by Mary Frame
But now they’re moving anyway.
After I eat and shower, I head out to the backyard. On my way, I pass Beast in the living room, notebook in his hand, silent amongst a crowd of arguing frat-boy types while they place their bets.
No kiddie pool this time, thankfully. This time a significant portion of the grass is covered by a large, dark tarp. I circle around a group of people gathered on the patio, trying to get an idea of what Jude has set up this time.
Once I get closer, it becomes apparent that a game board has been painted onto the tarp. The tarp is littered with toddler-size plastic ladders and slides. It’s a life-size Chutes and Ladders game. At the end, a giant macramé key tilts onto one side. At the top of the game board, someone has painted Bedlam in a giant, red curlicue script.
What the heck are we gonna do with this?
“You got the key?” Jude materializes next to me. He’s wearing another Jude-style dark velvet robe. But instead of cats, there are goats. Miniature goats frolicking around.
“Yeah.” I pull it from around my neck and hand it to him.
“You ’bout ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Reese here yet?”
He shrugs, nonchalant as ever. “She’s hiding somewhere.”
I smile, but there’s no opportunity to comment on Reese’s ninja-like disappearing ability.
Jude turns to face the crowd, lifting his megaphone to his face. “All right, babies, listen up!” He waits for the chatter to settle down before continuing. “Tonight’s challenge is a board game we all know and love—with a twist. Tonight, it will be all about the brains.”
Someone in the crowd yells, “Braaaaains!”
“No, it’s not a zombie hunt, although that would be a mighty fine idea. I’m talking about a trivia challenge, Bedlam style! Our players will begin at the start square.” Using a small stack of notecards in his hand, he points to the starting square. “The goal is to make it to the key at the end. I will be asking each player trivia questions, and if they answer correctly, they move forward a spot. If they answer wrong, their opponent will have the opportunity to answer. If the opposing player answers correctly, they will move forward two spaces.”
Reese shows up then, stopping next to me. I offer her a smile, but she gives me the dead eye and turns her focus to Jude.
“Our chutes and ladders,” he points them out, “are just like the board game. You reach a square with a ladder, you follow it up. You reach a square with a slide, follow it down and backward in the game. Any questions?”
“What’s Beast’s real name?” someone yells.
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” Jude drawls, eliciting scattered laughter. He smiles indulgently at the crowd, then turns to us. “Fitz, since you are the reigning champ, you’re up first. Are we all ready?”
The crowd yells.
Reese and I nod.
“Fitz. What color are aircraft black boxes?”
Is this a trick question? I have no idea. “Black?”
“Wrong.” A harsh buzzer fills the air. “Reese?” Jude nods at her.
“Orange,” she answers, her eyes sliding to mine.
A loud ding ding ding sounds.
“Correct. You get to move forward two spaces.”
She takes two steps forward onto the game board amidst some scattered applause and whoops.
“Alrighty then, Reese. This next question is for you. In 1960, which country became the first in the world to have a female prime minister?”
“Sri Lanka.” She answers with zero hesitation.
I can’t help but stare at her in surprise. How does she know these things?
“Correct. You get to move forward one, and oh, look at that you get to take the ladder up as well.”
There are some groans and a mixture of claps from the crowd.
“Fitz.” Jude turns back to me. “What is the collective name for a group of crows?”
Finally. Something I know. “A murder.”
Scattered applause. I move forward one.
The game goes on like this. I get a few correct but miss most of them. Reese misses nothing.
Ever.
I almost think I have a chance when she has to take a slide back to the prior row of spaces, but then I get hammered in a series of questions about which I know nothing and Reese, of course, knows every single one.
In which country was the Caesar salad invented? Mexico.
What is the tiny plastic tip covering the end of a shoelace called? An aglet.
What is the dot over a lowercase i and j called? A tittle.
A tittle?
“I just wanted to hear our innocent little Reese here say tit,” Jude admits.
She handily makes it to the end, where the giant key awaits.
Jude lifts her arm, announces her the Bedlam winner of the second challenge, and hands her the key.
A tall guy on the sideline approaches Reese, smiling and excited.
They bump fists and she says something I can’t make out over all the chatter. They laugh together.
He’s eyeballing her like he’s one of the Bumpuses’ dogs and she’s a ripe turkey on Christmas morning. She’s flushed and smiling and I’ve never seen her look happy. Her eyes are bright, her face glowing, and she’s . . . pretty. Like really pretty.
Tall guy is still talking to her, focused and leaning into her space. He’s got one of those butt chins.
I hate guys with butt chins.
“Stop frowning.” Jude stops beside me.
“I’m not frowning.”
“Yes, you are. Don’t frown. You get another shot at the key in a couple days. On Begonia Day!” He laughs and claps me on the back before turning his attention to the crowd. “Babies, listen up! As you all know, Saturday is my favorite day of the year: Begonia Day.”
There are scattered claps and catcalls.
