"Look," Elton whispered, nudging Milka, who was sitting next to him on the dock that Ms. Milla usually held her levitation class on. He pointed across the lake at the two figures retreating up the hill. "There they go."
There they went-they being a large, ferocious looking grizzly bear and Mikhail Bulgakov, hot on the beasts heels as it floated back to wherever it had come from. Why the bear had made the trek out here to the lakeside when it usually preferred to stay within close proximity of its cave by the docks was a mystery. Maybe it had gotten tired of snacking on squirrels and honey and had decided to shake things up by doing a bit of telekinetic fishing. If that was the case, then Elton was glad that the bear had taken one look at the lake and shaken its furry brown head in an oddly human-like manner before retreating.
He was even gladder to see Mikhail stealthily and speedily follow it out. He didn't dislike the taller boy per se- anyone that could go toe to toe with Bobby Zilch couldn't be all bad- but Mikhail had left a rather concerning comment regarding chalk and claws and Chevy Chase on Milka's campster profile, and the last thing that Elton wanted was for him to try and start trouble with his lovely lady. That would have forced Elton to step in, as there was no way in heck that he was going to allow anyone, even an astral warrior that fought wild animals for fun, to mess with his girl. Thankfully, it seemed that there would not be any need to defend Milka's honor, which was good because he was pretty sure that Mikhail could kill him in about a million different ways. With the departure of both bear and Bulgakov, Elton could allow himself to relax and go back to basking in Milka's presence.
Mom always said that you knew you were in love if you could just sit around with a person and be perfectly content just being near them. "Your Daddy and I," she'd say as they walked around the park or sat at the dinner table in their small apartment, "used to hang out at the pier and just watch the ocean, or the people going by." There was always a gleam in Mom's eye whenever she talked about Dad, and Elton couldn't tell if it made her look happy or sad, or some combination of both. "Sometimes we'd talk, but most of the time we didn't need to. Always felt like nothing could ever go wrong, so long as he was next to me."
Elton always enjoyed hearing Mom reminisce about Dad, even if it made them both kind of sad afterward. But it wasn't until now that he finally began to truly understand what she had meant. The sky above appeared bluer, the sun's rays felt less harsh on his face, the usually cloudy waters of Lake Oblongata looked clearer, heck, even the fish seemed to be thinking cheerier thoughts, and it was all because he had Milka's small hand in his own. He couldn't recall ever feeling so happy in his life, couldn't even remember how he'd had survived this camp the previous year when Milka hadn't been here to brighten up his days. And did it really matter? Why should he give last summer any thought when it was this summer that everything had changed for the better? Sure, he may have been abducted by a mutant Lungfish and had his brain stolen by a crazy dentist in an ill-conceived plot to take over the world, but he'd also met the most amazing girl in the whole world, who had found a wretch like him and declared herself his girlfriend, and kissed him whenever she could! Losing his brain for a short while seemed insignificant in the face of such an incredible turn of events!
"I'm glad they're gone," he said as Mikhail and his bear disappeared from view. "They might have wrestled themselves right into the lake!" He turned to look at Milka, not at all bothered by the fact that he couldn't actually see her. "The fish are in a good mood today, they don't need all that rough-housing disturbing them."
Milka didn't reply, only smiled and nodded in agreement. Elton didn't know how he knew this, only that he could track the movements of her head and the slight curving of her lips. Sometimes Milka just liked to be invisible for no other reason than that she could be. Elton didn't care- if not being seen made her happy, than he was very glad to not be seeing her right now. It was kind of cool and somehow made him even more aware of her presence at his side. The soft, sweet tone of her voice, the foresty scent of her hair, and the feel of her warm hand squeezing his own seemed all the more intense when she wasn't visible, and it was so distracting that sometimes he'd just loose his train of thought. "What, um," he asked, his face heating up a little, "what were we talking about just now?"
Milka giggled. Her laughing at him made him feel completely different from when the other campers laughed at him. When they did it, it was because they were being mean and wanted him to feel bad. When she did it, it was because she thought he was being funny and charming and it made his heart feel all giddy. "You were telling me about the cake your mom's friend made for your birthday."
"Oh, yeah!" Elton thought back to where he had left off after spotting the bear and picked the story back up from there. "Well, when she took it out of the oven, it looked and smelled really good," he said. The air around where Milka's head should be seemed to move oddly, indicating that she was nodding for Elton to go on. "But we couldn't get it out of the pan at all! It wouldn't budge, even after my mom got a hammer and tried hitting the bottom of the pan with it to make it come out."
"Oh my God!" Milka said, a note of awe in her voice. "Your mom really hit it with a hammer?"
"Yeah," Elton replied, laughing at the memory of his mother smacking the pan and telling the cake to 'come out, you jerk!'. "It didn't work. That thing may as well have been super-glued in there!"
"So what did you end up doing?"
"They tried to cut it out along the edges," Elton said. "It sort of worked, because the part that she cut came out, but it fell apart as soon as it was on the plate." The crumbly remains of the cake that Felicia had failed to bake had resembled big piles of dirt, albeit delicious, chocolatey dirt.
"So you didn't get to eat cake on your birthday?" Milka asked, her finger rubbing a gentle circle on the back of his palm.
"Hmm, yeah, but it wasn't a bad thing," Elton answered. "My mom had already made the frosting, so we just threw some chocolate chips and the cake pieces into the bowl and we just ate that." Elton paused, suddenly nervous. "Is…Is that weird? That's kind of weird, isn't it?"
"No way, the frosting's the best part," Milka said, and Elton breathed a sigh of relief. "What kind was it?"
"Chocolate butter cream," Elton said, grinning. "My favorite!"
