by Tasha Black
Georgia snorted.
As soon as the whistle went off Magnum nailed Tiffany Lewis’s arm to the table so hard Posey seriously worried he might have broken something. The big woman’s face was red but she shrugged and shook his hand afterward.
At the next table, a guy who looked like the love child of an affair between a vending machine and grizzly bear easily slammed the mailman’s hand to the table.
The next round had Magnum soundly trouncing a guy from the plumber’s union, while the monster from Heavy Metal housed the head librarian of the Stargazer Public Library.
“Oh, how exciting, we are at the final round,” Mrs. Jeffords exclaimed.
“Magnum, a word,” Georgia hissed.
Magnum frowned but stepped over.
“You need to make the match more convincing. If you win too easily, they’ll think something’s up,” Georgia whispered.
Magnum nodded once and headed back to the table where the beast awaited.
The whistle went off and for a moment Posey almost wondered whether Magnum was actually stronger than the mountain of a man he faced.
Then Magnum’s hand pressed his opponent’s hand down toward the table as if there were no resistance at all.
Georgia cleared her throat loudly.
When Magnum looked up she shook her head subtly.
Magnum allowed his opponent to push his hand back up. A bit farther, then a little more.
Georgia coughed again and shook her head.
Magnum pressed the mountain’s hand back toward the table again. When it got close he looked up at Georgia.
She shook her head, so he let the other guy up a bit.
By now, Magnum was not even paying attention to his rival, he was only looking at Georgia.
She sighed and nodded at him.
Instantly, he slammed the big guy’s hand onto the table.
“Wow, that was amazing,” Loralei Jeffords said. “That’s five points for the Mennonites at Work. Way to go, guys. Way to go.”
The former principal walked over to the big chalkboard and marked down the points in the column marked with their team name.
“Next up, we’ll have the Saucer Tosser,” Jeffords announced.
Rima cracked her knuckles as they headed over to a booth in the corner.
This time, the Mennonites at Work were up against Heavy Metal in the first round. And Rima sighed when she saw her opponent.
“If it isn’t, Rima Baloney,” the blonde in the halter top drawled.
“Hi, Gretchen,” Rima said.
“Oh what, you aren’t going to say, ‘It’s Pastrami, not Baloney’?” Gretchen cackled.
“No, you got it right this time. My married name is Baloney,” Rima deadpanned.
Gretchen scowled.
“Well good luck,” Rima indicated the game.
“Oh please, you don’t have a chance,” Gretchen sneered. “Athletics were never your strong suit.”
Rima shrugged and studied the hoops.
There was a range in front of Rima, with nine hoops of varying sizes and point values set up and labeled as the planets.
“Don’t these people know about Pluto?” Rima muttered.
“Each player has a stack of 20 Frisbees. Whoever gets the most points in two minutes wins,” Jeffords announced merrily.
The whistle sounded.
Gretchen was fast out of the gate. She threw three discs before Rima threw her first.
Rima appeared to be calm and focused as she carefully lined up each shot. Posey could see the wheels turning as Rima calculated trajectories, or whatever mental acrobatics it took to plot a Frisbee throw. Rima was by far the smartest person Posey had ever met, but she had a habit of getting lost in her own head sometimes. And even though Rima wasn’t missing a single shot, the other girl was completely outpacing her.
“Throw, Rima,” Georgia yelled.
With five seconds left, Gretchen had thrown all 20 Frisbees and was smiling at her handiwork.
Rima wasn’t even halfway through her stack.
The whistle sounded again.
“Oh my, let’s tally these points,” Mrs. Jeffords said brightly.
Gretchen had landed a lot of her throws, mostly in the bigger planets, which were worth fewer points, but a few in the smaller ones too.
“Look at that, nine hundred fifty points,” Jeffords marveled.
She moved on to tally Rima’s points.
“Five hundred points,” Jeffords announced.
Gretchen screamed and pumped her fists in the air, showing even more of her tanned belly.
“Plus the five hundred point Space Explorer bonus for landing a saucer on every planet. Which makes Miss Bhimani the winner with 1000 points,” Jeffords continued.
“What?” Gretchen yelled.
Rima pointed to the scoreboard on the side of the range. Sure enough, the bonus was listed on the bottom.
“Aw, sorry, Gretchen,” Rima said with a shrug. “But I guess reading never really was your strong suit.”
A truly unbecoming expression crossed Gretchen’s face, then she stormed off.
Posey squealed in delight and grabbed Rima to hug her close.
Rima squeezed her back, but let go as Magnum rested a possessive hand on her shoulder.
“No celebrating, keep your heads in the game,” Georgia said sternly. “It’s not over yet.”
28
Posey
Posey wrapped her hand around Bond’s as they headed off for the Meteor Shower event. After this, he would have to ride the bull.
While it had been easy to think of the mechanical bull as training, Posey was beginning to worry about the fact that the man who made her feel like Christmas morning was going to get on an actual bull. What if he got hurt?
She distracted herself by studying Georgia.
