(The following is a nonprofit work of fanfiction and is outside of the original canon. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and/or incidents of any kind depicted within this story are being used for entertainment purposes only.)
(The Loud House and all related characters were created by Chris Savino and all rights belong to Nickelodeon.)
- Chapter Twenty -
Malls, Questions, and Bullies
Wednesday, July 22nd...
One of the best things about riding your bike across town was the wonderful feeling of freedom it gave you.
Seeing the people you know, the multitude of houses that stood closely together on each side of the widened street, the little stores and shops moving past you at a moment's notice, the manicured lawns and plastic garden decorations, the wind blowing against your face. It was practically heaven. As I rode down a few blocks on my BMX, I took in a deep breath not only of the fresh summer air but also the nearby hypnotic smell of grilled beef hamburgers, which made my mouth water.
"Now, that hit the spot," I muttered like a total goofball.
Moments like these made me wish it would last forever. Then again, there were a lot of things in my life I wish lasted forever. Traveling further down one block, I noticed an approaching scene of an adult woman dressed in a green sweater with a head of red hair that was tide into a bun watering her neatly lined pots of flowers located just below her front room window on her lawn. Very quickly, I knew this woman to be Mrs. Johnson, my former fifth grade teacher from elementary school.
"Afternoon, Mrs. J!" I called out to her. She looked up and smiled at my direction.
"Good afternoon, Lincoln!" she called back, waving her hand out at me.
Eventually, my adventurous bike ride through the neighborhood came to a temporary close when I came upon Clyde's house, my main destination. Carefully, I squeezed the handbrake, slowly skidding my BMX to a stop in right front of the driveway. Parking my bike up against the closed garage door, I walked over to the patio and knocked on the front door. After nearly a minute of waiting, the door swung open with a soft creaking sound, and Harold McBride appeared from the doorway, dressed in a light blue cardigan sweater, a white button-up shirt underneath, and a pair of khaki pants.
Not gonna lie, this choice of clothing made him appear like he came right off the set of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.
"Hey there, Lincoln!" he greeted me with a good-natured smile.
"Afternoon, Mr. Harold," I greeted him back with a simple wave. "Is Clyde home?"
"Why, yes he is." he confirmed. "He's in the living room right now playing on his Atari."
"Is it okay if he and I ride our bikes over to the mall today?" Harold only slightly tilted his head to the side.
"What for?" he questioned. I simply shrugged my shoulders.
"Oh, no reason," I casually said. "Just to walk around a little bit, see the shops..., maybe hang out at the arcade while we're at it." Before Clyde, I tried to invite the gang if they wanted to come, but they each had their own set of plans for the day. Stella and her parents went to go visit family out of town, Zach and his folks were off camping at Tall Timbers Park looking for any sign of alien life, Liam had to stay home to do a boatload of chores on his family farm, Rusty had to help his dad at his tuxedo shop, and Conner was still recovering from his cold. Again, he was so lucky.
Harold stood at the doorway, rubbing his chin in thought until he gave me his answer.
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he said, before stopping himself. "Although, I think we should let Howard know about this too, so he doesn't get seriously worried."
"Where is he now?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, he's at work," Harold said, before checking his wristwatch. "He should be home in fifteen minutes, which should also give you and Clyde enough time to hang out until then." My face twisted into a beaming expression, feeling very happy to hear this.
"Thanks, Mr. Harold." He lightly shook his head with an amused snort. The look on his face told me very clearly that he had long ago accepted the fact I wasn't going to call him "Mr. McBride" as well at any time soon. And why was that you wonder? Well, believe it or not, he just so happens to have the exact same last name as Mr. McBride. That alone was the very reason why I always called him "Mr. Harold" instead, so as to avoid any confusion between the two.
There were countless times where they both asked, "Yes?" in unison whenever they heard somebody call their last name, without even realizing which one of them was being spoken to for a short second until it was cleared up. I remember one time where I thought about labeling each of them as McBride's One and Two. Unfortunately, the idea just didn't stick because all it did was remind them too much of Thing One and Thing Two from Dr. Suess' The Cat and the Hat.
