The Fight for Kidsboro (30 page)

I sat down and opened a notebook that contained a list of possible candidates to take Max's place.

“Anybody got a name that sticks out?” I asked. They acted as if they hadn't heard me. The silence was broken by a distant hammering. I seemed to be the only one intrigued by the question of who would be hammering in Kidsboro this early in the morning. I scanned the main road of the town and saw no one. Ignoring the noise, I went back to my list.

“How about Monica Sertich? She's pretty nice.” Silence. Scott's face wrinkled up as though he was trying to remember who Monica Sertich was, even though I knew that he'd known her for eight years. Alice was the only one who wasn't dazed, but she very rarely voiced an opinion about anything. The hammering stopped, and a power drill started up.

I was much too curious to stay in the pavilion with my catatonic friends. Alice followed me, apparently curious as well. The noise was coming from a strange distance. It was too far away to have been any where in Kidsboro, yet it wasn't far enough to be construction on a real house. Alice and I strolled farther and farther without a word, and the drilling gave way to hammering again. A few steps more, and we could hear voices. The hammering was now doubled, as if someone were helping. We both saw it at the same time. There, across the creek, were Max and a friend, building a clubhouse. I moved in to get a closer look.

“What are you doing, Max?” I called.

He smiled and gave a half-salute. “Howdy, neighbor.”

“What's going on?”

“Just building me a house,” he said in his Southern accent, an accent that came and went as he pleased.

“Why?”

“Well, since I can't live in Kidsboro any more, I figured I'd start my own little town.” Alice and I exchanged looks.

“Your own town?” I asked.

“Sure. This isn't Kidsboro property over here across the creek. I didn't think anybody'd mind if I just settled right here. Hey, a little later on, I'm gonna need some help moving my house over here from Kidsboro. You think you could help out?”

“That's not your house any more, Max,” I said.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” he said with a smile. “I built that house myself. It's a nice one too. I wouldn't dream of leaving it behind.”

“You want me to take him out?” Alice whispered, feeling her right hip as if she wished she had a weapon there. I didn't encourage her.

I was desperate for an ingenious reply to Max, but all I came up with was, “You can't do this.”

His more-than-adequate reply: “Why not?”

In my mind, I scrambled for any reason. As far as I knew, he was right—the Kidsboro property line stopped at the creek, so if he wanted to start his own town, he was perfectly within his rights to do so. And he did build the house himself with his own materials, so he could do whatever he wanted with it.

The three other members of the city council joined us and stared across the creek at Max as well.

“What is
he
doing?” Scott asked.

“He's starting his own town.”

Scott was offended. “He can't do that!”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because he's … He can't just … It's got to be in the city charter somewhere.”

“The Kidsboro city limits end at the creek, Scott,” I said. “As long as he's not on Kidsboro property, Max doesn't have to pay any attention to our laws.”

Nelson shook his head. “This is not good.”

“No kidding,” Scott replied.

“No telling what kind of town it's gonna be. And the citizens? Probably the dregs of society—ignoring all the laws and constantly harassing us. It'll be like living near one of those high-crime suburbs that nobody likes to talk about.”

“Are they out of my jurisdiction if they commit a crime over there?” Alice asked.

“I wonder how he plans to destroy us,” Jill said, taking out her reporter's notebook and jotting something down.

“Listen,” I began, “maybe he was … just unsatisfied with the way we ran things over here, so he's exercising his constitutional right to secede from the union and create his own state.”

Jill stepped to ward the creek. “Hey, Max!” she called.

“Yeah?”

“What's the name of your new city?”

“Bettertown,” he said, smiling. Everybody looked at me and raised their eyebrows. I think they all knew, and I suppose
I
knew deep down in my heart, that we had a fight on our hands.

I left Kidsboro without any more thought to our scheduled city council meeting and headed to Whit's End, Odyssey's ice cream shop and discovery emporium. I was certain that Mr. Whittaker, the owner and operator of the place and the founder of Kidsboro, would have something to say about Max starting his own town. Mr. Whittaker owned the woods behind Whit's End, where both Kidsboro and Better town were situated. If he said Max had to go, his word would be final.

Before I even sat down at the counter, I was already into my story. “Max is starting his own town!” I said to Mr. Whittaker.

“I know.”

“He's across the creek, building a … what?”

“I know, Ryan,” Mr. Whittaker said. “He Was in here last night and asked permission.” My face burned. This was typical Max. He was always a step ahead of everyone else.

“And you said yes?” I asked weakly.

“I didn't see any reason why not.”

“But … don't you know Max? The only reason he's building this town is to tear ours down! He just wants to get even because we forced him out. His only purpose is to destroy Kidsboro!”

