The Almost Champion

by Daniel Lawlis

  In fact, it wasn’t benevolent at all. His resolution was that no one was ever going to bully him ever again in his entire life without paying the dearest of prices, and sadly for Big Timmy, Hairy Larry, Snobby Bobby, and plain old Brian, they were just going to have the resolution applied retroactively to them. Eddie had no qualms about ex post facto laws.

  He took out a piece of paper he had . . . well, borrowed from the local college. A year ago he had been allowed in there during a field trip with his third grade class, and he had slipped away to check out the section on the occult. In the back of a book he couldn’t have lifted had his life depended on it, he found some strange scrawling on a piece of paper. They were magical symbols, and he had carved several of them onto his magic staff so far, which he kept safe and sound way up in the Hideout, where it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

  There was one in particular that he felt a strange, yet unmistakable, sensation of strength whenever he beheld it for long periods. He knew that tonight was going to be one of those long periods, and that tomorrow he was going to put it to a certain test. He focused, and he focused. And he focused.

  Chapter 18

  The next day at school, Timmy and the gang cackled up a storm when they saw Eddie’s face.

  “You did a real good job on him!” said Brian, laughing, and giving his congratulations to the esteemed leader of their gang.

  “Naw, don’t make it out to be more than it is,” said Timmy humbly. “Like I said, just toughenin’ him up a little. Like I aim to do with you if you want your nickname someday, Bri,” Timmy added, giving a not-so-gentle punch to Brian’s arm to make sure his young apprentice didn’t think flattery was going to put him on the fast track for an honorable appellation.

  Brian cringed a little at the mild rebuke from the alpha male of this group of misfits. It just seemed, no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to earn his bones, and he was beginning to grow a little weary of the long hazing process. Then, an ingenious idea struck him.

  “Hey, let’s get that little queer again today. He’ll be expecting us, but I don’t care if he goes all the way up to that gay little hiding spot he’s got way up there in those damn trees. In fact, I aim to go up there and wreck whatever he’s got even if he don’t run up there!”

  Big Timmy realized this was going to take a careful response. Snobby and Hairy were listening, and if Big said no, well, just how was that going to look? But if he authorized the mission, he’d be just about forced to give Brian a nickname. But that wasn’t the whole problem. Truth be told, he kind of liked keeping Brian down at the bottom of the pack. His eagerness threatened him a bit, and he thought it would be convenient to make him keep struggling for that nickname a little longer.

  But there was a bigger problem; he knew he had only half convinced his fellows that it was for reasons other than sheer terror that he hadn’t followed that weird little kid across that branch that the maniac didn’t seem the least bit bothered by crossing. He had long since decided it would be best to make sure Eddie never made it very far up that tree because every time he made it that far and he had to come up with some witty excuse for not chasing him across that branch, he was going to lose the respect of his gang little by little.

  But Brian had offered to do just that. If Brian did that, he would do worse than earn a nickname—he would be outright entitled to choose his own nickname. None of the gang had ever dared pursue Wizard Boy beyond that branch, and to do so would be to ascend dangerously high in the gang’s hierarchy, by Timmy’s calculations.

  Truth be told, if Brian walked across that branch, scurried up that tree, and then wrecked Wizard Boy’s tree house, the leader position itself of this gang might be up for grabs, and the very thought of it caused Timmy to shudder.

  But he couldn’t back down; that was gang leader suicide. He realized his only hope was to consent to the mission, hope it failed, and, if it didn’t, give Brian a so-so nickname and make sure to downplay the mission as much as possible.

  “Sure, if you feel like chasin’ that queer all the way up there, be my guest,” Timmy said with a fake laugh.

  “Well, I will then,” Brian returned. “And I’ll get my nickname, Tim.” Had the following distraction not occurred, Timmy might have belted Brian right then and there. Acceptable names for the gang leader were Big Timmy, Big, and Timmy, in order of decreasing favorability. For reasons he didn’t know, he found “Tim” just a little too familiar for this ambitious young social climber to address him by.

  But at that moment, Eddie turned around and looked at all four of them, then looked away. It wasn’t a threatening look or a mocking look. But it was a look. Wizard Boy had never before in his life dared to turn around in his desk and look right at these toughs.

  “Somethin’ catch your attention, Wizard Boy?” Timmy asked.

  No response.

  “Get back to work, Timothy, or you’ll be writing lines after class!” fired Mrs. Reichart.

  Timmy complied but not before giving a surreptitious look and nod of approval to Brian to let him know that Mission Nickname had received the all-clear.

  Chapter 19

  Eddie was more afraid than he ever had been in his life, but his resolution was still ironclad inside his mind. He knew what he had to do. The first thing was to run faster than Timmy and the gang to the tree, something he had not done so well at yesterday. After that, well, he knew what it was, but he didn’t even like to think about it himself, as if perhaps even the very thought might wander outside of his head and betray itself to the pack of wolves located about four desks behind him at Ringsetter Elementary.

  Waiting for the bell made his mind wander to what a soldier must feel like waiting for the order to commence an attack against a formidable army. His stomach was in knots, his hands trembled, and he felt a deep agony inside his soul. Don’t think about quitting on me, he told himself.

