A Day at the Races
Acepilot
AN – Sorry this took so long, but Act 4 will be out early next week, I promise, which will make up for this one being both late and not as good as Act 2.
Disclaimer – characters are property of KlaskyCsupo.
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Act 3
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Phil was waiting to congratulate Dil as his housemate came running off the track, waving jauntily to a screaming section of the crowd that was clad in mostly green. The orange-haired speed-demon grinned, slowing to a jog, before launching into a forward roll and landing on one knee and spreading his arms wide, displaying himself to his "adoring audience".
"Yeah, yeah, speed freak, we've still got the rest of the day to go," Phil reminded him, grabbing him by the back of the collar and hauling him to his feet.
"I hope not. My deodorant is going to give out," Dil told him.
At the other end of the track, Kimi and Lil were gearing up to go. "Scared, Kim-Kim?" Lil teased, all but glaring at the other girl.
"Of you? Don't make me laugh." Kimi stretched idly. "You're going to rue the day you decided to take me on, DeVille."
The crowds were spared the scenes of bloodshed as Lil and Kimi suddenly found themselves moving against their will. Phil and Dil lifted a surprised Lil off the ground and carried her off one way, while Tommy and Chuckie had to drag Kimi kicking and screaming in another.
"Perhaps we should all just calm down, huh?" Phil suggested to the girls who were practically screaming for each other's blood.
His suggestion cooled the simmering females…until Lil edged Kimi out in their opening event. Then it was just up to the boys to look to each other for ideas.
"You know," Phil muttered to Tommy on one occasion that they managed to leave the girls to Chuckie and Dil, "I don't know why they can never hold these events when it's clouded over." He looked up at the clear blue sky, the bright sun shining down on him, and felt that he would probably need to reapply sunscreen sooner rather than later.
"You actually take the time to think about these things?" Tommy asked, flopping down on a nearby patch of uninhabited grass.
"Alright, Tommy - you've got to relax, man," Phil drawled, sitting down next to his friend. "I mean, I know that you're nervous, and you're probably right to be, but you're never going to win anything if you make yourself sick."
Tommy inhaled deeply. "You're right," he admitted.
"I am?" Phil asked, somewhat confused. He wasn't right very often, after all.
"I'm gonna be sick."
Phil turned away just in time. "Oh."
"Pickles!" Pangborn's voice boomed over the PA. "Please refrain from throwing up on a part of the track we're actually going to use."
Lil just caught Phil's reply on the breeze. She hoped, for Phil's sake, that Pangborn hadn't.
Chuckie turned to her. "Look, Lil, I've got to ask…why does it matter so much which one of you is better? I mean…you're best friends. Shouldn't it be a cause of happiness when your friend wins?"
Lil took a deep breath, and let it out to a count of eight.
Then she turned to face him.
A part of Chuckie's mind told him he should be running at this point. He'd seen the same expression on too many female's faces in his time. It meant – 'Be afraid. Be very afraid.'
Occasionally, it meant 'I have the wind and you better not comment on it,' but more often than not, it was just 'Be afraid.'
Lil spoke with utterly unnerving calmness. "Chuckie," she said, sweetly. "Dear, sweet Chuckie."
He caught Dil out of the corner of his eye and tried to get the younger Pickles over to help. But Dil, who had reacquired his giant green top hat, simply grinned at him and kicked back on the grass in a sort of "This oughta be a good show" manner.
"Are you aware of what today is?"
"Tuesday?" Chuckie suggested.
"It's school athletics day, Chuckie," she told him, never losing the siren call quality in her voice. "It's the one day of the year when we are no longer all members of the one school. We are no longer friends. We are arch-rivals."
Chuckie braced himself for the explosion.
Surprisingly, it didn't come.
"I came here today with my mind set on forgetting about all that, and having a good time with my friends. The one of them sane enough not to want to compete."
Chuckie felt like pointing out that he hadn't wanted to compete either, but quickly thought the better of it.
"But, then – " it was at this point Lil's voice started to rise, "she had to ruin it! She had to get competitive! And now, I've got to prove her wrong!"
"You have to prove you're…not competitive?" Chuckie asked, having lost the train of conversation.
He saw Dil slap his forehead.
Lil simply went bright red and left in a gigantic huff.
"Phil DeVille wins the senior grade sprints for Pacific House," Beaker's voice announced over the PA. "One late scratching – Tommy Pickles for Atlantic. Please avoid the section of the track near the shot-put circle while we get the sawdust."