I couldn't help but humorously imagine the two of them dressed in all-red footy pajamas while wearing large blue wigs. It still makes me giggle sometimes whenever I think about the idea to this day. After being made to wipe the bottom of my feet on the doormat and welcomed inside, I got a good look at the entirety of the living room. I had been to the McBride's house multiple times throughout the years to know exactly what it looked like. The place was really nice and very modern.
Well, whatever was considered "modern" back around that timeframe in the 80's, of course. Both the walls and the ten foot ceiling high above us were painted a fine shade of creamy white and the thin carpeted floor was a light gray. Hanging on the far-left side wall was a painting of squiggly lines and abstract shapes of blue, pink, and yellow over an off-white background. A small wooden cabinet with double doors and a little cat statue on top stood just below the painting.
Located on the opposite end of the living room on the left side was the kitchen and there were two swivel chairs placed just in front of the kitchen counter. The dining room table was located in front of the sliding glass door a bit to the right, which led outside to the backyard. Directly to my right was a cream-colored couch that was shaped like a semi-circle, and sitting on the floor against the couch was Clyde, playing on his Atari 2600 on his wood-paneled, 1986 Curtis Mathes TV set.
When he saw me enter, he smiled.
"Hey, Lincoln," Clyde greeted me. "What brings you over?"
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in riding our bikes over to the mall today," I explained, as I walked over to sit closely next to him. "I don't have any other plans today, so I figured I'd come here." Clyde thought about it for a moment before giving me his answer.
"Sure, why not?" he said happily, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't have any plans either myself." Hearing this brightened me up.
"Tubular!" I remarked. "Although, Mr. Harold said we should wait until Mr. McBride comes home from work first. He should be home in the next fifteen minutes. So, let's play on your Atari until then. Does that sound good?" And so, we plugged in the secondary controller and the two of us played to our hearts' content. Before the legendary Nintendo Entertainment System would take center stage, there was the Atari 2600, a much older console which came out sometime in the late 1970's.
The one Clyde owned was the famous 1982 four-switch VCS model that came with a pair of matching CX40 joystick controllers, and he had with him a small library of games including the likes of Pitfall!, Adventure, Asteroids, Centipede, Missile Commando, Space Invaders, and also Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. As I played Pitfall!, swinging across the jungle on rope-like vines while trying to avoid the hungry jaws of crocodiles and falling into quicksand, Clyde abruptly spoke up.
"I found out something cool earlier today, man," he said.
"Yeah, what's that?" I asked without taking my eyes off the TV screen, moving and dodging anything that tried to kill me. And that was when Clyde said the next several words which I was not at all prepared for whatsoever.
"I saw a commercial for the upcoming He-Man movie," he blurted out. Hearing this caused me to instantly freeze for a moment before slowly turning around to look at my best friend in his glasses-covered eyes, completely forgetting about our game.
"What did you just say?" I asked him, disbelief audibly present in my now trembling voice. Clyde grinned really big.
"You heard me right, dude," he said. "Cannon Films is releasing a live-action adaptation of He-Man." I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him in closer until we were almost nose-to-nose.
"Please, tell me you're not joking!" I pleaded with him. "PLEASE, tell me you're not seriously pulling my leg right now!" That grin still remained on his face.
"Trust me, I'm being completely serious here," Clyde declared. I could not believe what I just heard him say. There was actually going to be a He-Man movie, and it would all be in live action on the big screen. The whole idea was straight up unbelievable, surreal even, like an age-old dream come true. And that was when a sudden thought popped in my brain. Just how was it that other people knew about these things, and I didn't? Was it because I didn't watch enough television?
Anyway, quickly recovering from my surprised stupor, I got around to asking Clyde the million-dollar question.
"Do we know who's playing He-Man himself?" I questioned. Clyde confirmed with a single nod.
"Yep," he stated. "He's going to be played by none other than Dolph Lundgren." I paused for a second as my brows furrowed deeply while my mouth frowned in no small amount of confusion before lightly tilting my head to the side.
"Dolph Lundgren? As in Ivan Drago from Rocky IV?" I enquired. "That Dolph Lundgren?"
"The very same," Clyde said, nodding once more.
"Okay, and who's playing Skeletor?" I asked.
"I believe the guy's name is Frank Langella."
I stared at my best friend, my brows knitting further. I tried to think of where I heard the name from, but the only thing that came to mind was nothing.
"Doesn't seem to ring any bells," I said.
