Free We Dine With Cannibals by C. Alexander London Page B

dodgeball.
    Celia and Oliver did not like dodgeball. Celia and Oliver might have preferred the lions of the Kalahari or the bullet ants of Brazil to facing Greg Angstura on the blacktop at recess.
    â€œOliver,” Celia said as the class split into two teams with a row of red rubber balls placed in a line between them. “Remember the spears. We can dodge anything.”
    â€œHold on!” Mr. McNulty shouted. “Team change! You and you, trade places.”
    Celia looked to her left and looked to her right. Mr. McNulty had pointed at her. She had to go over to the other team. She would have to play against her brother.
    â€œI … um …,” she said.
    â€œGo on! You’re holding up the game.”
    Celia’s shoulders slumped and she made her way across to the other side.
    Mr. McNulty blew one quick blast on his whistle and the kids raced for the balls in the center of the blacktop. Oliver and Celia stood frozen in place, helplessly staring at each other. Dodgeball had begun. It was kill or be killed.
    Greg Angstura whipped a ball sidearm at Oliver’s head. Should he go left? Should he go right? He wavered. He waffled. At the last moment, he ducked. The ball sailed over him and smacked right into Jill Bessemer’s face.
    â€œOw,” she groaned, burying her face in her Corey Brandt T-shirt.
    â€œOut!” Mr. McNulty blew his whistle and hooked his thumb to the sidelines. On both sides boys and girls were falling down with the smacking sting of rubber on flesh. Greg Angstura was a demon. He raced from side to side, taking kids out, firing rubber balls like the thunderbolts of Zeus.
    Celia stood toward the back, sidestepping balls as they flew her way. Very few did. Greg was dominating the court, and it looked like her team would win. Except that Oliver had also moved to the back of the court and was sidestepping balls as they came his way. The boy who beat all his video games went out. Annie and Stephanie went out. Oliver was the only one left on his side of the blacktop, sweating and panting and leaping from side to side. The other kids watched him from the sidelines with blank stares, just like the mummies inPeru. This all felt a little too much like the fake Inca death trap. What twisted mind invented these sorts of tortures?
    â€œTry to catch something!” Mr. McNulty pleaded. “Play!”
    Greg raced toward the line in the center of the court and hurled a ball at Oliver with one hand. Oliver jumped and let it sail between his legs. As he landed, Greg swung another ball out from behind his back and it sailed right at Oliver’s nose.
    â€œWatch out!” Celia shouted.
    â€œAhhh!” Oliver shouted and put his hands up to protect himself. There was a loud
thwack
, and then silence.
    Oliver had caught the ball.
    â€œOut!” Mr. McNulty blew his whistle and hooked his thumb to the sideline for Greg to leave the court.
    â€œYou helped him! That’s cheating!” Greg yelled at Celia. She just shrugged.
    As Greg moped over to the sidelines, he scooped up a ball at his feet and, in one rapid motion, flung it at Oliver, who was still staring at the ball in his hands. Greg’s throw struck him right in the ear with a
gong
! He wavered and waffled on his feet. He went to the left. He went to the right. He fell onto the blacktop with a
plop
.

    â€œHey! That’s cheating!” Celia yelled and ran up behind Greg Angstura, who was laughing at how Oliver fell down.
    He was still laughing when Celia’s fist hit him square in the face. It was his turn to hit the pavement. Celia was the only one on the blacktop left standing.
    â€œOut! All of you! Navels! Angstura!” Mr. McNulty yelled and blew his whistle again and again. “To Principal Deaver’s office!
Now
!”
    â€œBut—,” Celia objected.
    â€œUgh,” Oliver groaned, still lying on the ground.
    â€œUgh,” Greg Angstura groaned, also still lying on the