by Sheila Grau
Dr. Critchlore took the microphone back. “I want your best effort out there,” he said. “Those who perform well will be eligible for a special bonus game! Nothing suspicious, just a new, fun adventure! So go get ’em!”
Excited, we all headed for the end line.
Everyone except Frankie, who sat alone in the now-empty green section.
“Teams can choose any evil overlord’s realm for their float except Irma Trackno’s Upper Worb. Dr. Critchlore forbids that one.”
—RUNT, EXPLAINING FLOATS TO MEZTLI
As the faculty and staff took their places in the stands, I jogged over to where Frankie sat.
“Frankie? Why are you sitting here? You’re on the green team.”
He looked behind us and then whispered, “Daddy’s here.”
“So?”
He looked down. “I can’t . . . I’ll do something wrong, and he’s watching.” He was too sad to twist his neck bolts, which was his usual nervous habit.
I shook my head. “Frankie, that’s just ridicu—”
“Runt!”
I turned and saw my team screaming at me.
“I gotta go,” I told Frankie. “We’ll talk later.”
“Good luck,” he said, sort of halfheartedly.
Frankie sitting there alone was kinda breaking my heart, but I had my own problems to deal with, and number one on that list was doing well in the Minion Games so I could pass my junior henchman class.
I wanted to show them all—but mostly Professor Murphy—that I could do well in a competition. I joined my team, ready to talk strategy.
“Let’s spread out,” an upperclassman said.
Rufus held up a hand. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You heard Coach Foley. Hardly anybody is going to make it across the field. If the giants don’t get you, all that other stuff will. To win, we only need to get one or two of us safely to the other side. That’s going to be either me or Jud. Our speed gives us the best chance of winning. We’ll take the edge near Stevie.” He looked up at Stevie, our giant. “Stevie, you protect us, no matter what—okay? Let the other giants tag out villagers.”
Stevie nodded.
“You second-year kids will be the sacrifices. We’ll let you go out first and draw off the other team’s giants, and then we’ll slip past.”
“I don’t want to be the sacrifice,” Penelope said. “I’m really good at dodging giants. I’m from Burkeve, the land of giants.”
Rufus pointed at her, scowling. “You’ll do what I say or I’ll eat your face.” Then he turned to his minions, the mummies, and told them to stay with him as his own personal wall of protection. They looked a little droopy after Rufus told them that. Like the rest of us, they wanted to try and win themselves.
“What about me?” I asked.
“Just be your usual loser self, I guess,” he said. “I don’t think you can help here. In any way.”
A whistle blew, and we all lined up. I stood next to Penelope in our “sacrifice” position.
Taking a long look at the competition, I couldn’t help but be in awe of my classmates—monsters of all shapes and sizes. Werewolves, manticores, lizard-men, skeletons, imps, ogre-men, trolls—all of them. They were all so amazing, and strong, and indestructible.
I noticed some faculty members were down on the track, holding clipboards. They looked like the evil overlord recruiters who came to the games every year to evaluate our graduating seniors.
I put on my red helmet, feeling like a doofus. Mrs. Gomes made all the human minions wear helmets, and we stood out like monster zits.
Another whistle blew, and the game began. The giants cracked their knuckles and leaned forward, ready to swat. Kids paced up and down the starting line, trying to find good take-off spots. The two giant leech-men turned around and ran back to the swamp.
Darthin, on the yellow team, was the first to take off. He wobbled a bit, covering his helmeted head with both arms. He ran straight for a giant. Once close, he fell to the ground, curled up in a ball, and waited to be tagged out. Timmy, a giant who knew that Darthin was afraid of everything, tapped him gently. Darthin got up and ran to the safety of the sideline, where tagged-out kids had to sit. He looked like he was hyperventilating with fear.
