A Fortress of Pebbles

Cassandra’s fingers tore free from Orion’s jacket as he pushed past. He was too strong these days. The mac and cheese wasn’t going to his height, but he’d been beating her at arm wrestling over the past few months.

Grinning a fake grin, one that was more of a snarl than a smile, he said, “Do you see what I’m holding?” A coin flashed between his fingers.

The parrots froze, feathers ruffled, a flock of beady eyes on the coin. The boy who had spat the hepatitis wad into Cassandra’s ear was the target – a foot taller than Orion, a bright green baseball cap perched loosely on his head, granting him a few extra inches. For the time being, he was too shocked to squawk as Orion strode into punching distance.

Wasting no time, Orion threw the coin at the Parrot King’s face, causing him to flinch and several girls to scream. But somehow, the coin never left Orion’s hand. It just disappeared. As the crowd was realizing this, Orion revealed that the coin was in his other hand now.

“Wanna see a sick magic trick?” he repeated. While he awaited an answer, he hid the coin in a closed fist and opened it to reveal that it was gone again.

“Yes!” said one of the girls behind the King. “How did you do that?”

“Great,” said Orion. “First, I need a volunteer with a small dick. Hey, how about you!” Somehow, he said this straight to the Parrot King’s face. Cassandra’s jaw dropped, along with everyone else’s.

How was he doing this? Around Mom and Dad, Orion was a frozen rabbit. But now, he was a red-faced fireball of rage. Cassandra found herself strangely touched.

Before the Parrot King could think the matter through, Orion was holding out the coin, saying, “All you have to do is keep the coin in your big meaty fist. Think you can handle that?”

The Parrot King extended his hand, and Orion dropped the coin. Except it didn’t land because it was gone again. Squawks of laughter erupted as the Parrot King’s was left hanging in the low five position.

Orion mumbled a pretend apology, as if he’d lost the coin on accident. Then, he repeated the trick two more times: showing the coin, handing it to the Parrot King, and somehow making it disappear along the way. Each time, the squawks got louder and the Parrot King got closer to a meltdown.

“Okay, okay,” said Orion, “seriously this time. No more jukes. Deal?” He held out his hand for a handshake.

The Parrot King grinned, thinking his chance had come: to crush the bones of Orion’s hand like those of a small bird. He went for the handshake ravenously, as if the opportunity might disappear like the coin. From where Cassandra was standing, she alone could see that there was something small and glowing hidden in Orion’s palm.

The moment the handshake began, the Parrot King screamed – the high pitched shriek of a girl or a child, like air escaping the bottom of a balloon pulled tight. He jerked away, cradling his hand and trying to disappear into the flock. Anything to get away from Orion, who stood there unassumingly in his sneakers and plaid flannel.

“What?” said Orion, showing that there was nothing in his hands. “Are you shocked at my strength?” He feigned a flex, like a bodybuilder. “Been lifting, bro.”

This had the whole flock in an uproar, and the Parrot King was shoved back to the front.

“He’s got s-something,” said the Parrot King, stuttering. “An electric d-device or something.”

But Orion’s hands were empty. “Do you see an electric device?” he said to the girl on the King’s left. She giggled and shook her head. “Do you see one?” he said to the girl on the right. She swooned and bit her lip.

“No one else sees a d-d-d-device,” said Orion, exaggerating the boy’s stutter. Cassandra started to get a sick feeling in her stomach, like Orion was taking Dad’s advice too far: When you start a fight, make sure you finish it. It was like Orion wanted more than to dethrone the Parrot King, but to rip him to shreds in the process.

His hand went out again. “Truce, bro?” he said, a little too cocky. From behind, Cassandra could see the pebble palmed in the offered handshake.

But the Parrot King didn’t go for the handshake. He went for Orion’s tiny wrist instead, wrenching his whole arm into the wrong angle. Cassandra screamed in pain, her own elbow rupturing in sympathy with Orion’s.

The pebble dropped in slow motion. Cassandra saw it fall through the winter air like a glowing tear. Could anyone else see it?

No, they were all focused on the two boys – on the magic show that had suddenly become a rendition of the age-old classic: big boy kills small boy. A tale as old as time.

The sound of Orion’s elbow snapping came at the same instant as the pebble dropped into his free hand. The muscle memory of a true magician. Then, self-preservation took over, and Orion slapped the Parrot King’s face with the pebble – zapping him backward and ripping another ragged scream from his lips.

He fell to the ground, shaking, while Orion stood cradling his elbow.

“S-see?” said the Parrot King from the ground. His bright green baseball cap lay beside him, like a fallen crown. “He’s g-got it in his h-hand.”

Orion – face red and teeth gritted – took his left hand away from his injured right elbow and revealed, miraculously, that it was empty. No pebble. No coin. No electric d-d-d-device. Somehow, Orion managed to grin through the pain, “And for my next trick…” He panted but kept smiling. “I’ll be making my assistant piss his pants.”

Along with the flock of beady eyes, Cassandra looked from Orion’s pointed finger to the denim crotch of the Parrot King’s jeans.

“Oh, wait…” said Orion, as if disappointed. “He did it early!”

Indeed, it would appear that the pebble’s electric shock had released the boy’s bladder muscles, creating a spreading wet spot for all to see. To make matters worse, the fallen King began to shudder and cry. The image of him shaking as he tried to hide the dark patch with his bright cap burned itself into Cassandra’s mind.

We are going to die, Cassandra realized. If Mom and Dad didn’t kill them later today, someone else would. Pecked to death by vengeful parrots. Hepatitis would have been better. Aissaba, she thought, as if calling upon a guardian angel, we could use some help. (Blink: Aissaba froze, ancient book open to a random page. "Cassandra?" she said. "What's happening?")