Blue Falls has to be the only university that celebrates their mascot’s birthday each year with a giant party. There are carnival food and games and giant inflatable obstacle courses. All proceeds go to various charities, and there are booths and such set up on the quad next to the festivities. Begonia is our mascot, the fighting boar, although she’s not actually a boar. Just a regular pig. They keep her in a large pen and barn on campus, probably the most spoiled pig in the whole country.
Jude continues, “We’ll meet on the steps of the library at ten a.m. sharp to issue the next challenge. Our score is now one to one!” He rubs his mustache. “Anticipate more tomfoolery and a lot more ballyhoo.”
His speech over, the crowd slowly disperses, people heading inside or over to where the keg is set up. Some leave around the side of the house. Music kicks on and the party swings into gear.
I decide to check out my sofa slash bed for the night and get some stuff out of the room before Reese locks herself in there. I make it to the door right as she’s using the key to unlock it.
“I need to grab a couple things.”
She hesitates but then nods before opening the door and letting me enter first.
“Thanks.” I grab my clothes and backpack along with my track clothes and shoes.
She’s standing next to the door, arms crossed over her chest, looking everywhere but at me.
I clear my throat and she finally meets my eyes. “Nice work out there.”
She hesitates, as if waiting for me to say more, then mutters, “Thanks.”
I shift my shoes and clothes to my left hand and stick out my right in her direction, knowing I’ll probably be rebuffed but going for it anyway. “You’re a worthy opponent. I know we’re competing, but I still want you to know I admire your intelligence. How did you know all of those things?”
“I read a lot.” I don’t think she’s going to take my olive branch, but finally, she slips her hand in mine, small and soft, though her shake is firm. “I haven’t decided if you’re worthy yet or not.”
I chuckle. “Probably not.”
Her head cocks.
“I’ll try to reserve any harsh judgment until it’s been warranted from this point out, if you’ll do the same.”
For some reason, her begrudging cease-fire feels like a win, even though I lost. I can’t stop the grin spreading across my face. “You’re on.”
7
There is no shortcut in life. You have to take it one step at a time and work hard. And you have to give back.
—Hank Aaron
Fitz
“You ready for Begonia Day?” Jude nudges me in the shoulder.
I grunt and shovel a spoon of Cap’n Crunch in my mouth.
I’m too tired to give full word responses.
Jude, however, is bouncing around next to me on the couch like a tween who’s won Fortnite.
He’s been like this for an hour. The man is a machine. He never seems to sleep and yet has endless energy.
I need to focus. I have to win the competition today. I have a major track meet tomorrow—and I’m dreading it. Not only will I probably run into Abby, my teammates are going to kill me if I slack during the relay. Not to mention, if I don’t place at least in the top three consistently, they probably won’t renew my scholarship.
“You’re way cranky pants,” Jude says, his tone amiable.
I grunt again.
“Oh no, my friend, we mustn’t dwell,” Jude recites dramatically. “No, not today. We can’t.” His hand splays on his chest. “Not on Begonia Day!” He bounces on the cushion again, making the milk slosh in my bowl. I give him the evil eye.
“Oh, this is the best part.” He smacks me on the shoulder, making my spoon jump and cereal fall in my lap. “Matthew McConaughey is the man.”
On the screen, the actor is navigating a sailboat on the open water and flirting with a blonde. “If you say so.”
“I do say so. Any man who plays the bongos naked is someone I can relate to.”
I finish my breakfast and we keep watching while Matt goes rock climbing with his buddies and inevitably talks about his love interest.
It’s not a bad flick, I guess.
Ten minutes later, Annabel comes waltzing into the living room, Beast behind her. I didn’t even hear anyone at the door. She stops in the doorway. “Are you guys seriously watching this?”
“Shhh, this is a good part,” Jude says.
She bursts into laughter and squeezes onto the couch between us.
“It was only a matter of time before you got sucked into these things.” Annabel turns to me and gestures at the screen. “It’s totally your kind of thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a hopeless romantic. Plus it’s clear all men are naturally attracted to movies that subjugate women and make us look like pathetic losers who need a big strong man to take care of us.”
Jude interjects. “What if men need the women just as much as they need us? There’s nothing wrong with wanting companionship. Why does hopeless have to be combined with romantic? I would call it hopeful, rather. Wouldn’t you?”
Annabel snorts. “No. I would call it bullshit. All this happily ever after is a bunch of hogwash and you know it.”
“So, you’re a cynic.”
“I’m a realist.”
Jude leans back, resting one arm behind Annabel on the couch. “What’s wrong with believing in love?
“I believe in love, just not romantic love.”
“False. What about penguins?”
She frowns. “What about them?”
“They mate for life and bring each other an engagement pebble to show their love.”
“False.” She throws his word back at him. “All penguins gather pebbles to build their nest. It’s survival, not love. You shouldn’t believe every meme you read on the internet.” She flicks her fingers at the screen. “The truth is it’s all about procreation and has nothing to do with some kind of world-altering romance. That’s what they want you to believe.”
“Who are they?” I ask.
“The people who make Valentine’s Day candy and greeting cards and jewelry and flowers, the same people who make these movies and take your money, that’s who.”
