about the only thing I can remember is that the black and white spotted girl who bends light is named Dalmatian, and she only joined the troupe a few months ago herself. The others are a mixture of flashy outfits and exotic colors who do things like contortion and tightrope balancing and sound sculpture, whatever that is.
"And you already met my sister, Sirra Centaurus," Etander finishes.
Sirra looks like she's sucking on a lemon. "This is the Principals' table, Etander. Not a home for strays."
"Don't mind her," says Etander, rolling his eyes. "She's not used to anyone matching her in the Arena. You did very well."
"Not as well as your sister," I answer, feeling generous now that I have potential allies. "So does that mean you're from the Centaurus galaxy cluster?"
Etander clears his throat, glancing at Sirra. "Yes."
"Ignore the humble act," says someone at the end of the table. "It means their family
owns
it."
"The Centaurus Corporation owns it," snaps Sirra. "And we're here now, like it or not. So it doesn't matter. Drop it. We're neglecting our guest of honor." She pushes a platter of bright yellow curds across the table. "Try the scrambled pepper-eggs, Trix. They're delicious."
"You ought to check with your know-it-all," says Etander. "It might not be safe."
"Oh, I'm sure Trix is up for anything." Sirra smiles. "She did match me in the Arena."
"Yeah, but I'm not stupid." I tap the button on my earpiece. Nothing. "Um. Know-it-all? Are you there?"
"Oh, so we're talking again, are we? You invite me in and then you shut me out. Don't you care about
my
feelings?"
"Not really," I say. "Are pepper-eggs safe to eat?"
My know-it-all huffs. "For that, my dear, I very well might keep the latest
Love Among the Stars
scoop to myself."
"Good. I've heard enough about that stupid show already. Just tell me if I can eat the eggs."
"Are you sure? It's quite the shocker! Oooh, the plot twists!"
"Just. Yes. Or. No."
"Yes." My know-it-all goes silent. If it had a body, I bet it would be crossing its arms and looking pointedly away. I flop a spoonful of the eggs onto my empty plate. My stomach grumbles. I hope they taste as good as they smell.
I pause, fork raised partway to my lips. Sirra is giving me an awfully strange look. I wonder if she's planning to wig me out by telling me these are bug eggs or something. But I've already seen half the other kids eating them. And my know-it-all said they were safe. I take a bite.
My mouth bursts into flames. Seriously, it feels like someone is rubbing hot coals along my tongue. I sputter, forcing myself to gulp down the bite rather than risk spewing it on everyone else. Not that Sirra doesn't deserve it.
"Little spicy?" Sirra asks, taking a bite of her own, hoity-toity as a lady eating tea sandwiches.
I try to say something rude, but it hurts too much. I grab a glass of green juice and suck it down so fast I don't even taste it. Maybe the pepper-eggs already burned away my taste buds.
"Mmmphhhagh! Stupid overgrown encyclopedia!" I slap my earpiece. "What was that, Britannica? You said they were safe!"
"They are," chirps the know-it-all, rather smugly. "You're alive."
"Why didn't you
warn
me it was going to burn my mouth out?"
"Yes or no. I believe those were your exact words."
I fume incoherently. It doesn't help that half the table is giggling. No way. Not here. Not again. I will
not
be the loser everyone else laughs at.
"Come on," says Sirra, rising. "Time for those of us who belong here to get to work. Miss Three is waiting for us."
The rest of the table filters away, leaving me rubbing my streaming eyes. As I'm fumbling for more juice, someone pushes something crusty and crumbly into my hand.
"Eat that," says Etander. "It should cut the heat. According to my know-it-all, that is."
I blink at the thing in my hand. It looks like a piece of toast. I figure things can't really get much worse, so I take a bite. It doesn't make everything magically all better, but he's right:
"And you already met my sister, Sirra Centaurus," Etander finishes.
Sirra looks like she's sucking on a lemon. "This is the Principals' table, Etander. Not a home for strays."
"Don't mind her," says Etander, rolling his eyes. "She's not used to anyone matching her in the Arena. You did very well."
"Not as well as your sister," I answer, feeling generous now that I have potential allies. "So does that mean you're from the Centaurus galaxy cluster?"
Etander clears his throat, glancing at Sirra. "Yes."
"Ignore the humble act," says someone at the end of the table. "It means their family
owns
it."
"The Centaurus Corporation owns it," snaps Sirra. "And we're here now, like it or not. So it doesn't matter. Drop it. We're neglecting our guest of honor." She pushes a platter of bright yellow curds across the table. "Try the scrambled pepper-eggs, Trix. They're delicious."
"You ought to check with your know-it-all," says Etander. "It might not be safe."
"Oh, I'm sure Trix is up for anything." Sirra smiles. "She did match me in the Arena."
"Yeah, but I'm not stupid." I tap the button on my earpiece. Nothing. "Um. Know-it-all? Are you there?"
"Oh, so we're talking again, are we? You invite me in and then you shut me out. Don't you care about
my
feelings?"
"Not really," I say. "Are pepper-eggs safe to eat?"
My know-it-all huffs. "For that, my dear, I very well might keep the latest
Love Among the Stars
scoop to myself."
"Good. I've heard enough about that stupid show already. Just tell me if I can eat the eggs."
"Are you sure? It's quite the shocker! Oooh, the plot twists!"
"Just. Yes. Or. No."
"Yes." My know-it-all goes silent. If it had a body, I bet it would be crossing its arms and looking pointedly away. I flop a spoonful of the eggs onto my empty plate. My stomach grumbles. I hope they taste as good as they smell.
I pause, fork raised partway to my lips. Sirra is giving me an awfully strange look. I wonder if she's planning to wig me out by telling me these are bug eggs or something. But I've already seen half the other kids eating them. And my know-it-all said they were safe. I take a bite.
My mouth bursts into flames. Seriously, it feels like someone is rubbing hot coals along my tongue. I sputter, forcing myself to gulp down the bite rather than risk spewing it on everyone else. Not that Sirra doesn't deserve it.
"Little spicy?" Sirra asks, taking a bite of her own, hoity-toity as a lady eating tea sandwiches.
I try to say something rude, but it hurts too much. I grab a glass of green juice and suck it down so fast I don't even taste it. Maybe the pepper-eggs already burned away my taste buds.
"Mmmphhhagh! Stupid overgrown encyclopedia!" I slap my earpiece. "What was that, Britannica? You said they were safe!"
"They are," chirps the know-it-all, rather smugly. "You're alive."
"Why didn't you
warn
me it was going to burn my mouth out?"
"Yes or no. I believe those were your exact words."
I fume incoherently. It doesn't help that half the table is giggling. No way. Not here. Not again. I will
not
be the loser everyone else laughs at.
"Come on," says Sirra, rising. "Time for those of us who belong here to get to work. Miss Three is waiting for us."
The rest of the table filters away, leaving me rubbing my streaming eyes. As I'm fumbling for more juice, someone pushes something crusty and crumbly into my hand.
"Eat that," says Etander. "It should cut the heat. According to my know-it-all, that is."
I blink at the thing in my hand. It looks like a piece of toast. I figure things can't really get much worse, so I take a bite. It doesn't make everything magically all better, but he's right:
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