Milka reappeared, a matching grin on her face. "That's my favorite too."
"No way!" He could hardly believe that they had even this small thing in common, and yet was it really that surprising that the most perfect girl to ever grace him with her presence would have such impeccable taste in frostings? "Milka," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm thinking that I really need to kiss you right now."
"Heh," Milka said, already leaning forward, "go for it, tiger."
Permission thus granted, Elton eagerly let his lips meet Milka's, pressing them against hers for barely a second before pulling away. It was so good that he immediately had to have another, and then another, and then one more after that. Kissing her was like- gosh, Elton didn't even know what could possible compare. Like that time that Mom let him stay-up for the all night Gilligan's Island marathon? Like hugging Fishmal, the big stuffed whale that Dad had brought him for a present? None of these things, as good as they were, even came close to matching the sheer amount of joy that kissing Milka Phage brought him at this moment.
Elton was relatively certain that they could have gone at this all day had not the sudden boom of the Coach's voice from across the lake startled him. He jumped and turned his head toward the shore, anxiously searching for the squat form of the Coach shouting at him and Milka. Though the Coach had apologized profusely to all of the campers for his part in their abduction, Elton was still rather wary of him, if only because any loud person made him nervous.
"It's just the intercom," Milka said just as Elton had come to that very same conclusion. "I think he's announcing something."
Indeed he was. "…and to once again reiterate how deeply, truly sorry I am," he was saying, the static from the intercom making his words sound uncharacteristically soft, "I've decided to organize a Reparation Party here in the Main Lodge, set to begin promptly at 1400 hours. Don't be late!" His message delivered, Oleander cut the intercom off, the concluding thump implying that he had slammed the mike back into the receiver.
Elton blinked, confused. "He's having an 'I'm Sorry' party?"
Milka shrugged, kicking her feet back and forth above the water. "Guess so."
"I've never heard of a party like that," Elton said, wonder in his voice. Boy, the Coach sure was a strange fellow! "Do we have to go?"
"Why would we want to?"
The Coach's voice came thundering through the intercom before Elton could reply. "There will be cake!" he yelled before slamming the mike down again, as though he'd gotten on solely to answer Milka's question.
"Oh, Milka, he's got cake!" Elton exclaimed, only just now realizing that he was actually really hungry. Must have been all that kissing. "I think I'd like a piece of that. You know, since we were talking about cake just now," he continued, already telekinetically pulling the canoe they'd come here on closer to the pier. He carefully lowered himself into the boat, using his telekinesis to keep it steady. "Are you coming?" he asked when he noticed that Milka hadn't moved.
"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "I don't wanna mingle with everyone else." She leaned back on her hands, smiling at him. "You go ahead."
Elton frowned. "You don't want any cake?"
Milka shrugged. "I do, but I wanna stay out here more," she said, looking out at the calm, steady water. "Maybe I'll go get some later, if there's any left."
That didn't seem like a likely prospect with eighteen other kids plus the counselors all probably wanting a piece of their own. "I'll bring you one!" Elton declared, wanting to give his girlfriend the best of both worlds. "I'll just grab two pieces and come right back!"
Milka's eyes widened, awed by her boyfriend's generosity. "You wouldn't mind?"
"Of course not!" It wasn't like he'd want to stay in the Main Lodge long enough to eat his cake if Milka wasn't right there with him enjoying her own. "It wouldn't taste right if you didn't have any."
Milka grinned at him, and gosh if she didn't have the best smile in the whole wide world. It knocked him right off his feet every time he saw it! "Thanks, sailor," she said, winking at him. "I'll make it worth your while."
Elton blushed. "I-It's already worth it," he stammered out before heading off to complete his task, effortlessly cutting through the water towards the boathouse.
A quick trip to the Main Lodge and back should not have been a stressful endeavor. But that was exactly what Elton was experiencing right now. Stress, a great deal of it, so much that it felt like he was on the verge of passing out. He had left the beach in order to obtain two pieces of cake, and yet instead it felt like he'd been handed a big old plate of stress that he most certainly did not want, served alongside a generous heaping of fear and seasoned liberally with a sprinkle of annoyance and just a pinch of anger.
The cause of his current state of distress had been encountered shortly after he had crested the slope that led up to the Main Lodge. It seemed that Mikhail had wasted no time in catching up with the grizzly bear, and he was now engaged in a brutish contest of man-on-animal strength. Elton had discovered them violently rolling about in the middle of the path, rudely blocking the fastest way to his destination.
The noises they were making- Elton shuddered to think of them! There were deep, guttural grunts and harsh, rumbling growls that rang in his ears, along with the hard thumps and smacks resulting from the combatants roughly thrashing about in their efforts to gain the upper hand over their opponent. A cloud of dust formed around the two fighters, particles of which drifted directly into Elton's wide, terrified eyes.
Elton could only stand there motionlessly as the battle raged on before him, his face white with fear and beads of nervous sweat dripping down his forehead. It was a miracle that he could even manage to keep himself upright, given how weak his knees felt. The fight, in addition to being noisy, dirty, and generally unpleasant to witness (Elton did not know whether the bear or Mikhail had the fiercest countenance- only that both were likely to appear in his nightmares!) was greatly inconveniencing him. It was almost like neither participant had taken into consideration that maybe other people would want to walk this path before deciding to have their fight!
It quickly became clear the battle was not likely to stop inconveniencing him anytime soon. "Hey…um, fellas," Elton squeaked after wresting control over his vocal cords. "Do you think you could, um, maybe stop all this wrestling for a second so I could walk by?" Neither party appeared to have heard him- probably because Mikhail had just flipped the bear over. Elton raised his voice a little more. "Guys? I just need to get past you, I won't take long, I swear! If you could just move over…" The only response to this was a loud, low pitched roar that echoed all through the camp, scattering the birds in the trees and nearly giving Elton a heart attack. Obviously, Elton thought, hand clutching at his chest, reasoning with these two isn't going to be an option!
