Tumble & Blue

by Cassie Beasley

“And here she is,” he said, smiling his pointed smile. “Fresh as a lily flower and every inch the hero of the story. Hello, Tumble. Blue insisted that we wait for you.”

  Tumble took a single step back. “Is this . . . ?” she said, staring from the golden man to Blue and back again. “Are you . . . ?”

  “At your service,” Munch said, his voice sleek. He glanced up at the moon. “For at least a few more minutes.”

  For the first time, Blue realized that the night was getting brighter. The red was draining slowly from the moon, which had fallen lower in the sky.

  Munch held out his hand so that Tumble could see the needle. The glitter of it reflected in her wide brown eyes.

  She recovered much more quickly than Blue had. “We’re here to ask you to uncurse us,” she said, her voice direct. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Munch.”

  “I don’t mind at all, Tumble,” he said. “Just prick your finger—any one of them will do—against the night’s fate. A drop of blood seals the contract. And it’s done. And more than done.”

  “What does that mean?” Blue asked. It couldn’t be that easy. Munch didn’t seem like the kind of creature who dealt in easy solutions. “‘More than done?’”

  “I’m not able to ‘uncurse’ you any more than I was able to bless Almira. Or Walcott. I’m not a wizard, children, and I’m certainly no angel. I have only one trick, and that is to be here on the red moon night offering this to whomever chooses it.”

  He looked at the needle. The fate.

  “Lovely, isn’t it?” he said. “Every human dream in one tidy little package. Touch it, and the world is yours. Fame, fortune. Fetching features if you care about such things. You’ve both tried so hard to get here, and now, all you have to do is lift a finger one last time, and you’ll never have to try again.”

  Tumble’s eyebrows drew low.

  Blue guessed what she was thinking. “That’s not how it is, though,” he said. “Even for all of my relatives who have talents. I mean, my dad has one of the best ones, but he doesn’t have everything he wants.”

  Tumble nodded. Her mother could fix things, but that didn’t mean her life had been picture perfect wonderful like Munch was describing.

  Munch shook his head. “Such a shame how the power has been misused. You mustn’t take the present state of things as an example. Almira and Walcott were afraid to get their hands dirty. They hadn’t the fortitude to do as they should have. And they didn’t have the foresight to realize they would come to regret their cowardice.

  “They chose to break the needle in two. I warned them, of course, about the consequences. They lost most of the power of it, and what they managed to keep was . . . tainted.”

  There was a pause while Tumble and Blue unraveled the story.

  “Well, Blue and I aren’t going to fight each other to the death, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Tumble said finally.

  “Of course not,” said Munch. “You two are friends. I’m sure proceedings will be much more civilized tonight.”

  Blue blinked. “So . . . are you just going to give it to us? The fate?”

  Munch held it out to him again. “Here it is.”

  The point of the needle was so sharp. Blue imagined that pricking your finger on it would hardly hurt at all. He took a deep breath and reached out with a trembling hand.

  Munch pulled it back. “Of course, as soon as it touches blood it disappears.”

  Blue, his hand still outstretched, stared at him.

  “What?”

  “Into the blood,” Munch said casually. “It’s intravenous. It changes you from the inside out. How else would it spread down through the generations? Oh, your children and grandchildren will thank you for what you’re doing tonight, Blue.”

  Blue looked back at Tumble. Her hair was so wet that it had to be dripping into her eyes, but she was staring at Munch without blinking.

  “But we’re together,” said Blue. “We’re not like our ancestors. We helped each other get here.”

  “That’s right,” Tumble said quickly. “We don’t need some big, life-changing, great fate. We just want to be normal.”

  She looked to Blue for confirmation.

  He nodded. He had to admit that what Munch was talking about—a life where everything went your way, every day, without you having to suffer even a little for it—sounded like a dream. But he could do without that.

  Just as long as he could wake up every morning with the possibility of that victorious feeling he’d experienced tonight.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Munch said, drawling the last word until it was almost a purr. “But deep down, you must both have known that tonight was a race for power. And that’s just not a team sport.”

  Hello again. I suppose you’re wondering.

  Man? Alligator?

  Silly human labels, and besides that, it’s not really your business. Tumble and Blue certainly never found out.

  How I wish you could have seen them. Gaping like I’d snatched a fish from their jaws. It was Montgomery and LaFayette all over again.

  Humans . . . so predictable. Generations pass. Eons. The clothes change. The superstitions shift. You fiddle new baubles and gizmos into existence. But look deeper, and it’s always the same with you.

  I never see anything new.

  Of course Tumble and Blue were friends instead of enemies, but I’ve always known that the line between liking and hating is thin as a reed. One can turn so swiftly into the other.

  And when it did, how could anyone blame them? Tumble and Blue needed what I was offering.

  Not wanted, mind you, not like their ancestors. Almira and Walcott could have changed their lives any number of ways. It was just that spending a few hours in a swamp filled with deadly dangerous creatures was the easiest option.

  Make no mistake, I am the easy option. If you believe otherwise, you are a fool, and I do hope to meet you one red night.

