The Year Between [Alpha Draft] - Pt 42;

[keybearer]

Chapter 42: Stand Out

Before he even considered finding the King, there was one little thing he had to take care of. Namely, the chunks of pineapple coating his hair, face, and coat. Luckily, one of the penguin waiters from before directed him to the nearest restroom, and after spending a few minutes tidying up, he was more than ready to waste the rest of the day out on the town.

So with Naminé by his side, he marched down the hall, threw open the Audience Chamber doors, and was more than ready to barge in. There was just one problem: the crowd.

Somebody must’ve spread the word because a shifting mass of animals now formed a wall around Mickey’s throne. There was a mob of living brooms, a donkey with feathered wings, a sleepy-eyed penguin in a nightcap, a grinning white rabbit in bright red overalls, and even a tutu-clad hippo. The crowd closed in from all directions, and while Minnie waved some of the crowd away, the sheer number of visitors made one thing crystal clear: Mickey wasn’t going anywhere yet. Well, so much for that.

It probably hadn’t been more than a half hour, anyway.

So, without a word, he led Naminé back to the courtyard, only to hear the sounds of distant voices.

Two figures now stood next to that small, leafy castle. One was about as round as a beach ball, with a light blue shirt, indigo shorts, and bright red sneakers. He had shaggy black fur and small, pointed ears, but from a distance, it was tough to tell whether he was a dog, a cat, or some weird amalgamation of both. His friend, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as ambiguous. Between his droopy ears, black fur, and long snout, and buck teeth, this kid looked just like a miniature Goofy. Aside from his age, the biggest difference was his fashion sense. His loose, red hoodie and baggy blue jeans screamed typical teenager.

A teenage, pint-sized Goofy… Well, it was only a matter of time.

Seeing Max, the Replica tensed. His feet became weights glued to grass, and he gulped, half-temped to approach the kid and half-tempted to back away. Stepping past him, Naminé leaned toward the castle and watched the two circle its outer wall.

“Hey, do you think that’s…?”

“It has to be,” he whispered.

Neither seemed to notice their presence. In fact, Max kept his eyes fixed to the small castle, moving back and forth, occasionally glancing at the surrounding flowers. A scowl worked its way across his muzzle, and he let out a low growl.

“Ugh, it’s gotta be around here somewhere!”

“Uh, Max?”

“Hold on, Peej. I’m gonna see if it’s—”

“Over here?” He poked his head out from around the corner.

Freezing mid-step, Max cracked a grin as big as a crescent moon. “Wait, it was there the whole time?”

His friend grimaced. “Yeah, but I don’t think you’re gonna like this.”

Wait, what were they talking about? Eyes narrowed, the Replica trudged a few feet to the right. When he caught the rear end of a skateboard jutting out of the leaves, he immediately hunched over, dropped his arms at his sides, and stared.

At first, Max moved at a leisurely pace, but as soon as he rounded the corner, he came to an abrupt stop. His, his mouth flew wide open, his fingers twitched, and his hands rolled into tight, gloved fists.

“Is this some kind of joke?” He lurched towards the skateboard, yanking it out of the bushes. There was a sharp, scraping sound that made the Replica shiver, and when Max finally dislodged his board, he gave it one look before dropping it at his feet. “Great, and now the paint’s chipped. Do you know how long it took me to save up for this?”

Peej twiddled his thumbs and averted his eyes. “Uh, six months, right?”

“Yeah, and now some jerk’s gone and trashed it.” He crossed is arms and glared at the ground. “Who even does that?”

“I dunno, man. The only guy I can think of is Mortimer, and I don’t think he’s that desperate.”

No, and even if it was tempting to let that sleezeball take the bullet, all that’d really earn him in the end was guilt and disappointment from his friends. Better to clear this one up as quick as possible, so, after a few moments of deliberation, the Replica approached the two teens.

“Uh, hey there,” he said with a wave. As soon as he spoke up, both Max and Peej spun around. The two gaped at the mere sight of him, though after a few seconds, Max began to move closer.

“Whoa, where’d you come from?” He squinted, looking the Replica up and down.

“The castle, if you want to get technical.”

“Yeah, but there’s no way you’re from here. And don’t try to say that you are.” Max folded his arms. “I already know all about the ‘world order.’”

“Pfft. Fine. You got me.” He shrugged and flapped his hand. “I came here with the King.”

“Whoa, back up,” said Peej. “King Mickey’s back?”

“Yep, but if you want to see him, you’ll need to get in line.” The Replica smirked, though it only lasted a few seconds. “Anyway, about that skateboard. Looks like it’s seen better days…”

“Pft. Yeah.” Max scooped up the board, pointing at the scratch marks. “Some jerk decided to jam it halfway into the Gummi Hangar. I can’t even begin to guess why.”

The Replica looked the other way. “I might have a few ideas…”

Max’s eyes flew wide open, and he dashed closer, looking him in the eye. “Wait, do you know who did this?”

He sucked in some air through his teeth and opened and closed his fists. “…You’re looking right at him.”