In the early rounds, there’s always someone who tries to charge up the middle, hoping his or her speed will surprise the giants and they’ll be too slow to react. This time, it was Meztli. He was in his jaguar form, which, I was surprised to notice, wasn’t the golden tan with black spots I’d been expecting. Instead, his fur was white. Faint gray spots appeared when the sunlight hit him, but mostly he looked like he’d fallen into a bathtub filled with white paint.
He dashed straight at a giant named Hector, faked left, then bolted right. Another giant stood nearby, but Mez was quick and darted between his legs before the giant could reach down and swat him. He would have made it to the end, but he ran out of bounds to avoid the next giant and was disqualified.
“Wow, he’s really fast,” Penelope said.
“He’s not that fast,” Rufus scoffed. “And look at him. He’s a freak of nature. That color is not normal.”
As soon as the giants focused on Meztli, everyone else took off, and the field turned into complete mayhem. Kids and monsters dodged giants, flying minions dropped flour bombs everywhere, land mines popped runners into the air. Frieda yelled and swatted at her ogre-men troops, but they were just too big to dodge the giants successfully. Huts were smashed. Tootles screamed through a bullhorn, telling kids not to hurt the trees.
I watched Rufus and Jud head out in their human form, wearing their snap-free pants and team T-shirts. Rufus needed his human voice so he could yell at his mummies.
Once the giants looked like they had keyed in on their targets, I took off. I watched their faces, hoping their attention wouldn’t switch to me. I ran, scanning the field for the little lumpy land mines. They were obvious if you were looking for them. Unfortunately, there was so much else to watch out for that kids were stepping right on them. And those “mines” were stronger than I’d expected. Frieda stepped on one, and it threw her into the air. Frieda! She landed with a thump that shook the ground.
“Runt!” a voice yelled. “Watch out!”
I looked up. Our team’s flying monkey, Anubi, was pointing at Melissa, the shape-shifting eagle, who was about to drop a bag of flour on me. I dodged the bag and sprinted for the next bit of protection, an oak tree in a planter box.
As I ran, I heard something gaining on me. I turned around and saw three trees following me.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked when they had caught up. I recognized Googa and Fthip, but not the third one, who was a bushy little fella. Or gal. Or both? I’m not really sure about tree genders.
“Googa,” Googa said, hopping up and down. “Race!” The end of “race” sounded like Dr. Frankenhammer stretching out his s’s.
“Fthip too!”
“Swishhhh,” the third one said. “Racesssssssss.”
“Trees,” I said. “This is dangerous. See Tootles over there? Go stand with him.”
“Racessss,” they all said, stamping their trunks. “Racesss.”
“But no cheat!” Fthip said, smacking Googa with a branch.
“This isn’t a race,” I explained. “It’s a game of tag. We can’t let the big ones touch us.”
“Tag,” Fthip said. “Gooooooo.”
They took off before I could explain anything else. I scanned the field while I ran to catch up with them. The air was cloudy with bursts of flour. I saw that Rufus had made it to the end line safely, but not Jud. The red team had two players at the end, and a third was getting close. All of my blue team’s sacrifice players had been tagged out.
That left only me, and the only way we would get enough points to win was if I got the flag.
One of the giants, Wendy, noticed the toddler trees, and immediately the trees froze, just like they’d done with me in the swamp. Wendy looked confused, the
n shook her head as she refocused on other victims. I caught up with the trees and hid among them.
“We have to go to that shed in the middle, okay? Let’s go, slowly. Make sure the big ones don’t see me.”
Nobody had tried for the flags because the giants were watching the hut carefully. The trees were stealthy, though, and froze whenever a giant noticed them. Slowly, we reached the hut, and I grabbed our flag from the side. Now all I had to do was get through a minefield while dodging flour bombs and then make it past a line of giants.
Tagged-out kids watching from the sideline bench had seen me take the flag. They screamed at the giants. “Get those little trees!”
Three giants turned their focus on us, hands flexing as they stepped closer.
“Split up!” I told the trees. As I ran to the left, I saw Anubi heading back for more flour bombs. Wendy chased after me. I ran around a tall tree in a huge planter box to avoid her.
