leaf. I’m getting it even if Adeon pulls my name for the Practical exam—even if Vandis pulls my name,” he finished, with a shudder the other kids echoed.
“Is Vandis tough?” Dingus asked, hoping to get an idea of how he might do.
“Hui said he was a nightmare,” said Francine. “He got Vandis his first try. He flunked. Bad.”
“I hope he pulls my name ,” Arkady said, a little loudly, to make sure everyone heard.
Tony made a gesture as if giving something to Arkady. “You ca n have him!” Then he called to a group of younger Squires. “Hey, let’s have some drinks over here. It’s tradition, you know.” A few of them, Kessa included, went to the barrels and started pulling mugs.
Arkady forged on. “I’ll bet if he draws me, I catch him. He used to be shit-hot, but he’s getting old. He must be fifty.”
“So what if he is?” Vandis actually was fifty—he ’d turned two weeks ago—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been able to give Dingus the slip for days on end this spring, while they practiced tracking. “Best believe he’s still got it.” They must’ve gone back and forth ten times, him and Vandis, and the only time he’d caught up was a day right after it rained.
“Yeah? What would you know?”
“He’s my Master. I know enough,” Dingus said, his hands pulling into fists.
“Not worth i t,” Wallace said, quietly, singsong, while the mugs went around.
Dingus breathe d in the smoke and sweat and cider again. Kessa somehow managed to be the one to hand him his drink. “Don’t worry,” she said, close to his ear. “Vandis told me one time he’s never seen anyone as good as you.”
“Thanks,” he said, grinning. Kess was the best sometimes, and the r est of the time she was cool, too. She flashed him the high sign and turned away.
“What’s your name ?” Arkady called.
“Kessa,” she said, looking flirtatiously over her shoulder. “What’s yours?”
“Arkady.” He made to follow her, and without even thinking, Dingus stood up from his end of log and put out his arm to block.
“Nuh-uh.”
“She’s your girl?”
Arkady said that in a disbelieving (and extremely unflattering) tone, but Dingus ignored it, shaking his head. “My little sister.”
“Not much of a family resemblance.”
“Just don’t.”
They stared at each other. Arkady was shorter, but not by much, and his arms were thicker than Dingus’s twigs—but that wouldn’t matter, no, not with the party noise fading behind the pulse in his ears and the heat tickling down his spine.
“Who’s going to stop me? You?”
Dingus squeezed his eyes shut. Not now. Not here. He opened them and said, “Yeah.”
Arkady gave another one of those eloquent snorts and pushed past, banging his shoulder into Dingus’s—hard. Dingus reached out, faster than he could think about it, and grabbed Ar kady’s arm, yanking him around. Dingus’s fist met up with his face, and he sprawled flat on his back.
The party noise wasn’t background anymore; it was just gone, and when he looked up at the people around the fire, when he looked around the rest of the party, all he saw were strangers’ faces w ith wide-open eyes and mouths. When he saw Wallace and Francine staring just the same, he felt a little poke of regret. “About fucking time,” said Tony, and Wallace nodded slowly.
“Hey!” som eone yelled, and pushed through the crowd. “You can’t do that!”
Dingus didn’t wait for him. He cracked his stinging knuckles, stepped over Arkady’s groaning for m, and walked toward Kessa. “Let’s go.”
“Aw, but—”
“Come on.”
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” said a thick-faced boy at his elbow . “You can’t—”
Dingus wheeled on him. “I just did.”
He went for it, of course he did. They always did. Dingus knocked his fist out of the way and put a knee in his gut. He gasped and folded.
It’s easy , Dingus thought, watching him slip to the ground. Surprised him how easy,
“Is Vandis tough?” Dingus asked, hoping to get an idea of how he might do.
“Hui said he was a nightmare,” said Francine. “He got Vandis his first try. He flunked. Bad.”
“I hope he pulls my name ,” Arkady said, a little loudly, to make sure everyone heard.
Tony made a gesture as if giving something to Arkady. “You ca n have him!” Then he called to a group of younger Squires. “Hey, let’s have some drinks over here. It’s tradition, you know.” A few of them, Kessa included, went to the barrels and started pulling mugs.
Arkady forged on. “I’ll bet if he draws me, I catch him. He used to be shit-hot, but he’s getting old. He must be fifty.”
“So what if he is?” Vandis actually was fifty—he ’d turned two weeks ago—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been able to give Dingus the slip for days on end this spring, while they practiced tracking. “Best believe he’s still got it.” They must’ve gone back and forth ten times, him and Vandis, and the only time he’d caught up was a day right after it rained.
“Yeah? What would you know?”
“He’s my Master. I know enough,” Dingus said, his hands pulling into fists.
“Not worth i t,” Wallace said, quietly, singsong, while the mugs went around.
Dingus breathe d in the smoke and sweat and cider again. Kessa somehow managed to be the one to hand him his drink. “Don’t worry,” she said, close to his ear. “Vandis told me one time he’s never seen anyone as good as you.”
“Thanks,” he said, grinning. Kess was the best sometimes, and the r est of the time she was cool, too. She flashed him the high sign and turned away.
“What’s your name ?” Arkady called.
“Kessa,” she said, looking flirtatiously over her shoulder. “What’s yours?”
“Arkady.” He made to follow her, and without even thinking, Dingus stood up from his end of log and put out his arm to block.
“Nuh-uh.”
“She’s your girl?”
Arkady said that in a disbelieving (and extremely unflattering) tone, but Dingus ignored it, shaking his head. “My little sister.”
“Not much of a family resemblance.”
“Just don’t.”
They stared at each other. Arkady was shorter, but not by much, and his arms were thicker than Dingus’s twigs—but that wouldn’t matter, no, not with the party noise fading behind the pulse in his ears and the heat tickling down his spine.
“Who’s going to stop me? You?”
Dingus squeezed his eyes shut. Not now. Not here. He opened them and said, “Yeah.”
Arkady gave another one of those eloquent snorts and pushed past, banging his shoulder into Dingus’s—hard. Dingus reached out, faster than he could think about it, and grabbed Ar kady’s arm, yanking him around. Dingus’s fist met up with his face, and he sprawled flat on his back.
The party noise wasn’t background anymore; it was just gone, and when he looked up at the people around the fire, when he looked around the rest of the party, all he saw were strangers’ faces w ith wide-open eyes and mouths. When he saw Wallace and Francine staring just the same, he felt a little poke of regret. “About fucking time,” said Tony, and Wallace nodded slowly.
“Hey!” som eone yelled, and pushed through the crowd. “You can’t do that!”
Dingus didn’t wait for him. He cracked his stinging knuckles, stepped over Arkady’s groaning for m, and walked toward Kessa. “Let’s go.”
“Aw, but—”
“Come on.”
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” said a thick-faced boy at his elbow . “You can’t—”
Dingus wheeled on him. “I just did.”
He went for it, of course he did. They always did. Dingus knocked his fist out of the way and put a knee in his gut. He gasped and folded.
It’s easy , Dingus thought, watching him slip to the ground. Surprised him how easy,
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