Her friend wore her easy confidence like a mantle. Cool alertness poured off her, and her posture showed she was ready to rumble.
“I got the top score in my guard class for marksmanship,” she told the group.
Posey chose not to worry about the fact that a group of mall cops probably didn’t present the stiffest competition. She didn’t doubt Georgia’s abilities even a little.
But when they arrived at the “range” there weren’t any pistols, rifles or even BB guns.
Instead, there were slingshots and bowls of familiar-looking white objects.
“What the heck…” Georgia breathed in abject horror.
“We can’t have bullets flying at our little country fair, of course,” Jeffords simpered. “So we’ll be using slingshots and marshmallows.”
Georgia locked eyes with Rima’s, as if in accusation.
Rima shrugged.
“Now, each contestant will have his or her own target - a planet to shoot with marshmallow meteors,” Jeffords continued, clearly tickled. “Whoever gets the most meteors to stick is our winner.”
Before Georgia could get the agitated look off her face, the whistle sounded.
Suddenly, marshmallows were flying through the air. Most of the teams were giggling madly, but one of Earl’s flannel shirted cronies in Heavy Metal was scowling and shooting at Saturn with serious focus.
Georgia lifted a marshmallow to her slingshot, took a deep breath indicating the greatest concentration, and released.
The marshmallow shot forward a foot, then plummeted into the grass below.
Undeterred, she took another shot.
This time the puffy white treat made it nearly to the target.
On her third try, Georgia hit the center of planet Earth.
But the marshmallow didn’t stick.
She hit it again.
Again the marshmallow bounced to the ground.
“Lick it first,” Rima yelled.
Georgia looked at her competition and Posey looked too.
They were all sticking the marshmallows in their mouths, then slingshotting them.
Georgia’s lips pursed in obvious revulsion.
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br /> But, true to her nature, Georgia’s determination won out over her decorum and she gamely licked a marshmallow and nailed Earth right on the equator.
It stuck.
Georgia licked and pelted her way through half her bowl of ammunition with Rocky screaming his approval all the way.
But when the whistle blew, it was clear that Georgia didn’t have nearly enough marshmallows stuck to be in the running.
She slapped her slingshot down on the table and headed back to the group where Rocky accosted her with a marshmallow.
“Good job, Georgia,” he told her, holding the marshmallow to her mouth.
“No thanks,” she huffed. “And I lost - I didn’t do a good job.”
“Neither did he,” Rocky said, indicating the Heavy Metal contestant arguing with the judge.
“Nice,” Georgia said.
Rocky popped the marshmallow in her open mouth.
Georgia slapped him playfully.
“Congratulations to the Night Owls,” Jeffords said. “Next up is the Space Cowboy, what fun!”
“We’re going to be fine,” Posey said with stalwart cheer. “Bond is doing really well on the mechanical bull.”
“And Posey is doing well with her sack,” Bond replied, wrapping his arm around her.
“She’s good in the sack, eh?” Georgia asked Bond with one eyebrow arched.
“Yes,” he nodded solemnly, as Posey gave Georgia a little shove.
“We’ve got this,” Georgia replied.
They all made sounds of agreement, except Rima who seemed to be searching the horizon.
Rima had been uncharacteristically quiet today, but given the importance of the games to her family, Posey understood why she was feeling serious.
“Hey, Rima,” Posey said, “Really - we’ve got this.”
Rima looked up and smiled gratefully.
Posey winked back at her friend and said a silent prayer that she had reason to smile.
29
Posey
After the dumbing down of the other events, Posey had begun to wonder if the Space Cowboy might just be a glorified pony ride.
When they reached the paddock, she knew that was not the case.
Two very serious looking cowboy types manned the pens. Inside each pen, a bull the size of a sensible family sedan shuddered and groaned.
She turned to Bond, but he was frozen to the spot.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Those are the bulls,” she told him.
“But they are… alive,” he said. “Not like the bull from practice.”
She nodded.
His eyes moved suddenly to Rima, who looked at him despondently.
“Rima Bhimani,” Bond announced. “I will ride this living beast to save your home.”
Then, without another word, he strode up to the keepers.
Posey and the others scrambled after him.
“Okay, Fluffy is all yours,” one of the cowhands said to Bond, pointing at the most vicious looking animal Posey had ever seen. It was black as night with eyes that were red-rimmed and glassy - like a bull from a cartoon.
“He seems agitated,” Bond noted.
“That’s kinda the idea,” the man said uncertainly. “Get on up there, cowboy.”
Bond frowned but allowed the man to direct him up to the bull.
Bond paused for a moment before mounting. He closed his eyes.
Posey wondered if he might be praying.
The bull suddenly stopped his quaking.
Oh.
Bond mounted just as the competitors in the adjoining pens mounted their bulls.
The whistle went off and the gates were opened.
The Night Owls were still in the game, but their player was bucked immediately.
Over at Team Heavy Metal, Earl Road himself held onto his violently bucking bull like a champion.
For some reason, Bond’s bull seemed to be slow coming out of the pen.
There was a murmur in the crowd and Posey saw the monster of a bull amble slowly out of its pen, with Bond astride.