His only option was to veer off the path and simply go around the ever-shifting mass of claws and fur and long, muscled limbs. Elton lifted one shaky foot off of the ground, and then set it back down, not progressing a single inch forward, a sudden sense of foreboding coming over him. What would happen if these two ruffians spotted him walking by? Sure, they hadn't bothered him yet (at least, not intentionally), but that could have been because they hadn't noticed him standing not ten feet away from them. If Mikhail saw him, would he just allow him to go by, or would he try to 'tag him in' to the match? Would he grab Elton with his powerful telekinetic hand and try to use him as bait to distract the bear? Or would he merely use Elton's scrawny body as a bludgeon, since there weren't any chairs or tables nearby? And what about the bear? Perhaps the bear look at him and decide that eating him would provide a good energy boost…
These wild questions raced through his mind like a canoe going down the rapids. He turned on his heel and took two steps before realizing that he had moved at all, his nerves automatically moving his body towards safety. He forced himself to a stop, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. He didn't want to flee- okay, well, no, that wasn't true, he wanted to run away very badly and it took every bit of his strength to keep himself where he was. But turning tail would mean going back to Milka without the cake he had promised to get for her, and what kind of man would he be if he said he was going to do something and just didn't do it? His mom and all of her friends at the hotel certainly wouldn't have anything good to say about that!
Bolstering up his courage, Elton turned again, determined to accomplish the task he had set out for himself. Fear immediately seized him and froze him in his spot, his new-found courage evaporating like steam. In the brief time that his back had been turned, the fight before him had escalated. Mikhail had managed to perch himself on the grizzly bear's massive back and now had the bear in what looked to be an extremely painful headlock. The bear, in its efforts to fling Mikhail off of its body, had begun flailing about madly, going so far as to raise itself up on its hind legs, twisting this way and that. All to no avail- with gritted teeth Mikhail clung to the bear stubbornly, as stuck to the bear as a barnacle on a whale.
The battle seemed to be getting more out of control with every second that passed, and the likelihood of him being able to casually pass by without getting sucked into it somehow seemed increasingly unlikely. If only there was some way that I could get by without them seeing me, Elton thought, swallowing nervously as the bear reached up with its giant paws to pry Mikhail off its neck.
Wait a minute…there was a way he could get past this without those ruffians catching sight of him- he could just go invisible! He was, after all, a psychic, and even the weakest of psychics could utilize all of the basic skills if they put their mind to it. The only problem with that idea was that Elton's experience with that particular ability was sorely lacking, and the only skill that came naturally to him was Deep-Sea Telepathy. But he couldn't give up because of that! Milka was waiting for him, and at the very least he had to try, even if his efforts wound up getting him killed.
Uncertain of where he should begin, Elton thought back to those times Milka had talked to him about being invisible. Enthralled as he'd been while listening to her, the recollections were ultimately of little use to him, as her description of the process by which she utilized the power were quite sparse. "I just think about being invisible and then I am," had been the sum of what she had verbally imparted to him on the subject.
Maybe just thinking about it would be enough for him too? Be invisible, he thought to himself, cringing as what must have been the sound of the bear raking its claws against Mikhail's shirt reach his ears. Just disappear. Be like a cuttlefish and blend into the background.
It didn't seem to be working. He tried to stay focused on fading into the woodwork, but the alarming altercation before him kept breaking his concentration. For lack of any better idea coming to him at that moment, Elton plugged his ears with his fingers and screwed his eyes shut. It worked- the fight still felt very close, but the ruckus, being both muffled and obscured from his vision, no longer intruded on his focus as effectively as it had before.
Don't let them see me. Don't let them see me. Don't let them see me. Within seconds of repeating this internal mantra, he felt an odd sensation in his in the center of his brain, a light pulse that he had never felt before. He must have done it then- of course, with his eyes closed he had no way of knowing for sure, but he certainly felt transparent, and that, at this point, was good enough for him!
Elton, eyes still closed and fingers still in his ears, dashed off of the path and then forward, running as fast as his little legs could carry him. CHAAARRRGGEEE! he screamed in his head- it wouldn't do to scream it out loud and reveal his position after all-, moving faster than he ever had before, consciously aware of nothing other than the feel of his feet stomping on the grassy ground. The burst of speed did not last him longer than a few seconds before a wave of sudden dizziness (and maybe one of his shoelaces) sent him crashing into the dirt, his hat flying right off his head.
He landed with an 'oof!', convinced that the cause of his fall had been one of the rough-housers discovering him after all and deliberately tripping him up. Elton lay face down, expecting a telekinetic hand to drag him into the melee at any minute, but when no such event came to pass, he rose up and peered back at the battle. It had only raged on during his mad dash, the two combatants paying no more attention to him than they had before he had run by them.
Shocked that he was still in one piece, Elton grabbed his hat and shakily got to his feet, vision swimming and knees still weak. A giddy sensation was coursing through his veins, one that made him want to jump up and yell 'yipee!' despite his physical and mental fatigue. I did it, he thought, realizing that what he was now feeling was triumph. I really did it! A silly grin spread across his face and remained there as he made his way to the Main Lodge. He moved as quickly as his still exhausted body would allow him, wanting to get his cake and hurry back to the lake so that he could tell Milka about his accomplishment. I dedicate this victory to you…for without the blessing of your love I surely would have been like Jonah, swallowed up by those two behemoths as he was by the whale…
He entered the lodge with a spring in his step, still grinning from ear to ear. That grin died shortly after, when Elton realized that getting his cake would be another ordeal he'd have to push through, rather than the quick in-and-out thing that he had hoped it would be.
