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“THE FOOL FOLDETH HIS HANDS TOGETHER; AND EATETH HIS OWN FLESH.” —ECCLESIASTES 4:5

S ydney’s nerves started jumping like the needle on a sewing machine when she rounded the last bend of Kendall’s driveway. She didn’t know what had possessed her to come here without calling first. Maybe it was the vulnerable expression Kendall had on his face when she asked him about his father. Maybe it was the warm welcome that Emma and Mrs. Fletcher had given her on Monday, or maybe it was to take her mind off Sean.

Well, it was too late to turn back now. She got out of the jeep. When Kendall took her home on Monday evening, he’d casually mentioned that he might call her for a date on Friday. She’d been expecting his call all week, but it never came. Something probably came up, she told herself. And then she told herself that she didn’t care if he called or not. Now here she was on a Saturday afternoon, trying to track him down. Was she really that desperate? She looked up at the afternoon sun. It felt good on her face but did little to lighten her spirits.

She rang the doorbell and waited.

“Sydney, what a nice surprise. Come in.” The genuine smile on Mrs. Fletcher’s face made Sydney feel a little better.

They stood inside the porch while Mrs. Fletcher explained that Kendall was in the shower.

Her words stumbled out. “I just thought I’d stop by and say hello. I didn’t mean to bother him.”

Mrs. Fletcher patted her on the arm. “Come on in the living room and have a seat. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Sydney wasn’t so sure, but she followed Mrs. Fletcher in and sat down on the sofa. If Kendall was in the shower, then he obviously had plans—plans that didn’t include her. “I really can’t stay long.”

“Oh, he won’t be long. You just make yourself comfortable, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She waited five minutes before Kendall came out, his hair still wet. He was wearing jeans, brown leather boots, and a red polo shirt. Rather than sitting beside her, he chose the love seat. He looked uncomfortable, like he might’ve been sitting on a pincushion, and she wanted to crawl under the sofa. “I’m sorry to drop in on you,” she began. “I just wanted to say hello.” She knew her voice sounded too cheerful. “It looks like I’ve caught you on your way out the door.” She forced a smile and stood.

Kendall followed suit.

Mrs. Fletcher came into the room. Her eyes flew to Sydney. “You’re leaving so soon? You just got here.”

“I can’t stay.”

Mrs. Fletcher spoke to Sydney but all the while her eyes were on Kendall. “I’m sure Kendall doesn’t have any plans that don’t include you, Sydney.”

Kendall looked back and forth between Sydney and his mother. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t have any definite plans.” Kendall’s smile was so automatic that Sydney had the impression that someone was standing above him, pulling the strings on the corners of his mouth. “Would you like to go grab a bite to eat?”

Sydney felt like screaming. The humiliation made her nauseous. “Thanks, but I can’t. Some other time, maybe. It was good to see you again, Mrs. Fletcher.

”She turned to leave and Kendall scrambled to get the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

They walked to her jeep in silence. She went to open the door, but he stopped her.

“Um, I’m sorry I didn’t get around to calling you this week.” His voice trailed off, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Her face burned. He made it sound like she was some task that needed to be checked off his to-do list.

“It’s no big deal. You don’t owe me an apology.” Her words came out clipped and cold. She shrugged. “See you around.”

“I really would like to take you to get something to eat.”

A harsh laugh escaped her throat. She tossed her long hair. “Yeah, I can tell. You made that really obvious a few minutes ago.” She opened the door to her jeep.

“Wait. You just caught me off guard.”

She turned to face him. “I just stopped by to say hello, and now I’m leaving.” She glanced at his attire. “Besides, I don’t want to keep your date waiting.”

A slow smile stole across Kendall’s lips. “You think I’m going out on a date?”

His words smothered her like a hot blanket and she tried to think of a reply.

“Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you where I’m going.”

She looked at him.

“I would’ve invited you to begin with, but I wasn’t sure how you would like this sort of thing.”

She frowned. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll just have to find out.” He closed the door to her jeep. “It’s too late to back out now.” He put his arm around her shoulder and led her to his truck.

They drove past the Alabama state line and into Tennessee. Somewhere near Jasper, they detoured off the main road and headed into the sticks. Kendall seemed to know the back roads like the back of his hand, making turn after turn. Houses and barns were the only structures that dotted the sides of the road. Finally, Kendall slowed the truck and turned down a gravel road where tall pine trees grew in thick clusters.

