Chương 44: Girls are the WORST

"It's called dry-brushing. You do it real faint, like this, so that only the raised parts get painted. That's how I get these wicked highlights," Sandy explained. He held up a miniature Polar Magus. The snowflakes on the sky blue robe were flawlessly outlined and the paint sparkled with metallic pigment. It was perfect. In contrast, Sandy's room was a dim gyre of soda cans, comic books, and art supplies. Everything spiraled into the messiest desk Robin had ever seen.

Sandy kept his curtains drawn and his desk in a pool of light, like it was the only thing in the world. It was just three weeks since Robin's release. His numbers were improving, his color was a bit better, and he'd put on a tiny bit of weight. Dr. Suarez said it would be okay if he visited a friend. She warned Robin not to overdo it.

"Now, here's the trick to get runes right," Sandy began. He was doing Robin a big favor with this lesson. Robin didn't hear a word. There was an angel in the hallway.

"See how this ink wash—are you with me, Martillo? He wasn't. Robin was struck dumb by the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Yvonne Amsler had freckles, ice-blue eyes, curly red-brown hair, and bad intentions. She slowly swung the door open and held a finger to her lips. When Robin didn't say anything, Yvonne crept into Sandy's lair, silent as a cat.

"Uh, sorry. I spaced out." Robin said.

"Can I see that?" He held out a hand for the Magus so it wouldn't get messed up. Sandy had his back to the doorway. He was too engrossed to notice the approaching rogue.

"Sure. Check out the dark areas around his robe. Ink washes are like the opposite of dry-brushing. They're great for getting into cracks— ACK!" Yvonne dumped a handful of ice cubes down the back of Sandy's shirt. Sandy yelped and stood up so fast his chair fell over. He contorted to get the ice cubes out, but they, too, were good at getting into cracks.

"Ah!" Sandy cried and shook himself out. A cube fell from his pant leg and skittered into the mess under his bed.

"You! And you! You traitor! You saw her coming." Sandy wheeled on Robin. Robin blinked, caught in the middle. It took a moment to realize Sandy wasn't actually mad at him. Sandy was the oldest of six siblings. He'd probably seen worse.

"What are you doing in my room, goof?" Sandy demanded.

"The door was unlocked. I just thought you might be hot," Yvonne tried to keep a straight face. She cracked up and started giggling. Robin was enthralled. Yvonne noticed him and covered her mouth with her hand to hide her braces." Uh huh. Don't be surprised when you wake up tonight and Peter's in bed with you." Sandy pointed to the terrarium, where Peter Parker the tarantula eight-eyed them from atop his heat rock.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?" Sandy cracked an evil grin. He pressed his thumbs together and mimicked a spider creeping towards her.

"Eww!"

"Now scram! We're busy." Sandy pointed out to the hallway.

"Busy with what? Who's this guy? Why are you wearing a hat inside?" Yvonne bubbled right over Sandy's command.

"I'm Robin. Hi." Robin was surprised to find his voice still worked." Pfft. Robin is a girl's name."

"Tell that to Batman," Sandy said. Yvonne ignored her brother and bored into Robin.

"What are you, ten? Sandy's hanging out with grade school kids now?"

"I'm thirteen."

"No way. You're a shrimp. What school do you go to? What grade are you in?" Robin stiffened under the barrage of questions.

"I'm starting seventh grade at Garfield in September," Robin said. At least, he was supposed to. He wasn't so sure he could.

"Well I'm starting eighth grade and I go to Madison. Waaayy better president."

"Oh my God, no one cares where you go to school, Yvonne. Stop hassling us, get out! I'm trying to teach him to paint." Sandy's exasperation was no longer feigned. Robin got the idea it was like this all the time.

"Sandy goes to Highland, but no one likes him there. That's why he has to hang out with little kids."

"Robin isn't a little kid. He's in the strategy club. He's really good," Sandy bristled.

"The club is even worse. At least, eighth graders know how to bathe. Hey!" After a brief scuffle, Sandy picked Yvonne up and hucked her into the hall. Before she could scramble back in, he slammed the door shut so hard it rattled the paintings in the hall. He locked it and shouts of outrage assailed their ears. Yvonne was loud.

"Sorry about that. Girls are the worst," Sandy shook his head. Robin nodded, though he didn't agree at all. * Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Hours later, Robin scowled down at the Reconciler. The paint job was a hundred times better than his first few soldiers, but still not perfect. There was a rough patch on the robe where he'd applied a second coat too fast. His dry-brushing and inking weren't nearly as smooth as Sandy's.

"I think I'm gonna strip it and try again."

"Don't bother. Abaxios sucks. Absolute weakest general in the game. There are squad leaders who are better."

"I think he's underrated. Getting multiple faction bonuses can stack pretty quick if you plan your army right," Robin protested. He needed to believe it. It wasn't like he could just buy another general. Sandy took the figure and appraised it underneath his desk lamp.

"This is actually a great paint job for your first general. Honestly, I think this is about the best you can do."

"Wow, thanks."

"Painting takes a lot of practice. Don't be impatient. Besides, you're facing Vlad's Goblins soon. Any work you put into this guy is just making Vlad's trophy case look better."

"I don't plan to lose," Robin said." Uh-huh. You ever notice how Bobbert the Loyal Apprentice and the Abaxios Oslune figures have the same face?" Robin took the Bobbert figure out of his shoebox and compared it to his newly painted general. Now that he knew to look for it, the likeness was unmistakable. The Abaxios model was just Bobbert with a crown and a fancy robe.

