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The sun beams down on Sparrow’s back and shoulders as he carefully sets an assortment of freshly picked flowers into a glass vase. He stands in admiration of his arrangement for a short while before removing a white peony from the bouquet, snapping half the stem off and placing it in the breast pocket of his waistcoat. His outfit is somewhat tattered and ill-fitting, as his dress shirt and pants swallow up his petite frame, coming together with a loose bright purple bow tie around his neck. Sparrow seems to care more about the gala décor than his own sense of fashion.
“Perfect!” Sparrow says to himself as he folds up his sleeves and glances out at the rest of the meadow. Rows of circular wooden tables draped in lace white cloths, each lined with elegant silverware and porcelain plates. An impressive sight compared to how his father described Roquéport the last time they visited the village to rescue his good friend, TJ.
“Oh man, everything looks great, dude!” Sparrow turns around and sees Yeet waving in his direction as he effortlessly rolls up beside him despite the lack of paving.
“But of course, only the best for the lovely people of this land!” Sparrow responds as he admires Yeet’s well tailored suit, while at the same time pondering how he managed to put on dress shorts while attached to his skateboard. “You’re here early.”
Too busy scanning the area to notice Sparrow’s analyzing, Yeet responds, “Yeah, I kinda just wanted to scope out the place for a dance floor or something to get some sick tricks and flips in!”
After quickly skimming the place, he turns to Sparrow and playfully nudges his shoulder. “But I think it’s really cool how your dads decided to host a gala fundraiser for all of the kids involved in UFC. I never thought Roquéport could look like--” and he gestures his hands towards the set up in front of him.
“Yes, the fathers and I have quite outdone ourselves if I do say so myself,” Sparrow says, raising his head with dignity. “I see you’ve come bearing gifts for the foster children. That’s very gracious of you.” He points to the small paper box bound by a single red ribbon in Yeet’s left hand.
“Oh yeah, this ol’ thing? It’s just an old eyepatch of mine that I grew out of. I like to change things up, keep things fresh you know?” Yeet winks with his good eye and gives Sparrow finger guns. “What’d you get, my dude?”
An almost smug look forms on Sparrow’s face as he reaches for the back pocket of his dress pants. “Oho! Why, my dear friend, Yeet. I thought long and hard about what the perfect gift I could bestow on the beloved children of Roquéport could be, and I--”
A flash of panic forms on Sparrow’s face as his hand goes through a large hole in his pant pocket and he begins to frantically pat the rest of his torso. “Oh noooooooo!!!” Sparrow exclaims, “I think I’ve lost the most amazing, fantastical gift. What the heck am I going to do?!”
“Chill out, my dude” Yeet says calmly, putting his arms behind his head and leaning back as if in some sort of skateboard recliner. “We just need to retrace your tailslides.” He rotates his stance a full 180 degrees, emphasizing his point.
He’s so dang cool. Sparrow’s mind begins to wander. No, I have to stay focused.
“Ok, yes, what was I doing last? Oh yeah, my flower arrangements!” Sparrow takes a few steps back, carefully analyzing the ground beneath him, Yeet directly in tow. Hmmm, nothing yet.
Not entirely surprising, Sparrow had been running around all morning getting things ready. His panic is starting to get more severe. What if he can’t find the gift? What if someone steps on it!?
Yeet apparently senses Sparrow’s unease, “You know, we might be able to grind this out a little faster if you told me what we’re looking for.”
“It’s a surprise my dear Mr. Bigly” Sparrow says smugly. Yeet’s cool presence is enough to at least temporarily calm Sparrow’s nerves. “Let’s keep looking. You’ll know it if you see it.”
Sparrow and Yeet continue their search - under every table, chair and seemingly under every blade of grass. Sadly the gift is nowhere to be found.
“I know I had it here,” Sparrow exhales, dropping to his back. “We’ve checked everywhere.”
Gulp. Sparrow looks up to see Yeet drinking water directly from the fresh vase of flowers. “Hey come on, I just got tho… wait. Pee!”