“Where are we?”

Kendall smiled. “Just wait.”

She only had to wait a couple more seconds before gawking in amazement at the grassy clearing up ahead. It was packed with compacts, luxury vehicles, SUVs, and pickup trucks. People were getting out of their vehicles and making their way to a large metal building. It was a city that had sprung up out of nowhere, right before her very eyes. “How did you find this place?”

“Only those who know where they’re going find this place.” He rolled down his window and reached in his back pocket for his wallet.

“That’ll be ten dollars,” said an old man who spoke with a slight lisp. He was missing his two front teeth.

Ten dollars seemed ridiculously high, considering that they were parking in a pasture. Sydney scanned the tags of the parked cars. Most were from Tennessee, but a fair number of them read Alabama. She was surprised to see a couple from Mississippi and one from Kentucky.

She glanced at her watch—6:00 PM. “Are you going to tell me where we are or are you going to keep me guessing all night?”

He laughed. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

She gave him a blank look.

“We’re at a cockfight.”

Her eyes grew to saucers. “Really? Why is it out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Cockfighting is illegal. Don’t you know that?”

She stammered. “No, I didn’t know. If it’s illegal, why do they raise those roosters in their front yards where everyone can see them?”

“Because it’s not illegal to raise them. It’s just illegal to fight them.” Kendall spoke in the tone he might’ve used to speak to a four-year-old who was slow to understand.

“Let’s go,” he said, getting out of his truck. This time she didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door. She got out and quickened her pace to catch up with him. She was wearing shorts, and the tall grass beat her legs like a whip. Now she realized why Kendall had worn boots.

The door of the building was propped open with a rusty metal can that was wedged in the dirt. Kendall took her hand and led her inside. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. When Kendall first told her about cockfighting, she pictured beer-bellied rednecks huddled around a couple of roosters in an old barn. This place was the opposite end of the spectrum. Oh, there were a few rednecks, but there were businessmen too and a few women. There must’ve been around three hundred people present. The metal building didn’t look all that large on the outside, but it was. In fact, it was a full-blown arena. The square pit, sitting a couple of feet off the floor, took center stage. Dirt covered the floor and each side was a good fifteen feet long, topped by a plexi-glass guard. Above that was netting. Aluminum bleachers like the ones at soccer matches were placed around the pit, allowing the spectacle to be viewed on all four sides. Caged roosters were housed against the walls behind the bleachers. They were crowing and pacing back and forth, anxious for their turn in the pit.

Kendall led her to the bleachers. Sydney looked to her side and saw two women sitting in a glass booth in one corner of the arena. One was holding a microphone to her lips. “Number 42 and number 36 to the scale.” The other woman was writing the numbers and weight on a large chalkboard.

“What are they doing?” she asked Kendall.

“All of the roosters have to be weighed before the match.”

“How do they know which ones to call?”

“They’re matched up by a computer—I think—beforehand.”

“High tech.”

Kendall didn’t seem to notice her sarcasm. He was too busy waiting for the next match to begin.

Sydney looked at the line of men waiting for their rooster’s turn in the pit. They were holding them as carefully as a mother would cradle her newborn baby. One man with long, stringy hair and a thick mustache was even blowing gently on his rooster’s face.

Kendall rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “Here goes.”

The referee was a stout man who was completely bald except for a ring of fuzz encircling his head. He motioned for the next participants to bring their roosters into the pit. He pulled out a cloth and wiped underneath the rooster’s wings and head. Then he wiped its feet. After finishing with the first, he moved to the second.

Sydney pointed. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s wiping down the roosters.”

“Why?”

“To discourage cheating.

”Kendall didn’t elaborate and Sydney could tell that he was tired of answering her questions. Still, she couldn’t help herself.

“How does that discourage cheating?”

“Some people put strychnine or skunk scent on the blades.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “What’s that on their feet?”

“Those are called gaffs. They’re metal spikes attached to the rooster’s legs.”

Sydney’s stomach dropped.

The referee signaled the handlers. Sydney thought they were going to let the roosters go at each other, but they kept holding them while thrusting them at each other in a mock attack. The roosters went wild, straining against their handlers to get at each other. This excited the crowd. An old man in a red and black plaid shirt stood. He waved a fistful of bills. “I’ll lay 50 to 40,” he yelled.

