William had to pee. He’d been holding it for hours. Ever since he got off the bus. Arnie said to go to their safe place, so he did, but Arnie was taking forever. William didn’t want to pee in his pants, but he didn’t want to not wait anymore. Arnie told him to wait. William knew where the bathroom was, but it was late now. He knew the fat man with all the keys would’ve locked it by now—and it was far from where he was. If Arnie came back and he wasn’t there, Arnie would be upset. He’d scream. Arnie always screamed. William tried calling Arnie again to tell him he really had to go pee, but someone else answered—the same man from before who said he was a friend of Arnie’s—but he was lying.
William broke the phone in half, the way Arnie had told him, after that call. He threw it in the bushes right before he jumped the fence when he got here. He wished he’d peed in those bushes. He wanted to go back to the Farm—to the pretty lady who lived there. William really liked the Farm. It was cool. William loved the birds there, but hated that the birds were used in their stupid game. That didn’t make any sense. Why train the birds to listen and to take commands just to let them fight and kill each other? It was cruel, but thoughts of the bird game kept William’s mind off his bladder for a while until taking a piss was all he could think about. He didn’t want to just pee on the ground. That would be gross, and he definitely didn’t want to pee near the trees. The birds lived in there. That wouldn’t be cool at all. If there were nests nearby, the smell of urine would keep the mothers from coming back and feeding their babies. William wasn’t about to be responsible for the death of even more birds. He’d done enough of that for Arnie already.
William was hungry, too. He had six dollars in his wallet but he was sure the fat man in the uniform had locked up all the places to eat, too. Him and the others, the loud kids with the matching blue T-shirts, shut all that down an hour ago—when they locked up the bathrooms. He was sure of it. He bounced his leg on the bench enough to bruise the heel of his foot even through his sneaker, to keep from pissing himself, but he had to do something. Finally, William made a decision. He’d have to leave—just for a minute—and find a suitable place to urinate. Arnie would have to be okay with that. He would have to understand. He hoped Arnie didn’t show up and sound the way he did over the phone earlier. When they got on the plane after the big contest, Arnie was pretty excited. He was happier than William had ever seen him. William didn’t understand how his brother could be so happy one minute and then so upset the next, but Arnie had always been like that—his whole life he’d been like that. Arnie would just have to understand. He couldn’t hold it anymore.
William stood up and walked. He wasn’t sure which way he should go, but the walking immediately helped him hold it in, so he just walked. He stayed off the sidewalks and kept in the shadows because he knew if anyone saw him, they wouldn’t let him stay there. They wouldn’t let him continue to wait where Arnie told him to, and he didn’t want his brother to be any angrier than he already was. William didn’t walk far before he saw the vending machine. He turned around and knew he’d be able to see the bench he’d been sitting on if he stepped out into the lighted breezeway, so Arnie couldn’t get too mad at him for moving. He was technically still in the same place. He hustled over to the machine and unzipped his pants. There was already a small pool of something nasty on the concrete under the left side of the machine, so he wasn’t affecting too much by adding to it. William peed on himself a little in anticipation, and with nowhere to wash his hands, he was mortified, but finally he relieved himself into the pool of sticky filth behind the vending machine. It felt so good. It also felt like it took forever, and he leaned his shoulder against the lit-up machine as the feeling of relief washed over him. He hoped Arnie hadn’t come back yet. He couldn’t hear anyone. He kept swiveling his head from the puddle growing at his feet to the bench way back behind him. He wondered how Arnie would even get in here now that everything was locked up. It was against the rules, but Arnie didn’t care about rules. William knew that. He peed and peed until he had nothing left.
When he was done he zipped himself up and almost started back toward the bench, but then he remembered the six dollar bills he had tucked in his wallet. He stopped next to a tree and took the wallet out of his pocket. He counted the bills over and over again several times and tucked them back in the wallet before he approached the vending machine again and studied the contents behind the Plexiglas. He scanned each row. Everything had chocolate on it. William hated chocolate. Arnie thought that was weird. “All kids like chocolate,” he’d say. William supposed his brother was right, but William wasn’t a kid. Why didn’t Arnie understand that? Why didn’t anyone understand that? When William spotted the row of Paydays six rows down and nine rows over, he smiled. Paydays were the best. They were like Baby Ruths without all the chocolate to ruin them. He immediately pulled the neatly creased fold of money from out of the wallet again and counted the bills a few more times. Other than those six one-dollar bills, the wallet was completely empty, so he tossed it in the huge plastic trash can on the other side of the vending machine. It served no purpose now, so why keep it?
He straightened out the bills as best he could, and one by one he fed all six of them into the slot on the machine. In between each bill he lined up and checked—and double-checked—the correct number, before mashing the button—“F nine,” he whispered out loud every time he hit it. By the time he was done, the machine had dispensed six Paydays into the collection container at the bottom of the machine. William pushed back the plastic cover and grabbed them all, stuffing them into the front pocket of his hoodie. He wanted to eat them right there, he was so hungry. He wanted to shove them all into his mouth, but he knew he’d already taken enough time for himself. He needed to get back. Arnie might already be there. He was being selfish. William pulled his hood over his head, tucked his hands into the pocket full of candy, and took the same darkened route under the trees back to the bench. He’d made a promise to stay put and he’d broken it. Arnie wasn’t there. Maybe he’d come and gone. Maybe since William didn’t do what he said he’d do, Arnie left him there. No, William knew Arnie would’ve yelled or screamed. He would have heard him. He wasn’t that far away—but he wasn’t sure. William sat back down and started to cry. “I’m sorry, Arnie,” he said into the darkness. “I’m still here. I won’t get up again.” William didn’t eat a single one of the candy bars in his pocket. He could wait. Arnie would be there soon. Everything would be okay. They would go to the city with all the lights and water and everything would be okay. Just like Arnie said. He wiped at the tears on his face with the back of his sleeve. Arnie was coming. He just knew it.