“What?!” The skateboard fell out of Max’s hands and crashed into the ground. Stumbling backwards, he hit the wall of the Gummi Hangar. His wide-eyed stare faded in a flash, replaced with a hardened glare. “Dude, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, okay?” The Replica snapped. “The only reason I threw it was because that thing almost tripped me. Yeah, it was stupid, but you really shouldn’t have it lying around in the first place.”

“And you should’ve known better than to chuck it at that—”

“Whoa, Max!” Peej stepped between the two, waving his hands. “Take it easy, man.”

“Take it easy? That board’s a collector’s item, and now—”

“Now it’s ruined. I get it.” The Replica turned around, rubbing at his neck. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Why do you think I’d ‘fess up in the first place?”

Max shut his eyes, running a hand over the top of his head. “Fine. But would it kill you to be more careful?”

“No, and if there’s any way I can make it up to you, just say the word.”

Max reached for his chin. “And you’ll do… anything?”

“As long as it’s not embarrassing or suicidal, anyway.”

“Huh.” His lips curled into a grin. “Well, how about this? You can throw down some munny for the patch job and buy us a pizza.”

“Sheesh, you don’t pull any punches, do you?” The Replica sighed and rubbed his shoulder. “Well, it’s not like I’m short on cash. Might as well go all out.”

“Thank goodness that’s over with.” The Replica almost jumped at the sound of Naminé’s voice, and when he turned around, he saw her wandering towards the group.

“Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t see you there.” Max grinned, rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s okay.” She giggled softly. “It was getting kind of tense…”

“I’ll say.” PJ shook his head. “So, who are you guys, anyway?”

Great, it was back to this old song and dance. Well, not like it was anything new. “Just call me Riku.”

“Riku?” Max squinted. “Wait, that coat… You’re the Replica, aren’t you?”

He’d already prepared to explain himself, but Max’s words knocked the wind right out of him, and he nearly bumped into Naminé as he took one wobbly step back. “You—” He paused, reaching up to rub his brow. “Okay, just so we’re clear. You actually recognize me?”

“Well, yeah. My dad’s been sending me piles of letters about his adventure.” Max raised his hand high over his head. “You should see my room. There’s this stack that goes all the way up to the ceiling.”

“That’s Goofy for you.” As sentimental as ever, by the sound of it. “Still, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“Hello? Remember that huge pile of letters? Well, my dad’s already clued me in on everything, including your big plan.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” said Naminé. “Did he say anything about me?”

“Naminé, right? Yeah, he’s talked about you a few times. And by ‘talked’ I mean he wrote a whole letter blabbing about how worried he was.”

“Really?” Naminé looked down, lacing her fingers together. “He really cares that much? But why?”

“Because he’s my dad.” Max tipped his chin up and chuckled. “He might be a knight, but if you peel back armor, he’s like a living marshmallow. A clumsy, well-meaning, but completely overbearing marshmallow.”

With a soft little snort, Naminé concealed the lower part of her face. But despite her best efforts, a tiny laugh breezed out of her. “I guess that’s true. It’s just… strange to think about. We only met once, and it wasn’t under the best circumstances. If I’d gotten to know him better, then maybe…”

“Trust me, it doesn’t take much to get on my dad’s good side. I bet he’d get along with a fire-breathing dragon if it didn’t try to eat him first.”

“Yep.” PJ slouched, falling back against a balloon pole. “Why else would he put up with my dad?”

The Replica blinked. “Wait, is there something wrong with him?”

“More like a whole lot of things!” PJ gulped, wrapping his arms around his torso. “We’re talking about the guy who tried attacking the queen over some lousy award, got kicked outta the kingdom, and that’s ignoring all the times he treated me like his personal gofer.”

Naminé’s hands squeezed tightly together, turning her fingertips bright pink. “But didn’t he care about you? You’re his son…”

“All he ever cared about was himself. I was just there to make him look good.”

She moved closer, wearing a small, gentle smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to be mistreated. That was my whole life before I left the Organization.”

“Aw, its fine” He stooped forward and rubbed the back of his head. “All that stuff about the Organization makes my problems look pathetic. I mean, sure, my dad joined forces with a crazy witch, but I never had to hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any better.” The Replica dropped his hands to his hips. “Still, you can’t fix your dad’s screw-ups and we can’t go back and undo ours… Guess it’s like Von Drake said. All we can really do is stick to the present.”

“Now that’s more like it,” said Max. “And speaking of the present, me and Peej were about to hit the race tracks. You guys want to tag along?”

“I don’t know.” The Replica swiveled around, setting his sights back on the castle. “I’d like to, but I already made plans with the King.”

“So? The town’s huge, man. Even if we spent hours out there, there’s still a ton of stuff we’d miss.”

“…You think it’ll take him that long?”

“Probably. Word spreads fast around here, and once the guards know he’s back, they’ll tell their friends, and their friends will tell their friends… Sooner or later, everyone’ll want a chance to meet with the King, sooo…”

“Oh, what the heck?” The Replica raised his hands in defeat. “Just try not to take us too far.”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to reach their next destination. Just a short step through the castle gates, and the Replica’s eyes were assaulted with a wave of bright, overly saturated colors. A wide plaza stretched out before him. Up above, he spotted a rainbow of triangle-shaped banners swaying along wires that stretched from the rooftops of buildings to a cream-colored gazebo at the heart of the plaza. Just like the courtyard, an array of Mickey-shaped balloons dotted the sky, and streets buzzed with laughter, shouts, and the constant cadence of footsteps.