  But Tumble and Blue—they had to stand before me, side by side, knowing that they had found the exit and it was only wide enough for one to pass through. Perhaps, if they had never had that taste of success, it would have been an easy matter.

  If Blue had never known that winning was as good as he’d always suspected it might be. If Tumble hadn’t known the strength and joy of saving herself.

  But I made sure they knew.

  Do you think me cruel?

  It really doesn’t matter, but I’m curious.

  I would argue that I am only what I ever have been. Fair.

  It’s my job to offer a choice, and a choice is what I offer. One free of doubt or misunderstanding. I opened their eyes so that they could make the decision with knowledge of what they would be gaining. Or losing.

  And then I left it up to them.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  CHOICE

  Tumble and Blue stood with their backs to the water’s edge, facing Munch and his needle and his choice.

  Tumble thought he looked as smug as anyone she’d ever seen, and she hated him with a hatred that withered her inside until she felt mean and small and not like herself at all.

  As for Blue, he couldn’t even see Munch’s face. His vision swam. He didn’t know if it was dizziness or tears. He only knew that Tumble deserved to be happy as much as he did.

  More even. All she wanted was to help people.

  But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say what he knew he should. You take it, he thought. Take it and get it over with quick, Tumble.

  He just had to accept losing one more time, so that he could lose every time until he died. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Tumble,” he said, dragging her name out from between his teeth. “You should—”

  “Shut up!” she said, her own voice choked. “You shut your mouth right now!”

  Tumble wanted to scream. She k
new who deserved a great fate, and it wasn’t her.

  Blue was kind and brave, and he only wanted to win so that he could be closer to his father. Tumble had been trying to save people, sure, but not for them. At least not entirely.

  She’d wanted . . . to feel better. To erase all the guilt that kept trying to drown her. And she hadn’t even managed that much. She wondered if Jason’s picture had survived the swim through the swamp in its plastic bag.

  All of those x’s. Were they still waiting for her?

  Am I even a good person deep down? Suddenly, Tumble didn’t know.

  The red was paling. The night had turned a deep pink that reminded Tumble of raw meat. They were almost out of time.

  Munch stood before them as patient as a snake sunning himself on a rock.

  Tumble opened her mouth. Maybe she would never have the chance to make the right decision again without causing herself disaster, but tonight, just this once, she could do it. She would. “Blue, you take—”

  “No,” Blue moaned. “No, I can’t.”

  He reached for her hand.

  “Tumble,” he said earnestly, “if you take it, you might actually do something amazing with it. How many people could you save? You would be more than a hero. You would be a superhero. A real one. That’s . . . that’s not me. Even with the fate, that’s not what I would do. It will be better for everyone if you do it.”

  That’s true, said a little voice inside of Tumble. You could make up for everything. And more. You could help so many people. You could even rescue people like your brother.

  With a good fate running through her veins instead of a bad one, who knew what she could accomplish? Forget the x’s, Tumble Wilson might save the whole world.

  Her free hand lifted toward the needle. Then lowered. She only wished she could be sure that the wet on Blue’s face was swamp water.

  She looked around for someone or something to tell her what was right, and her eyes landed on Howard’s unconscious form.

  He must have seen the moon just like we did, she thought. And he knew it was his only chance to save himself from . . .

  Relief swept through her. Here was a decision she couldn’t avoid. The choice wasn’t hard to make after all.

  “Howard needs it,” she said to Munch. “Way more than either of us. So that you don’t ever, you know, eat him.”

  Beside her, Blue felt the pressure on him drop.

  Yes, of course. He was horrible for not thinking of it himself. He and Tumble could probably survive for ages with their fates, but poor Howard was definitely going to die a terrible death one day. Maybe even tonight.

  Blue stared at Munch’s ice-pick teeth. “Give it to Howard. I agree with Tumble.”

  Munch lifted scaly brows and glanced toward Blue’s cousin. “Such thoughtful humans,” he said, “but I’m afraid the night has taken its toll on dear Howard. He’s not awake.”

  “So?” Tumble said angrily. “Just give him a jab with the fate anyway.”

  “He won’t mind,” Blue added.

  “Being unconscious disqualifies him,” Munch said. “This is about choice, and he can’t make one.”

  “Well, wake him up!” said Blue.

  “You just want to eat him!” Tumble accused.

  Munch was sucking on his teeth and frowning. “I would rather not, to be honest,” he said. “He’s been consuming those dreadful swamp cakes to excess. And I usually prefer a nice fat bass fish, but I will admit that I can be . . . less than discerning when the moon’s power wanes.”

  Blue gagged and slapped his hand over his mouth to hold back anything worse.

  Tumble felt ill herself.

  Munch shrugged one shoulder. “If it eases your mind at all, I imagine he will be much older by the time we cross paths again.”

  Blue’s mind was not eased.

  Munch looked at him. “You needn’t be so alarmed. My other form is quite formidable. I’m sure I can manage the job in a single bite.”

  Blue sat down hard in the muck. He stared at his legs sprawled out in front of him. He wondered how they had given up like that without his permission. His remaining sock looked almost white in the moonlight.

  It was time, and there was only one choice.