  After what seemed like two consecutive eternities, Mrs. Reichart added to the music of pencils scratching paper, pages shuffling, seats creaking, and an occasional whisper with the joyous sound of her bell, letting the class know either that a day of erudite study had come to a sad close or a day of mind-numbing torture had come to a long-awaited end, depending on the perspective of each student.

  Eddie knew he had to make the most out of his head start today, much more than he did yesterday; that was for sure. He walked out of the class briskly, but not so much so as to draw too much attention from Mrs. Reichart—although, with two raccoon eyes, avoiding her watchful gaze was not completely possible.

  But once he made it out of the school all bets were off. He had kept all his books in his desk today; something he had never done before, except on the last day of the school year, when everybody left their books there to leave them for the students who would replace them upon being promoted a grade—that is, everybody except for Timmy and the gang. That would be the one day they would take some books home from school, for the purpose of either trying to hawk them at a book store or set them on fire or some other laudable pursuit.

  Eddie knew all four of those boys were faster than he was, so if he wanted to have even a snowball’s chance in a frying pan of making it there, it depended on making the most of his head start. He knew the four bullies wouldn’t start running in earnest until they had left the school and the watchful eyes of Mrs. Reichart, which sometimes followed them even after they left the building, depending on her suspicions that particular day.

  He ran like a gazelle that knows a pack of wolves is behind it. He paid no attention to the stitch he could already feel in his left side or the woodpecker-like pounding of his heart inside his tiny chest. He had one thing in mind and one thing only—making it to that tree before the other kids or dying in the process.

  By the time he made it to the trail leading to the tree, he could hear them behind him yelling, “Special friend! Come back! We just wanna talk! Hahahahaha!”

  He could h
ear them gaining on him, as he knew they would.

  Faster, faster, faster, FAAASTER!! he commanded himself, as if he were the driver of a group of racing stallions, whip in hand, and lashing them mercilessly to push themselves to the limit.

  He could hear the CHOMP-CRUNCH-CHOMP-CRUNCH of the feet behind him cracking small twigs underneath their feet as they approached their quarry, his heart beat mercilessly in his chest, but the tree was drawing closer and closer. He could see it quite clearly, and he grew tunnel vision, focusing on that and only that and pushing himself harder and harder to the point he almost felt he was floating outside his body and watching himself run. It felt like his body was two hundred degrees, and sweat poured from his brow like water from a pitcher.

  “Hhhhhu, hhhhhhhhu, hhhhhhhu,” he panted desperately.

  He could hear the leaves being stomped on behind him.

  “GET HIM! GET HIM! SPECIAL FRIEND’S ALMOST AT THE TREE!!”

  But Special Friend was at the tree. He threw his bag off, leaped through the air like a monkey, and grabbed the first branch.

  He felt a hand close around his foot, but unlike yesterday, he pulled with all his might with his arms while simultaneously lifting his leg powerfully towards his chest, and felt some devilish hand lose its grip.

  He knew the battle wasn’t over by a long shot but rather entering its opening phases. He scurried up the tree, practically jumping from one branch up to another with a rapidity that would have caused a squirrel to take notice, but all the squirrels had sought cover at the sound of the small army approaching them.

  As he reached the Pathway, he felt himself nervous as he trod its arm, which today for the first time seemed like a terribly skinny arm. That was because today he knew something different was going to happen.

  Pushing his fear aside, he proceeded to walk across.

  Timmy was perhaps the only one who shared Eddie’s angst, although for entirely opposite reasons. While Eddie sought survival against this gang of hyenas, Timmy sought survival as leader of that gang. Timmy looked up maleficently, hoping that Eddie came out on top . . . just this one time.

  Eddie turned around. There, glowering at him like some kind of small demon, was Brian, his eyes practically shining with a combination of hatred, ambition, and sadism.

  “Hi, Ed. Wanna show me that tree house you got up there? I bet you got a lot of real cool wizard drawings up there.”

  Ed stood halfway across the branch, facing Brian, who had not yet stepped onto the Pathway.

  “Sure, I don’t mind,” Eddie said calmly.

  This seemed to baffle Brian’s mental faculties, as he momentarily lost his glowering stare and looked confused. Then, it returned with all its horrible smugness, and he said, “You suuure, Eddie boy? I mean to tear that thing to pieces!”

  This brought out a chorus of snickering from the gang below.

  “Mmmmm, okay. I was thinking of rebuilding that old thing anyway. It’s kind of run down.”

  This again baffled Brian, who realized that perhaps he had better try a more physical approach to dealing with this rung on the ladder to his notoriety.

  As he prepared to step foot onto the waist-sized branch, he found himself wondering how this nerdy little kid could walk onto it so confidently, but he realized that he was losing face fast and that he better do it now or never.

  Taking that first step onto the branch away from the comforting refuge of the tree trunk was like taking a step in pitch darkness next to a cliff. He half expected the branch to snap underneath his weight the second he stepped on it and go crashing to the ground with him and Wizard Boy on it together.