The room in which he stood was certainly decked out appropriately for a celebration, with blue and green streamers hung from the ceiling, matching tablecloths covering the wooden tables, and a long, carefully-crafted banner stretched from one side of the room to the other above. Had the banner not read 'I AM SORRY!' in bold, hand-painted letters, Elton would have almost believed that he'd walked into someone's birthday party.
The cake, one of those large, heavily frosted ones that could be ordered from any grocery store (at least, Elton hoped it was from a grocery store- Chef Cruller didn't seem much like the baking type) was set out at the far left end of table near the back of the room. Before the cake lay all the tools one required in order to properly enjoy a slice. Starting at the right end were three neat stacks of paper plates, followed by stack of napkins, and then a basket full of utensils next to the cake itself. Coach Oleander stood in front of the cake, having taken on the responsibility of distributing it.
The line to get a piece was long, extending almost to the doors where Elton stood. Nearly everybody appeared to be in the lodge, with the only campers absent being Mikhail (still outside either mauling or being mauled) and Milka (waiting patiently at the docks- oh, every second apart was like a hook puncturing his heart!). A few people were sitting at the tables- this group included Raz, Lili, Ms. Milla, Agent Nein, that one lady with the crazy hair that Elton had at first thought was really scary but was actually really nice, and her cool pet turtle. Everyone else was waiting in the line, looking varying degrees of bored and impatient.
The line was not moving quickly at all, which Elton thought was strange considering that the table had clearly been set up with efficiency in mind. Elton glanced at the end of the table to see what the cause of the hold-up was and saw the Coach holding a spatula with a piece of cake balanced on it and speaking in hushed tones (or, at least as close to hushed tones as the Coach could manage) with J.T. Elton couldn't hear what was being said, as the usually loud and gruff counselor was making an effort to use an indoor voice. He could make out the Coach's expression, and it, being as intense and intimidating as it always was, was reason enough for Elton's anxiety to return in full force. What, he wondered, pulling nervously at his neckerchief, was going on over there? What was the Coach saying to J.T. and why was it taking him so long to say it? Was he quizzing him? Did you have to pass the quiz in order to get a piece of cake? Had this whole thing been a ruse, intended to draw out gullible fools such as himself? Elton began to feel that the task he'd set out for himself was beyond his meager ability to complete.
Inhaling deeply through his nose, Elton forced his suddenly heavy feet over to the line, standing behind Crystal. Giving up simply wasn't an option, not after all he'd been through! Let the Coach throw his questions at me, Elton thought, clenching his fists and trying to rally up as much confidence as he could. If this was, in fact, some sort of final test, then Elton would do his darndest to pass it, both on behalf of himself and on that of his girlfriend's. And if he should fail? Then he would stand there in front of the Coach, and demand that he get the cake that he had gone to such lengths to obtain, and he would refuse to move until he either got what he wanted or the Coach picked him up and dashed his brains against the wall. "I'll get your cake," he said whispering the words under his breath. "I swear on my life, Milka. I'll get your cake or I will die trying!"
Crystal turned back to look at him, blinking at him owlishly. "Did you say something, Elton?" she asked.
Elton blushed, embarrassed to have been caught muttering to himself like a madman. "N-no…"
The line shuffled forward, slowly, but surely, as Elton agonized over the trial that was to come. He kept his wary eye eye on the Coach, so fixated on the proceedings at the cake table that he bumped into poor Crystal more than once. He began to relax a little after a few minutes of observing Oleander's interactions with his peers. Though he still didn't know what it was the Coach was saying, he noticed that every single kid who came up to him left with a piece of cake-even Bobby Zilch, who had probably never passed a test in his life before this day. Elton breathed a sigh of relief, now reasonably certain that the test couldn't be that hard in light of this evidence.
The minutes that passed as he waited in that line felt more like hours. He attributed this to the fact that he'd been away from his beloved for so long- time moved so glacially when they were apart, yet so quickly when she was near- would that it were the other way around! Anticipation rose high within in him when Crystal's turn came, as that meant that his chance at the cake was finally approaching. He looked at it, the bright white frosting drawing his eye. At this distance, it was impossible to tell what kind it was- he hoped that it was buttercream, that was the best- but he could see it's pale, almost yellow interior. A vanilla cake, then. Elton would have preferred chocolate, but any cake was better than no cake, he supposed. Unless it has cream-cheese frosting…
"Next!" The shout snapped Elton out of his speculations, and he hurried over to the table so fast that he almost tripped over his own feet. He clumsily collected his utensils, nearly knocking over one of the plate stacks in his haste, and then skittered to a stop in front of the Coach.
Oleander stared at him silently for a moment, as though scrutinizing him for flaws. He jabbed the spatula at Elton's pants,. "Got some stains there," he pointed out, his tone indicating neither approval nor disapproval.
Elton glanced down and sure enough, there were dirt marks on the knees of his striped green pants. "Um...sorry," Elton said, squirming nervously and wondering if he was going to lose points for the grubby state of his clothing. He raised his gaze, his eyes making contact with the Coach's. Oleander's expression seemed as hard as ever, with his mouth twisted in his usual frown, and that glass eye staring blankly down at him, its impassiveness unnerving. He thought, however, that the Coach's other eye-the real one- lacked its normal fierceness. It instead looked almost weary , as though there were some sadness hovering at the edge that the Coach could no longer completely keep away. Elton didn't allow himself to dwell on the Coach's face for very long, as his nerves forced him to look away.
