I shove forty sickles into the middle.
“Whoa, we’ve got a player,” Pierced exclaims, rubbing his hands together. Like everyone else, me and Buff included, I think he expected me to just throw away my twenny sickles and run out with my tail between my legs. Not tonight.
He flips two more coins in and I watch as everyone else except Buff does the same. It’s the biggest pot of the night and not even a single draw card has been turned. I flip the first card. A boulder! Excitement buzzes through me as I realize I’m about to make both Buff and I rich. But amongst the shower of silver coins that are floating through my mind, I see only one face. Jolie’s. She’s smiling the biggest, happiest smile I’ve ever seen as she comes home. Although I thought we started this because of what happened at Yo’s, I realize now that subconsciously I was always doing it for her—to bring our family back together.
Although my butt’s glued to the very chair I desperately wanted to leave not too long ago, I feel like I’m flying way up high where the summer songbirds cut lazy circles across the gray clouds. Nay, higher than that, above the clouds, where the sky’s redder than blood and the sun’s hotter than chill. Nothing can bring down my mood, not even a thirty sickle bet by one of the twins. Everyone, including me, matches it, but I run a few more coins through my fingers, trying to decide whether to add a bet on top.
Anticipation of adding silver to the pot zips up my spine. Everything feels so light, like I could fly right out of here with all the silver on the table and a new life.
Somehow I manage to bet small, flattening my face like a stone wall. Twenny more sickles. I expect a few folds, but everyone matches. I meet Buff’s eyes, which are unblinking and wider than the palace grounds.
I flip the second card. A medium stone. I’m still way ahead with my triple boulders. No bets this time around, so I throw in another twenny, which everyone matches. We’re all in too deep to back down now, but what none of them knows is that I’ve got them right where I want them.
Last card. A small stone, nothing against my trifecta of boulders.
The final round of betting begins with a surprise. Pierced-Ears raises an eyebrow and then pushes his entire pile into the pot. My mouth drops open, and so does Buff’s, but everyone else looks like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do at this point, even though they have to all know I’ve got a huge hand.
Then the folding begins. Both twins chuck their cards into the mountain-sized pile of coins with gusto. A couple of them flip over, a crown and an arrow, nothing that could’ve stacked up against mine anyway. Long-Face shakes his head and then flips his cards over to show us before folding. Twin crowns. A good hand, but not good enough.
It’s down to me and Pierced and I can’t for the life of me see how he could have me beat, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve already got so much riding on this hand that I was always going to see it through to the end. I push whatever coins I’ve got left into the pot.
“Maybe you’ve got stones after all, kid,” Pierced says with a nod.
I smile, basking in the unexpected bit of respect from a guy who looked ready to take my head off four hands ago. And now I’m going to take all his silver.
“But you ain’t got no brains,” he adds, which wipes the smile right off my face. Huh? What does he know? “Show ’em.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I snap one boulder over, then the other, slide them toward the draw cards to make it obvious what I’ve got.
He glares at the cards like he’s going to grab them and rip them to shreds. But then his expression changes: his lips turn up, his eyebrows arch, and he laughs. Of all things, he laughs.
With a short twist of his wrist, he reveals his cards, the final boulder and a medium stone. I gawk at them, try to figure out what they mean, think back to how in the chill those cards could be better than my three boulders. The name of the very game we’re playing springs to mind. Boulders-’n-avalanches. His two cards, when combined with the draw cards: two boulders, two medium stones, and one small stone—an avalanche. The best hand in the game, and a nail in my coffin.
I stare at him, unable to breathe, unable to speak, feeling every prick of his continued laughter in my skin, drawing blood. Final blood.
I drop my head in my hands as he rakes at the pile with greedy fingers.
Time passes painfully slow. Chairs scrape the floor. There are voices, pats on the back, but I barely hear them, barely feel them. Eventually, the voices die down and I’m left in silence. I feel a presence nearby and finally raise my head.
Buff sits next to me, staring off into space. “I—I—” I start to say, but my throat’s too dry and it just comes out as a rasp.
“You had a good hand,” Buff says, turning to look at me. “You did the right thing.”
His words are no comfort. “I lost everything. Silver that wasn’t even ours to lose.” What’s my sister going to think of me now that I’m broker than a lumberjack’s leg trapped under a fallen tree?
“Not everything,” Buff says, pointing to what’s left of his pile of silver. Maybe a hundred sickle. He was the smart one. He played it safe, didn’t take any big risks. “And you still got me as a friend.”
His words only make the loss hurt more. I don’t deserve him as a friend. I don’t deserve anyone. All I’m doing is bringing down pain on everyone I touch. “You should stay away from me,” I say.
Buff shakes his head. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he says. “We’re gonna get through this together. We’ll pay back every sickle.”
I feel numb. “How?”
A nasally voice chimes in. “You will pay back every sickle,” the redhead says. “And you’ll do it our way.”
“What the freeze is that supposed to—” I start to say.
“My boss has a job for you. Two months of it and we’ll call things square.”
“What kind of a job?” Buff asks.
“Now you’re working for the king,” she says.
~~~
“I got a job,” I announce proudly. I don’t mention that half of my pay will go to the Chance Hole, at least until I’ve paid off my debts. The funny thing is, I don’t even mind that part of it. I was two seconds away from being broke and jobless—now I’m just broke.
“I thought you already had a job,” Jolie says, cocking her head quizzically. It’s nice having my sister at home, even if she’s only allowed to stay until Wes and I leave. She can’t be alone with my mother.
“Ha! Dazz, having a job—you must be thinking of someone else, Joles,” Wes says with a laugh. My older brother stirs a mug of steaming tea for mother, who’s curled up on our bearskin rug.
I give Joles a look, hoping she’ll get the message to forget about what I said before. “Uh, that didn’t work out. But this one’s different.”
“Did Yo finally convince you to work behind the bar?” Wes says. He always tells me I spend so much time at the pub that I might as well get paid while I’m there. He helps mother to a sitting position and folds her hands around the mug.
I smile, anticipating the look on his face when I tell him who I’ll be working for. “Naw, nothing like that,” I say.
“Tell us,” Jolie says, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I don’t think Wes is interested, but I’ll tell you.” Jolie giggles, sticks her ear close to my mouth so I can tell just her.
“I’m. Working. For. The. King,” I whisper.
Joles pulls back, an awed expression flashing across her face. “Are you joking?” she asks. A fair question, considering how much I joke with her.
I tickle her, drawing a fresh set of giggles. “Stop, stop,” she cries, but I don’t listen, focusing on her stomach, which is her most ticklish spot. She’s squirming and laughing and yelling for me to stop. Finally, I relent and we both gasp for air.
“Are you really working for the king?” she asks, grabbing my hand.
I nod.
“What?” Wes says, suddenly interested in what we’re doing. He finishes wrapping Mother in a blanket and turns to face me. He has a rare day off from the mines today and it’s weird to see him without even a smudge of dirt on his face. Without the dirt, he’s the spitting image of my father, even more so than me. His dark hair is even cropped short with a slight curl at the top, just like Father used to wear it. His strong jawline, freshly shaved cheeks and chin, and tree-bark brown eyes complete the picture. Me, I’ve got two days’ worth of dark stubble and too-long hair that puts the un in unruly. Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden next to my well-groomed brother, I run a hand through my hair like a comb, trying to straighten it.