It was heavy. It was hot. And it smelled like a locker room full of sweaty teenage boys. Trying on the suit of armor JB gave him, Jonah sniffed surreptitiously, almost gagged, and resorted to holding his breath. JB said this was brand-new armor—could I really be producing that smell all by myself? Jonah lifted the visor of his armor. “Look,” he said. “You’re from the future. Can’t you give us something that just looks like fifteenth-century armor, but really weighs nothing—and has air-conditioning?” JB laughed. “Good idea,” he said. “But no.” “Why not?” Katherine demanded. She had on armor of her own and was awkwardly trying to walk wearing, essentially, a forty-pound tin can. “Against time regulations,” JB said curtly, bending over to examine a squeaky knee joint on Katherine’s armor. “Why?” Katherine said again. JB sighed. He straightened up but somehow wouldn’t meet Katherine’s gaze.
