Small Steps (Holes 2)

“Yes!” Ginny shouted at the top of her lungs, but even Armpit, sitting right next to her, couldn’t hear her for the crowd.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” he and Ginny shouted.

“Because Kaira DeLeon will be standing on this very spot in just five minutes!”

Armpit felt Ginny’s fingernails dig into his arm.

“So just hold on a little longer!”

Everyone cheered the line from one of Kaira’s songs.

Armpit only slowly became aware that somebody was tapping his shoulder. He turned to see a security guard.

“Excuse me,” the guard said, apparently not for the first time. “May I see your tickets, please?”

A man and young girl stood behind him. The girl was probably Ginny’s age, although she was much bigger.

“May I see your tickets, please?” the security guard asked again.

“My tickets?”

“Please.”

Armpit tried to remember what he’d done with them. He hoped he hadn’t dropped them when he was dealing with the popcorn and soda.

“You’re sitting in our seats!” the girl accused.

“Are n-n-not!” said Ginny.

Armpit stood up to check his pockets. The security guard instinctively stepped back from him.

“I don’t want any trouble,” the guard said, placing a hand on his walkie-talkie. “I just want to make sure you’re in your right seats.”

Armpit didn’t want any trouble either. “I got them here somewhere.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, Sir.”

“I’ve got the tickets!” Armpit shouted, partly out of frustration and partly to be heard over the crowd, which was now stomping their feet with impatience.

“Please come with me, sir, and I’ll help you find your correct seats.”

“Just wait!”

The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie. “I’m going to need some help here. Section B.”

Armpit’s pants had too many pockets: three on the right front, two on the left front, and two in the back. “Found ’em!” he exclaimed. They were in one of the front pockets. He handed the stubs to the security guard.

As the guard was looking them over, two uniformed police officers hurried quickly down the aisle. “What’s the problem here?” asked one of the officers.

“No problem,” said Armpit.

“Counterfeit tickets,” said the security guard. “He refuses to leave.”

“What?” Armpit exclaimed, reaching for the tickets. “Let me see . . .”

An officer grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, spinning him around.