I have a report of criminal mischief at the Grand Auditorium. Again. All available units, please respond to a report of criminal mischief at the Grand Auditorium. In a battle, one of two things can happen to time: it can speed up so fast that it’s all over in an instant. Or time can move so slowly that you register every motion, every second—the blood and the screams, the opening of mouths, the ripping of flesh. That is how time works for me as Jay lunges over the drum set toward Frank. It’s horribly slow. Thanks to what’s left of the National Art Honor Society, there are dozens of spears planted throughout the theater, taped to walls, painted the appropriate camouflaging colors. I yank up a spear that was hidden along the edge of the stage. The sound of duct tape ripping mixes with the screams. I turn to look. We are arming ourselves. Good. Issie stands with a knife, waiting for the attack that’s sure to come. Others are already engaged, trying to thrust the spears and knives into the trunks of fast-moving pixies.