"Yeah, I've honestly never heard of him either," Clyde confessed. I carefully rested my back against the foot of the couch, taking in everything that was spoken to me. A smile appeared on my face.
"Still though, I cannot believe that we're actually getting a live-action He-Man movie," I uttered aloud, turning to face Clyde one more time. "That is just undeniably bodacious. What more in life could two fans like us ask for? Say, when is it coming out?"
"The seventh of August," Clyde revealed. Truly, another totally radical thing to look forward to later this summer. But then, I quickly realized that it left me in quite a dilemma. Which one should I go see? Would I choose He-Man or The Garbage Pail Kids Movie? There was nothing more difficult in life than being forced to choose only one of the two things you liked. I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts when the front door opened, revealing Mr. McBride having returned home from work.
"Phew! Home sweet home," he muttered aloud, sighing tiredly and wiping some growing sweat from his forehead, carrying a black leather briefcase in one hand.
"Hey, Howard!" Mr. Harold called from the kitchen. "How was work?" Mr. McBride shrugged his worn-out shoulders.
"Oh, you know. Same old same old." he replied to his fellow housemate. He then turned and glanced over in my direction.
"Hey there, Lincoln!" he greeted warmly, moving over to sit on the left side of the semi-circle couch, setting his suitcase down beside him. "What brings you all the way over here?"
"Afternoon, Mr. McBride," I greeted back. "I came over because I was wondering if Clyde would like to ride our bikes over to the mall today." He then made a face, like he'd figured out something that he couldn't before.
"Ooohh, so that's your bike parked outside," he said before raising an eyebrow at me. "Are you doing anything special?" I gently waved him off.
"Nah, nothing major as that," I explained to him. "I just wanted to hang out and walk around the place, play some games at the arcade, look at the stores, and maybe grab ourselves a couple of snacks in the food court. That sort of thing, you know? I don't have any other plans today, and it's also because I wanted to get away from the total chaos my sisters are making in my house."
"Can I, Dad? Can I please go?" Clyde pleated with his red-haired foster father, clasping his hands together.
Mr. McBride rubbed his chin, not too sure about the idea.
"I don't know..." he drawled, a sense of worry and hesitation starting to grow in his voice.
"Pleeeaase? Pretty pleeeaase?" I begged as well. Clyde and I gave the older man our best puppy dog eyes with added pouting lips. At first, it appeared like he was resisting. But I noticed that he was quickly starting to crack, more sweat growing around his forehead. There was no way that somebody like him could stand against the bodacious might of the classic pleading puppy dog face. At last, his shoulders slumped in surrender, and he smiled. We got him right where we wanted him.
"Oh, why the heck not?" he said. Clyde and I looked at each other and gave a triumphant "Yes!" as we pumped our fists up.
With not a moment to lose, I shot straight up to my feet and headed back outside while Clyde made his way to the garage. Once after I settled back onto my BMX and then backed away a couple of paces, the large garage door slowly slid vertically open to reveal my best friend already on his own bike with his helmet and everything. As we rode down to the end of the driveway, Mr. McBride's voice suddenly called out to us.
"You sure you won't mind if I drove you two there instead?!" he shouted worriedly, appearing through the front door.
"Relax, Howard," Harold tried to reason, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "They're just going to the mall, that's all."
"Y-Yeah, but—" Mr. McBride tried to argue, more fear now very prevalent in his voice.
"Don't worry, Dad!" Clyde called out to him. "We'll be back before you even know it!"
"P-Promise?" Mr. McBride whined, bottom lip trembling, tears threatening to burst from his eyes.
"Promise!"
"Stay out of trouble! Stick together, and don't talk to strangers!" Harold hollered out to us. "Have a good day, kids!" And with that, Clyde and I rode down the street on our bikes, leaving his house behind—as well as a now crying Mr. McBride with Harold trying to calm him down, making our way to our main destination...
We raced down on our bikes through the downtown area like our lives depended on it. In no time, we saw the Royal Woods Mall just quickly peeking up over the horizon dead ahead of us. Having made it, we then came upon the ginormous parking lot that was filled to the brim with seemingly endless rows of cars of different shapes and sizes. Carefully, we both rode through the lot until we came upon the front entrance. Hopping off from our seats, we moved our bikes over to a nearby steal bike rack located just next to the front door. Clyde insisted on still wearing his helmet for fear of losing it.