  “Tumble,” he said. “Take the fate. Prick your finger, and become a hero. I’ll be fine. You can save Howard and everyone else who needs it.”

  Tumble narrowed her eyes at Munch. “Would that work? If I took the needle, could I save Howard?”

  “Sorry,” said Munch. “His death has been set. And I believe you two have already discovered that you can’t play fate against herself. She doesn’t like it.”

  Tumble braced her feet in the sand.

  “It seems to me,” Munch said, “that Blue is choosing to let you have the power.”

  He glanced at Blue, and Blue nodded.

  “And if you choose to take it, then you can save people, if you wish. Wealth, strength, intelligence, charisma—all yours. What couldn’t you accomplish with such resources at your disposal?”

  Tumble looked down at Blue. He struggled to his feet. If Munch was going to make them do this, he wanted Tumble to know he was with her all the way. “It’s the right thing to do,” he said. “I want you to have it. You’re a good person. You deserve it.”

  Tumble looked into Blue’s eyes, and saw that he meant it. He thought she was a good person, that she could be a hero. Even after everything. He believed it.

  Seeing that belief . . . for the first time in her life, Tumble knew it was true. She could be a hero. She could help.

  Her goal was just one drop of blood away.

  “We’ll be friends no matter what,” she said, reaching out to hold his hand again, “won’t we, Blue?”

  “Even if you’re the most famous person in the whole world,” Blue said, squeezing her fingers tight. “If you still want to be my friend, I’ll be yours.”

  “I’ll always want to be your friend.”

  He smiled. A real smile. His hand was warm in hers.

  Tumble steadied herself with a breath. “Give me that needle.”

  “The choice is made,” Munch said formally. He tipped his head, and passed the fate to her.

  For a few seconds, Tumble marveled at the needle.

  She had to. It was cold and heavy in her hand, and she could feel the power. It buzzed against her fingertips like someone had bottled all the potential in the world into this one small decision.

  Such a tiny, enormous thing.

  And it was hers. She took a deep, deep breath. The choice, as Munch said, had been made.

  Tumble brought her other hand up fast, and felt the needle bite into flesh. Too hard. Munch had said you only needed a prick, and Tumble had delivered something that was more of a stab.

  But the blood welled. The needle dissolved into starlight.

  And Blue was too shocked to cry out from the pain.

  He looked at his hand, still trapped in Tumble’s. The place between his thumb and forefinger, where she’d stabbed him, was pouring blood down both of their clasped hands.

  “Tumble,” he gasped. “What did you do?”

  “My mom always says the choice you’re making right now is the only one that matters.” She let his hand go. “Maximal Star may not be a hero in real life, but I am. And this is my choice.”

  Munch hissed. He was staring at them, one hand raised as if he had wanted to stop Tumble but hadn’t been quick enough. His pupils had contracted until they were nothing but razor-thin lines breaking the gold of his eyes.

  “What happens now?” Blue asked him. “Am I still cursed? The choice . . . I chose for Tumble to have it. But she chose . . .”

  Light flashed in the sky overhead.

  Tumble and Blue looked up just in time to see the moon go white. It righted itself in
an instant, no longer a smile, but a fat full moon.

  When they turned back to Munch, the man was gone, and the tail of a huge golden alligator was disappearing into the palmettos.

  • YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO •

  THE MONTGOMERY FAMILY’S

  GRAND

  REVUE

  A FUN-FILLED FESTIVITY IN HONOR OF OUR BELOVED MATRIARCH

  MYRTLE MONTGOMERY

  Featuring:

  Artwork • butter churning • darts • eating contest (swamp cakes to be provided by Flat’s Restaurant) • fireworks • gerbils • honky-tonk • ice-cube carving • juicing • kickboxing • a memorial musical (inspired by Ma Myrtle herself) • needlepoint • poetry • quilting bee • races (three-legged and relay) • soccer • timpani • ukulele • victuals and waterslide.

  Tumble and Blue didn’t know how far they were from home. Perhaps Munch’s island was days away, or perhaps it was right around some corner that only existed when the alligator wanted it to.

  “Murky Branch is on the western edge of the swamp,” said Tumble.

  Blue shook his head. “I’m not sure which way—”

  She pointed confidently. If they paddled that way for long enough, they would have to make it out eventually.

  They flipped the canoe over to empty it of water, and after a brief search under the trees, Blue found a thick, flat piece of bark that he hoped would work as a paddle.

  “What about the alligators?” he asked.

  Tumble was hunched over Howard, splashing water on his face. “Let’s not go swimming this time.”

  Blue helped her tighten the life jacket straps around Howard’s chest before they heaved him into the canoe. He didn’t budge, not even when they accidentally let his broken nose drag through the mud.

  “It’s . . . a little possible . . . ,” Tumble panted, “that I hit him in the head . . . with a boat paddle.”

  Blue pulled the Maximal Star flashlight off his belt loop and shined it at Howard’s face. “He doesn’t look bruised or anything,” he decided. “Maybe tonight was too much for him. It must have taken a lot for him to come out here, knowing that he might be eaten. And then to be pulled down . . .”