Fair Game

FAIR GAME

by Judy McSweeney

Corn on the cob must be eaten like using a typewriter—line by line, twisting the ear mechanically, until every butter-soaked salty pearl is stripped from the cob in short sentences. It’s just the way it’s done, at least here in Devil’s Fault. And everyone knows that.

The juice from my last row of kernels was still dripping out the corners of my mouth when I first saw her that Saturday, perched on the next picnic table. She was alone, like me, and about my age, too. Twelve-ish—plenty old enough to know how to eat an ear of corn. But she pecked at it like a chicken, nibbling aimlessly, ignoring the rules. The random checkerboard pattern across her cob made my skin itch. But I couldn’t look away. Something about her was different than the girls at school, who traveled in packs and behaved as predictable as sundown. She seemed oddly dangerous, and impossible to ignore, not that I was tryin’.

I dropped my bare corncob on my paper plate and dragged my forearm across my face, straining to flex my bicep-in-progress. “You’re not from around here, are you?” I said, in my deepest voice. She acted as if she didn’t know I was there. I relaxed my arm before it cramped and I tried again. “Hey—”

“I heard you the first time,” she said.

“I knew that.” My voice cracked. I immediately regretted speaking at all.

As if it were the globe in Geography class, she spun her cob and bit it, taking out most of Europe. Then she fixed her blue-eyed gaze on me.

At that moment I knew. As I stared into those eyes the color of the cloudless Ohio summer sky around us, I knew this rude, rule-defying, ridiculously beautiful girl was trouble. And sure as chores, I was going to get sucked into a mess of bad. It’s just the way things happen, at least here in Devil’s Fault. And everyone knows that.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

I shouldn’t have answered. I should have bolted from the food court, run clean out of the fairgrounds, and never looked back. That’s what I should’ve done.

“Johnny,” I said. “Johnny Darren.” She narrowed her eyes at me and nodded as if she agreed that Johnny Darren was indeed my name.

“Want to see something strange, Johnny D?” she said, as carousel music played in the distance.

“Sure.”

I figured maybe she’d show me her patchwork corncob. It was plenty strange. But she dropped it and twisted out of her seat. She looked back over her shoulder and took a few lazy, teasing steps. “Coming?” she asked.

I scrambled off my bench and glanced at my watch—at least an hour before I had to meet up under the Ferris wheel with my half-wit brother, Skeeter, and his best friend, Mo. I weaved through the maze of picnic tables and jogged a few steps to catch up to her. As we walked, kettle corn vendors glazed the air with the scent of carmelized sugar. Heaven must smell like this. Somewhere between the food booths and the midway carnival games, I caught a whiff of her hair and changed my mind about the heaven-smell thing. I searched my pockets for change or actual dollar bills, but found neither. I remembered the huge wad of cash that Skeeter shoved into his pocket before we left the house, and for the first time in my life I was jealous of my sibling. I’d brought enough money for myself, but now it was gone. What if she wanted—

“So what’s this strange thing you’re taking me to see?” I said, pacing my stride to hers.

“First you gotta tell me, Johnny, D. What’s your reason to be?”

“Huh? What do you—?” I asked, as carnies taunted me to win a prize. I ain’t got no—”

“Sure you do. Every livin’ thing’s got a reason to be.”

“Even my dog?” I was trying to be funny. It didn’t work.

“Of course,” she said. She swept her thick golden hair over one shoulder. “What’s your dog’s name?”

It took me a second to stop thinking about touching her hair. “Mayhem,” I said, finally. “My dog’s name is Mayhem.”

“Okay. If Mayhem weren’t a part of this world, what would the world be like?”

I wondered if she knew mayhem meant chaos, which sums up my dog pretty well.

“You wanna know why my dog’s on this earth?” I said. “That’s easy. To be my best friend, and to drop more stink pickles than I can ever keep up with.”

She didn’t bat an eye. “And what’s your purpose, Johnny D?”

“Weren’t you listenin’? My job’s to follow Mayhem around with a turd bucket and pick up his stink pickles.”

“I mean besides that.”

She had me there. I’d lived for more than a decade—more than half-way to adulthood, yet I hadn’t given much thought about what I’d planned to do with my life—or what I planned to do beyond Tuesday. You’d think with a sad role model like my brother, Skeeter, I’d see the writing on the wall and catch a clue, but so far—nothing in particular had occurred to me as a life’s mission.

And then it hit me. All this talk about strange things and life purpose and turds, and I didn’t even know her name yet.

“My job is to learn your name.”

She stopped and looked at me. “And what would this world be like if you didn’t?”

“Well,” I said. “Being I didn’t know it for the last dozen years, I don’t think it would matter much.”

“Well, you just go on believin’ that,” she said. “You do that, Johnny D.”

Her pocket buzzed. “I gotta go,” she said.

“Wait! What about the strange thing?”

