Jack James and the Call of the Tanakee (3 page)

TAKOTA’S GUTS just about shot up into his mouth when his bike pitched down the insanely long and even more insanely steep decline, boulders and branches and the occasional chipmunk serving as obstacles. With nimble maneuvering, he guided his handlebars in small nudges and tiny corrections. Anything more would have taken him off course, and, at such high speeds, that would have been ugly.

He knew what came next—the bottom of Sorrel Canyon, where the first of two crucial jumps was waiting ominously. A pivotal moment in the race. Takota knew it. They all did. Behind him, he heard Ayita, almost neck-and-neck with Pud. Behind them, Cheyton and Enola followed within only a few bike lengths. That meant they’d all see him. They’d all bear witness to his make-or-break moment.

“He’s gonna do it!” Ayita shouted.

“No way!” Cheyton answered his sister.

“Go, Takota!” Enola was always good for some encouragement. “You can do it!”

“This is gonna be ugly!” Pud chided, and Takota feared his was the most accurate assessment of them all. He’d never actually done it, and several failed attempts made the entire group quite doubtful he ever could. This time, he was determined to prove them wrong. No tricks. No Eteea. Just pure physical ability, combined with the proper skill and grace of a Tanakee.

“Whoa!” he almost fell off the bike again. Okay, maybe not grace.

“Takota! Be careful!” were the last words he heard. Both Ayita and Enola shrieked them at the same time when he hit the point of no return. No going back. No stopping. The forest was nothing but streaks of green and gold and earth tones. He gripped the handlebars tighter and tighter to keep from slipping off. The tiny tires spun ferociously, smoking and spitting rubber. Somehow he got the feeling the human manufacturers hadn’t designed it to go this fast.

Or jump this far.

Suddenly, after traversing the long, hollowed-out tree trunk which doubled as a ramp, he found himself airborne. He held his breath, remembering what Enola had told him. Tuck the knees and elbows. Become a bird, with wings of steel. Soaring, soaring, soaring. Higher and higher. Takota thought he’d never stop. He heard the others behind him, a mixture of gasps and glee.

“He’s doing it!” cried Ayita. “He’s actually doing it!”

“Good job, Takota!” Enola shouted.

“NO!” Pud’s exclamation filled the forest. “No way! Not possible!”

Takota shared Pud’s disbelief. Never, in the dozens of times he’d taken the jump, had he actually hit it with the correct speed and trajectory to reach the big limb way up high in the tree. Because of that, he’d never once won a race. Not one. Ever. Yet now, for the first time, he performed the jump perfectly, just like Ayita so happily had predicted.

He opened his eyes to make sure, still not convinced it was real. No way did he really make it this time. Blinking, he looked down and beheld the proof—a thick, aromatic tree limb under his tires, its rough, mossy bark flying by at the speed of sound.

He had only a moment to look, then another branch took its place, then another, and another. The raceway had taken to the canopy, high above the forest floor. Like circus high wire artists, the Tanakee racers navigated a series of narrow little passages where branches crisscrossed, one after the other, touching and overlapping. Ruts in the limbs had been worn deep from use. Still, following the official course proved difficult. Speed was the major factor. Takota had to keep it fast or else he’d lose balance and topple over, falling, in some places, a hundred feet to the ground.

None of that mattered now. Takota knew he was the genuine leader of the pack. He’d gone over the course already, so he knew there weren’t any more of Pud’s special surprises. He also made sure Pud had stayed with the group, legally and lawfully taking the whole course, same as the other competitors. And, with such a commanding lead on the scruffy, orange fellow, Takota felt confident. He wouldn’t have to worry.

BASH!

Something hit him hard and he heard giggling. Somehow, someway, Pud had caught up with him and, with the finish line in sight, had that look in his eyes. Nothing was going to stop Pud from getting there first.

“You’re going down, Potato! You still have one more jump to go and you’ll never make it!”

“DILLON SHANE AND MIKE MILLER,” Amelia stared both boys down. “Haven’t you two learned your lessons?”

A murmur of solidarity from the other students meant everyone agreed, yet nobody did or said anything about it. Jack knew Dillon and Mike upheld a certain level of respect among their peers, even after what had happened at North Point. The two boys seemed to know it too, and played their hands in the open, with confidence, paying Jack special attention, scrutinizing him closely.

“I don’t see what’s so special about you, Jack,” Dillon ignored Amelia. “I don’t see your little attack teddy bear,” he hit the side of Jack’s backpack. “It’s not in there, is it?”