Truth be told, it was kind of overwhelming. Between the greens, reds, purples, and pinks of the buildings to the stage decorated with stars and ice cream cones, everything looked so vibrant it was almost cartoonish. And that was just the architecture. Dashing across the pavement, he spotted a whole zoo’s worth of animals.

Tiny ducks, mice, and even a few rabbits scampered from a cart overflowing with popcorn all the way over to a hanging banner that read ‘Fruit Scatter’. A pig in a white apron passed out corndogs and burgers to a crowd of noisy kids. A grinning alligator passed out free snow cones. When Mickey said all the activity was out here, he wasn’t kidding. But as much as he would’ve liked to stick around and explore, Max and PJ seemed to have other plans in store. They moved past all the stands and turned down an alleyway, and he wasn’t about to lag behind.

The alley zigzagged right, then left, and then right again, past walls of green, white, and yellow buildings. On their way out, they passed stacks of crates and a wide open window where two Moogles passed tickets to a line that wrapped all the way around the corner. Lumpy, green hills topped with trees ran across the horizon, separated only by winding dirt roads. A golden blimp zoomed overhead with a waving banner advertising the Disney Town Speedway. A long, green stairway led down to a wide, concrete platform lined with a shifting mass of spectators. But rather than joined the crowd, Max waved to a nearby footbridge, and the group continued on their way.

As they made their way down another stretch of stairs, the Replica noticed a black shape in the distance. Two black circles formed ears on a large, donut-like tube. Yellow and black checkered flags stood at the edges of a metal overhang. A sign decorated with a red convertible leaving a trail of flames displayed the words: ‘Disney Town Speedway.’ As they drew closer, the distant donut became a towering tunnel.

And at the very center of the tunnel stood a certain duck scientist, clad in a clean white coat and goggles. He was pacing back and forth with a wrench clutched in his left hand, but how the heck did he beat them to the entrance? Sure, the crowds were busy, but wouldn’t it have taken a while to whip out a new coat, grab his tools and goggles, and cart it all out to the tracks? A glance to the right showed him that Von Drake wasn’t the only thing amiss. For some bizarre reason, there was a bath tub pressed against the tunnel’s rounded wall. An empty bathtub, at that, so it wasn’t like Von Drake was stashing any secret gadgets. Well, unless they were invisible.

The funny thing was, neither Max nor PJ even gave it a passing glance. Instead, Max glanced at the Replica and shook his head. At the same time, Von Drake stopped his pacing and dropped his wrench. Pulling back his goggles, he clasped his hands together and burst into a fit of wild laughter.

“Aha! So you decided to take my advice. Good! Very good. And you even made some new friends.”

“Yeah, and this time I didn’t even have to save anyone.”

“Yeah. Too bad you couldn’t save my board.” Max rolled his eyes, though he spoke with a light, friendly tone. “So, Professor, think you could squeeze in a few more racers this round?”

“Hmm, well, let me see.” His bushy brows furrowed, and he started to count on his fingers. “We gots Clara Cluck in the egg mobile, and then we have Practical Pig in his brand new go-kart. There’s Big Bad Wolf in his howling hot rod… Oof, that’s one noisy car, and Mortimer…” He grimaced for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “You know, I think I’ll let you boys enter so you can pop his planet-sized ego. And Naminé—you can join too, if you’d like!”

“Um… well, I don’t know. It all seems so… fast.” She rubbed one of her shoulders. “And I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“You sure you don’t want to give it a shot?” said Max. “I’m sure we could show you the ropes.”

She shook her head. “Maybe when it isn’t so busy.”

“Then we’ll just have to do our best out there.” The Replica grinned, pointing his thumb at his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll run circles around that rat just for you, Naminé.”

“Wonderful!” Von Drake rubbed his hands together. “Well, we’d better hurry! If we keep the crowd waiting, we might end up with a riot!”

“A riot?!” PJ gulped. “Oh man, then what are we standing around here for?”

Max nudged PJ’s shoulder. “Relax, Peej. Nobody’s gonna riot unless Mortimer ends up winning.”

“And that won’t happen if I can help it!” said Von Drake. “Why, I got just the thing for you boys. Come on, I’ll show you!” He waved his hands and started strutting along, whistling a tune as he waltzed through the tunnel. Just a few yards outside, a whole line of vehicles stretched along the wide dirt track. It was like Von Drake said. In one car shaped suspiciously like a giant egg sat a stocky brown chicken with a fringe of neck feathers resembling a fur collar. She wore a tall green hat with an enormous red feather poking out of the side. Just ahead of her was a fat little pig in white overalls gripping the wheel of his go-kart. To his left sat a shaggy, black wolf in a bent up top hat and dirt-stained overalls.

