The Fly Guild by Todd Shryock

of
bread.
    Another boy fell in between the two
marks after barely making it into the middle section. There were only six boys
left. A large older boy stepped up to the wall, turned around to bend over, put
some dirt on his hands and stood up. His eyes met Quinton’s and he sneered.
Quinton recognized him as one of the boys who had beaten him the day Master
Sands had caught him stealing. He didn’t think such a portly boy could climb
that well, but he made it almost to the furthest mark before his toehold gave
way and sent him crashing to the ground in a heap. He was slow to get up but
dusted himself off, sneered at Quinton, then returned to the group.
    Teli stepped up to the wall and
sighed. He looked over at Master Red eye, who impatiently nodded for him to
start. The boy gingerly placed his hands on some rocks and pulled himself up.
Quinton could tell right away he had no idea what he was doing. His balance was
all wrong; he was stretching way too far and was placing too much reliance on
his feet and not using his hands. He slowly wove along the line but hadn’t yet
made it to the short mark when his foot slipped out and he fell off, landing on
his heels. He quickly looked behind him to see where he placed. He was several
feet short of the short mark. He looked down at the ground dejectedly and took
his place along the wall, releasing the other boy to return to the others.
    The remaining boys went, each
placing easily between the two marks. Now it was Quinton’s turn, the last boy
Red eye motioned for. He carefully studied the wall, noting each place that
looked like a possible handhold or foothold. He knew that once you were pressed
against the wall, it was harder to find spots, and sometimes your eyes could
play tricks on you as you desperately searched for the next spot to grab hold
of.
    “Stay on the line and get moving,”
snapped Red eye. “If you come off the line, it counts as a fall.”
    Quinton turned to the wall, grabbed
two stones and pulled himself up. He followed the line rather easily for a
while. There were plenty of handholds and toeholds, but you had to be careful
to plot your next several moves in advance, lest you end up nearly off the
line. He wondered if you could go backward, but Red eye once again seemingly
read his mind. “And you can’t go backward.”
    He continued to plot his movements
as far as he could before changing the positions of any of his hands or feet.
He moved as quickly as possible, but that didn’t keep Red eye from scolding him
every so often. The easy section came and went. As he moved into the middle
section, plotting each move became even more crucial. Some of the boys started
catcalling and yelling, trying to distract him. How sporting, he thought. He
was already past Teli, and felt bad for resigning the poor boy to whatever
punishment was handed out, but he had had enough punishment lately and it was
someone else’s turn.
    His fingers began to ache from the
strain as the handholds became smaller and smaller. He tried to keep his body
balanced among the four points. He slipped a few times but was able to quickly
recover. The minutes passed, the catcalls faded and he felt water dripping on
him from above. He had reached the slide section.
    He paused and did his best to study
where to move next. This hesitation was greeted with another threat from Red
eye, but he ignored him for another moment. There appeared to be an easy path
right along the line, but he noticed that after so far, the handholds
disappeared completely, from what he could tell. There was a more difficult
path, but he would be precariously close to leaving the line at times. But if
he made it, he would be in a position to try the final ascent up the slippery
wall.
    “Move it, maggot, or I’ll count
your fall as right there,” shouted Red eye.
    Quinton took a deep breath and
opted for the more difficult path. He inched from one hold to another. The boys
stopped catcalling and began to murmur in