Slow-Poke Duckling's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Slow-Poke stood at the flag with his feet planted in the dirt. The rabbit stretched his fancy shoes in front of him, making sure everyone could see them. The other animals pressed closer, waiting for the race to start. A shadow passed over Slow-Poke. Freddy Goose stepped between him and the rabbit, his big orange feet kicking up dust. Freddy grabbed the checkered flag from the ground and held it high over his head. "This race doesn't count," Freddy honked. "Not without a real challenge." He strutted toward the old farm shed and planted the flag in front of it. "I'm racing whoever wants to prove something. The rabbit can watch from the fence with everyone else." The rabbit's ears flattened. He looked at his shoes, then at Freddy, then at the crowd pressing against the weathered fence rails. The chickens shifted their attention to Freddy. The ducks turned away from the rabbit. Slow-Poke felt his chest loosen, then tighten again in a different way. The race he had forced himself to accept was gone. But Freddy had taken it. Slow-Poke walked toward the shed. Freddy's laugh cut through the barnyard, the same laugh Slow-Poke had catalogued from every other time. Freddy wasn't looking at him yet. He was still facing the crowd, wings spread wide, holding the flag like he owned it. Slow-Poke stopped three feet from the shed and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "Then race me." Freddy's neck twisted around. His laugh died in his throat. The other animals went quiet. Slow-Poke didn't move. He had wanted to beat the rabbit to prove he wasn't afraid. Now he had asked for something worse.