Chapter 4
Calvin
The sphere we were supposed to enter and roll in was like something I’d seen online a while ago. Adult-sized and made of dozens of inflated hexagonal cells, with a few hexagonal openings, rather than being fully enclosed. Good, since I liked the option of breathing.
“You ready, my queen?” I held the opening ajar for Amanda to climb inside our sphere. “You sure you want to wear the full costume? It might get dirty.” Plus, it was pointy.
“It’s wash and wear. Elf linens are practical.” She shimmied inside the sphere while I gaped. Surprise, surprise, Ice Queen Amanda could shimmy. “Now, what are the rules of the race?”
“According to sphere-rental dude, on the signal, we race down that lane.” I pointed at the hill in front of us. Either side of the grassy area had a ridge of earth, making it like a giant grassy bowling lane.
Amanda gasped. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice pitched higher. “That we’d … roll back and forth or something. Go for a walk in it. On level ground.”
“Au contraire, ma chérie. This is Parley we’re dealing with, one of the most competitive men alive.” At least he had been until getting infected with lame jokes. Now who was he? I didn’t even know anymore.
“You speak French?” She blinked at me. “Never mind. There’s a moat at the bottom.” She clutched the inner handlebar near the top of the sphere hard—her knuckles were white. “Are we swimming next? In that murky water?”
“It’s to break our landing, and then we paddle across. First couple to the little island wins.” We’d better win. “Let’s show Parley that you and I are definitely a team.”
“Paddle? Like with our arms?” She pushed her fluffy, or whatever, sleeves up to her elbows. “If this dress gets ruined …”
So it wasn’t wash-and-wear? “It’s your own fault for wearing it.” Although, I had to admit the over-the-top gown activated my imagination.
The starting gun sounded. All the other inflated spheres began rolling. Some were having a rough time getting any forward motion. We achieved none at all.
“That’s our signal, Mandy-girl. Time to roll.” I hung onto my set of handles and began to walk, which pressed my torso against her back. “Forward, and—”
At first, it was no big deal. We rolled along at walking speed down the gentle slope. But then, we hit a bump and we pitched into a somersault motion. Down we went!
Head over heels, repeat. It was working! We might even pull into the lead!
Until—Amanda zigged when I zagged, and suddenly we were rolling sideways.
“Calvin?” she squeaked. “I’m losing my grip.” Her fingers slipped off the handle, and with a thwack, her arms pounded against mine, and I lost my own grip. Soon our heads hit the ceiling, and Amanda was gripping my arms, which encircled her waist.
“Yes, I speak French,” I shouted. “High school French. Je m’appelle Calvin.”
“Je suis mort!” She made a croak-of-death sound as we careened around inside the plastic sphere. “Why did we say yes to this?”
“Because you want me to take you to the City of Hobbits.”
“Hobbiton. In the Shire. Get it right.” She jabbed her pointy elbow into my ribcage. Not hard, though, since she was already in my arms, and the angle wouldn’t allow it. “Oh, no!” she cried as our heads hit the ceiling of the sphere again. “My crown is gone.”
“We aren’t going back for it.”
“No. I mean—look.” She craned her head back and indicated where the crown’s pointed edge had embedded in one of the inflated cells of the ceiling.
“Don’t pull it out,” I begged as she reached for it.
Too late. She’d grabbed it, and a sinister hissing followed.
“Oh, no. I think I popped the orb.”
No question about it, one whole hexagonal panel was flattened in a split second just as—