“Anubi!” I screamed. He turned around in midair and watched me sprint after him with a giant on my tail and a flag in my hand. “Catch!”
As Wendy closed in on me, I sprinted straight for a landmine. I jumped on it as hard as I could, and it catapulted me into the air, much higher than I was expecting. I had meant for Anubi to catch the flag and take it to the end, but he caught me instead, saving me from a painful landing and lifting me away from the giant. Soon, the other flying minions swarmed on us, trying to make Anubi drop me. He swooped and swerved, but he tired quickly and dropped me about twenty yards from the end line, which was now blocked by Hector and his wide arms.
Hector was the largest giant in school. I wasn’t going to get past him.
But then my little trees caught up with me. They started swatting me with their branches.
“No cheat,” Googa said. “NO CHEEEAAAT!”
I was being pummeled by the trees, and Hector stood there gaping at us. I was about to ask him for a little help, because the branches were really scratchy.
“I didn’t cheat!” I tried to explain. “We’re a team. Together. Here.” I tied the flag to one of Googa’s branches. “Googa, tag that guy over there,” I pointed to Rufus. “On your mark, get set, go!”
I ran to the right, taking Hector’s attention with me. Googa ran for Rufus. I was tagged out, but Googa made it to the end. Rufus untied the flag and held it high.
“I got the flag!” he yelled.
Winter sports offered at school include hoopsmash, combat archery, dodge boulder, and mummy hunt.
—DR. CRITCHLORE’S SCHOOL CATALOG
At dinner, I was too angry to eat. No, that’s a lie. I ate. But I was really, really angry.
“You guys saw me get the flag, right?” I asked everyone at my table.
“Not me,” Eloni said. “I was dodging flour bombs.”
Boris shook his head. “Frieda kept screaming at me. I don’t know what her problem is.”
Darthin shook his head. “I couldn’t watch any of it.”
“Frankie?” I asked. “You were in the stands.”
“The field was so smoky, with all those flour bombs going off. I saw that monkey-man grab you. You made it really far. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I told Anubi to grab me. I got the flag. Then I tied it to the tree, who gave it to Rufus. He’s taking credit for my work.”
They made murmuring sounds of sympathy, but it didn’t make me feel better.
The big screen flashed on, showing Dr. Critchlore preparing to make an announcement. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. His secretary, Barry Merrybench, stood behind him, giving him a neck massage.
“Students,” he said. There was a pause while he rubbed his eyes and waved Barry Merrybench away. “Well done today. I have exciting news. Remember when I said that, based on your performance, some of you might be selected for a special bonus game? It’s just like me to do unexpected things like this, don’t you think? It’s not unusual at all. Well, we’ve decided on the game, and we’re calling it ‘Treasure Hunt.’
“Some select students are going to venture outside Stull for this game. But here’s the tricky part: Evil Overlords don’t like minion schools to train minions outside Stull. So we’re going to pretend that these excursions are just part of our normal ‘Visit the Realms’ program. Students go on this type of field trip during their final year so they can get to know the realms where they might be recruited. But the real task . . . er . . . game is to search for a rare mineral and bring it back here.
“We have been granted visitor visas for Bluetorch, Pinnacles, West Chambor, and Upper Worb. Each team will have a faculty leader, who will be assisted by a junior henchman trainee. In addition, we will have one student from each realm acting as a tour guide. This is an essential part of the ‘field trip’ ruse. The rest of the team will be made up of minions who have proved themselves worthy of the task, based on their performance in the Minion Games.
“The lists will be posted after dinner . . . Search hard! Don’t let me down!”
I looked over at Darthin. He was the only kid at school from Upper Worb. I didn’t think a person could get any paler than he already was, but he turned polar bear white in a flash.
“How hard can it be?” I asked him. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have a team with you. You’ll travel on the EO express train and be there in a day. Search the crater, come back. Easy.”