“Huh?” says Yeet, confused.
Sparrow’s already on his feet and racing towards the edge of the meadow. “I went to go pee on that big oak tree!”
At an almost 90 degree angle at the hip, Sparrow searches the ground up to and around the tree. “Darn..” By the time Yeet catches up, Sparrow is staring into the bark of the tree as if it has some secret map hidden inside.
“Teeheehee, are you looking for something?” a familiar voice says.
Startled, Sparrow jumps back.
“I’m up here.”
Sparrow and Yeet look up and see that Paeden sits nestled in the branches of the tree. He winks at the two of them and shoots them a pair of finger guns.
“What are you doing?” Sparrow asks.
Paeden shrugs. “Oh, you know me, my man. Just a cool dude doing cool things. I’m vibing up here.”
Sparrow and Yeet do nothing but look blankly at him for a moment, before Yeet says, “Are you stuck?”
“No!” Paeden shoots back defensively. “But I will jump down into your arms if you’re offering. I’m a bit of an acrobat.”
“Chill,” Yeet says, holding out his arms. Paeden doesn’t hesitate to leap from the branches and Yeet catches him without much effort before setting him down.
“Have you seen my gift for the gala around anywhere, Paeden?” Sparrow asks. “I wrapped it up with pink paper. It’s got tons of flowers on it too.”
Paeden pretends to think about it. “I might have seen something like that around here somewhere… and I might have seen the person who took it too. I’ll tell you, if--“
“If?” Yeet repeats.
Paeden grins. “One of you can best me in combat!”
Both boys step back at the revelation before they look to each other. Yeet shakes his head. “I’m not going to fight a kid that small. You’ve got to do it, you’re closer to his age.”
“But…” Sparrow mulls it over. This was definitely inherently violent, no pretend game about it. His father would not be pleased with him for doing this, even if it was for a noble reason. He’s sure even Lark could see that beating up someone with such inferior fighting skills — no matter what kind of eye of the tiger they might possess — would be dishonourable.
“I’ll fight you.” Sparrow decides. “With an Earth game of combat.”
“Alright, alright.” Paeden nods. “Want to play on home turf, I can respect it. What’s the game?”
Sparrow grins. “Rock, paper, scissors. Best of three.”
“Ohhhhhh,” Yeet hypes up, despite not recognising the game, “Watch out, Paeden.”
Paeden meets Sparrow’s eyes with fierce determination. “Tell me the rules, man. I’ll whip your ass. Don’t even try me.”
Sparrow quickly explains the rules of the game to Paeden and instructs Yeet to count them in.
“Alright,” Yeet says, looking between the two as they face one another. “One, two, three.”
On three, Sparrow shoots out paper. Paeden chooses rock.
Paeden gasps. “No. Impossible.”
Round Two. “One, two, three--”
Sparrow uses scissors. Once again, Paeden chooses rock. He smashes his fist down on Sparrow’s fingers. “Hell yeah, baby. The Paedster is the master of this game now.”
“There’s still one more round, dude,” Yeet reminds him.
They count in again. On three, Paeden once again throws out rock, and Sparrow contests with paper. He wraps his hand around Paeden’s fist and grins. “I’ve bested you.”
Paeden nods solemnly as he drops his hand. “Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word. I’ll tell you who took your gift.”
Paeden raises his thick groucho brows up and down then points back towards the Gala’s grounds. “Your gift, my good man...” he pauses dramatically. “Is thatta way.”
Yeet and Sparrow frown. Deeply. Paeden smirks and gives Sparrow a one handed finger gun. “It was the other one, the same boy as you.”
Sparrow raises a brow in confusion for a moment, and then it occurs to him.“Lark! Aha, maybe he is learning the ways of the Love Wolf.” Sparrow turns suddenly to Yeet. ”Let us go quickly!” He bolts towards the gala’s grounds, his purple bow tie loosening a bit as he runs.
Yeet looks at Paeden, “Cool.” He glides off after Sparrow.