A tug on the Replica’s sleeve jerked his attention off of the tracks and towards the others. Chuckling, Von Drake gestured to the side of the tunnel, where a line of sleek, shining boards sat, just waiting to see some action. One look at the boards, and the Replica just had to get a closer look. He dashed toward the gear and crouched down to get a closer look. One thing that stood out right away was the boards’ slick, angular design. The tips tapered to a sharp point, with two smaller spikes at the back end. One board shone with bright red paint with a yellow lightning bolt painted at the center. The next board was electric blue with a silver rim, and the third was solid black.

Peering over the side of the boards, the Replica half-expected to find wheels, exhaust pipes, or at least some kind of jet propulsion system, but his searches were in vain. For one of Von Drake’s inventions, these things looked surprisingly sleek. The only problem was the lack of footholds.

But, true to form, Von Drake merely grinned at his inventions, and his chest puffed up with pride. “So, what do you think boys? Are these hip new boards too cool for school?”

“Aw, Professor, please don’t say that.” PJ slowly inched over to the blue board and scooped it up. “Are these things even safe? There aren’t any straps or seatbelts… What if we crash?”

“Seatbelts? On a hover board? Now that’s just silly! But if it’s safety you’re worried about…” He zipped around the corner and came sprinting right back with his arms full of pads. Pads that he began placing all over PJ’s body. “We got elbow pads, knee pads, shoulder pads. Oh, and don’t forget the life jacket!” He shoved the jacket onto PJ’s body and started to tighten the straps. “Wait, what am I thinking? This isn’t a boat race!” He unhooked the straps and flung the jacket over his shoulder. Gasping, Max reached out and caught the darn thing before it hit his face.

PJ, on the other hand, stood petrified. His pupils shrank to the size of tiny dots, his knees wobbled, and he took his head in both hands. “And you’re sure these things aren’t gonna blow up again?”

“Blow up? Nonsense! I’ve put these models through rigorous testing. They’re fast, durable, and between you and me…” He leaned towards Max and the Replica and whispered, “They’re very popular with the ladies.”

“Really?” Naminé giggled, kneeling next to the black board. “But how do they work? It doesn’t look like there’s anything to get them off the ground.”

“Ah, but that’s because these boards use the latest in neurological technology!” He reached behind his back and whipped out a smooth, metallic helmet crawling with circuitry. Just as PJ had finally started to relax, the Professor popped the helmet down on his head, and poor PJ tensed all over again. “With my Von Drake Mind Mapping Matrix, all you gotta do is think, and the board will go up, down, all around. If you want to go, you just think ‘go,’ and zoom! You’re flying at the speed of a missile.”

“A missile?” PJ’s face paled, and he grabbed his stomach. “M-maybe I should sit this one out, guys. I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Max scowled, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Just ignore him, Peej. I doubt it’ll be that bad.”

“Yeah, but what if it is?”

“Then I’ll throw the match. But that’s if, man. The way I see it, we’ll be stealing first place before Mortimer even moves past the starting line.”

Well, provided the boards didn’t crash and burn, but for PJ’s benefit, the Replica kept those thoughts to himself. Instead of ruining the moment, he grabbed the black hover board and scooped up a spare helmet. “Well, we won’t be running laps around anyone if we don’t pick up the pace.”

The low growling of engines only furthered his point, and with a sudden gasp, Max scooped up his board, slapped on his helmet, and bolted ahead of the others. Biting his lip, PJ scrambled behind him, and after giving Naminé a quick thumbs-up, the Replica did the same. Together, the three boys tore past the egg-cart, the pig, and the wolf and skidded to a stop beneath the banner that marked the starting line. As soon as they stopped, a voice like nails on a chalkboard rose above the rumbling engines, sending heat coursing through the Replica’s whole body.

“Well, ha-cha-cha, if ain’t the King’s little stooge.” Eye twitching, the Replica looked to the left, where he found Mortimer seated in a polished, orange convertible with his face plastered to the side. His arm dangled over the door of the car, and a scarf flapped in the breeze.

The Replica could’ve commented. Could’ve let the guy crawl under his skin, but Mortimer didn’t even deserve his attention in the first place. So, as a slap in the face, the Replica waved him off and looked the other way. Too bad it didn’t shut him up.

“And look what else the duck dragged in. It’s mini Goof and little Pete. You know, I’m surprised you didn’t dress in spandex like your old pop.”

“Mm…” PJ shrank away, hugging his shoulders, but Max was quick to slide up to him and give his pal a light nudge.

“Forget him, Peej. He’s not worth our time.”

“And speaking of time,” said Von Drake, “all your racers better get ready to start your engines! We’ll be taking off in five, four, three, two…” He paused, pulling up his sleeve and squinting at his watch. “Oof, this stop watch’s got a dead battery. I better—”

BWOOOOM! An air horn bellowed, the engines roared, and quicker than you could say ‘go,’ the cars took off like rockets, kicking up dust in their wake. The sheer speed nearly sent the Replica, Max, and PJ tumbling off their boards, but with Mortimer’s car reduced to a shrinking speck in the distance, they didn’t have time to lose their footing. Von Drake said all they do was think, so with his eyes set on the winding road ahead, the Replica pictured himself blasting off at lightning speed.