"Seriously, you worry too much," I told him, shaking my head.
"And you, dear Lincoln, don't worry enough," he kindly remarked. I casually rolled my eyes with a smirk.
When we opened and walked through the double doors, a wall of cold air smacked us right in our faces.
And let me tell you, it felt good. Like, really good. Especially after having ridden over here under the baking summer heat. After walking inside, we were greeted by music playing in the background, like they always did at the mall. Our first stop was over the arcade, which was less than halfway close to the other side of the mall. I half-expected the place to be filled with a lot of kids, but there was shockingly not that many when we got there—thank goodness.
I pretty much had to share with Clyde whatever was left of my quarter stash I had used from our time in Gus' Games & Grub three months prior.
In the end, we pretty much rounded our game time to playing Contra, Double Dragon, Donkey Kong, Dig Dug, and finally Pac-Man, all in that exact order. When we had our fill, we then made our way over to Waldenbooks. We casually scanned through the lined-up shelves, seeing a multitude of genres available. I soon found my way over in the Horror section, and I spotted one book that managed to catch my eye, and it appeared like it was fairly recently published by Scholastic.
Blind Date, by R.L. Stine.
Looks like something I think Lucy might be interested in, I thought before ultimately making my decision. Eh, why not?
With that, I took the book from the shelf and paid for it over at the front desk.
Clyde followed suit, having found and then paid for a book of his own choosing. The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I knew my best friend had upstanding taste in reading, but wow. I truly had no clue he liked reading stuff like that, and I had known him for seven straight years. You learn new things every day, I guess. After walking out of Waldenbooks, the next stop we made was at Camelot Music. As we skimmed through the shelves filled with cassette tapes, compact discs, and vinyl records, we could hear the band New Order's brand-new hit single True Faith playing very clearly in the background.
Sounds like something you'd hear in a dance club. I remarked in my head.
When we couldn't find anything of interest, we left the store and decided to make our way over to the food court. All that walking around had certainly worked up an appetite. And both my tastebuds and my stomach were seriously craving for a mouth-watering Hot Dog on a Stick. I ordered two fresh corn dogs, and Clyde chose a funnel cake. Picking up our cups of lemonades and each paying for our own meals, we walked over and sat at a table across from each other with our trays. The first bite I took of my first corn dog, I wasted no time in savoring, quickly losing myself to the overwhelming taste.
Fresh from the deep fryer. Just the way I like it. I thought euphorically. It tasted even better when dipped in ketchup or mustard. I watched on as Clyde took a large bite of his powdered sugar-coated funnel cake. It was nice to see that he was enjoying his delectable piece of heaven just as I was enjoying mine. With no small amount of effort, I easily leaned my back against my chair, taking in my surrounding environment, before dipping my half-eaten corn dog into some ketchup.
"This is the life, wouldn't you say, Clyde?" I asked before taking another bite of my snack.
"Oh, totally," he replied with his mouth full, wiping some powdered sugar off from his lips.
"Yep! Just two old friends hanging out at the mall." I said with a mouthful of my own. "Without a drop of care or worry in the world... Okay, maybe some worries, but you know what I mean." Without even realizing it, I drifted over to gaze all around the food court. The people who chatted with their friends and family members while eating their own choice of food, the music still playing in the background, the spot where I had my twelfth birthday the month before, the random lines of glowing pink and blue neon lights that snaked around the white-painted walls.
It was truly a time to be alive for young kids like us. And that was when it came to me without warning.
But how long will it all last though? a sudden voice in my head asked me.
Such an out of the blue question caused my smile to disappear, changing instead into a frown of realization. It was something I don't think I've ever once wondered before, until that Monday afternoon, that is. And it gave me an awful feeling of dread, festering pretty quickly throughout my guts. A soul-destroying reality which seemed to instantly shatter my entire world into a thousand pieces. It became so unbearable to the point where I no longer felt like eating my second corn dog, leaving me in quite a depressed stupor. All I could do was just stare down at our table, consumed with possibly the worst feeling I've never felt before.
"What's wrong, Lincoln?" I heard Clyde's voice ask me. I lightly shook my head, brushing it off
"It's nothing," I muttered aloud, without even looking up. "I'm just thinking."
