Page 51 of The Summer Show
His head bobbed slightly as air shot out of his nostrils. The man had snorted at me.
I wasn’t entirely sure what we were supposed to do with the music. No one was dancing. A couple of the men were helping themselves to spears. They swung them around like they handled sharp pointy sticks all the time.
Thanks to Scholastic, I owned a pointer with a plastic hand and a pointed index finger. That was kind of the same thing. Right?
Well, this episode wasn’t going to happen if we all twiddled our thumbs. I went over to the weapons rack and selected a spear. The tip wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t made of gummies either. Yeah, someone was definitely going to lose an eye.
I moved away from the other contestants and twirled my spear like a baton, while the camera operators worked quietly.
Paris made something that sounded like an announcement, but could have easily been a shopping list.
“The goal is to reach each other’s palace. This is one of several trials this evening,” Memo said, ducking under my spear, on his way to safety.
“What are the others?”
“He has not said yet. More fighting, I think. Maybe wrestling in jam. There is a lot of jam back there.”
I wondered if he meant actual jam or jelly? One had lumps.
“Okay.” I flexed muscles I didn’t have. “I’m prepared for anything. I’ve been training for this my whole adult life.”
He eyed my arms, oh he of little faith. “Are you a warrior?”
“No, I’m a school librarian.”
On that fateful note I marched over to the armor rack and picked a shield. They were round, concave, about three feet in diameter, and weighed about as much as a cat. The front was emblazoned with the show’s initials in Greek letters.
I carried my spear and shield over to Nick. “Like my cool accessories?”
“Can you use them?”
“Poke with the stick, hide behind the shield.”
“It’s called an aspis.”
“The stick?”
“The shield.”
“Duly noted. Whatever it’s called, it’s my hiding place now.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m coming for you, Merrick.”
A small ditch appeared between his brows. “What?”
“Your team against my team. We’re not going to let you win.”
Until now I’d never witnessed a Nick Merrick smile, so at first I thought gas was the culprit when the edges of his lips turned up. I realized what I was looking at when his lips parted ways, revealing teeth. And it was devastating.
Crush. Best friend’s brother.
“I’d like to see you try,” he said.
* * *
When our teams charged each other, Nick mouthed, “Feel the pup.”
In hindsight, probably he said “Shield up.”
Without a pup to feel, I readied my spear, raised my shield, and charged. Well, charged-ish. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. A case could be made that I tip-toed forward, which wasn’t easy in these groovy hoplite boots that weren’t made for tip-toeing. They were more for plodding and stomping on the other guy’s face.