Part 32 (2/2)
”Max McDaniels, we have come to nourish your body and provide an honor guard on this blessed day of greatest promise.”
”Excuse me?” asked Max, raising his eyebrows.
”Bob and Mum are here to walk you to your tests,” Bob translated.
Mum glared at Bob for the intrusion.
This was the morning that the First Years would be undergoing their monthly fitness measures-a series of events similar to a modified decathlon. The periodic tests were not normally a matter of great interest except that Max was now very close to breaking several records. He looked down the hallway to see several sleepy Second Years who had poked their heads out their doors, apparently roused from sleep by Mum's shrill voice. Alex Munoz's brooding face was among them.
”Thanks for the...escort!” said Max, ushering David out the door and shutting it behind them. ”We'd better get going.”
Mum took a slimy, possessive hold of his arm as the four walked down the hall. She insisted that David stay well ahead, so she could keep an eye on him. Several Second Years wished Max good luck as they pa.s.sed; Alex merely closed his door. For the past week, the two of them had endured their daily punishment in relative peace, sc.r.a.ping and scrubbing the Kestrel Kestrel's hull in tense silence.
As they reached the stairs, Mum fished a nutrition bar from her basket.
”Eat this,” she whispered. There was a sly hint of conspiracy in her voice. ”I got them special just for you. It wasn't easy, I can tell you! They're very modern modern!”
Max was was hungry and glanced down at the granola bar in its silver wrapper. He unwrapped it and took a bite, causing Mum to swoon with pleasure and flash her fierce crocodile smile. hungry and glanced down at the granola bar in its silver wrapper. He unwrapped it and took a bite, causing Mum to swoon with pleasure and flash her fierce crocodile smile.
”Don't tell anyone I gave you that,” she breathed quickly. ”I'm not sure it's legal.”
”I won't,” Max promised, ignoring David's giggle and giving her a nod of rea.s.surance.
Despite the early promise of a clear day, wisps of cool, damp fog blew in off the ocean. David ran back to their room to grab sweats.h.i.+rts, returning just as Old Tom rang eight o'clock. The four had to hurry toward the athletic fields, which shattered Mum's hopes for a stately procession. She cursed the entire way.
Seeing YaYa alerted Max that something was unusual. The ki-rin's great head was visible near the bleachers. Max called ahead to David.
”Is that YaYa? What's she doing here?”
David just turned and gave a little smile.
They rounded the Field House to see the bleachers filled with several hundred students and faculty, who burst into a cheer as Max arrived. Nick raced toward Max, running tight little circles around him and shaking his tail with a metallic whir. Max bent down and scooped him into his arms. The lymrill promptly hooked his claws into Max's sweats.h.i.+rt and relaxed, becoming a considerable dead weight.
Max turned and scanned the chattering crowd. Jason Barrett was there, hollering and clapping with most of the Sixth Years. Sitting on one of the lower seats was Julie, holding her camera and laughing at something said nearby. She snapped a quick photo of Max. Mr. McDaniels was there, too, waving wildly and sitting with Mr. Morrow, who puffed steadily on his pipe.
Hearing a whistle, he turned to see M. Renard impatiently shooing away Hannah, who did not appear at all pleased about it. She waddled toward Max, the goslings in tow.
”h.e.l.lo, dear,” her honey voice cooed. ”Good luck today. We're all rooting for you. And I had a few words with that man that man to keep it fair.” to keep it fair.”
”Thanks, Hannah,” Max said, taking another glance at the crowd, not at all sure he wanted an audience. The whistle blew again, and Max trotted to where M. Renard had gathered the cla.s.s. The instructor had a cold and blew his nose into a handkerchief with a loud honk.
”All right, my little sausages. Today you make me proud, yes?”
The children nodded.
”We will do the tests in alphabetical order, as always, except for the races, which will be paired by your most recent times. Ignore all these people-focus on each task and do your best. Does anyone have anything to say?”
Connor raised his hand.
”Yes, sir.” He leaned across the circle of cla.s.smates and jabbed a finger in Max's chest. ”We went through a lot of trouble to drum up this crowd, so don't you screw it up!”
Everyone burst into laughter; even M. Renard cracked a smile as he brought the whistle to his lips to signal the first task. Max shook his hands loose and took a long look at the stretch of track before him.