"Well, whatever it is you're thinking about, it's clearly got you down," Clyde analyzed, before setting his funnel cake to the side. "Why don't you tell your ol' pal what it is that's got you in a real funk all of a sudden? Come on. What's making you so glum, chum?" The first response I made was by letting out a sharp sigh before looking up to face my childhood best friend again, my depressed-ridden frown still plastered on my face. Working up the courage, I opened my mouth to speak.
"Do you believe this will last forever?" I managed to ask him. He looked at me with a pretty confused expression.
"What?" he questioned in a now perturbed manner. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this," I said, motioning with my right hand at the entire food court, if not maybe the entire mall. All this did was make Clyde even more confused.
"I'm still not quite sure I understand what you're saying, dude," he said.
"What I'm trying to say is everything!" I clarified this time. "All of this. You, me, our friendship, the gang, the different lives we have. I just want to hear what you have to say about that. Do you sincerely, with all your heart and soul, believe that this will last forever?" He looked right at me as if I had just blurted out the vilest swear word in existence at his face before blinking several times, trying to register what I had just asked him.
"Where in the world is this coming from, dude?" he asked, taken utterly aback. "Just what the heck is making you ask such a thing?" I turned away for a moment in hesitation, grabbing my right arm in an increasingly nervous fashion, before making myself look back at my best friend again.
"The reason I'm asking you this... is because..." I stopped for a second while at the same time trying my darndest to finish speaking. "Well... I guess what I'm trying to say... is that... I'm scared, Clyde." He raised one eyebrow.
"Scared of what exactly?"
"Scared of losing what we have now." I revealed, now staring down at my untouched second corn dog. "Scared that the things we cherish will be ripped away from us as time goes by. I mean..., will you and I still be best friends in the future? Will I still wake up on Saturday morning to watch my favorite shows? Will I still be able to ride my bike through the neighborhood and see the smiling faces of everybody I know? Will you and I even be the same people we're now by the time we grow up? And what about Stella? Or Rusty? Or Zach, Liam, and Conner? Will they still be the same too?"
And possibly the hardest question I wanted so badly to say out loud, but just couldn't find the courage to do it.
Will Sam and I even be married and have kids at that point? Clyde stared at me in total silence to where I heard nothing but the random comings and goings of the people that surrounded us, looking like we wasn't exactly sure of where to find the correct answer to my fearful-sounding questions. I mentally crossed my fingers in the dire hopes that he did. After a short spell of saying nothing, keeping me waiting on pins and needles, he gave me a somber expression, leaning just a little bit forward with his now folded hands resting on our table. At last, he opened his mouth to speak.
"Lincoln, I'm going to be totally real with you here," he said in a serious tone. "I honestly don't know." My shoulders slackened in despair when he said. So not the answer I was hoping for. All this did was make me feel even worse than ever.
"I wish I had the answer for what you're asking, but I really don't," he went on. "I mean, nobody truly knows if things will stay the same as they used to be."
"And that's what scares me, Clyde," I said, my voice starting to tremble. "Just how are we supposed to live our lives not knowing if things will ever truly be the same?" Clyde was silent once more. I watched as he rubbed his chin, trying to think up something after having taken a quick swig of his paper cup of lemonade. And that was when his eyes bulged behind his glasses. It was clear to me that a lightbulb had just mentally appeared in his head, an indication that he figured out something.
"You know, maybe that's not what you should be doing right now, Lincoln," he started to advise me. "Maybe instead of sitting around worrying about the unknowable future, I think it would be a lot better and healthier if you were to focus more on what you can do during this time." In that very moment, I felt a tiny spark of hope beginning to burn inside my soul, his words clearly getting to me faster than Speedy Gonzales hopped up on five cups of coffee.
"A wise man once told me, 'Do not focus so much on what will happen, or if things will be just like they were, for the future is never truly set in stone like we believe it is. Instead, go and enjoy your life while you still can. Make your childhood last and create the best of memories for you, your friends, and your family." Hearing these comforting words of wisdom slowly turned my frown back into a smile, the aching feeling in my heart dissipating like cold water on a hot skillet.
"You know, that sounds kind of like something Mr. Miyagi would say," I commented.