“Come back tomorrow morning. Meet me at the basketball toss at ten.” With that, she strode away. I wasn’t planning on coming back to the fair on Sunday. I watched her hair billow behind her, like a wake behind a motorboat.

I strolled down the main street of the fair with my hands in my empty pockets and my eyes on the dirt. Good thing, too, ’cause I found two dollars on the ground.

For some reason, I shuffled straight to the basketball game and surrendered my new-found fortune. I conned the carny behind the counter into giving me twice as many basketballs to practice, and eventually lost them all. It was okay, though—I just wanted to get the feel of the hoops in case she wanted me to try to win her a prize tomorrow. Eventually, I met up with Skeeter and Mo and rode in the backseat of Mo’s mustang, fingernails clutching the leather seat, all the way home. Catching a ride with them to the fair was taking my life in my hands, no doubt, especially since I knew they both cheated on their written driving tests last month. But it was better than getting dropped off by Mom or Dad in front of everyone buying ride tickets at the front gate.

I tossed and turned all night, and mostly stared at the ceiling. Why’d I want to know her name so bad?

The next morning, I woke up early since I’d have to walk a mile and a half. I scrambled up some eggs and gulped down a quart of milk. I sniffed every t-shirt in my drawer and settled on a green one. Green. I had no cash.

I headed for Skeeter’s room. I slid open the door and stared at the pile of cash atop his dresser.

For a moment, I froze. I could take it—some of it. He’d probably never notice. I didn’t like him much, but it wasn’t his fault. I’d never stolen nothin’ before, but I was thinking about it now. Then the eggs and milk in my stomach collided in a way that gave my gut a tug that nearly doubled me over. Mayhem looked up. As I stared into his doggy-boogered eyes I knew. No. I wasn’t a thief.

“Skeeter, wake up. Loan me twenty bucks... forty.”

“Huh?” Skeeter mumbled into his pillow.

“I met a girl. At the fair.”

“And you want my money?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay you back. Somehow.”

“What’s in it for me?” Skeeter said, totally awake. A sly grin crossed his face. “Do my chores for a month. Two.” he said.

I looked at my watch. Nine o’clock. “Deal,” I said. I snagged a couple of Jacksons off the dresser and bolted.

I tried not to sweat, but by the time I heard basketballs pounding the wooden counter of the carny’s booth, the sun had baked away any sign of my morning shower. She was standing to the side, staring at me as I approached.

“So what’s so strange?” I asked.

“Good morning,” she said. “Ever notice how most guys can never make the ball go swish through the net even though it’s only a few feet away?”

“That’s the strange thing?” I asked, monumentally disappointed. It wasn’t strange at all. Carnival games at a fair are anything but fair. Rigged, yes. Fair, no. It’s just the way they are, at least here in Devil’s Fault. And everyone knows that.

“Are you most guys, Johnny D?”

I should have said yes. Why, yes I’m like most guys. Dumb and stupid and just dying for another sniff of your stinking hair. And I should’ve walked away.

Instead, I reached into my pocket and handed over a month’s worth of my brother’s chores to the carny. He held the twenty dollar bill up to the light, then lobbed me ten basketballs. I lined them up, and one by one, watched, as they banged on the hoop and bounced away.

She pouted. Her gaze lighted on the stuffed animals overhead and eyes moistened.

My heart sank.

“Get one in and win a prize,” I heard the carny chatter. Without checking in with my brain first, my hand grabbed the other bill from my pocket.

“Ten more,” I heard myself say. What’s another month of chores? The heart that had sunk was now thumping in my ears. What was I doing?

“Good luck,” she said.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I thought it didn’t matter much,” she answered.

The carousel music agitated my bones. The smell of burnt popcorn made my nostrils flare. I tossed the first ball. It didn’t even hit the backboard. I fired three more. One spun on the rim and dropped to the left. Again. Again. Soon, I was down to my last basketball.

I knew how this would end. I knew it before I had even started.

“What’s your purpose, Johnny D?” she purred. I didn’t know how to answer her, but I knew I had to react somehow before I exploded. Before I realized what was happening, I grabbed the last ball and arched it.

Time stood still as it curved, then dropped.

Swish.

Through the net with barely a sound.

“Winner!” shouted the carny.

My whole body went numb. Blood trumpeted in every vein, and it was pumping. Hard. I looked at her. She was smiling.

“You pick,” I said, pointing to the zoo-full of stuff animals above our heads. She pointed, and the carny plucked a purple bear from the rafters.

Maybe I really was a winner after all. Maybe I wouldn’t be an idiot like my brother. Maybe—

The carny handed her the bear.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said as she smiled at him.

“You’re welcome, Wylie.”

I’d been had. Had by the carny and his daughter. Line by line, twisted by the ear, methodically, decadently, until every sweat-soaked salty shred of financial and self-worth was stripped from my soul in short sentences. It’s just the way it’s done, at least here in Devil’s Fault. And everyone knows that.

Even me.