“Those are legit businesses. Capitalist ventures I can get behind,” Jude says.
Annabel opens her mouth, probably to issue some kind of mouthy retort, but then Reese emerges from down the hallway, rubbing her eyes.
“What’s all the yelling about?” Her hair is a messy bun on the top of her head, strands escaping to form a haphazard halo around her face. She’s wearing sleep shorts that barely graze midthigh and a thin camisole with narrow straps and . . . I’ve never seen so much of her flesh.
And I’m staring.
I rip my gaze away and turn to Annabel.
My sister. Who’s sitting right next to me. She’s the biggest boner killer in the room.
Beast is hulking in the recliner.
Maybe second biggest.
“How do you feel about romance?” Annabel asks Reese, pulling my attention back.
“With you?” Reese’s brow creases in confusion. It’s an adorable, sleepy gesture and something in my stomach flips in awareness.
Did I think adorable? About Reese? Sleep deprivation is doing funny things to my brain.
“Not me,” Annabel clarifies. “Romance in general.”
Reese considers it. “I’m not diametrically opposed.”
“There you go.” Annabel waves a hand at Reese.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Jude says. “Lady, you’re crazier than a soup sandwich.”
“I am not.”
“She’s not crazy.” Reese stretches and I try to ignore the sliver of stomach revealed when her shirt rides up.
Annabel hits me on the back of the head.
Clearly, I failed.
“How do you know she’s not nuttier than a fruitcake?” Jude asks.
“Based on contextual cues, I believe you’re using the term crazy to describe someone mentally deranged, which does not describe Annabel, who is obviously of sound mind. However, if you’re saying she is intensely enthusiastic, or passionate about a topic—like saying someone is crazy about baseball—then you may be correct.”
I’m momentarily stunned. Along with everyone else in the room.
“Huh,” Jude says. “I don’t have anything to say about that.”
Annabel laughs. “That’s right, dickweeds.”
Beast seems to take some kind of offense to her comment. He stands and lumbers out of the room.
Jude claps once, loudly. “Okay then. Get ready, babies. All the fun starts in less than an hour.”
A crowd has gathered by the time we make our way to the library steps. We had to walk through the busy quad to get here, already full of giant inflatable obstacle courses, booths with information, and carts selling carnival-type food. There’s a mock football game where all the players are dressed up in drag—wigs, heels, and all—to raise money for their charities, a kissing booth where you can pay for a sloppy lick from a baby pig, and a variety of other money-raising venues.
Right at ten o’clock, Jude busts out his megaphone.
“Today’s Bedlam event is perhaps the most challenging yet. Let me welcome all of you to the Begonia Day scavenger hunt!”
The assembled crowd claps and whoops.
“Our competitors will be given a list of items to retrieve along with a few tasks which must be documented photographically. They have exactly two hours to meet back here. Whoever has completed the most tasks will be our day-three winner.”
Beast hands Reese and me each a single sheet of paper, and my eyes run down the seven items on the list. Most of them are fairly easy.
Have a thumb war with a cop.
Prove a well-known mathematical theorem on a chalkboard.
Obtain a coin of any denomination from 1998.
Locate ten things that are red.
Take a selfie with one of the deans.
The final two tasks on the list are a little tougher.
Get a pic wh
ile wearing an official Fighting Boars Football jersey from a member of the starting lineup for today’s game.
I’ll have to either find a player somewhere around here—not necessarily a challenge on its own—then ask them to, what, borrow their jersey for a minute? It’s either that or sneak into the locker room. I’m not sure any giant jocks will be amenable to some dude asking for their shirt, so option two might be the best shot.
And the final task: Get a picture of Begonia in a dress. I’m not sure how easy it will be to dress a pig, but it can’t be too hard, right? I just have to find a dress . . .
No time for dwelling.
Jude does his countdown and then we’re off. I run after Reese into the quad, but within moments she’s disappeared into the crowd.
Might as well get the easy stuff out of the way. I find campus security first, monitoring the perimeter. There’s a man and woman combo and I convince her to take the video with my phone while her partner and I engage in a thumb wear.
I find a member of the track team working one of the booths, and they let me rifle through their money box until I find a coin from 1998 and switch it out with one of mine from my pocket.
While I’m there, the dean of liberal arts shows up and we take a selfie.
All the while, I take pictures of anything and everything red. Someone’s shirt, a woman in red sunglasses, the fire hydrant, and a cowboy with a red handkerchief around his neck.
At one point I spot Reese across the quad with the same cops I talked to before. Annabel is with her, taking the video.
Why is my sister helping my opponent?
I shake off the thread of annoyance. Focus. Once I’ve gotten my ten red objects, it’s time to get down to the more difficult tasks.
I’m not the best at math, but I bet I can find a theorem already written up in the math building.
On the way in, I run into Reese and Annabel on their way out.
“Hello, brother dear. Running behind, are we?”
“Hardly.” I race past them and almost immediately spot a whiteboard with a formula on it. Doesn’t look simple to me, but it will have to do.
Within a minute, I’m heading back out the door.