He heard, rather than saw the Coach turn, the bench he was seated on creaking with his movement, and then the scrap of spatula as it slid underneath of the cake. "Son," he said with a gentleness that seemed odd coming from the Coach, "look up. I've got something I need to say to you."
Elton tried to move his head up, but his neck refused to comply with his brain's frantic commands. His eyes, apparently less rebellious, managed to lock onto the Coach's again. He clutched his plate in his shaky hands, bracing himself for the barrage of questions no doubt about to be fired his way. I can do it. I can do it...
A second passed in which nothing was said, the Coach quietly observing his pathetic stance. Then he spoke. "Stand up straight, Fir," he ordered. "You'll ruin your posture hunching over like that."
Elton straightened himself out, his body apparently more willing to comply with the Coach's commands that with his own. Absurdly, he made himself salute, mimicking the motion his Dad had used when he had showed him how to do it on one of his visits. "S-Sir!" he stammered, squeaking out the syllable.
The Coach blinked- huh, Elton hadn't thought that he would be able to do that with both eyes- as though surprised that Elton would show any kind of respect or fear towards him. "At ease, soldier," he said, and Elton let his hand fall stiffly back to his plate, not feeling anymore at ease than he had a second before. Oleander must have picked up on that fact, for he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly in what Elton assumed to be disappointment. "Hold up your plate."
Elton did so, and was shocked when the Coach carefully slid the slice off the spatula and onto his plate. He nearly dropped it, so surprised was he at this turn of events. Nobody before him had gotten their cake so quickly; they'd all had to wait for the Coach to stop talking before they got theirs. "Um.." Elton said, looking down at the plate, and then up at the Coach, half-expecting the cake to disappear at any second. "Is this for real? I don't to have answer any questions?"
The Coach furrowed his brows. "What questions?" he barked, his mustaches bristling as he spoke.
Elton shrank back, certain that he just messed up. "I-I mean...you were quizzing everyone else…" He gulped, regretting that he had said anything at all. Maybe he forgot that he was supposed to test me and now he's gonna give me the super-hard quiz. Curse this foolish mouth of mine!
"I wasn't asking any questions, boy," Oleander explained, shaking his head. "I was telling them that I was sorry."
Elton cast a glance back up at the banner and then back over at the Coach, actually examining his expression this time. He looked older and more worn-out, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes more pronounced, and his lips turned downward in a sad frown, rather than pressed together in an angry line. Elton was reminded of one of the men who visited his mom, a quiet, middle-aged gentleman whose droopy eyes always held a touch of glumness in them, even after Elton's mom supposedly made him 'feel better.' That man was also bald and a bit on the short-side, come to think of it. Elton suddenly realized that he'd been silly to ever think that the delay had been due to Coach springing one last quiz onto his peers- obviously it takes some time to give out fifteen apologies! "So...does that mean that you were gonna say you were sorry to me?"
Oleander nodded. "I've got an apology ready for each and every one of you." He pointed at Elton with the spatula, raising it up and down along his small body. "But you're shaking like a lamb about to be slaughtered, and I'm not about to traumatize you more than I already have." He inhaled a deep breath and then continued. "I'll be quick and just that I am deeply, truly sorry about forcing a mutated Lungfish to kidnap you while you were engaged in friendly relations with your girlfriend."
Huh. There had been a small catch in the Coach's voice at the end of the sentence- he must really be remorseful! It was strange, getting an apology, like this. He'd never gotten one before, not from Benny or Bobby or any of the other kids who had been cruel to him in the past. He'd pretty much gotten over the whole fiasco for the most part, but hearing the apology still felt pretty good. It made him think that next summer really would be better, that the Coach would be nicer to him, that maybe there would be chance of him earning his Basic Braining badge- perhaps he'd even catch up to Milka in rank! "It's okay," Elton said, wanting the Coach to feel better too. "I forgive you."
Oleander's body seemed to go slack with relief, as though he'd been worried that Elton wouldn't accept his apology( and who would have thought that the Coach would ever care about what Elton thought?). Then he smiled, looking slightly less tired as he did. Elton had never seen the Coach smile before; he usually looked like he was grimacing when he wasn't shouting orders and taunting the weaker kids. The smile didn't really make him look happier-there was too much guilt in his eye for that- but it did ease the tension in his face, giving him a softer look overall. "Roger that, private," he said, swallowing thickly and wiping at his eye. "Now go enjoy that cake A.S.A.P! That's an order!"
He almost obeyed, turning and taking one step forward, before remembering that he only had half of what he had come here for. He stopped, and held out his plate again. " Can I have another piece?" he asked, the previous interaction giving him more confidence than he would have usually had when speaking to the Coach.
Oleander's smiled immediately died, his expression settling back into irritation. "What's wrong with the one that you've got?" he demanded to know.
"Nothing, sir!" Elton squeaked, his cheeks turning red. "It's just...I...um…" His mind seemingly lost connection with his mouth as he struggled to to explain himself while the Coach glared down at him, audibly grinding his teeth. "I-"
"If there's nothing wrong with the piece you've got," the Coach gritted out, making a concentrated effort to keep his temper at bay, "then why in the Sam hill are you asking for another one?"
"I need two!" Elton shouted back, panic propelling the words out of his mouth. "Um...please," he continued as an afterthought.
The attempt at politeness did nothing to abate the Coach's growing ire. "Two?" he yelled, the boom of his voice echoing all around the Main Lodge. "Can't you see that rations are limited?" He gestured over at the cake with his spatula. It appeared he had a point- there only seemed to be three pieces left.
