Another Love ─── L. Castellan

xxv. maybe i should stay away from explosives

"Scared," Tyson mumbled, and I almost jumped in surprise when I turned and saw him behind me. "Smell funny."

"Tyson, you should be in science!" I murmured, "and who smells funny?"

"Them." Tyson pointed at Sloan's new friends, the visitors from the other school. "Smell funny."

The visitors were cracking their knuckles, eyeing us like it was slaughter time. I couldn't help wondering where they were from.

Sloan blew the coach's whistle and the game began. Sloan's team ran for the centre line. On my side, they cowered in fear and tried not to get hit.

"Tyson," I said. "Let's g—"

A ball slammed into my gut. I sat down hard in the middle of the gym floor. The other team exploded in laughter. My eyesight was fuzzy, my breath leaving my chest as the hellhound scars began to ache.

Tyson yelled, "Romy, duck!"

Some of my demigod training kicked in and I rolled as another dodgeball whistled past my ear at the speed of sound.

"Hey!" I yelled at Sloan's team. "You're gonna kill somebody! Sloan, get your lunatics under control!"

One of the visitor, named Joe Bob, grinned at me evilly. Somehow, he looked a lot bigger now...even taller than Tyson. His biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt. "I hope so, Andromeda Jackson! I hope so!"

The only people who said my name were those trying to kill me or yell at me for doing something stupid and I sighed. Why now? Why today? Why me?

Monsters.

All around Matt Sloan, the visitors were growing in size. They were no longer kids. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

Matt Sloan dropped his ball. "Whoa! You're not from Detroit! Who..."

The other kids on his team started screaming and backing toward the exit, but the giant named Marrow Sucker threw a ball with deadly accuracy. It streaked past one of the kids just as he was about to leave and hit the door, slamming it shut like magic. The kids banged on it desperately but it wouldn't budge.

"Let them go!" I yelled at the giants.

The one called Joe Bob growled at me. He had a tattoo on his biceps that said: JB luvs Babycakes.

"And lose our tasty morsels? No, Daughter of the Sea. We Laistrygonians aren't just playing for your death. We want lunch!"

He waved his hand and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared on the centre line—but these balls weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, with fire bubbling out the holes. They must've been searing hot, but the giants picked them up with their bare hands.

"Coach!" I yelled.

Nunley looked up sleepily, but if he saw anything abnormal about the dodgeball game, he didn't let on.

That's the problem with humans. At any rate, I was pretty sure nobody else realized we were dealing with genuine man-eating bloodthirsty monsters.

"Yeah. Mm-hmm," Coach muttered. "Play nice."

And he went back to his magazine.

The giant named Skull Eater threw his ball. I dove aside as the fiery bronze comet sailed past my shoulder.

"Tyson!" I screamed.

Tyson pulled a kid out from behind the exercise mat just as the ball exploded against it, blasting the mat to smoking shreds.