As Yeet catches up to Sparrow, a voice carries almost within earshot from behind them, shouting something like: “Until next time, my nemesis!”
Arriving back at the venue, an elegantly adorned tent has been erected since Sparrow and Yeet left to speak with Paeden. Sparrow immediately starts looking for his brother.
A few more of the other van kids have shown up. Nick, dressed in a killer black tux, is over by the second table talking to Killa. Killa is dressed in an equally killer black tux but with a paisley pattern. Grant is sidled up next to the tent flap, looking sheepishly over the groups of others arriving. His navy button up, khakis, and gelled comb over make him look handsome and a bit preppy. Lark, after a quick scan, is missing.
Yeet, seeing his sister, rolls over to her and Nick to join their conversation. Sparrow eyes Grant, shrugs and jogs over to him.
“Hello fellow kicker!” he says (referring to Grant and Sparrow’s good stats in corner kicks). Grant looks up after playing with one of the flowers he found on the grassy meadow floor, then eyes Yeet over at the table with Killa and Nick. Instant red flushes Grant’s cheeks, erasing his prominent freckles.
“Uh, hi Sparrow,” he says, not taking his eyes off the second table.
“I have a question for you friend!” Sparrow says. “I’m looking for Lark, have you seen him?”
Grant’s still distracted by Yeet, and is fidgeting in his docker style shoes. “Hmm..what? Uh yeah!” He looks directly at Sparrow and points to the corner of the tent. A massive clump of vines have formed up the side of the canvas. “He did that, then slid under the bottom of the tent.”
Sparrow’s eyes grow wide at the sight of the vines and he grabs Grant’s arm. “What do you mean ‘he did that’?”
Attempting to shake Sparrow’s iron grip, Grant gives up with a shrug. “I’unno. I heard him shout, and then there were vines poking out of the dirt. He tried to touch one of ‘em, but it just started growing faster. He army crawled under the tent to follow it, I think.”
Sparrow loosens his grip and follows the same path. He winces once he realizes that the crawling is only getting the elbows of his suit even dirtier. Upon standing, he sees the peony in his lapel has lost a few petals. That thought is quickly overridden, however, once he sees where the vines lead.
Lark is sitting in the shade of an enormous pear tree, its branches heavy with fruit. Strangely, while most of the pears are green, there are a handful of bright red ones dotting the harvest. One of those red pears is in Lark’s left hand; in his right, a piece of pink paper is being rubbed between his thumb and index finger. He must hear Sparrow approaching because he raises his head, a weak smile across his face.
“I think I ruined your gift. ‘M sorry.”
“Worry not, brother mine.” Sparrow kneels down to join Lark amongst the roots. A little more dirt isn’t going to make a difference. “We can surely find another way to impart chaos to our fellow warriors. Though,” he glares up at the tree, “I thought those were supposed to make pyramids?”
Lark slumps against Sparrow’s shoulder, lightly pushing until Sparrow yields with a slight lean of his own. Lark’s head thumps into his lap as he sits back up. As he begins to run his fingers through Lark’s unruly curls, Sparrow realizes how accustomed his family is to this unvoiced request for affection.
Lark continues to spin the pear in his hands as he answers, “Yes, that is quite contrary to past results. So I thought…” He trails off with a sigh, turning in Sparrow’s lap to face the tent and fiddle with the ripped hem of his brother’s pants.
“I thought maybe I got the plant thing,” he whispers, continuing to keep his hands busy with the tattered threads. “You saw him as a wolf first, so your claim to that is valid, and I have already said I will not challenge it. But when the vines started growing…”
He lifts one hand up, spreading the fingers wide before curling it into a fist. “A plant army! The power I could wield!”
As his fist falls, another sigh escapes. “Alas, it was not to be. I must continue to wait for my magic gift to show itself.”
Sparrow resumes stroking his hair, knowing this is probably the one and only time Lark will admit frustration over not being able to Wild Shape like Sparrow and their father can.
“I’ll keep on waiting with you, brother. We’ll find your gift.”