The creature raised its muzzle as if to take in the pleasant fall air. Then it wandered listlessly toward the edge of the paddock where a clump of fresh grass poked through the rails of the fence.
It lowered its massive head to chomp on the tender shoots.
Bond sat comfortably on its broad back, smoothing one hand down the black velvet of its fur. He looked a lot like the cover of a romance novel except that he was riding a bull, not a horse.
When he caught Posey looking at him, however, the effect was ruined. He grinned widely at her like a tourist riding a camel at the zoo.
Posey shook her head in wonder, then searched the crowd to see how they were taking the fact that the Mennonites at Work seemed to have Francis of Assisi on their team.
That was when she saw it.
Georgia’s sharpshooting opponent was taking aim at Bond with a slingshot.
But instead of a marshmallow, he was holding a rock.
Posey leapt up and vaulted herself over the fence.
“Bond,” she called, hoping he would hear her. She envisioned the rock flying through the air, hitting him, falling, blood.
“Bond,” she screamed.
But the rock was already in motion.
It hit the bull squarely on the rump.
The huge creature bucked suddenly.
Bond flew through the air and collided with the incoming Posey.
Her relief that he would be okay was tempered only by the audible pop of her ankle twisting under her.
“Posey,” Bond said, his handsome face a mask of concern.
“I’m okay,” she lied, trying to get up.
When her ankle gave out under her, Bond swept her off her feet and carried her back to their friends.
It was a romantic gesture that made her a little embarrassed and a lot grateful, even if it was clear they had just lost another event.
Posey didn’t think she was seriously injured, but she knew exactly what even a mildly sprained ankle meant.
So much for the sack race.
30
Posey
Posey clung to Bond, trying not to notice Rima’s heartbreakingly brave smile.
“This is not a big deal,” Georgia said. “Rocky will do the sack race and Posey will do the pie-eating contest. No big deal.”
Rocky nodded in agreement and Posey nodded weakly too.
“We’re already ahead anyway,” Posey said.
The Mennonites at Work had won two events so far and Heavy Metal had won only the Space Cowboy. They were still ahead, so they could do this.
As long as Rocky won the sack race, Posey’s pies wouldn’t matter.
She subtly side-eyed Rocky’s powerful physique. At least she thought she was being subtle until Georgia elbowed her.
Any guy with muscles like that ought to be able to haul some serious sack.
Ten minutes later, Posey was eating her words.
Rocky had not won the sack race.
It turned out he was a great jumper. In fact, he had literally jumped out of his sack and was disqualified about five seconds after the race began.
Worse yet, she was watching Heavy Metal celebrate as one of their own won.
It was now 2-2.
It was all down to Posey.
Her nerves set in.
Then Georgia was all over her.
“Posey Quinn, don’t you dare get that quitting look on your face. You can do this. You’re going to march over there and for once in your damned life you’re going to forget about your damn BMI and eat some pie,” Georgia told her fiercely. “Oh, and one bit of advice - don’t yak.”
Posey made her way to the long table with the other eaters, her ankle throbbing, and her stomach feeling like she couldn’t eat a Ritz cracker, let alone a pie.
She was the only girl up there, and the guys looked like they polished off entire pies on a semi-regular basis. The guy from Heavy Metal was the
size of a commercial refrigerator.
Her team was doomed.
But there was no time to think about what would happen. The pies were already being brought in.
Desperately, Posey hoped they weren’t coconut. She hated coconut so much.
A familiar scent carried to her. She couldn’t place it immediately, but it definitely wasn’t coconut.
“This year’s pies were generously donated by Klingon Karaoke,” Loralei Jeffords announced fondly. “Oh, and here come the water pitchers.”
Sure enough, helpers were setting a pitcher of water in front of each contestant.
“And you’re gonna need them,” Jeffords crowed. “Because these pies are made with Klingon Karaoke’s special recipe buffalo chicken.”
Before Posey could take in the new information, a young man set a pie down in front of her.
Her eyes watered from the scent.
Nuclear sauce.
The whistle blew.
Posey tried her best.
Several contestants quit after the first bite.
One guy coughed until he threw up.
Suddenly, Georgia’s advice made sense, and all Posey could think about was the scene in Stand By Me, where the pie eating contest turned into a chain reaction of puke.
Posey turned away from the lone barfer and focused her thoughts.
The first couple of bites were delicious. But the pie was very filling and she had to pace herself to chew the chicken well.
She took bite after bite, trying to stay measured yet move quickly. She ate until she was full. She continued to eat until she was more than full. She ate until she thought she might burst.
She went into a zone in her head where there was nothing but the heat in her mouth and the ache in her stomach.
The whistle sounded again.
Posey looked down, squinting from the hot sauce fumes. She had managed to eat a grand total of…
One pie.
Dammit. It felt like a dozen.
“And the winner is…” Loralei began.
Sorry, guys, Posey thought, closing her eyes and wishing she could have done better for her friends.
“… the Mennonites at Work. The only team whose contestant finished a whole pie!”