With the deadline of the contest fast approaching, Dobie was growing desperate. Benbow had given him an idea a few days previous, but from a moral standpoint, it wasn't a good one. Sure, Benbow was a heel, but stealing a photo was still dishonest.
As usual, things seemed to be progressing from bad to worse. He hadn't seen Anita since she had given him the flyer for the contest, and frankly, he didn't think she wanted to see him until he had a photo that would knock her socks off.
He was sitting in the park, and around him the sky was growing dark. He knew that soon his parents would begin to worry, but for now Dobie enjoyed staying still as the city grew quiet around him.
Dobie looked up as he heard footsteps and the sound of someone scatting a beat.
"Like, hi, good buddy!"
He waved to his friend half-heartedly. "Hi, Maynard."
"Where've you like been?"
"I've been trying to find out what to do about this stupid contest," Dobie explained. "I've thought of a lot of different ideas, but none of them are too great." As Maynard sat down, he looked to him. "Say, Maynard, do you have any ideas?"
"My head's kinda cute, but it doesn't figures things out too good," Maynard said. "You're like on your own, good buddy. If I could help, I would."
Dobie nodded sullenly, burrowing deeply back into his own thoughts. Then he looked up. "You'd be willing to help me?"
Maynard nodded vigorously. "Sure would, good buddy! I'd do like anything!"
"Hmm…"
Looking around to make sure they were alone, Dobie leaned forward and filled Maynard in on the plan.
"Like, me?" Maynard asked, his eyes widening. "Like, honorable, true-blue Maynard G. Krebs?"
"Yes, like you," Dobie confirmed. "Please, Maynard. You're my best friend… You've gotta do it!"
Maynard furrowed his eyebrows as he thought it over, but then he nodded. "Like, alright, good buddy."
Dobie smiled. "Thanks, Maynard… It's gotta be tonight!" He said goodbye and left for home, leaving his friend alone on the bench.
Maynard sighed, looking after Dobie, before he got to his feet and headed towards the school.
It was not yet closing time, so the doors to the school were unlocked. Maynard made it in easily and he headed towards the part of the high school where the dark room was. He passed by a janitor and greeted him, "Like, hi, Mr. Browning."
"Hi, Maynard," the man answered, and nothing more was thought of it.
Finally Maynard reached the dark room, and every small noise set him even further on edge. Of course he would do whatever Dobie asked of him, but this just didn't seem right. With the door firmly shut behind him, he looked around him. The dark room was now empty, and he spotted a folder on the counter, nearly spilling over with photographs.
He opened the folder and saw photos of just about everything: water from a water fountain captured as it made its graceful arc, Benbow's own hand wrapped in caution tape, and someone falling on the street. The last one made Maynard look twice. "Like, spooky," Maynard said to himself, but took the first few photos that he saw. Taking Benbow's photos sure wasn't honest, but Dobie had asked him, and how could Maynard say no?
He stuck the photos under his sweatshirt and hurriedly left the dark room.
Later that evening, Dobie was much calmer. His parents had given him permission to go out, and he was currently with his beloved Anita in the malt shop. With Maynard out procuring some photographs, he felt that everything was under control.
Until, of course, the conversation got around to the contest. "Do you have anything developed?" she asked.
"Yes," Dobie lied quickly. "I definitely do. I don't have it with me though… it's in the dark room, at school."
"They're not more of those people in the store, right?"
"No-"
"You don't beat a dead horse, you know," she informed him, and then paused. "Although that would make an interesting photo…"
"Anita," Dobie interrupted. "I just know that I'll win that contest."
She smiled at him. "I just know you will as well, Dobie darling."
At that moment, Maynard burst into the malt shop. "Got it, good buddy!" he called and he hurried over to the table.
"You've really got it?" Dobie asked.
"Like, yeah, big daddy."
He turned from his friend to his date. "Anita, I've gotta go," he said and kissed her on the cheek.
With that, Dobie and Maynard practically flew out of the malt shop.
Dobie prepared to hand in his submission for the contest at school the next morning. With the photo in hand, he marched up to the table in the hallway that accepted submissions. After filling out the application, he put that and the photo into the box of submissions.
With that out of the way, he walked to class with a guiltless conscience.