The board gave an abrupt jerk and before he even got a chance to process it, he was blasting down the track, the air beating at his face. The sudden movement caused him to wobble from side to side, and while he threw out his arms for balance, the board relentlessly dragged him in sharp, zigzagging motions. His surroundings turned into a blur of greens, browns, and blue up above. At this rate, he was probably gonna slam into one of the other racers, a cliff, maybe even the fences that lined the tracks.

To make matters worse, a big, round, egg-shaped obstacle grew larger and larger by the second. Gritting his teeth, the Replica lurched to the right, blazing past Clara, who broke into a clucking frenzy. She flailed her feathery arms, but before he could even apologize, the Replica picked up a sudden burst of speed, slid up some kind of slope, and sprung up into the air. Gulping, he looked down to find a bright red ramp shrinking into the distance, and with an abrupt THUD, he found himself skidding across a narrow cliff.

He started to sway towards one of the rocky walls when it finally hit him: couldn’t he control his speed with a thought? Slamming his eyes shut, he kept repeating it in his head. Slow down, don’t crash, keep it fast, but not too speedy. His face came within inches of the wall when the board suddenly slowed, allowing him to swerve away from the wall and get back on track. Once he steadied himself, he kicked up the speed by a small notch, and the board began to descend, passing through a giant red hoop on the way down. With a great big sigh of relief, he swerved around the corner and slipped over the starting line. Was he in first? Last? The middle of the road? Honestly, he didn’t even care at this point.

With that hurdle outta the way, he began coasting down the road. Along the way, he spotted the Big Bad Wolf ramming his car into the side of the pig’s little go-kart. The two exchanged snarls, each trying to squeeze past the other. Face reddening, the wolf took a great big gulp of air and turned the other direction, huffing and puffing and blowing with all his might. The sudden gust propelled him straight past Mortimer’s convertible and right into the path of a giant, whirling twister. Shrugging, the Replica zipped past the pig and wolf alike, waving at Mortimer as he rocketed by. In response, Mortimer’s nostrils flared, his eyes bulged, and he slammed his fists against the steering wheel in one obnoxious temper tantrum.

After rounding another corner, he came across two distinct figures in red and blue. Leaning forward, he willed the board to accelerate, wobbling a little on the way towards his new friends. The two immediately perked up once they caught sight of him, and both held up their hands for a quick high-five.

“Where were you, man?” said PJ. “We were starting to think you wiped out.”

“I almost did.” The Replica chuckled. “But I think I got the hang of it now. Kinda feels like surfing if you strapped a rocket onto the board and took out all the waves.”

Max’s eyebrows quirked. “Wait, how come you never told us you surfed?”

The Replica winced, but managed to keep a smile on his face. “Because I never did. I just remember it.”

“Right, I keep forgetting.” Max cracked a sheepish grin. “Well, you’re doing great so far! Keep it up, and there’s no way Mortimer’ll ever live this down.”

“Uh, guys.” PJ’s teeth chattered, and he pointed up ahead. “Don’t look now, but we got some twisters at twelve o’clock!”

“Then I guess we’d better save the small-talk for later,” said the Replica. “See you at the finish line?”

“Yep! I’ll be waiting for ya.”

Waiting, huh? Oh, now he was asking for it. Bending his knees, the Replica pressed his foot down on the front of the board and blasted around the corner with PJ and Max shooting close behind. And so the race continued, and the race continued with the Replica, Max, and PJ constantly shifting. One moment, Max had the lead, only for PJ to sneak up one of the ramps and drop down right in front of him. Then, just as PJ started to lean away from a nearby twister, a loud honking sounded off, and Mortimer tore past the boys and rammed right into the side of the Replica’s board.

The impact sent him off an angle and straight towards one of the whirlwinds. In order to escape the Big Bad Wolf’s fate, the Replica threw his arms out and launched a blast of air from his fingertips. The board arced to the right and drifted between twin twisters. Then, not to be outdone by an obnoxious rodent, he flew straight at Mortimer’s car and sent a bolt of lightning crashing down in front of him. That’d show him.

Soon he passed the starting line again and entered the third and final lap. One look over his shoulder revealed Mortimer cruising close behind with Max and PJ at his tail, followed by that goofy egg cart, the pudgy pig, and the Big Bad Wolf all the way in last place. How many minutes had passed since they started? And what would Naminé think of this whole thing? Here he was, all the way in first place. A newcomer to the world, a copy, and a clone, just an arm’s reach away from stealing the prize. Well, assuming there was one.

And yet… was it really okay for him to goof off like this? To waste his afternoon playing games and ignoring all responsibilities? He shook his head, trying to push his doubts away. With Mortimer closing in again, he moved to the right and towards an upcoming red ramp. He had to stay focused. Just had to keep moving. The ramp continued to draw closer. If he just took deep breaths and rode this out until the end, then he could start worrying again. He just had to—

Something shifted in the corner of his eye, and he took his eyes off the ramp. There was nothing there. A sudden burst of speed sent him flying through another Mickey-shaped hoop, and he flew over the top of Clara’s big, round car. So close. Nothing to fear. He was safe. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, everything was perfect. Everything except…

I can’t force you to do anything, but just think of the odds. Think of her. You’ve taken her from one cage and locked her up in another.

