Kimberly Konquers 2 WIP

1: Franklin the Pumpkin-hunter, a new reality series

Franklin frowned. He crouched low in the tall yellowed grass, scratching his calf where something had bitten him—for the hundredth time. He didn't know why he'd worn shorts today.

A grasshopper panicked as he got too close, and leaped at him, fluttering past his plain face as Franklin toppled over and swatted at the evening air.

"You alright over there Franky?" a girl's amused voice called from nearby. She'd been watching Franklin interact with Nature for the last half hour, and at this point it was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud.

"Yeah. I'm just—" he swung at a wasp that was nowhere near him, "—I'm just great," he grumbled, pulling himself up to his feet. He looked over at his companion.

She wore a self-styled park ranger outfit—her usual garb for this kind of outing: a tan khaki shirt with matching shorts, a yellow bandana tied around her neck bandit-style, and a leather Indiana Jones hat that sat atop her long purple hair. Franklin always called her Wildlife Warrior Kimberly when she wore this get-up—though never to her face.

It was the day before Halloween—and Kimberly wasn't wearing a costume. This was just one of her ordinary outfits. She believed in "dressing for the job you want," which—like most of the things Kimberly rattled off—didn't make much sense to Franklin.

Because right now they were pumpkin hunting. Which wasn't only not a job Franklin wanted, but wasn't actually a job at all. There were no professional pumpkin-seekers. There weren't even any reality shows about it.

"Remind me why we're out here again? Why you didn't just let me grab a pumpkin from the supermarket two weeks ago?" he asked miserably. Franklin noted that she was also wearing shorts, but she seemed to be just fine. Not a single bite on her. The lesser creatures knew, almost instinctively, not to mess with Kimberly.

Sometimes Franklin wished that he'd been that smart.

Kimberly sighed, and crossed her arms. "I've already explained it to you enough. You should have it memorized by now," she said lazily, as he stomped over to her. "Jann? Do you remember?" she quizzed. She turned to face the third member of their pumpkin-finding expedition, a stocky, unobtrusive girl wearing jeans and a baby-blue hoodie, hood zipped up past her chin.

"Reason one," she squeaked, "is because you don't decorate for Halloween until Halloween's Eve..."

Franklin was pretty sure that rule only applied to Christmas.

"...and reason number two is that the very special pumpkin that will represent the Konquest Klub just can't be found in a grocery store—where they only sell genetically-modified scrub pumpkins," Jann finished, sticking her tongue out at Franklin.

They weren't exactly the best of friends.

"Very good Jann!" Kimberly said proudly, as Jann beamed at her. "Besides Franky, you wanted to get one of those fake foam pumpkins! Ugh!" Kimberly chided, making a face. "What's the point of that? They're all exactly the same!"

Franklin couldn't understand why she thought that was a bad thing.

"Exactly. That's exactly right," he said, then muttered under his breath, "That's why I wanted one."

Franklin hated doing things differently than everyone else, but when you were friends with Kimberly, that's pretty much all you did.

Which is how they wound up here, Friday, after school. Miles from anything Franklin considered civilization. Standing in a field with hay bales and swarms of locusts and random vegetables, most of which, Franklin observed, weren't even pumpkins.