A man in a white dress shirt with the arms rolled up to his elbows jumped to his feet. “I’ll take that bet.”

A cloud of feathers rose in the air when the roosters were thrown together. The feathers fell like snow to the dirt, and the handlers reached to disengage their combatants. Blood poured down one rooster’s leg and Sydney saw that the other rooster’s gaff was embedded in his opponent’s thigh. One of the handlers worked the gaff loose, and the roosters went at it again. This went on for a couple more rounds until the fight ended with one rooster lying in a heap, blood oozing from its mouth.

Sydney closed her eyes and tried to fight off the nausea. Kendall seemed oblivious to her trauma. “I’m gonna go place a bet. Do you want anything from the concession stand?”

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Surely he was kidding. How could she possibly want food after witnessing that slaughter?

He pointed toward the concession stand. “Hot dog, coke?”

Her head began throbbing. The crowd roared in eagerness at the impending next match. She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Kendall was gone almost before she got the words out. She looked around at the other spectators. Heads were bobbing up and down like fans rooting for their favorite football team. There was a young boy sitting about four rows up from her. He was shoving the last of a hot dog in his mouth. Ketchup trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. The boy’s father was sitting beside him. He put his arm around his son and pointed. Sydney looked at the object of their interest and saw the man with the stringy hair and thick mustache. He was the same man she’d seen earlier, blowing on his rooster’s face. Now he was stroking its feathers. His pride and joy would be the next to fight after this match. The boy nodded and gave a thumb up, and his dad headed down the bleachers to place a bet.

Sydney couldn’t bear to watch. She averted her eyes, but not before she saw the feathers fly high above the pit. Was she the only one sickened by the blood bath? She remembered the time she and Judith had flown to Hawaii. Sydney didn’t realize it at the time, but she had an ear infection. When the plane lifted off, she felt like her head would explode. Everyone around her was perfectly fine. That’s how she felt right now. She looked back at the boy. What kind of parent took a child to see this?

Kendall returned just in time to see the man with the mustache step into the pit. His rooster was magnificent. It had a mane of orange hackle feathers with arching black tail feathers. Its opponent was dirty white with matching tail feathers. Their beaks were almost touching when each man shoved his rooster back and forth, teasing the other. Excitement rippled through the crowd. A few of the spectators scrambled to place their bets. Others stood.

“This is a knife fight,” Kendall said. This time he didn’t wait for her to ask but went on with an explanation. “Each rooster wears a single wide blade. This is a quicker and deadlier fight. And the bets soar.”

Sydney’s heart sank. She was too sick to say anything.

“Pit,” the referee yelled. She watched the roosters collide breast to breast in mid-air. It was beak grabbing beak, feet tangling in feathers and wings. Hackles rose like porcupine quills on both roosters. The white bird didn’t waste any time. It attacked the orange bird with a vengeance, slashing it in the face. The crowd went wild, chanting and yelling, reminding Sydney of a scene in a voodoo horror movie. The orange bird went down limping, and the white bird attacked again. This time it put out the orange rooster’s eye.

It was all over from there. They went another round before the white bird finished off his opponent. The magnificent orange bird fell to its side, coughing up blood. The man with the mustache looked at his fallen rooster in disdain before it was dragged away to make room for the next fight.

Sydney’s head started to spin. She tugged on Kendall’s shirt. “I think it’s time to leave.”

Kendall scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. We just got here.”

“I’m sorry Kendall. I don’t feel so—” good she was about to say but instead heaved. Vomit exploded all over Kendall.

He looked down at his clothes. “Yuck!”

The men sitting around them jumped back and cringed. Some of them muttered remarks Sydney wished she’d not heard. They could watch roosters massacre each other all day and not be affected, but for some reason, the sight of a woman throwing up was too much for them.

She and Kendall made their way through the sea of people to the door. Sydney looked up and her throat caught. She thought she saw Sean sitting amongst the crowd. Their eyes met for an instant, and then he turned his face another direction. Was it him? She couldn’t be sure. She strained to get a better look. Before she could, Kendall grabbed her hand and yanked her out the door.

“Let’s go,” Kendall said. “I should’ve known better than to bring you here.”

“Just what does that mean?” she asked, gaining strength from her anger.

“I think you know.”

They got in his truck, and he slammed the door.