“And I don’t see some funky machine in your hand,” added Mike. His tuna fish breath made Jack cringe.

“What’s the matter, Jack? Teddy bear got your tongue?” the boys laughed, hitting each other on the back. They then turned to the students, compelling a few nervous smiles, even some chuckles.

“You’re not so tough without your teddy bear, are you, Jack?”

“Or that stupid machine!”

“Jack?” Amelia threw him an anxious glance. “You
do
have the O/A, don’t you?”

He kept his eyes locked with Dillon’s, hands in his pockets, teeth clenched. “I don’t take it everywhere I go.”

Muted gasps. The whole crowd took a deep breath all at once.

“He doesn’t have his machine,” Dillon slapped his own thighs.

“Probably because it’s broken again,” added Mike.

“You really should carry it with you,” Amelia said. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, feeling for the device deep in his jacket pocket. He didn’t lie. Sometimes, when he went into the backyard, he’d leave the machine in his room. He wasn’t dumb enough to leave home without it, though. He just didn’t want the world to find out. “Believe me, I know.”

Mike slammed his fist into his palm.

“If you know so much, then maybe you should’ve known not to show your face around here without protection.”

“Bad move, Jack,” Dillon smiled nastily.

The two boys closed in while the others watched, stricken with horror. Jack saw their torment, their desire to do something, their yearning for
him
to do something. He gripped the O/A, feeling its energy. It was ready, but he couldn’t use it. Not for such an insignificant task. The machine was meant for greater things, and he knew it. Too much power to wield on mere schoolboys. Still, they did present a problem, and it seemed neither one of them were willing to back down.

“Jack,” Amelia prodded him again. “What about Takota? Where is he?”

“I’VE GOT YOU, POTATO!” Pud gritted his fangs, swiping at Takota’s back tire with his foot. He missed and nearly toppled over, then regained balance on the slick, uneven log. Takota lifted his handlebars to take the next bump. Pud did too, just a fraction behind.

Pud angled close again, aiming his front tire into the spokes of Takota’s rear wheel. With a flurry of pedaling, Takota managed to pull away. That only thwarted Pud for a second. Just like that, he was back, kicking, pushing, biting—anything to get an advantage. Takota heard the other racers—Enola, Ayita and Cheyton—crying foul at Pud’s dirty tricks. It didn’t stop him. Nothing would. Winning the race was Pud’s only goal, and nothing was out of bounds.

“Stop it!” Takota veered left. Pud angled with him, not letting so much as an inch of daylight come between them. It was almost too much for Takota. The unrelenting attacks. The unmitigated speed. The wind slapping against his eyelids. The tears streaming down his face.

He saw the finish, and knew what he had to do. He kicked up and shifted his weight back, picking the bike’s front wheel off the ground, preparing for the final, death-defying feat. At the end of the course, just before the tape, a large, mushy marsh stood in his way. There were two ways to negotiate the bog. One was to launch straight off a perfectly-angled rock which jutted over the edge of the wetland. And the other way was to, well, go through it, but that almost never resulted in a win, and created quite a mess. In fact, no matter how good a racer was, if he—or she—happened to miss the jump and hit the mud, then he—or she—could reasonably kiss any previous hopes of winning goodbye.

Knowing this, with his eyes locked on the jumping-off point, Takota avoided Pud’s final attack, ducking just in time. Pud put so much power into the attempt that, when he missed, he lost control of his bicycle. Arms twisting like a windmill, face elongated in a scruffy look of terror, he headed straight for the swamp. Takota chuckled and almost lost balance watching Pud’s front tire wobble. Then Pud went down hard in the solid ground, trying to steer clear of the muddy pool. It didn’t work. Kicking and floundering, his momentum took him straight in. After that, Takota steered his front tire into the groove and hit his mark.

He caught the jump.

Hoots and hollers. The other Tanakee shouted in elation, making it known to all the forest that they were proud of their young friend.

Takota, for his part, couldn’t believe it. Finally, after so many times trying, after so many defeats and near misses and total embarrassments, it looked like this would be his first time to cross that line first. Once and for all, he’d shut that Pud’s mouth about being undefeated.

Sailing over the mud bog, he figured Pud couldn’t cause any more trouble. Big mistake. Pud reached from the muck, head to toe in greenish slime, his mismatched eyes the only things recognizable behind a mask of mud.

