Bear v. Shark Read Online Free PDF Page A

ice pick and smash the turtle’s shell.”
    Lloyd says, “Hi, Curtis.”
    Curtis says, “Hi, Lloyd.”
    Lloyd is pretending to jump rope. Occasionally the imaginary rope catches his foot and he says “darn” or “for Pete’s sake” and he begins again. Lloyd says, “Do you have your passport ready?”
    Curtis says, “I don’t know.”
    Lloyd says, “My mother won’t let me play Bear v. Shark.”
    Curtis says, “Everyone knows.”
    Lloyd says, “She thinks it’s dumb and violent.”
    Curtis says, “It’s just for fun.”
    Lloyd practices the fox-trot, smirking coyly at an invisible partner.
    Curtis says, “Is she plotting its downfall?”
    Lloyd says, “She’s not plotting anything. She never comes outside anymore.”
    Curtis says, “Everyone knows.”
    Lloyd winks and says, “The pleasure is all mine.”
    Curtis says, “Is she crazy?”
    Lloyd stops dancing. His small sneakers have too many stripes to be the right kind.
Way
too many. His shirt is terry cloth.
    He says, “Maybe.”
    Matthew says, “Curtis, get over here and help.”
    Lloyd says, “My mom told me to come here and tell you to be careful.”
    Curtis says, “Me?”
    Lloyd does a crisp cartwheel on the lawn, and then another one. He says, “Yes. She said to be very careful.”
    Matthew says, “Come
on,
butthole.”
    Curtis has been in and out of plenty of dangerous situations, and he’s got the calluses on his gaming thumb to prove it. He says, “Nobody gets hurt in Bear v. Shark, Lloyd.”
    Lloyd does a magic trick and holds out his open hand to Curtis. There’s a small glassy ball in his palm.
    Curtis says, “At school, when our class voted. It was tied. Fourteen bear votes and fourteen shark votes.”
    Lloyd says, “Curtis, do you want my lucky marble?”
    Curtis says, “But there are twenty-nine of us in class.”
    Lloyd says, “You should take it.”
    Curtis says, “You didn’t vote, did you?”
    Matthew throws a stick at Curtis.
    Curtis says, “’Bye, Lloyd,” and walks back to the driveway. The driveway is painted black.
    Lloyd takes off toward home, on either a pretend horse or a pretend motorcycle.
    Matthew says, “His mom is totally crazy.”
    Curtis says, “Hey Matt, what’s a marble?”

17
The Last Folksinger
    Meanwhile.
    The Last Folksinger and the Last Folksinger’s Dog climb into their beat-up van and point it toward Las Vegas. The Last Folksinger is tired.
    His guitar says, “This machine kills fake animals.”
    While he drives, the Last Folksinger opens his fan mail.
    One letter says, “If I were you, I wouldn’t step one foot across the border, you pinko shithead.”
    Another letter in blue crayon says, “Your going to be dead fucker.”
    Woody’s got his head out the window, he’s licking the wind, ears pinned back, eyes all squinty.
    Another letter says, “1. You are useless. 2. This is America. 3. I hate you.”
    The Last Folksinger closes the mailbag and takes a harmonica from his shirt pocket and plays “Rambling BvS Blues No. 8,” one hand on the wheel.
    The weigh station is closed, the left lane ends, the speeding fines are doubled in a work zone.
    Woody turns three times on the ripped vinyl bench seat, sighs, and puts his big yellow Lab head on the Last Folksinger’s lap. His brow looks kind of furrowed and worried the way a dog’s can.

18
Scenic Bivouac
    Mr. and Mrs. Norman checking the house one last time. Some of the little red lights are flashing and some are not. Everything seems OK.
    What exactly are hatches and how does one batten them down?
    A phone rings.
    Hello.
    Mr. Norman.
    Yes.
    How are you today?
    I’m happy with my long-distance service.
    And yet?
    I’m afraid I have to go. I’m on my way out the door.
    I know.
    What?
    Mr. Norman, you don’t really care who wins, do you?
    Who is this?
    One of you.
    I’m happy with my Internet service provider.
    It’s not really important, is it? The outcome.
    Who is this? I’ve got to go.
    Mr. Norman, have you ever heard of