He dug his fingers into his palms and bit the corner of his mouth. The board began to tremble as the doubts kept creeping in.

If you wanna keep stalling, fine, but don’t forget that there’ll be consequences.

He slid up the ramp, flew through the ring, and tore across the cliff. At least, that’s what it felt like. A thick, dark haze crawled across the horizon, clouding his surroundings and leaving him blinded in an abyss. The board’s trembling grew sharper, shorter, and more frequent. One moment he was zooming straight ahead and the next he started swerving like a meandering stream.

“C’mon, you gotta stay focused… None of that matters now. The Organization doesn’t even know I’m here.”

The haze parted enough to make out the green hills below and the rapidly approaching dirt. The board struck the ground and continued its rapid trajectory, and though the Replica tried willing it to slow down, the wobbling, the jerking, and the acceleration persisted.

“Oh, c’mon! You can’t start screwing up on me now!”

But the board seemed to have other ideas, as it continued to thrash beneath his feet. His teeth clattered. His knees trembled, and he shifted his weight in hopes of steadying the stupid board. His biggest mistake was taking his eyes off the track because in the midst of all his flailing, the cool breeze brushing across his face barely registered at all. It wasn’t until he felt something yank him by the arm that his surroundings set in, and by then, he was dragged off course and began spinning around and around, faster and faster.

He threw his arms out and tried blasting a counter-breeze, but before he could work up so much as a gust, he was thrust head-first out of the whirlwind, skidded across the dirt, snapped through the fence, and slammed into the side of a grassy hill. Stars filled his vision, and for the next few seconds, he lay completely still. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs. Feel his forehead throbbing. His lungs heaved out heavy bursts of breath, and he sloppily rolled onto his back.

By the time he sat up, he caught sight of Mortimer’s car whizzing. He honked his horn and slowed long enough to get a good look at the wreckage, and a sickening smirk crawled across his long, ugly snout.

“Ha-cha-cha! Better luck next time, kid.” The only upside was that in the time it took him to open his trap, Mortimer’s car made it within three feet of one of the twisters. Sure, the Replica could’ve warned him, but instead, he just watched. Five seconds later, the car crashed right into the whirlwind, and the air filled with the sound of Mortimer’s screams.

Hey, at least he got some kind of consolation prize.

Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that he’d screwed up big time. Gripping his chest, the Replica tried pushing himself to his feet, but his legs refused to cooperate, and he fell back on the grass within a second. Grumbling, he looked around for the helmet, spotting it up at the top of the hill. His board now sat about twenty feet to his left.

Some movement in the corner of his eye pulled his focus back to the track just in time to spot Max and PJ dashing over the fence and straight his way. They landed at the foot of the hill, tucked their boards under their arms, and scurried up to him before he even got a word in.

“Hey, you okay?” said PJ, glancing from him to the track.

“I’m…” He blew out a big puff of air. “I’ll be fine. It’s my pride you want to worry about.”

“Why? Because you got stuck in a twister?” Max moved up the hill, scooping up the helmet. “It’s your first time competing and you’re using one of Von Drake’s goofy inventions. That’s like asking for a disaster.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” PJ pouted, and his eyes dropped to his lap. “But you know, I bet if I’d been caught up in that twister, I’dve been a pancake by now.”

“No way,” said Max, “I’m the one with the Goof genes, remember?”

Surprisingly, that little comment actually made PJ laugh. “Yeah. But, man, now none of us have a shot at winning.”

“Not necessarily.” The Replica waved at the road. “C’mon. Don’t worry about me. You should at least try and finish the race.”

“Nah. By the time we got back out there, we’d be dead last.” Max pulled off his helmet, setting it aside. “Besides, I think we got more important things to worry about.” He stood up straight and reached for the Replica’s hand, tugging him back on his feet. With a little extra help from PJ, he managed to steady himself, and once last car passed by, they made their way across the road and back to where they started.

As soon as they reached the tunnel, both Naminé and Von Drake sprinted their way. While the Professor looked the boys up and down, Naminé squeezed her way past the doctor, her eyes wide and distraught.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” She inched closer, gripping her hands over her chest. “None of you are hurt, right? I saw the crash, and…”

The Replica squeezed her shoulder. “Relax, Naminé. It’s nothing a few potions can’t fix.”

“I know…” She slumped, brushing her hand against her forearm. “But what happened out there? It was so sudden…”

“I…” The Replica ran his fingers through his hair, peering back at the tracks. “The gear malfunctioned. That’s all.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to go back and make some more adjustments.” Von Drake whacked one of the boards, and his face twisted and contorted. “Bah, but that’s a minor setback. I’d much rather see broken boards than broken bones!”

“Well, seeing how we all made it out in one piece, I vote we go celebrate.” Max turned to the Replica and chuckled. “Besides, you kinda still owe us that pizza.”