Elton stood there stupidly, unsure of how he was supposed to answer that question, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for breath. He became acutely aware of everyone's eyes on him, their attention caught by the Coach's shouting. He didn't dare look at anyone, partially because he knew that they must think him a gluttonous, greedy fool, but mostly because he thought that Oleander might swat him like a fly with that spatula the second he looked away. He wanted to go, wanted to apologize for his insolence and just slink out the door. I could just give Milka this piece, he thought, then she'll at least have her cake…
But what would he say if she inquired about his own cakeless state? Would he admit that he had ran away without even trying to stand up for himself? That he'd broken faster than a sail against a rogue wave? No, no he couldn't- Milka certainly wouldn't have left without a fight if their positions had been reversed!
Elton planted his feet, looked the Coach straight in the eye, and braced himself for possible impact if this should all go horribly wrong. "Sir!" he exclaimed, his face set with determination. "The request for extra rations on behalf of Cadet Phage, sir!" He spoke almost as loudly as the Coach had, infusing his words with respect and confidence, the way he imagined his father would have.
It seemed to work better than the whole 'please' thing had, for the Coach's angry, reddened face relaxed a little. "Cadet Phage?" he asked, looking back towards where the line was. Or, rather, where it used to be- Elton had been the last person waiting in it. "She's not over there?"
Elton shook his head, surprised that Oleander couldn't tell. "No, Sir. She remained back at our, uh, base of operations?"
Oleander sighed, scratching his head. "I never could keep track of that one," he admitted, shaking his head. "She probably wouldn't have been caught at all if...well." He turned back towards Elton, looking much calmer now that he understood the motive behind the request. "I can respect your desire to help out your troopmate by going out on a supply run, son," he said a measure of respect that Elton had not previously ever heard from him in his tone. "But I can't just give you an extra piece of cake. It'd look like I'm playing favorites to the other cadets."
It was hard to argue with that statement, but Elton tried to anyway, not wanting to give up just yet. "But one of those slices is for Milka, right?" he said, pointing at the cake.
"There is enough for everyone here to have one, yes," the Coach replied, nodding.
"I'm just here to get her piece," Elton said imploringly, "I'm not going to eat it myself!" He couldn't fathom using his girlfriends name for his own benefit like that- such a thing was outrageous! "She didn't feel like coming all the way out here, so I told her that I would get it for her!"
Elton sensed the Coach's rejection coming before he said it out loud. "I'm sorry son, but if your friend wants her cake, she'll have to come get it herself, just like everybody else."
Elton frowned, hanging his head sadly. What was he supposed to do now? He could go back, he supposed, and relay the Coach's conditions, but then what? She'd either leave to get the slice that was rightfully hers, thus extending their separation (and they had such little time remaining to each other as it was- darn the never-ending march towards the future!) or she'd shrug her shoulders and say she didn't care. And maybe she wouldn't, but Elton certainly would. He was her boyfriend, after all, and it was his duty to give her anything she could possibly want if it was in his power to do so.
Elton squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and made one last-ditch effort to appeal to the Coach. "Sir, I promised Cadet Phage that I would return to her with two slices of cake," he began, speaking clearly and calmly. There may have been a slight tremble in his voice- he was not used to arguing with anyone for an extended period of time, let alone a man that he had been terrified of not two days ago- but he kept right on going, keeping his gaze locked firmly on the Coach's face. "To return to her with only one would be unacceptable! It would be like…" He paused, trying to come up with a comparison that would get the Coach on to see things from his point of view.
Luckily Oleander supplied one for him. "Like retreating from the field with your mission incomplete," he finished, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Elton nodded. "I can't just sail back into port with only half my cargo," he said, hope rising within him as he watched the Coach carefully consider his words. "I swear I'll tell Milka how really, really sorry you are. And if anyone says anything about me having two slices, I'll...I'll say I fought you for them!"
For a moment, Elton thought he had made a grave error by implying that a small fry such as himself stood any kind of a chance against the Coach in a fight. But then he burst into laughter, not maniacal cackles or cruel taunts, but real, genuine laughter that was still sort of scary but at the same time kind of nice to hear. "Ah, son," he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his good eye. "You got guts, I'll give you that." Elton smiled- nobody had ever said he had guts, before. Milka's courage must have been rubbing off on him!
Oleander sobered, a soft smile remaining on his face as his laughter tapered off. "You've also got loyalty. Those are both important things to have in the field." He sighed, staring down at his boots, dangling just inches off of the floor. Then he did the most shocking thing- he turned, scooped up another slice, and then plopped it right onto the plate that Elton held, the act taking only a second to complete.
Elton's mouth dropped open, as he looked down at the two slices of cake crowded together on his small plate. It was hard to believe that after all that- all the fear, all the yelling, and all the arguing- he'd actually gotten the thing he wanted. He must have stood there stunned for a second too long, as he felt a gentle nudge at his shoulder. "What're you doing just standing there, for?" Oleander asked, prodding him with the spatula again. "You need to report back to your base, pronto. Can't leave your fellow soldier waiting."
The Coach had spoken in a gruff, impatient manner, but when Elton glanced up he saw that the smile was still on his face. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all...even if he did kidnap Milka and I... "Thank you, Coach," Elton said, grinning up at him eagerly.
"Get out of here," Oleander replied, swiping his spatula towards the door. "And you better not lose that cake," he called out as Elton rushed to the exit, "because I'm not giving you anymore! DO YOU READ ME?"
"Loud and clear!" Elton said just before stepping outside.
As badly as he wanted to get back to Milka with her cake, he knew that the Coach was right. The paper plate that he held was small, meant only for one slice rather than the two that he had balanced rather precariously on. Exercising caution would be crucial at this point-running back as fast as he could would be faster, but it also ran the risk of him tripping and losing everything he'd worked so hard to get! He strongly doubted that Milka would appreciate getting a cake with grass and dirt smashed into the frosting!