“Oh, I don't think there's really anything Max could do to destroy Kidsboro. I'm actually thinking it could be good for you.”

“What?”

“Healthy competition. I'm sure he'll create new businesses. It'll force your business owners to make better products and lower prices so that they can compete with Max's businesses. It'll give you a taste of the real world.”

I didn't want a taste of the real world. I was very happy in my imaginary one, a world that for about 12 hours didn't include Max. “He doesn't want healthy competition, Mr. Whittaker.”

“Ryan, I know Max. I know what he's like. I know he's schemed his way to the top, and if things go the way they usually do, he'll scheme his way back to the bottom. But I also know that there's hardly anyone more capable of being the leader of a town that could compete with Kidsboro. He's smart, he's ambitious, and he knows how to get things done. I wouldn't do this unless I thought it would be good for you. Who knows? Just like different countries of the world, you may end up needing each other.”

“I'm sorry for saying so, Mr. Whittaker, but I can't imagine this being good for us.”

“I guess you'll soon see.”

I walked out the door of Whit's End, my shoulders drooping. I reached down, picked up a rock, and threw it at a tree. How could Mr. Whittaker show no loyalty to Kidsboro? The town was his idea. He had helped write the laws and set up the government. And now he was going to let it be taken over. I couldn't understand it.

For the next month, we could barely hear ourselves think with all the construction going on in Max's new town. Eight of his friends were working, and, from the looks of it, not all of the structures they were building were houses. Max was mum on what he was creating, which had Jill fuming, of course. She had tried to interview him a number of times, but he kept answering questions such as, “What kinds of things will you have in your town?” with comebacks like, “Good things.” The construction workers didn't know anything either—they were just following orders.

I was watching them work on an odd-shaped, three-story building (I'm not sure I would have the guts to go up to the third story) when Nelson came up from behind me.

“Look at this,” he said, handing me a piece of paper. It was a flyer.

GRAND OPENING!!!

BETTERTOWN
COME SEE THE ATTRACTIONS! EAT THE FOOD!
LIVE THE EXCITEMENT! ALL FOR FREE! ALL FOR FUN!
THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING

“Our location is just across the creek,
but our attitude is miles away.”
Sponsored by Max Darby, King of Bettertown

Nelson watched my reaction as I read it. “These flyers are all over Odyssey. I guess he's inviting pretty much anyone,” he said.

I decided right then and there that this was going to be for real, and I could not show others that I was scared of it. People were going to look to me for leadership, and I had to convince them with my actions that I was not threatened by Max's new town.

I swallowed and said unconvincingly, “Good. I'm looking forward to going.”

“You're going?”

“Sure. They're our new neighbors. We need to be neighborly.”

“This town is obviously a direct attempt to bring us down. I mean, look at their slogan. ‘Our attitude is miles away.' That's a slam on Kidsboro, and you know it.”

“There's nothing like competitive juices to stimulate people.”

Of course, I was unable to look Nelson in the eye when I said that.

Jill, Scott, and I went to the grand opening together. I encouraged everyone in town to go, though I didn't really have to twist anyone's arm. Max had done well to keep everything secret, and now people were brimming with anticipation. Plus, there was free food.

Max had spared no expense getting his town ready. There were flags, balloons, and streamers every where. The smell of barbecue was in the air, music was playing, and in every direction there was a beehive of activity. Max was decked out in a shirt and tie (one of those string ties that country singers wear) and dress slacks, greeting everyone with a welcome smile as they came across the bridge to Bettertown. I think mine was more of a welcome sneer.

The first thing I noticed was the housing district. It was the Beverly Hills of the woods. Two-story clubhouses were lined up, majestically overlooking the creek. They all had “For Sale” signs hanging on posts in the front yards. The three of us went into one of the houses, and Jill almost choked on her tongue. Smooth, painted walls and ceilings, plywood floors (the floors in Kidsboro were dirt), and two soft chairs decorated the first floor. A ladder led up to the second floor where there was a 10-foot cathedral ceiling, a small balcony, and—most impressive to Scott and me—electricity. Max had put outlets in each of the houses. They were connected to mammoth extension cords, which disappeared underground outside the houses. He had dug a trench from the town and wired the cords through a pipe under the bridge, through Kidsboro, and all the way to Whit's End.

I wondered if Mr. Whittaker had helped Max just as he had helped us build Kidsboro. Kidsboro had electrical access, with the same underground cables, but It was only hooked up in certain places like the meeting hall and the movie theater. If Mr. Whittaker had helped Max out, that meant he had gone to greater lengths to help Bettertown than he had to help Kidsboro. My teeth clenched as I bent down to look at the trench.