"Actually, I got that from my therapist, Dr. Lopez." Clyde admitted with a smile of his own, massaging the back of his neck. I snorted and then chuckled in amusement, feeling a lot better and more assured.
"Wise therapist," I said before sighing in overwhelming relief, like a heavy burden was lifted off my shoulders. "Thanks, Clyde. I really needed to hear this."
Smiling, he shrugged his shoulders like it wasn't that big of a deal.
"Eh, it's no problem at all, dude. I'm just glad I can help a friend out." he replied, before taking a bite of whatever was left of his funnel cake. With a new feeling in my stomach—and I'm positive it wasn't the remaining hunger—I nabbed and ate away my remaining secondary corn dog, my spirits lifted again with no trace of doom and gloom to be found anywhere. When we were finished and completely satisfied with our meal, we took our empty trays and set them on top of one of the trash cans.
After having dusted my hands together, I glanced down at my wristwatch and saw that it was now almost five-fifteen.
"You ready to head back home?" I asked him.
"Yep!" he replied, stretching his arms up in the air. "Time to hit the old—"
"Well, look at what we have here, boys!" spoke the menacing voice of a teenage girl from out of the blue in a valley girl accent. A familiar accent which instantly filled the both of us with insurmountable fear, making our little hearts pound so fiercely in our chests. And it came directly from behind us, casting a foreboding shadow. A cold chill went through my entire spine and my blood turned ice cold with a sense of fear that I knew too well. And it couldn't have come at the worst possible time.
Dear Lord, please no! I begged in my head. Swallowing a big lump that appeared in my throat, Clyde and I slowly turned around to come face-to-face with three menacing figures that loomed over us like dark mountains. Mountains which came in the form of the three terrible bullies I prayed almost every day that I would not come across again ever since Flip's Food & Fuel: Anderson, Taylor, and Pablo, the ever unforgettably toughest and meanest eighth graders of our middle school.
They eyed us like we were little ants waiting to be squashed, their steely gazes piercing into our souls.
"Of all the people in this entire mall to run into..." Anderson hissed, a bloodthirsty-looking grin plastered on his face.
"Who would have thought that it would be none other than our favorite little white-haired yutz." Pablo added in, already cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
"And he brought his little nerd friend with him too," Taylor added with a sinister chuckle. "This day just keeps getting better and better."
"H-H-Hey there, g-g-guys!" I greeted the trio very nervously, legs wobbling like Jell-O. "N-Nice to see you all! It's b-b-been a w-while since—"
"Since you gave us the slip last month at Flip's?" Anderson cut me off, finishing the rest of my sentence. Hearing him say this made my heart pound even faster, more levels of fear being generated throughout my whole system. I should have known that the three of them would still be pretty sore about it, being tricked the way they were. Anderson's evil-looking smile spread even bigger, seeing very clearly that he was getting to me, much to my misfortune.
"Oh yeah, we still remember that." he added, nodding his spikey-haired, mullet-draping head.
"You didn't actually think that we would, like, forget all about our unsettled score by now, did you?" Taylor chided, roughly jabbing her finger into my chest.
I gulped down another lump that momentarily got stuck.
"Hehehe, uh..., m-m-maybe?" I stammered, still nervously smiling.
"Well, as you can see, we haven't!" Pablo snapped, before pushing his own glasses from the end of his nose back up to his face. "We're still going to make you pay for getting us in trouble and ruining the last day of school for us!"
Yeesh! Talk about holding one heck of a grudge! I remarked in my head.
"And this time, you've got nowhere to run, little man!" Anderson declared, his hands turning into balls of fists.
"And when we're through with you," Taylor added, before pointing over at Clyde, "your nerdy friend here is next on our list!"
"M-M-Me?! W-What did I do?!" Clyde squealed in horror, sweat forming on his brow.
"Nothing," Pablo said, twisting his neck to the side until it made a satisfying pop sound. "You're just an added bonus. Double the nerd, double the fun. So therefor, double the beatdown. Ain't that right, guys?"
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Anderson agreed sadistically, cracking his own knuckles in each hand. "Time for you to pay the tole, Loud." Desperately, I tried to think up anything that would get us out of that situation, sweat forming around my brow, eyes darting everywhere as my mind raced to come up with something. Would the same trick before work again? Could I make lightning strike a second time? There was only what way to find out.