Well, after a race that tense, who was he to turn down food? Even if he was the one paying. Between the shouts, cheers, and wails from outside the track and the sheer embarrassment over the crash, he was more than willing to split for now. Thus, the group marched out through the tunnel, waded through the crowd, meandered through the alley and, after about a twenty minute walk, they’d made their way off the streets and into the heart of the local pizza joint, complete with giant model rockets, claw machines stuffed with creepy green alien dolls, and neon lights flickering throughout the halls.

After placing an order for a deluxe cheese pizza, the gang settled down in the middle of the arcade and planted themselves atop raised, leather stools around a tall, green table. All around, the sounds of beeps, boops, clicks, explosions, and even some bouncy, 8-bit music created an atmosphere unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

The walls and corners were crammed with colorful cabinets adorned with plastic joysticks, big red buttons, and flashing screens. His eyes kept darting from one screen to the next, his attention caught between a rainbow of falling blocks, bright red race cars revving around a circular, black track, pixilated lasers blasting blocky space crafts, and a big, beefy man smashing his fists against a brick apartment while pies rained down from the windows.

Naminé seemed equally captivated the way she kept wandering from one cabinet to the next. She tucked her hands behind her back, tipped her head to the side, and made her way over to the game with the colored bricks. For the next few seconds, she stared at the screen, as the blocks continued to drop in a steadily growing pile.

After cracking open the pizza box, Max grabbed a piece dripping with molten cheese and slid down from his stool. He wandered away from the tall, raised table and peered over Naminé’s shoulder.

“So, you like what you see?”

She nodded. “It’s so colorful, and look at all the different shapes!”

“Well, you know, they call them video games for a reason,” He dug into his pocket and plucked out a single coin. “The real fun doesn’t start until you press start, and to do that, you need one of these.” He reached under the controls and slipped the coin into the slot. “So, do you want to give it a shot?”

“Um, sure…” She stepped over to the controls, and her hand hovered over the buttons. “But how do I play?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said PJ, swiveling around in his stool. “It’s like a puzzle. You gotta line the blocks up so the colors match, and if you do that, the blocks break down. It’s the only way to keep ‘em from touching the top of the screen.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “What happens if they reach the top?”

“Game over, that’s what!”

“Oh, and that’s where the challenge comes from!” She brought her hands together, smiling bright. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound pretty fun. Maybe I should try it.”

And try she did. It all started with a single, L-shaped block, which started plummeting towards the bottom of the screen. Naminé’s hand immediately flew towards one of the joysticks, and she dragged the block down into the corner. The second it touched the ground, a square block flew down. Then a straight line. Then a zigzag. Each time a block fell into place, another followed.

While Naminé continued shuffling through the blocks, Max strolled across the room and over to a set of tacky, pink arcade booths. Giant, plastic peppermints ran down the sides of the screens. A plastic steering wheel resembling giant twists of licorice sat squarely between an array of pastel colored buttons. Pink and white checker patterns ran along the edges of the machines with images of big-headed children in fruit-shaped hats riding along the sides in karts made out of gumdrops, cookies, and heaps of sprinkles. And for whatever reason, Max looked at the cabinets with a totally straight face.

Was it some kind of a joke? Scooting forward, the Replica pressed his hands down on the table and shot Max a pointed look. “Are you seriously going to play that?”

Max waved his hands. “Hey, I know what it looks like, but this is easily the best racer I’ve ever played. Plus, uh, you know… neither of us got a shot at finishing that race, so why not make up for it here?”

And, just like that, the Replica slumped over the table, taking a big, cheesy bite of pizza. “Think I’ve had enough racing for today…” Even if the race wasn’t the real problem.

Squeezing one of the joysticks, Naminé peeked back at the table with a small frown, though she didn’t say a word just yet. Max, on the other hand, moved straight towards the table, climbed back into his seat, and looked to the Replica with a frown.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been acting up ever since we got here.”

“It’s…” Oh, who was he kidding? After taking another bite, he propped his head up with one of his hands and started drumming at the edge of the table. “Okay, look. I’ll be honest with you guys. It wasn’t a malfunction that caused me to crash. It was… something else.”

By that point, Naminé had turned her back on the game booth altogether. Her brow creased, and she squeezed her hands together.

“So what’s up?” said PJ, setting down his pizza slice.

He shut his eyes, breathing in, then out. “It’s because I lost my focus. Because, as fun as this is, it’s just… weird. The racing, the video games, goofing off at pizza place. I’ve never had the chance to do anything like this before, and it just feels wrong.”

PJ’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes drew wide open. “So you’ve never gone out to the movies, hung out with friends… any of that?”

“No. I mean, I’ve got memories from Riku, but that’s it. And even if we wanted to, it’s not like we would’ve had the chance.”

Max’s face fell, and his shoulders drooped. “Because of the Organization, right?”

“Sort of.” He folded his arms, gazing off at the ceiling. “Every day’s been a struggle for us. We’ve had to keep running from world to worlds, seal the Keyholes, avoid Marluxia, fight off the Organization, and hope against all odds that we could set things right. Naminé’s had to work through Riku’s memories, I’ve had to take his place, and at the same time, I’m still trying to find my own identity…”

“Sheesh, and I thought we had it rough.” Max let out a shaky laugh, draping his arm over the table. “But the worst we’ve had to deal with is training and school, and homework’s nothing compared to the fate of the worlds.”

