Choosing Countries

         We were twelve years old when Tom decided he would rule the world.

         There were five of us, all little children living in big times.  The discovery of new races were being shunted back and forth - as myths, as fact, as science experiments gone bad.  They said vampires were real.  That ghosts really did prowl old houses and theaters.  That werewolves lived in the forest surrounding our little town.

         Our gang?  We were twelve.  Of course ghosts existed.  To us, this was old news.

         But back to Tom's scheme.

         We had left school and met at our usual hangout - the Insomnia Café.  It was at the end of Magnolia Avenue, mere minutes from the stadium.  Only Jeremiah appreciated this, as the die-hard Auburn fan that he was.  The rest of us liked the Som, as we called it, because of the free food to under-thirteeners. 

         It was there, in late November, that Tom, a thick handlebar-milk-moustache on his upper lip, said, "I'm gonna rule the world."

         The rest of us - Jeremiah, Connie, Maxwell, and me - nodded and nibbled at our burgers.

         Tom swiped his hand over his mouth, then wiped the residue on his worn jeans.  His dark eyes sparkled behind his glasses.  "I know the vampires.  They'll help me."

         "Who's a vampire?" Connie asked, nibbling on a French fry.

         "Mrs. Peak.  Math class.  And I think that football player might be one, too."

         Jeremiah sat bolt upright, so fast he nearly left his brown mullet behind him.  "Which one?" he asked eagerly.

         "You know - that one.  I think he's number thirty-seven." Tom shrugged.  "I don't know football players.  But he's a vampire."

         "Has he sucked your blood?" Connie asked, still working on that one fry.  She was a slow eater.

         Tom shook his head, so that his floppy blonde bangs slid down into his face.  "Don't think so.  Unless they attack you in the night."

         I peered at his neck.  "I don't see any fang marks."

         Tom nodded with great finality.  "See?"

         "Good." Connie fished around in the bottom of her kids' meal basket, searching for one last fry.  "Vampires are pains in the... in the rear." She blushed as she said the word, but Jeremiah grinned.

         Tom gave another solemn nod.  "But they're still helping me take over the world."

         I looked down into my own basket, at my half-finished burger, as we finished chewing our bites.  Then I asked, "Can I have Australia?"

         "Hmm... yeah." Tom grabbed a spoon and shoved a spoonful of vanilla milkshake into his mouth.  "New Zealand, too, if you want."

         "Okay," I said, smiling.  I loved Australian accents.

         "That'll be cool," Jeremiah said, gazing off into the distance, as if his near-sighted eyes could see through time and space.  "Australian vampires."

         "Well, I want China," Connie declared.  "Then I can help all those people."

         "Not if they're vampires," I said.

         "Yeah, Speedy's right," Jeremiah said.  "Vampires are past help."

         "Well, not all of them will be vampires," Connie said with disdain.

         "'Sides," Tom said, "I think Connie could make even vampires straighten up."

         Connie blushed again and sat a little straighter.

         "I take Great Britain." Jeremiah folded his straw paper up into a triangle and flicked it at the wordless Maxwell.  "They have rugby there."

         Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and grabbed a napkin.  A bit of his tongue protruding from the side of his mouth in concentration, he sketched a map of the world, then crossed off Australia, China, and Great Britain.  "I take America, I guess.  And Japan.  And Spain, I guess."

         The four of us nodded.  As the captain of this escapade, Tom had the right to choose as many countries as he wanted.

         Then Tom looked at Maxwell.  "What about you, Max?"

         Maxwell slowly raised his head, chewing deliberately on a bite of cheeseburger.  He was a dark little boy, with olive skin and hair as black as night.  Later on, he'd grow into one of those silent, shadow types - the kind girls either swooned over or ignored totally.  But for now, he was just one of us.  And, most importantly, the only of our gang that was a ghost.

         Maxwell swallowed his bite, then motioned for Tom's map.  Tom shoved it over compliantly.  He, Jeremiah, Connie and I watched in silence as Maxwell deliberated.

         Then he put one skinny little finger on the blank space at the southern end of the map and let his eyes drift up to us.

         Tom frowned down at the space.  "Antarctica?"

         Maxwell nodded, his wide eyes serious.

         "But that's just a big ol' wasteland," Jeremiah protested.  "What do you want with a bunch a' penguins and icebergs?"

         A smile tugged at the corners of Maxwell's mouth as he bit into his burger again.

         "At least no one will fight over it," Connie said reasonably, swiping at her red bangs.

         "Yeah, except the polar bears," Jeremiah muttered, drinking the last of his milkshake.

         Tom took charge again.  "We can divide the rest up later.  For now, we can worry about convincing the vampires."

         "What about vampires, kiddos?"

         The waitress.  I looked up at her - her name tag read Sandy - and said, "The vampires that are helping us take over the world."

         Sandy was a pretty lady, with lots of blonde hair, like her name.  She smiled at us, then looked at Tom.  "Let me guess - you're the ringleader?" she asked, gathering our empty baskets.

         Tom bobbed his head.  "I have vampire contacts."

         Brow arching, Sandy put a hand on her hip.  "I wouldn't mess with vampires, kiddo.  They're not as romantic as you think."

         "I don't think they're romantic," Tom said respectfully.  "If I did, I wouldn't ask them to take over the world." Jeremiah grinned behind his hand.

         "Tom's got plans," Connie defended her friend.  "I'm gonna get China when they've come to fru... to fruit... when he's got 'em done."

         Sandy laughed.  "I'm sure you will, sweetheart.  I'm sure you will." She nodded at Maxwell's glass.  "You - quiet one.  You want more milkshake?"

         I looked at Maxwell and got the eerie feeling he hadn't looked away from Sandy once since she appeared.  He shook his head real slow, and a flicker of... something... passed over Sandy's face.

         Then she was back to normal, and she scanned our faces.  "Anything else?  No?  Okay, then, I'll see you kiddos later." And she was off, striding back into the kitchen.  Maxwell's gaze followed her every move.

         "Guys?" I whispered, leaning into the table.  "She looked kinda... kinda hungry."

         Jeremiah stared at me.  "You shoulda let her eat your fries.  You had half a plate left."

         "You had fries left?  Speedy!  Why didn't you tell me?" Connie looked hurt.

         "No, no, not that kind of hungry," I started.

         "Speedster's right," Tom said, his eyes big and serious behind the glint of glasses.  "Miss Sandy's bad news.  She might be a rival vampire."

         "Aw, come on, Tom--" Jeremiah began, but then he looked at Maxwell.  Maxwell was shaking his head again.  There was a pregnant silence.

         "Bad news," Jeremiah whispered.

         We sat at the table for a few minutes, looking down, pondering our newfound enemy.  I couldn't help a little thrill of excitement.  Enemies - that meant something big!  I - we were on to something!  I, Ferdinand "Speedy" Gonzales (yes, nicknamed after the mouse), was in something.

         Then Tom stood up, releasing me from my thoughts, and we left the Som.