on Vin.

“What the hell are you guys, doin’? Vin isn’t in yer troop, so why’re you cheerin’ ‘im on?” Connor says.

“Oh, we just want someone else to win besides 457, no one’s been able to beat them assholes since 1973. They’ve won thirty tournaments, it's mad.”

“You guys just want to see ‘em fall, right?” Quincy clarifies.

“Hell yeah, we don’t wanna see them bastards any longer.”

Vin shouts, “Raaah! That’s a win, boys.”

Vin hops over the dirty wall, his tan hands covered in light brown dust, brightening his hands. He rubs his hands together and claps a few times. He looks at the scout we were talking to.

“Hey, I thank you.”

“For what?”

“You want our troop to win. You’ve encouraged us to keep going, you want us to be the victors, and not yourself. So I thank you.”

“Huh?” The scout grunts.

Vin rubs his dirty hand all over his face in disappointment.

“Thanks for letting me win.”

“Ohh. Yeah, man. That’s nothin’ we just want those 457 dicks gone.”

Another game starts soon, I wonder if one of the younger scouts wants to be a part of it. You just got to find them first. First years are curious and the scatter about camp. But if you find one, you find the others, they usually stick together. They’re curious, but they’re not stupid. Only sometimes.

“Hey, Vin. You wanna go find some first years to teach. We don’t wanna get Bronson mad. You know how he gets about the seniors being dicks, even if we aren’t really doin’ shit.”

“Yeah, let’s go find them quickly. Next game starts soon. Quincy, Connor. Stay here and play if we don’t get back in time.”

Connor fixes his posture, standing upright. He salutes quickly as a joke.

“Yessir.”

“At ease, Joker.”

Vin and I walk around camp, looking for Tim and Jerry. We scan camp, the only guy there is Jack, who’s chopping up wood in the ax yard for tonight’s fire.

“Hey, Mud Flaps. You seen Tim or Jerry recently?”

“Nah, I think they might be up at Cook Area. Ya know, the little area where all the young scouts learn skills and not badges. It’s like the Marshall Area back at the Gold Mine.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Vin says as he waves and pulls me along to keep looking for the scouts. We take a shortcut through the woods. We jump over fallen trees and push smiley trees out of our way. We make it back to the gravel road. We start walking up the hill.

“There it is, there’s the big sign.”

I point to a wooden sign on a post that reads “Cook Area for Young Scouts” Below in parentheses, it shows CAYS. We look around and we see a few scouts tying knots, a few building a fire, and some are just sitting around a table.

“Hey, there they are. They’re sittin’ on that picnic table.”

Jerry and Tim are just talking and looking at their books.

“Hey, Elwell, Alanare. You guys up for a game of gaga?”

“Oh, we ain’t very good at it, we’s only played a few times.” Elwell squeaks.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. We’re just trying to include you in what we’re doing.”

Vincent reassures them.

A whistle blows.

“Five minutes until the next game! Five minutes!”

“Damn, that’s Clipboard yellin’. You guys up fer it or not?”

“Uh, uh…” Elwell stutters.

“Yeah, we’re up for it! Just give us what we needta do before we get in.” Tim pipes up.

“Alright, come on. You heard the guy. We have five minutes.” Vin starts to walk back to where we came in.

“Hey! Why’re you goin’ thataway? Shortcut here’s so much faster.” Elwell points to an opening that shows the amphitheater on the other side. Vin stops in his tracks.

“Good thinking, Elwell.”

We run through the opening and we land on the gravel path. Vin and I start to run, but we stop to see the two falling behind. Vin picks up Tim and puts him on his shoulders. He gestures for me to do the same with Elwell.

“Come on, we don't have time.”

I throw Elwell on my shoulders and we dash down the gravel road. We cross the wooden bridge and we can see The Pit.

“Hey Connor! Quince! We got ‘em!”

They wave and motion us to hurry up. We run as fast as we can across the field. We reach The Pit and drop them off.

“Okay, don’t let the ball hit your leg, hit the ball with your hand, don’t be stupid, and just try your best. It’s not the end of the world if you lose.”

“Okay, thanks Vincent.” Tim says as we help him and Elwell into The Pit.

The ball flies up and it’s just another round.

“Ga-Ga-Ball!”