With those considerations in mind, he walked over to the porch railing, set his plate down on it, and put his utensils into his pockets, as it was easier to move with less stuff to carry. He looked out, surveying the path that led back to the docks. Mikhail and his bear were no longer rolling around like a pair of brawling sailors on it- had they taken their fight elsewhere? No; a glance to the left of the path revealed both parties sitting side by side against a stump, both of them looking like good friends and neither of them any worse for wear. Elton shook his head, mind boggled. The world sure was a strange place, filled with so many different types of people. "Takes all kinds," is what his mother would say when he told her about it.
He started on his way back to the docks, moving at a slow, steady pace, taking great care not to trip over his pant leg as he walked. I should have rolled them up, he thought to himself. Well there isn't any point in stopping to do it now, and it's hardly the most difficult thing I've had to deal with today. The day was actually rather nice, with the birds chirping and the squirrels scattering about, the ruckus from a rowdy battle no longer drowning them out. Elton liked to think they were cheering him on, encouraging him to glide along with the light breeze to his destination. If he kept up his current pace, he'd be reunited with his love in just a few minutes. A surge of satisfaction swelled up within him as he imagined how proud Milka would be when he presented the cake he had promised to get for her.
The thoughts had put him in such a good mood that he waved at Mikhail when he came close to them. Mikhail waved back (and so did the bear, strangely enough). "There's cake in the Main Lodge," he said, pausing to show the Russian his cake.
Mikhail shook his head politely. "Mikhail is on special high-protein, low-carb diet as part of training regimen," he replied, offering Elton a somewhat exhausted, though no less friendly smile. "Just so, tip is appreciated. If love-struck sailor ever need favor, need only ask."
"Um, alright!" Elton said. "You guys, uh, take care!" Wow, a favor from Mikhail Bulgakov! That should come in handy one day!
Every step forward brought him closer and closer to Milka, closer and closer to her pretty smile and the kisses she would no doubt bestow upon him on his triumphant return. He could see the lake glimmering in the distance, the sun reflecting brilliantly off of its surface, and the docks too, standing out against the green-blue water. He couldn't see Milka yet, but that may have been due to him being too far away, or because she was invisible at this moment. He was certain, however, that he could sense her psychic presence as he approached the slope that led down to the beach. She felt like a soft, pleasant pulse in the center of his mind, the warmth emanating from that pulse spreading all throughout his brain as he moved onward. It had the same effect as a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a gentle reminder that she was there, an encouragement to keep going, to not give up, just a few steps more…
He was so distracted that he did not notice the rat lying in wait for him by the entrance to the beach area until he had leapt out in front of him. "Hey kid!" Benny Fideleo shrieked as he emerged from seemingly out of nowhere, hands crossed over his chest and rodent-like features set in a cruel smirk.
"Benny!" Elton cried out in alarm, only just managing not to drop his plate onto the ground as a jolt of panic shot through his whole body. He regained his balance as quickly as he could, holding the plate close to his chest protectively. "What-" his eyes shifted from side to side anxiously, trying to spot the moldy little hole the bully had hid himself away in. "Where did-what do you- huh?"
A sleazy, toothy grin slithered onto Benny's face, pleased as he was by the agitated state of his soon-to-be-victim. "Been waitin' right over there," he said, thumbing vaguely over to a space off to the right "for some chicken to come clucking up the path!" He gestured at Elton, giving the movement a theatrical flourish. "And here you are!"
Oh gosh- how could he have not noticed Benny just standing there, lying in wait for some poor sap to come by? He'd been foolish to relax his guard the way that he had. I got too careless because homeport was in sight, he admonished himself glumly, and didn't realize that my ship was about to be dashed upon the rocks! "What...what do you want?" he asked, the question struggling out of his throat.
Benny's grin widened, stretching his face intimidatingly and giving him an almost shark-like look. "What do I want? What do I want?" he said, a maniacal glee infecting his tone. "Ain't it obvious? Are you that stupid?" He chuckled, shaking his head at Elton's ignorance. He jabbed a finger towards Elton's plate, the quick jerk of his finger causing Elton to flinch. "I want what you got! I want that cake!"
Elton took a step back out of Benny's reach in case the bully made an attempt to swipe the plate right out of his hands. Hadn't Benny already had cake? He thought back to who'd seen in the Main Lodge not a few minutes ago and realized that he hadn't actually seen Benny in the line. Bobby had been there, hovering over Chloe Barge, but Benny must not have had an invitation to that particular party. "You don't need my cake," Elton said pleadingly, thinking perhaps that Benny just didn't know that one had already been saved for him. "The Coach has plenty for everyone. He told me so himself."
Benny rolled his eyes derisively. "Duh. I know that," he said, taking one step forward and snickering when Elton leaned away in response. "But why should I settle for one piece when I can have two! Mine and yours!" He looked down greedily at Elton's plate and then paused, confusion seeping into his ratty features. "Hey, you've got two pieces!" he said, apparently not having noticed that fact before. "What gives? How'd you weasel an extra piece out of Coach Dulleander?"
Something about that statement- either the implication that Elton had obtained the extra piece unfairly or the insult towards the Coach- caused a seed of anger to grow in the midst of his fear. "I did not weasel anything out of the Coach," he snapped, speaking more sharply than he had ever dared before to anyone trying to bully him. "This piece is for Milka."
"Milka!" The sneer dropped right off of Benny's face, the expression replaced by a more fearful one. "She's...she's not here, is she?" he muttered nervously, his former bravado gone. His previously slitted eyes widened as they frantically searched the area, giving him the appearance of a cornered rat.