An hour later, Max was consumed by a.s.sorted cheers, roars, honks, and shouts. Hoisted onto the shoulders of Jason and another Sixth Year, he caught his breath and looked far across the fields to where his javelin's flag fluttered in victory. YaYa stood to her full height and bowed; David held Nick tightly to keep the lymrill from hurting himself. Mr. McDaniels almost trampled a row of students in his hurry to reach the field, while Mr. Morrow merely doffed his cap and waved from the stands, his expression strangely sad. The Humanities instructor raised a bottle of champagne to Max and took a sip before pa.s.sing it back to Mr. Watanabe and Miss Boon, who followed suit. Max waved back, trying to ignore Mum's nearby shrieks that he owed his triumph to her ”miracle treats.”
”That's something, Max,” said Jason, raising Max higher. ”Only thirteen and the best in Rowan's history history!”
Jason hosted a celebration party in his room, a timbered Viking hall. Some forty students lounged about, playing cards and darts or simply content to sprawl about in small groups, listening to music or tiptoeing through a minefield of pizza boxes to scavenge for leftovers.
Max was having the time of his life. After weeks of adhering to a strict diet, he now stuffed himself with pizza and sweets. Even better, he sat and talked with Julie, who seemed to have forgotten all about their awkward kiss during Kettlemouth's song.
In mid-afternoon, the party was interrupted by a series of loud knocks on the door. Max's spirits sank as Jason opened the door and Miss Boon peered in at him, her face pinched and angry.
”Max,” she called, ”please get your things and come with me.”
Max wiped his hands on a paper towel and stood.
”Do I have to go today today?” he pleaded. ”I thought maybe-”
”You thought what?” she interrupted. ”That you'd attained some sort of carefree 'celebrity' status this morning? No, no, no. Need I remind you that both both your party and punishment were well earned? Alex Munoz has been down at the dock scrubbing that s.h.i.+p for the last hour. Now get your things.” your party and punishment were well earned? Alex Munoz has been down at the dock scrubbing that s.h.i.+p for the last hour. Now get your things.”
Max's face turned crimson; he bit his tongue. He murmured ”Good-bye” and ”Thank you” to everyone, avoiding Julie's eyes in the process. Tugging on his sweats.h.i.+rt, he followed Miss Boon down the hallway.
Max swung his lantern in wide circles, periodically overcome with great surges of anger and embarra.s.sment. The fog had become so thick that he found himself stumbling into hedges. Old Tom was a hulking block of flat gray; the gas lamps dotting the grounds sprang to life, their lights appearing as will-o'-the-wisps in the gloom.
Storming past Maggie, Max heard the ponderous slap of heavy waves and the shrill cry of seagulls. As he descended the winding stairs to the beach, he began to make out the Kestrel Kestrel hovering in the air above the dock, tethered by a dozen slender ropes. Miss Kraken had provided the enchanted ropes that had raised the heavy s.h.i.+p as if it were a helium balloon. hovering in the air above the dock, tethered by a dozen slender ropes. Miss Kraken had provided the enchanted ropes that had raised the heavy s.h.i.+p as if it were a helium balloon.
Alex stood under the boat, scrubbing up at it halfheartedly with a stiff bristle brush. Clinging to the area of the hull that normally rested beneath the waterline were millions of barnacles whose hard sh.e.l.ls made the task an arm-numbing ch.o.r.e. Alex and the miserable weather promised to make it particularly unbearable.
”Surprised you bothered to show up,” huffed Alex, scrubbing vigorously now that Max had arrived. ”Must be nice to get away with whatever you want.”
Setting his lantern down, Max said nothing and merely went to select one of the long-handled brushes lying next to a mop bucket. Alex snorted with contempt and turned his attention to the hull.
Max took a long look at Brigit's Vigil before setting to work. Its shape could hardly be seen through the fog, and Max wondered if Ronin was indeed there, as he suspected-nestled deep among the rocks and crabs and swirling brine. Despite Max's now daily visits to Rattlerafters, Ronin had sent no word or signal since the day Max received his letter. And Max had not ventured out to Brigit's Vigil, wary of the water since the campout on the Kestrel. Kestrel. Picking a spot away from Alex, he began scrubbing in a sudden fit of energy. Picking a spot away from Alex, he began scrubbing in a sudden fit of energy.
They had worked in silence for almost an hour-Alex in disdainful stabs, Max in busy arcs-when Old Tom's chimes sounded from over the ridge. Alex turned and tossed his brush past Max, where it clattered against the metal bucket.
The Second Year hissed, ”Keep scrubbing, Maxine-keep scrubbing or I'll tell Miss Boon that Rowan's little hero is neglecting his duties!”
”Whatever, Munoz,” Max snapped. ”I probably got twice as much done in the last hour as you have all week.”
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