"Huh. Wonder why they did that."

"Lazy sculptors, I guess. There's no excuse, RSI is raking it in on this game. There are, like, a hundred clubs in the US alone, probably twice that in Europe."

"Wow. I wonder what would happen if all those clubs got together for one giant war." Sandy's eyes flashed with excitement.

"That's happening! Next year, at the world championship in Anaheim. It's a weeklong tournament called The Day Before Doomsday. Duncan and his dad are on the writing committee!"

"No way," Robin breathed.

"It's gonna be huge. They have a battlefield that's as big as our yard. People are flying in from Europe, Japan, everywhere. The grand prize is ten thousand dollars!"

"No. Way."

"Believe it, brother. A lot of guys from the club are flying out and sharing hotel rooms. You should totally go with us."

"Yeah, that'd be cool." Robin tried to keep his voice steady. Sandy paused. He'd gotten so caught up, he'd forgotten there was anything wrong with Robin.

"Is it that bad?" Robin nodded.

"I'm sorry. That's so rough. Well, maybe having something to look forward to will help you get better. The power of positive thinking, you know? Just visualize yourself winning the world championship."

"Maybe, yeah. Do you still want me to teach you chess stuff?" Robin was eager to change the subject.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Let's go." They spent the rest of the afternoon playing chess. The first game was a bloodbath. Robin tried to explain key concepts like tempo and active pieces. Sandy had patience and an excellent visual memory, but no overall plan. He struggled to see more than a move or two ahead.

"Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat," Robin quoted.

"Just you wait. I'm building to something," Sandy said. He wasn't. One by one, Robin's rook gobbled up his dangling pawns. The next game began a little better. This time, Sandy took Robin's advice. He didn't move the same piece twice or fianchetto both bishops. Still, his moves were passive and disjointed.

"A knight on the rim is dim; his chances are slim," Robin warned.

"Border cavalry," Sandy grinned and made the move anyway. Robin shook his head. Sandy had to learn everything the hard way. Six moves later, the useless knight was still in the same spot. Sandy was checkmated again.

"Brutal," Sandy groaned.

"Think positive. At least you didn't blunder your queen this time."

"I feel like I'm getting worse, not better."

"I think this is about the best you can do," Robin smiled back. He ducked under the pawn Sandy threw at him. It bounced off an Electric Light Orchestra poster and rolled under his dresser. Sandy grumbled over to retrieve it.

"Maybe I can take on Yvonne now, at least. Hey, do you want to stay for dinner?"

"Yes," Robin said, immediately.

"I'll ask my mom."

"I'll call my Grandma." Una agreed and warned him to watch his manners. Robin got the sense she could use an evening to herself. He was surprised when Sandy started to get dressed up.

"Uh. Are we going somewhere?" Robin asked.

"Oh. We're staying here. Let me see if I have a jacket you can wear. This is new to you, right? Shabbat dinner is a little different," Sandy warned. He clipped a little circle of fabric to the back of his head.

"This is called a Kippah. We're Conservative, so we only really wear these for religious stuff, and family dinner. If you want, I can loan you one. It's kind of a way we show respect and acknowledge the presence of God."

"I don't have any hair to clip it to," Robin said.

"Really? Can I see?" It was the first time Robin had taken off his cap in front of someone who wasn't his grandmother or a doctor. He was still completely bald.

"Whoa. Kind of cool, actually. You look like a super villain." Robin couldn't tell if Sandy was trying to make him feel better or not. He tried on the little kippah. It felt weird and tickled the back of his head.

"Is it a big deal if I don't? I don't really believe in God." He expected Sandy to get angry, like Una had. Sandy looked relieved.

"Me neither! I didn't mention it, because your grandma's so strict. I thought you might be crazy religious. My dad doesn't believe at all. Same story for Hillie, Maor, and Doron. Yvonne might, because she's so dumb. I think Rachel is into something with crystals or pyramids or something. We all just go along to make my mom happy."

"Wait, so all of you are pretending for one person?"

"Pretty much. I'll ask my dad if you can just wear your ball cap at the table. He's usually more relaxed than my mom. Dinner has a few rules, but they're not too hard. The main thing to know is we don't eat meat and dairy together, but you don't have to worry about that. Before the meal, we have to wash our hands, and then we don't talk until the bread is blessed. That's one of the brachot. There's another for different types of food and a long one at the end of the meal. Other than that, just don't curse, I guess?

If you mess up it's not a big deal. Anything I should know?" Robin took a deep breath.

"It's kind of hard for me to eat. Could you ask your mom not to serve me too much food?"

"Oh, wow. I hadn't thought about that. I'll warn my mom. She overfeeds everyone."

"Sorry, this is so complicated. There's another thing, uh, sometimes I have to dash off and throw up. Can you let your mom know it's not her cooking? I've been doing a little better but—you know, actually, maybe it's better if I just go home." Robin felt his confidence drop with every word.

"It'll be fine. You're our guest here."

"I'll wear the little hat," Robin decided. It was the least he could do.

"It's really no problem either way," Sandy assured. He seemed secretly pleased.

"Here, we'll use a bit of double-sided tape. If it falls off, you just give it a little smooch and put it back on. It's nothing." Robin looked at himself in the mirror, something he usually avoided. Sandy's oldest shirt and blazer were still a size too big for him. He felt naked without his Cruz Azul cap. His head looked so pale and weird and his eyelashes were taking forever to grow back. He looked like a startled bird. It's just dinner. Robin told himself. It will be fine.