“No you don’t!” he flung himself into the air. Takota smelled the pungent aroma of the swamp saturating Pud’s thick, shaggy coat. No way could he reach, Takota thought. No way. He was wrong. The nasty varmint came right at him, on a collision course, ready to snatch Takota’s bike out of the sky.

“JACK! WHERE’S TAKOTA!” Amelia pleaded. The two schoolyard tormentors moved closer.

“He’s scared,” Dillon said.

Mike agreed. “Because he doesn’t have his little machine to perform his fancy tricks.”

“Yeah, Jack. Why don’t you have your machine? Why aren’t you somewhere showing it off? That’s what
I’d
do.”

“I think it was just a big hoax,” answered Mike. “That’s the only way to explain it. That’s why he’s here, back at school. Anyone with a machine like that would be out doing fun stuff—flying to Disneyland or something like that.”

Dillon wagged his tongue. “Or zapping up enough money to buy a football team. That would be cool!”

“The O/A doesn’t work like that,” Jack broke his silence. “And it wouldn’t work for selfish people like
you
.”

The other students watched saucer-eyed, knowing neither Dillon nor Mike reacted to criticism well.

“What are you saying, Jack? You don’t think we could do the things you can do with that machine? You think you’re so great?” Mike shoved him. Jack tripped over his own shoe, falling onto the grass. Another round of uneasy, breathy murmurs from his schoolmates. He had to look twice before recognizing the O/A had fallen from his jacket. Dillon had it in his hand!

“What do we have here?” his eyes lit up with malicious glee.

“Give it BACK!” Jack flew to his feet. Mike stood in the way. Then the whole schoolyard erupted, everyone pleading with the two boys to hand the machine to its rightful owner. Amelia was the loudest, but many others stood out. Even Wendy Wurtzbacher and her entourage were unhappy with the tormenters. Despite the begging, the two boys wouldn’t relent. In fact, the more the children pleaded, the nastier Dillon and Mike became.

“How about I smash this thing into the ground, huh?” Dillon held the device at shoulder level, speaking to a chorus of disapproval. He didn’t seem to mind their agony. In fact, he seemed to get a kick out of it, giggling and pointing. “What’s the matter with all of you? This thing’s a piece of junk!”

“Jack!” Amelia tugged his arm. “We need the Tanakee. How can we get them here?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. Deep inside, he wished he hadn’t come to school. His mother was right. Things had changed. Too much was different now, and some kids would never be able to understand or accept the new Jack. The thing was, he didn’t want to be treated differently, and he sure didn’t want to use the O/A and its unlimited omnidimensional power just to get out of a little schoolyard scuffle.

“We’d better figure something out,” she pressed her hand over her blouse in the spot where she wore her special eagle feather. “Or there’s gonna be real trouble.”

“Dillon! Mike!” Wendy pushed to the front of the crowd. Jamie, Heather, and Betsy were right behind her. “Give Jack his machine, you guys,” her followers nodded in stern agreement.

Dillon dropped his shoulders. “Oh. Okay. Whatever you say, Wendy.”

“Good,” she smiled, watching as Dillon, head low, reached out his hand. Her satisfaction stretched into shock when the boy, instead of giving up the device, tossed it over Jack’s head and into Mike’s grubby mitts. Jack spun on his heels and pushed toward Mike, reaching, grabbing at his machine. Too late. Grinning smugly, the big kid with the bowl haircut flicked his wrists and the O/A went soaring again, this time in an opposite trajectory, back to Dillon.

“Oopsy daisy!” Dillon faked like he almost dropped it, forcing another big, collective breath from the gathering. Jack tightened his stomach, fighting away the butterflies. He knew something like this was going to happen. So did Amelia, it seemed. She and Jack both lunged at Dillon, but he stepped back and looped his arm over his head. His casual attitude disturbed Jack. All he could picture was the machine on the ground, shattered into pieces, and the two thugs, Dillon and Mike, snorting and taunting in grand contentment over their conquest.

Jack had to stop that from happening, but, whenever he got close, one boy would throw the O/A to the other, continuing the torture. Each time a toss was made, the throw was a little more relaxed and the catch a little more careless. Soon, they started taking ridiculous risks, letting it sail higher and higher, while letting it fall closer and closer to the ground before grasping it.

“Guys! Be careful! You’re gonna drop it! It’s gonna break!”

“Not so tough now, are you, Jack?” Dillon threw the O/A to Mike.

“Just gimme my machine, guys!” it was at that moment Jack started to honestly wish his little, furry friend, and his valued protector, was with him.

Where are you, Takota?