Elton couldn't help but feel a little satisfied at Benny's show of cowardice. For once the shoe was on the other foot, and Elton liked the fit of this one much better. "She's waiting for me at the docks," Elton said, trying to look past Benny's massive ears at the area beyond. "She won't be happy if she finds out you tried to take our cake," he added, an edge of warning in his tone. "So if you could just move aside…"
The idea of future retribution apparently didn't bother Benny one bit, for he recovered his smirk the moment he realized that Milka was not an immediate threat to his person. I should have just lied and said that she was here, but invisible. Darn my honesty! "So what you're saying is," Benny jeered gleefully, speaking as though he hadn't been scared out of his mind a second earlier, "is that your girlfriend ain't here to save you." He grinned again, bearing all of his teeth. "I ain't gonna ask you again. Cough up the cake, or else Elton's gonna be gettin' a beltin'!" He smacked his fist against his palm to emphasize the threat, then winced, apparently having hit himself too hard.
Elton's gonna get a beltin'? Is this guy for real? Two things occurred to Elton then: one being that Benny was really quite stupid, and two, that Bobby Zilch, his usual protector, was nowhere to be found. "Look Benny, I don't want to fight," Elton said, exasperated. "Coach has a piece of cake for you. You don't need mine or Milka's. You go get that and enjoy it with Bobby and Chloe and I'll have mine with Milka."
Elton had hoped that Benny would see reason after that explanation, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Benny's face erupted in an angry red flush, his grin became a gritted snarl and were those tears in the corner of his eyes? "You...you!" Benny sputtered, spittle flying from his lips. In his rage, he seemed unable to think of a stupid insult to toss Elton's way, so he kept repeating 'you' at him until he finally launched himself forward. "C'mere, you!"
What happened next seemed an automatic response- as though the sight of Benny lunging forward had pressed some switch in Elton's brain. Elton's right leg kicked forward the second Benny was within range, the movement swift and sure. His foot promptly made contact with the other boy's shin, the impact rocketing through his toes and up his leg. Benny went down immediately, letting out a strangled yelp as he plummeted to the ground. Elton was only just able to hop out of the way before the other boy's body could crash into his.
He stared down at Benny in disbelief, watching as he writhed around on the grass, hugging his injured leg to his chest. He blinked as Benny whimpered pathetically stunned that the kid who had spent years tormenting him and his fish friends had gone down in one hit. It's just like Mom says, he thought as he frowned down at Benny. The guy who talks the biggest game always finishes the fastest.
It was tempting to gloat- it was what Benny would have done, had their positions been reversed- but the sight before him was so pitiful that Elton hardly saw the point. He wasted enough time on this guy anyway, time that would have been better spent with Milka. "Well...you better, uh…" he paused, trying to think of a good parting shot before he left. "You better put ice on that," he said somewhat lamely, before heading off on his way.
"Gnnnagh" Benny moaned, crying into the dirt.
"Milka! I'm back!" He announced to the seemingly empty dock as he came to a stop. In the instant the bow of his canoe bumped against the wood she appeared, like that had been her signal to do so. The brightness of her eyes and the way she immediately started forward towards him gave him such a joyful, fluttery feeling in his chest that he almost jumped out of the boat, heedless of the delicate cargo that he carried. "I got your cake," he said proudly. He held the plate out to her, wanting her to take it before he could drop it in the water in his excited state.
She reached out as though to do so, her fingers grazing against his and sending a pleasant sensation up his arm. Instead of taking the plate, however, she leaned forward and kissed him. "Thank you," she said before going in for another one. And then another one, and then one more after that, until the boat began to rock dangerously under Elton's feet. They separated before a disaster could occur (albeit with some reluctance), with Milka holding the plate as Elton maneuvered himself out of the boat, his head still light and lips still tingling from the kisses he'd just received.
"Sorry I took so long," Elton said as they sat themselves down by the edge of the dock, resuming the position they'd been in before Elton had left. He pulled the utensils out of his pocket as Milka set the plate down between them.
"It's alright," Milka said as she accepted the plastic fork from him. Nothing in her tone implied that the wait had bothered her; her voice had a somewhat breathy note to it, as though she had just woken up from a short doze. "I don't think you were gone that long," she continued, looking up at the sky for a moment. "Maybe fifteen minutes at most," she guessed, dropping her gaze back down to him and spearing her slice with her fork.
Elton stared at her as she chewed, eyes wide. "You can tell the time by the position of the sun?" he asked, awed by the sheer magnitude of his girl's talents.
Milka nodded, shrugging as though it were no big deal and not something amazing. "It's how my cat tells the time," she explained after swallowing her bite. "Came in handy when I was out in the forest."
"Wow. That's so cool!" Elton exclaimed, incredibly pleased to have learned this new fact about his girlfriend. "You're awesome," he added, looking at her adoringly.
She shrugged again, though Elton didn't miss how her cheeks turned pink, the color flattering against her tan skin. "Heh, thanks." She pointed down at the cake with her fork. "And thanks for getting this," she said before grabbing another forkful.
It was Elton's turn to blush and shrug. "I certainly didn't mind," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd do anything for you." And he would- he'd run past one-hundred fighting Russians, stare down a thousand Coach Oleanders, and kick a million Benny Fideleos if it meant making Milka happy.
"Did you run into any trouble?"
Elton almost said 'no', so happy was he to be back with Milka that he'd temporarily forgotten that he'd run into nothing but trouble while getting the cake. But now that he thought of it, he realized that all those things that had made him sweat and stress while they were happening were actually kind of funny. "It was...a journey," Elton began, the anticipation of sharing his tale already bubbling within him. "You want to hear about it?"
Milka smiled and said that she would like nothing more.