THE PAST: AN ALLEY IN OXFORD
D espite the Pillar’s dilemma with remembering the past, he does, in fact, know Jack’s whereabouts. It turns out, Jack is a well-known young hustler all over Oxford and London. Not in the ways I imagined, though. Jack is a card player of distinctive qualities.
I stand with the Pillar, peeking into an alley from the edges of a garbage can, watching Jack. He sits among a bunch of older men playing cards on the back of an abandoned vehicle.
“Five pounds for the next round.” Jack bites on the tip of a matchstick, mocking the muscled man before him.
“Ten pounds,” the man offers. “If I win this round of blackjack, I get ten pounds.”
“And if I win?” Jack inquires.
“You get five.”
“What kind of logic is that?”
“The logic of muscles.” The man stretches out his broad torso. His gargoyle friends back him up with a laugh behind folded arms.
Jack is really thin. He looks mischievous and slick, but he wouldn’t have a chance in a fight.
“I have a better idea,” Jack says. “If I win, I take all of your clothes.”
“What did you just say?” the man growled.
“In exchange, you get to beat the bonkers out of me if I lose.” Jack winks. “I swear I won’t file charges.”
“Who bets this way?” The man frowns.
“A boy who’s sure he is going to win.”
“Are you even aware of what you will become if we beat you? You’d be laying flat on the floor.”
“Just like this card on the table?” Jack lays down his first card.
“Rethink this, Jack,” the man says. “You’ve got all those fluffy girls liking you back in school. They won’t like you with a bruise for a nose and hole for an eye.”
“Truth is, I need the money,” Jack says. “And your heavy metal cha cha cha clothes look like they’re worth a hundred pounds.”
The semi-nerdy Pillar whispers in my ear, “This Jack is badass. Better than Indy.”
I try not to roll my eyes. They hurt from doing this too much already. “Are we going to let him do this to himself?” I ask the Pillar. “Jack may need help.”
“Help him if you want. I’m staying here,” says a cowardly Pillar. “Besides, I think he is going to win.”
But the Pillar is wrong. Whatever version of blackjack they’re playing, Jack is losing fast. The muscular men roar with laughter and start knuckling their fingers.
“Here is your ten pounds.” Jack grins.
“What?” the man says.
“You said you’d take ten if you won.”
“No, that was the first deal. Then you said we could beat you if you lose.”
“Who said that?” Jack says. “You guys must be dreaming.”
“What? Are you calling us mad?”
“Think about it. Why would I play cards for you to beat me when you can just beat me whenever you want? You just misunderstood me.”
The muscular men scratch their temples, thinking it over. “So, we don’t need to win to beat you?”
“Right on.”
“Then no problem. Let’s beat him up, boys.”
“But hey.” Jack raises his hands. “That’s not a fair fight. And as strong and muscular as you are, you surely want a fair fight. You wouldn’t brag about squashing a cockroach, right? It’s just not good manners.”
They scratch their heads again. “So, what do you suggest we do?”
“I’ll fight one man at a time.”
“Deal.” The man takes off his jacket, his muscles spilling over on the sides. “I’ll go first.”
“Hey,” Jack says. “Come on. Look at you. You’re twice my age, four times my size, six times my weight. In fact, you’re the size of my whole family.”
“So, what now, Jack?”
“I can’t fight you all at once. It’s like you squishing a rat.”
“Then how am I going to beat you, Jack?” The man starts to lose patience.
“I suggest I fight with just your arms first.” He raps the man’s arms. “Just about the right size. Your arms against the whole me.”
“And where do you suggest the rest of me goes?”
“I don’t know.” Jack shakes his shoulders. “That’s your problem. You could cut off your arm or something.”
The man grunts, stepping forward.
“Okay, bad joke.” Jack shrugs. “I have a better idea. Just hear me out.”
“Last chance.”
“You wouldn’t be able to move your arm if it wasn’t for your brain, right?”
“Come again?”
“The brain sends signals to an arm for it to move and punch someone. You know that, right?”
“Is that true?” the man asks his buddies.
They shake their shoulders. “How would we know?”
“It’s true. Science, they call it,” Jack explains.
“So, what’s the point?”
“The point is your arm wouldn’t work without your brain. But your brain works without your arm.”
“And?”
“Let’s fight brain to brain.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” The man laughs. “You want us to fight like bulls. Come here, Jack. I’ll crush your skull for giggles.”
“Didn’t quite mean that,” Jack protests. “People usually use their brains, not fight with them.”
“Now, you’re really losing me.”
“I mean to play brain to brain. We need to simply play cards again. See who wins, have this talk all over again, realize fights are useless, then play again.”
The man’s head whizzes around. “What?”
That’s when Jack pulls out a set of cards and flicks them one after the other in their faces. It seems childish at first until I realize the cards are covered with a thick substance that sticks to their faces. When they try to pull it off, it snaps at their skins.
The men begin to roar.
Jack runs out of the alley. It happens so fast I don’t have a chance to call after him. When I’m about to, I see Jack jumping into the back of a car filled with girls.
And who do you think is driving it?
Lorina Wonder.