“The impact crater is located near Polar Bay. In the Polar Circle. That’s practically at the North Pole.”
“Pack some thermal underwear, then,” I said. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be going with you.”
It turned out that I wasn’t going with Darthin. I wasn’t on the Upper Worb team, or the West Chambor team, or on any team.
At first I was angry, because I’d done a good job in the competition, but the more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t really surprised. The thing is, my classmates were awesome. Even among my human and human-ish friends, I had the least to offer any team. Darthin was incredibly smart, Frankie had super-human strength, and so did Eloni. Even Boris had special skills (exceptionally high pain tolerance and strong teeth). Me? I had nothing.
Despite Dr. Critchlore’s little act, the whole school knew what we would be doing—searching for something that was needed to make an Undefeatable Minion. We also knew that we were way behind Dr. Pravus. These were desperate times, and Professor Murphy told all the junior henchmen trainees that whoever found the mineral would earn an automatic A in his class.
Dr. Critchlore had chosen Professor Murphy to lead the Upper Worb team. Rufus and Jud would assist him. I was surprised that Professor Murphy hadn’t selected a more advanced junior henchman for his team—from the sixth- or seventh-year classes. But then Frieda told me that the advanced junior henchmen didn’t need his supervision, while his newer trainees did.
Even though I was frustrated that I hadn’t been selected, at least I’d have a week or two without Professor Murphy and Rufus on campus, which I put in capital letters on my Good List.
“Take your time searching,” I said to Darthin as we walked back to the dorm, both of us depressed. “Make sure you treat them to a tour of all the local sightseeing spots.”
“This means I’m going to miss your first hoopsmash game,” Darthin said. “Who’s going to be scorekeeper?”
“I’m going to ask Frankie,” I said. “Coach Foley loves him, and I think Frankie could use some praise from a grown-up right now.”
“Good idea.”
Normally, I’d be excited about our first hoopsmash game, but tomorrow’s game was at the Pravus Academy, and the last time I’d seen Dr. Pravus, he’d threatened to kill me for turning Sara and the rest of the vaskor, his Girl Explorer minions, against him. Sure, the librarians had captured him and erased his memory of everything that had happened in the Great Library, but he still terrified me.
Our hoopsmash team took a slight hit when two of our players were sent out to search for sudithium. Dr. Critchlore said we had to play,
though—he didn’t want Dr. Pravus to know we were searching for the mineral.
The Pravus Academy looked like a prison to me, with huge concrete buildings and angry kids dressed in green combat fatigues. At the center of the school was a massive gray building with a big circular glass window near the top, like a giant eyeball. I could feel Pravus’s presence, watching, and I thought about hiding in the bus until it was time to leave.
We entered the gym, which was set up for hoopsmash. There were three scoring circles hanging vertically on each side of the court. You can score on any of them, but not with your hands. You have to kick, elbow, knee, or head the ball through the hoop. You can catch the ball with your hands, but as soon as you do, someone can tackle you. You can’t move while holding the ball.
Coach Foley loved hoopsmash, and he was a good coach. He trained us to move and block and set picks and to time our tackles for maximum impact. While we got ready, he tossed balls to Frankie as fast as he could, and Frankie kicked every one through a circle. If only Dr. Frankenhammer would let him play on our team, we’d never lose!
Coach Foley whooped and cheered, and I smiled because Frankie looked so happy.
We were all feeling good, mostly because we had a new ringer—Meztli. The sport had originated in his country, and he was as quick and nimble as a jaguar, even in his human form. He could juggle a ball with his body like nobody I’d ever seen. During our first practice he had scored at will by shooting from far away or tossing the ball up to himself and volleying it through the hoop, bicycle-kick-style.
I couldn’t believe he hadn’t been chosen for a search team. I asked him as we warmed up.
“Same old story,” he said, looking kind of sad. “I’m leucistic. My fur has no pigment, too blanco. It makes me stand out in the jungle. They never let me go on hunts or anything.”