“Maybe not, but I kinda wish that was all we had to deal with. It’s the kind of life I remember taking for granted, even if the memories aren’t real.”

“Well, now we have that chance,” said Naminé, finally approaching the group. “Even if it doesn’t last forever, isn’t it enough that we’ll get to experience it for a little while?”

“Yeah. That’s probably why Mickey wanted to take us to the festival in the first place.” He scooped up his pizza slice, shifting it in his grip. “But no matter how hard I try to ease up, I just don’t know if I can yet.”

She nodded, climbing up onto the stool next to him. “It’s because of Axel, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I mean, think about, Naminé. It hasn’t even been a day since he dropped that bombshell on us.”

“I get it,” said Max. “You need time to cool off.”

“Yep. It’s like I just walked in from an explosion. The shock hasn’t even worn off yet.”

Max leaned over the table. “You know, you could’ve said that from the start. If I’d have known, I would’ve thought twice about making you race.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I was the one who went through with it.”

“Yeah?” He smiled wryly. “So, you got any regrets?”

The Replica’s hands hit the table. “Are you kidding? That was the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“Then do you think you’d be up for a rematch sometime? I’m not saying it has to be tomorrow or even next week. I just figured you’d want another shot once you get settled in.” He looked to PJ. “And if you guys need help, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Know what? I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Great!” said PJ. “I mean, it’s cool.”

“Aw, I’m glad you fellas are all getting’ along!”

“Your Majesty?!” The Replica whirled around, and, sure enough, Mickey was standing right behind them with his arms crossed and an odd smile on his face. His cheery tone did nothing to ease the sudden tension, and the Replica hung his head, reaching for his neck. At the same time, Max and PJ gawked at each other, sharing glances, fidgeting in their stools. Dropping his pizza, PJ scrambled out of his stool and proceeded to bow, while Max bit his fingers, squared his shoulders, and gave a quick salute.

“Uh, hey there, Your Majesty! Didn’t see ya there.”

The Replica couldn’t even meet his eyes. His posture grew stiff, and he fidgeted with his half-eaten slice. “Hey, about the festival. I—”

“Gosh, I’m not mad at ya! If anything, I’m the one who oughta apologize.” Mickey blew a little sigh, peering down at the floor. “Guess I shoulda known I’d be dealin’ with a big crowd. Welp, I’m just glad you’re havin’ a good time.”

“Well, uh, Your Majesty, sir, um…” PJ bit his lip, shifting and fidgeting. “If you wanna take over—”

“Oh, don’t be silly, PJ!” Mickey chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. “In fact, here’s an idea. Why don’t we all head out to the festival? There’s still a few hours ‘til sunset.”

PJ’s jaw dropped, and he shakily pointed at himself. “You want us to go with you? But we’re—I mean, I’m—”

“You’re ten times the person your dad ever was.” Mickey gave him a stern look. “And what sorta King would I be if I judged ya over his mistakes?”

“And don’t forget that he’s friends with me. You know, the guy who almost killed the real Keybearer.” The Replica let out a weak laugh. “If he can put up with me, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“So how ‘bout it, fellas? Ya ready to have a good time?”

The answer was a unanimous yes, and for the next few hours, the group tore through the town, soaking up the sights, the sounds, the smells, and the tastes. Too tired to dive into the festivities, the Replica and Naminé witnessed King Mickey tearing across the racetrack and cheered wildly with the crowd. They knocked those giant fruits back and forth across the court, though a close encounter with a giant banana peel nearly made him eat concrete. When the game finally died down, they sank down on a bench near the gazebo and watched Clara Cluck shatter nearby windows with a serenade of high-pitched clucks.

Bit by bit, the earlier tension started to drift away, much like the sun as it sank beyond the horizon. As the afternoon came to a close, the four strolled back into the castle courtyard with snow cones in hand with their eyes fixed to the pastel purple sky. They sat together at the edge of one of the flat-topped hedges, listening to the sound of the crickets chattering all around them.

And Mickey, after slowly taking a bite of his cone, shifted to face the Replica and said, “So, ya feelin’ any better?”

“I’m starting to.” He leaned back on his palms, taking a big whiff of the air. “But I think it’d be better if I took it slow. I’ll get used to it sooner or later.”

The silence resumed, save for the continued cricket song. The slow, lulling melody continued for twenty-some minutes when, like a sudden explosion, the sound of a door slam ripped the Replica out of his trance. His eyes followed the sound to the front of the Gummi Hangar, from which Donald waddled out, adjusting his zipper-coated hat. Behind him, Goofy came strolling with Chip and Dale perched on his shoulders, and last came Kairi with a rapier in hand.

The three peered across the courtyard and immediately froze. Max’s eyes nearly flew from their sockets, and his head bumped again the castle wall. PJ’s snow cone dropped into his lap, and Naminé ducked her head. An uneven, toothy grin spread across Mickey’s face, and the Replica burst out laughing.

He couldn’t help it. It was just too crazy to think about. After more than a year, Donald and Goofy had just found their King… right back where they started.

TO BE CONTINUED