Tonio held the phone up. I gave a little whine for emphasis.
“That,” Jeff announced, “is the cutest darn thing I’ve ever heard in my life. You got it. Mozart! Come here, boy!” He laughed. “Phone’s for you!” There was the jingling of a collar and the ruffle of a phone being placed onto carpet.
“Hello?” I barked, making Tonio wince and Mozart whine sarcastically on the other line.
“C’mon, gramps. You don’t have to yell.”
“Sorry,” I rumbled, embarrassed. Tonio stared at me, wide-eyed, like he was realizing I was smart all over again. “The tournament’s already starting! Where are you?”
His little paws squished the carpet around the phone in a frustrated rhythm. “I’ve tried everything! I stole her left sock, I stole her right sock, I chewed on her left shoe, I chewed on her right shoe, I scratched at the door—all the normal stuff that always works! She won’t budge!”
My ears flattened. That was the stuff that always works. “Okay, so we need a more complicated plan. Maybe we should ask Jpeg.”
Static burst across the line for a second. Then, a new bark. “Ask me what?”
“Jpeg! How’re you on the phone?”
She barked a little laugh. “Is that your question? You only get one.”
Me-from-a-few-days-ago, the me who decided I wasn’t going to meddle in people’s lives anymore, was growling all over my brain again. But, uh, what is that saying? You can’t teach an old dog to stop doing old tricks? I think that’s how it goes, and therefore the thing I did next is not my fault, and I promise I have learned my lesson, mostly, but the truth was that Mozart couldn’t talk to Mia directly. Maybe if he could, maybe if Mia knew how many friends she really did have, we wouldn’t need to use tricks. But I wasn’t ready to admit that I’d broken the law, so:
“We need a plan to get Mia to the Beamblade tournament, and we only have thirty minutes.”
A keyboard clicked and clacked. “What’s your budget?”
“Zero dollars?”
Click click click click click, like a backspace key over and over. “I see. So you want me to do this pro bone-o.” She didn’t sound pleased.
“It’s for Mia!” I yelped. “You were just trying to help her like a week ago!”
“A lot can change in a week.”
“No, it can’t! You just wanted to make a pun and now you want to sound cool!”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. “Is everything okay? It sounds like three dogs in there.”
Tonio called back out, “Yeah,” finally looking confident and ready with a lie. “That’s just my stomach!”
“Your—that’s y—” I heard whoever was behind the door take a step back. “All right, you … keep doing what you’re doing.”
Jpeg finally spoke again. “Okay, nerds, listen up. In two seconds, you’ll hear the sound of a goat.” There was a bleat, in the distance, from the other line. “And now the humans.”
“Oh no, how did she get out again?” And now, louder: “Mia, we need your help getting Chompy back in the barn!”
Jpeg again. “Mozart, there’s a friendship anklet on Mia’s dresser. She and Sloan made them last summer, and she won’t want to lose it. Once she opens her door, you need to grab it and take it outside. I’ll make sure the front gate is left just a little open. I expect you can handle it from there?”
He yipped affirmatively. “Sure thing!”
“Great. Jpeg out.” Another burst of static, and then the sound of a door opening. Mozart was already leaving, so I motioned for Tonio to hang up the phone.
Suddenly, silence. Tonio looked from the phone to me, and then at the mirror. “Have I been dreaming this whole time?” he mumbled.
No, I assured him.
“I can’t do this,” Tonio said, still staring at himself in the mirror. “This isn’t the kind of thing I do. I can’t talk to dogs and make friends and compete in tournaments. I’m not that kind of person.”
You are, I said, and regretted how caught up in the plan I’d become again. I got so excited and forgot to be gentle with him. Too focused on myself, and my meddling. You are because you’re here. And you’re doing it.
“FIRST-ROUND PAIRINGS!” Skyler yelled from the store.
And it’s time to go.
“Okay.” He reached for the door, then let go of it. “I can’t do it.”
“I can.”
“No, I can’t.”
Maybe you can’t, I tried, but can we?
He watched my paws twist and took a slow breath. He nodded.
“Yeah. We can.”
“And at table five, Keygator versus … Malbrain and Combuster!”
Devon cackled with laughter when Tonio stood up and sheepishly grabbed his cards.
“It sounds stupid,” Tonio said.
“No!!!” Devon disagreed. “Combuster is so good.” I liked it at least and wagged my tail to make sure everybody knew.
“You’re just saying that.”
“And table six: GriffinRider1 versus: Nevod, the First Techromancer.”
“See? You believe me now? Mine’s just as silly and just as good.”
Now it was Tonio’s turn to smile. “Yeah, I believe you.”
Tonio’s first real opponent introduced himself as Keegan. He was one of the younger adults in the tournament, with bright blue hair, five different piercings, and an entire rock collection’s worth of crystals hanging from his neck. He was also, lucky for us, playing an earth and water deck, which was the worst possible combo against gravity.
“Malbrain, huh? And that fuzzy guy must be Combuster.” Keegan played a Buried Manabyte and a Serverpillar. “Kinda scary. You sound like villains.”
Tonio didn’t answer—he hadn’t even looked at Keegan yet—and silently played a Suspended Manabyte and a Sleep Pod on Keegan’s Manabyte.
Basically, green decks are really slow—they plant seeds early in the game, hoping that they’ll bloom into winning strategies later on. Adding blue—which is all about bringing destroyed cards back from the dead—is meant to be a check to make sure that if you lose important seeds, you can plant them again. But gravity is