  But he knew that Timmy had been too scared to do it and that Timmy probably hated him for even taking this first step, and the resentful joy he got from realizing how much Timmy probably hated him right now gave him the courage that ambition alone could not.

  Nonetheless, this newfound joy was put to the test as he took his second and third steps, and then he found he suddenly felt just as hopeless as he did at the first. He tried to summon to his mind again the hatred Timmy must be feeling for him right now, but for some reason, rather than helping him, it simply served to remind him of the folly of what he was doing. After all, if Big Timmy wouldn’t walk out onto this branch, there must have been a good reason for it, right? he asked himself.

  His mind returned to his ambition, and he took a fourth, then fifth, then sixth step. He was getting nearer and nearer Eddie, and he realized he had long since passed the point where cowardice or prudence could lead him to safety by a step or two backwards. He was in the thick of it now. There was no turning back.

  His knees felt like water, his head felt dizzy, and his stomach wanted to throw up. But, somehow, he convinced himself he must play the role he wished the world to see.

  “I SAID I’m gonna TRASH the place, Wizard Boy!” he reminded Eddie, with an evil gleam in his eye.

  “I know. And I SAID great because I was planning on rebuilding the whole thing.”

  “You ain’t gonna rebuild nothin’ unless I say so,” Brian said, half-growling.

  Two feet of empty, defenseless space stood between him and Eddie.

  “Well, move aside then. Let’s go tear it down together,” Brian said. While trying to still play the role of a toughie, his voice had taken on the slightest hint of a diplomatic tone, one that he hoped was lost in its sixty-foot journey down to the gang below watching the play.

  “Naw, you just said you weren’t gonna let me rebuild it unless you say so. I ain’t tearin’ it down, unless you say we’ll rebuild it . . . today.”

  Brian was confused. He didn’t know why he was dickering with this little runt, and it was probably not impressing the gang below all that much. But he wasn’t sure just how to move this little turd from his way. Nonetheless, he didn’t in the least like the calmness he could see in Eddie’s face and eyes. They stared right at him as if looking through his soul.

  “What – you making’ the terms now are you, Wizard Boy?!” and at that moment he rushed forward to push Eddie.

  Eddie stepped back calmly; Brian’s arms pushed empty space. His weight leaned forward, and he felt himself starting to move more and more forward. The next thing he knew he was swimming his arms through the air as if he were within some invisible pool that no one else could see. Alas, he was not.

  He fell face forward onto the branch, receiving a nice lump on his head, and he almost managed to grab onto the branch as he slid sideways. He found the branch was just too wide to grab onto with his hands. The next thing he knew he was finding out first-hand the different way birds and humans experience gravity.

  “AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” he shouted with a blood-curdling cry as he began falling through the air.

  Timmy didn’t know whether to feel ecstasy or sympathy, but his adrenaline was pumping through his veins in a way he’d never felt before. His knees felt weak, and he thought he was going to get sick.

  All four of the gang watched in horror as time seemed suspended. Down and down and down Brian fell, still swimming with his arms desperately, searching for that water he just couldn’t seem to find.

  Then, came the inevitable reunion with terra firma.

  CRUNCHHHH!!!! He landed mostly on his right leg, and the femur poked its nose right out of his skin like a snake emerging rapidly from a hole in the ground. His ankle on the same leg snapped like a twig. And as he fell to his side and stuck out his arm in one last swimmer’s stroke, the elbow snapped in two, and a bone mimicked his leg bone by poking out through the skin. His right wrist, not to be outdone by his right ankle, snapped loudly. He completed the performance by landing hard on his right ribs, smashing several of these and knocking the wind out of his body in a way that made Eddie’s loss of air the day before seem like a mere sigh.

  For a moment, all was quiet. It was as if a dramatic scene had just occurred at the town theater and the audience was too dumbstruck to speak.

  �
��Hhhu . . . hhhu,” Brian gasped weakly.

  Timmy was in shock, Snobby was in tears, and Hairy was shaking like a leaf during a violent windstorm. It wouldn’t be until later that these three scholars could properly contemplate what they had just witnessed.

  “Is he okay?!”

  It snapped them out of their reveries. They looked up and saw that the convincingly compassionate voice of Eddie had spoken. Somehow, in spite of its convincing tone, they each felt a chill run down their cowardly spines that told them they were in the presence of a terrifying monster, even though he was far away from them.

  “Hhu-hhu-hhu-HELP!” Brian somehow managed to scream, snapping them out of their contemplation of the small kid up in the tree above them. This effort then brought out a low moan of pain from Brian that momentarily made even Timmy feel sympathy.

  “He’s right, guys; let’s go get help!!” Timmy announced, and they turned tail and ran.

  As Timmy ran, perhaps faster than he ever had before in his entire life, he knew he wasn’t putting even half of that effort in for Brian but rather because he somehow felt that, stupidly or not, there was a creepy presence coming from Eddie. Timmy half expected to feel a finger on his neck at any moment and turn around to see Eddie there saying, Where you goin’? I thought we were gonna work on my tree house?!