by J. A. Paul
The Race
A short story from The Gladius Adventure Series
By J. A. Paul
Copyright © 2011 by J. A. Paul
The Race
“Do you remember Leander Silver?” asked the red headed freckle-faced boy.
“The boy who killed his brother in that barn fire last year?” asked Gladius Oldmont as the two boys walked barefooted through the clover field on their way to the swimming hole.
“You mean, accidentally killed.”
Gladius held out an arm to stop Tally, his best friend whose real name is Talbert Willis but Gladius had always called him Tally. “That’s what he says. What are you playin’ at, Tally?”
“You know how he’s been all quiet and weird ever since?”
“Yeah?” said Gladius, thinking of the boy one year older than he and Tally. If the rumors were true, then Leander Silver set the barn on fire and barred the door so his brother couldn’t get out. A neighbor had seen the two brothers arguing earlier that morning and figured the fire was only a partial accident. Leander’s father took the death of his oldest son to heart and initially sided with the neighbor, but his mother defended Leander at every turn. She would not tolerate anyone saying it was anything but an accident. It tore the family apart.
Immediately following the fire, Leander retreated into a shell of silence. He didn’t want to play with anyone and he refused to go to school for lessons. Gladius and Tally didn’t see him that whole winter.
“I saw him today. I saw him running up the hill when I was coming to meet you,” said Tally.
“So?” Gladius was used to seeing Leander now that he had rejoined the school. “We see him almost everyday.”
“Yeah, I know but he was running. I saw him swimming in the Mill Pond yesterday, too.”
“And?”
“I think he’s training.”
“Training? Training for the race? He can’t!” said Gladius, now starting to understand why Tally was excited about seeing Leander running.
“Why can’t he?” Tally looked confused.
“Well, he could I suppose, but he didn’t do it last year. He’s fourteen now, right?” Gladius pulled a leaf off the tree.
“Yeah, fourteen. Nothing says you can’t run when you’re fourteen.”
“No, but if he’s racing that means he is planning to take his Bartlett and he would need to win the race this year.” Every year young men and women get sent out on a rite-of-passage to adulthood known as the Bartlett Trial, and Gladius was determined to make sure he qualified for his.
“Yep! That’s why I’m telling you this, Glad. You know we have to compete in the race at least three years to take our Bartlett at fifteen. The only way around that is if you win it once.”
Gladius knew the rules. He’d had them memorized since he was five years old when his older brother, Kirken, first participated in the race at the age of eleven. Not many people took part when they were that young. Even he and Tally didn’t run their first race until they were twelve, and now that they were thirteen, Gladius planned to win it. Up until this moment there were no fourteen-year-olds running in this year’s race.
“Well, we should go talk to Emmett and see if Leander signed up,” said Gladius, suddenly nervous about an older boy running against him the year he was primed to win.
“That old codger? I doubt he even has our names entered yet,” said Tally, turning sour at the mention of the local carpenter Emmett, who builds the starters’ platform and keeps the list of race entrants each year.
“Oh, you’re just bitter at old Emmett because he made you repaint Mrs. Smith’s picket fence.”
“I – did – not – do – it! For the hundredth time. It was Silas Dunbar who kicked dirt on Emmett’s fresh coat of paint. Not me,” said Tally, whose face was as red as his hair with the idea of facing Emmett again.
“Well, you were too stupid not to run away after Silas did it. At least he was smart enough to know better than to just stand there with his hands in his pockets trying to look innocent.” Gladius couldn’t help but pester Tally with this gem at every opportunity he had.
“You’re just worried that Priscilla won’t take notice of your handsome face if someone else wins the race,” Tally fired back.
Gladius rolled his eyes at his friend’s ridiculous statement and shot back the only way he knew how. “Priscilla is after you, not me.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure,” said Tally, fumbling for words. “Wait, really? Did she tell you that?”
Gladius grinned and knocked on the door frame of the house where they knew Emmett was working. “Emmett? You in there?”
