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I stick my hand in my pocket, feeling the slickness of those six one-hundred-dollar bills. “Fine. We’re in,” I say.
The guy hands us paddles and we push our way up to the front. Keith is blabbing on and on about how he and his buddies kidnapped the gnome from the dean’s house in the dead of night, making up a bullshit story so he’ll sound hot. Marisol acts all enchanted. She flips her long, dark hair and gives Balder a kiss, then lifts his dress to show off his pantaloons.
Balder’s bearing up with his usual stoic grace, but I know under that Zen master expression is a seething cauldron of gnome rage.
“I can’t believe that guy. What a freakin’ poser,” Gonzo snarls.
Two supertall dudes crowd next to us, making it hard for us to be seen.
“Here. Climb up and get ready to bid,” I say, boosting Gonzo onto my shoulders.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Gonzo asks. “You strong enough to hold me?”
“I can hold you long enough to win back Balder. You just be quick on that paddle.” Gonzo’s heavier than I thought, and my muscles feel the strain, but I can hold him for the five minutes this should take.
“How much we got?” Gonzo yells down.
“Six hundred,” I croak back. My neck’s killing me.
Keith finishes his shout-outs to a million buddies back home, and the bidding starts. It’s fast and furious at first. Bids fly out from all over. But when it reaches three hundred bucks, most people drop out. It’s just us and some other guys, bidding back and forth in twenty-five-dollar increments.
“Do I hear three fifty?” Marisol shouts to the crowd. “I’ve got three fifty!”
“Gonz! Who’s bidding against us?” I say with effort. For a Little Person he is solid.
“Those ass**les from the car. His buddies,” he says.
Gonzo’s paddle goes up. The bidding goes back and forth, till we reach $525. We’ve still got $75 in the bank. I’m sweating like a mofo. My muscles are getting stiff and twitchy. Man, not now. Please not now.
“They’re weakening,” Gonzo yells.
His paddle goes up. Marisol calls out $525. The twitch travels down my arms and into my legs. My knees are buckling.
“G-Gonzo,” I sputter. “I can’t hold you.”
“Just one second, dude.”
The guys make a counterbid of $600. Marisol wants it over. She yells going once, going twice, just as my legs give out and I fall to the ground with Gonzo on top. I hear Marisol shout, “Sold!” We’ve lost Balder.
“Dude, what the hell?” Gonzo yells, rubbing his head.
A guy with massively tattooed arms crouches down and asks Gonzo if he’s okay. Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. No need to check here. Just leave me on the ground, watch your step.
“You all right?” Gonzo asks me, almost as an afterthought.
“No,” I say, standing with effort. “We lost Balder.”
“We’ll get him back,” he says, checking his head with his hands. “I’ll be in the first-aid tent.”
“Yeah. Got it,” I snap, practically pushing him toward the tent with tattoo boy.
Keith welcomes his friends up onstage. He gives Marisol the gnome as a gift. She squeals and collects her prize, holding our gnome over her head, showing him to the crowd.
“He’s so cuuuuute!” she yelps. “We’re going to use him for the new ad campaign for I Double Dog Dare You!” The crowd loves this. They go wild. I remember the last TV spots they did for that show. It involved a stuffed bear. In one spot, they hacked his arm off with a chain saw. In another, they put a firecracker in his mouth and set it on fire. By the end of the five spots, he was nothing but a few pieces of dirty, scorched fluff attached to one glass eye.
“Hey, get a picture!” Keith Middle Guy Asshole Taker of Other People’s Yard Gnome Friends yells out to his buddies. He puts his arm around Marisol. And she gives him a big kiss on the mouth.
“Whooo-hooo! This is the rockingest day of my life!” Keith yells. The guys make that weird dog sound they do when they want to show their support. My heart sinks, both because I’ve lost Balder and because I’ve somehow put Keith on a path to certain doom. I hate that I know this. I hate that I can’t just hate him.