"Oh, my gosh! Is that Judd Nelson?!" I exclaimed, faking surprise and pointing directly behind them.
"Pfft, like we're totally going to fall for that again!" Taylor discharged, rolling her eyes in annoyance. There were some tricks that couldn't be repeated the second time, yes. But maybe they could in this case, if they were a bit more creative. Which thankfully came in real handy. Still not giving up, I tried once more, very determined to get out of there by any means necessary, even if it meant repeating my trick. I hung my head low with my arms going limp, pretending to give up and except defeat.
"Eh, you're right. It's just Slayer." I spoke. I watched as the demeanors of Anderson, Pablo, and Taylor changed in an instant.
"Slayer?! Where?!" the trio shouted excitedly, looking in the other direction.
Without any delay—and I mean without ANY delay—Clyde and I, with our small paper bags containing our books, ran out of there as fast as we could make ourselves go, putting as much distance between us and the three bullies and the food court itself. Even as our twig-like legs started to burn from how fast we were running for our dear lives, we showed no signs of stopping. You would be surprised at how powerful fear could be as a tool when it came to escaping from a really bad situation.
Sadly, curiosity got the best of me, and I couldn't help but look over my shoulder.
And I was met with the undeniably terrifying sight of Anderson, Pablo, and Taylor chasing after us, flared nostrils huffing and puffing, their glowering faces red with anger, determined more than ever to capture us. If I didn't know any better, I swear it felt an awful lot like we were experiencing that running of the bull thing they would do over in Spain. Only replace the giant bull with three raging eighth graders who were itching to give us the unforgettable pounding of a lifetime.
"Clyde! Whatever you do, don't look behind!" I heaved, as we ran side by side trying to avoid anybody we came across. "Just take my word for it! Keep running, and don't stop!" That was enough motivation for him to run even faster than he did before when he understood what I was saying. It was only a matter of time until we finally saw our exit straight ahead of us, growing closer and closer and closer, a sense of hope and relief hitting us like mallets on the heads.
I wanted very much to believe that we lost them, for all I knew, we probably did. But there was no way on this earth that we were going to take that chance and stop to look over our shoulders. With our legs now burning as if somebody had lit multiple boxes of matches inside us, we came through the double doors and wasted no time in moving our bikes away from the bike rack and starting to pedal head-on into the parking lot.
I looked over and watched while Clyde dug into his left pocket and pulled out his inhaler, and he stuffed the little nozzle into his mouth, doing everything in his power to get his hyperventilating lungs back in check as we made it halfway to the other side of the lot. For the heck of it, I decided to look behind me just in the nick of time to see Anderson, Pablo, and Taylor having just come outside from the mall, tired beyond belief, but still looking mighty angry.
Guess we didn't lose them like we thought we did.
"You can't escape us forever, Loud!" Anderson shouted. "We will settle our score! And when we're done, you're next, McBride! You hear me?!"
"Yeah! You hear him?! When we're done, you're next!" Pablo repeated, before Taylor slapped him upside the head, almost messing up his black-haired pompadour.
"Why do you, like, always have to repeat everything we say?! Seriously!" she growled furiously.
With a feeling of relief that we couldn't even begin to describe, the two of us rode as far away from the Royal Woods Mall as possible, not looking back, and headed far out into the downtown area. Eventually, a block or two later, we came to a full stop at a nearby ice cream shop, Auntie Pam's Parlor, pausing for a short spell to catch our breaths until they were good and steady again. I'd be lying if I said all that running and pedaling didn't give us quite the workout and burn off some calories.
"That was close," Clyde declared in-between breaths, sweating profusely. "Far, far too close."
"Boy, you could say that again," I agreed, the inside of my mouth parched.
"Let's promise not to mention this to my dad," Clyde suggested, after swallowing dryly. "If he and Uncle Harold ask, we just tell them we had fun. Nothing more than that. Otherwise, we'll never hear the end of it. Got it?"
"Oh, don't worry," I agreed without question. "You'll get no argument from me."
And so, strongly bearing this in our minds, we both rode on our bikes once again across downtown and back into our respective neighborhood, heading straight over to Clyde's house, with no intention of making both his foster father and godfather worried beyond belief than they possibly already were...