“Over here,” a head appeared through the window from the backside of the unfinished house. “Stay there, Gladius. I’ll come around.”
Emmett, a tall lean black man, rounded the corner with sawdust sticking to his muscled forearms. “Did you boys come to enter this year’s race?”
Gladius felt Tally kick him in the side of the foot and whisper between his teeth, “I told you so.”
“But sir, we’re already…” Gladius started to say.
“Ahh, I was just having a little fun with you. Relax – so, what brings you to me today?”
“Well sir, it is about the race. Tally and I…” Emmett glared at Tally like he couldn’t be trusted. “Umm, well, we were wondering if Leander Silver has entered the race this year.”
“Leander Silver?” Emmett pretended to think about it, but Gladius knew he would know straight away if Leander had entered or not. He figured Emmett was trying not to make a big deal out of it.
“Yes, he has. Is that all boys? I’ve got a lot of work to finish today.”
“That’s all, sir. Thank you,” said Gladius.
Tally managed a weak, “Thank you.” And they turned to walk away.
“You boys stay out of trouble, you hear?”
Gladius turned around smiling. “But sir, when have you ever known me to cause trouble?”
“I wasn’t talking to you, young Gladius. I was talking to that other boy with you.”
Someday Gladius would straighten old Emmett out on who really did kick dirt on the fresh paint, but not today. He enjoyed watching Tally squirm too much. Besides, Tally had acted guilty by agreeing to paint the fence before Gladius even knew about the incident so there wasn’t much point in arguing for him now. Though Tally still had it in his mind to punish Silas, that day was still to come, and his friend had it all planned for when it did.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” said Tally, nearly pulling Gladius over while trying to tug him away from Emmett.
Gladius could hear Emmett laughing to himself as they walked away.
“So about Priscilla,” asked Tally, rubbing his hands together. “Did she really ask about me?”
“Tally, you’ve got about as much-of-a-chance to win Priscilla’s heart as you do of winning the race.”
“Oh, yeah? Well I’ll race you to the pond,” Tally yelled back after gaining a four-step head start.
For half an hour Gladius and Tally swam in the pond and practiced the route they thought would be included in the race. The course changes a little every year, but it would still at some stage run through Mill Pond and they wanted to be ready for it.
Pulling himself up onto a large boulder near the shore, Gladius saw Leander approaching from the other side of the pond. He signaled for Tally to swim over.
“What is it?” asked Tally, pulling himself up onto the rock.
“Look. I think it’s Leander coming for a swim.”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Tally said, wiping water from his eyes. Should we swim over to meet h
im?”
“Do you think he did it? You know, barring the door on purpose, I mean,” asked Gladius.
“I don’t know. He and his brother used to fight like diseased badgers, but I still can’t imagine it. What about you?”
“Yeah, I think he could’ve done it. I mean, why lock the door? The fire probably was an accident but why bar the door? That doesn’t seem like an accident to me.”
“Don’t know and we’ll likely never find out,” said Tally.
Leander stopped at the water’s edge and stared at Gladius and Tally. Gladius stared back wondering what it was like for Leander. He must feel awful either way, and now he has to put up with everyone keeping their distance.
“Come on, Glad. Let’s see if we can con a sweet from ol’ Mrs. PeerMont.”
“Yeah, OK,” said Gladius as he gathered his shirt, giving Leander one last glance.
The next day Tally and Gladius decided to practice their tree climbing skills, since climbing was a part of the race, too. They met up at the towering twin pines across the meadow at the north end of town.
“I think you might be right, Glad. I think Priscilla just might have something for me.”
“What? Is your mother serving you fermented grape juice again?”
“What? What does grape juice have to do with anything?”
Gladius stopped in his tracks.
“What is it?” asked Tally.
“Look! Up in the tree.” They had stopped walking a stone’s throw away from the twin pines and Leander was working his way down one of them.
“Who is it?” squinted Tally.
“Leander. Come on, this time we’re talking to him.” Gladius grabbed Tally by the back of the