The seniors laughed. Skull stopped and looked back at Grasshopper. Very somberly. He was the only one not laughing.
“To your dorm, on the double,” Splint hissed in Grasshopper’s ear, and he ran, limping on the shoeless foot. He was burning with shame. The seniors didn’t know that he only fought like a tiger because of prosthetics. They would have laughed even more if they knew. Except maybe for Skull.
“Principal’s office in half an hour!” Splint shouted behind him.
The sinks in the bathroom were mobbed by the casualties. There was water all over the floor. The sock on Grasshopper’s unshod foot got soaked through.
“The plaster armor is like the most useful thing to have around. The enemy forces disable themselves, you don’t even have to do anything. Just get yourself open and wait for someone to take a swing at you.”
Wolf emerged from under the faucet and looked at Grasshopper.
“Oh. There you are.”
“There he is!” Stinker screamed. “The Vanquisher of Stuff! The Avenging Foot! The Heel of Death! Yay!”
“The crutch is useful too,” Magician bragged. “You should have seen the way I caught Crook with it.”
Humpback splashed loudly, bathing his busted lip. One of the Siamese, a little worse for the wear, probed a loose tooth.
“They accused us of stealing,” he said, extracting the finger from his mouth. “And we like never even saw those pins of theirs.”
“I’m not sadistic,” Stinker said in a singsong voice. “No, I am not. But I can be quite severe when roused. Part of my character. My own part.”
He wheeled over to Grasshopper.
“There’s a streak of severity in you as well when roused, old man,” he said. “But still, you can’t hold a candle to me in that regard. All shrink in fear before me.”
Stinker was completely unscathed, so he didn’t really have any business in the bathroom. He just wheeled around on the wet tiles, splashed water from the low sink on everyone, and sang an elaborate ode dedicated to his own heroic exploits. The boys, covered in scrapes and bruises, proudly pressed wet towels to their wounds and studied themselves in the mirror. Grasshopper took a look as well. His ear was livid, and blood caked under his nose. He liked what he saw.
“Hark, knights,” Wolf said. “Tonight at the round table we shall recount the glorious battle. Praise our valor and mourn our losses. Sing war songs and bring together our chalices in honor of the fallen.”
“Stinker seems to have started already,” Humpback said.
“I didn’t start anything! And quit admiring yourselves, it’s my turn now.”
Stinker wheeled at them from behind and pushed them away from the mirror.
In the dorm, the other Siamese was comforting Elephant, Elk was stuffing cotton wool in Blind’s nostrils, and Beauty was pacing the room, gnawing at his fingernails.
“Get yourselves cleaned up,” Elk said. “Then we’ll go visit the principal.”
“Us?” Magician said indignantly. “What about them?”
“Them too, don’t worry. Where’s your shoe?” said Elk, glancing at Grasshopper’s feet.
“I’ve got it,” said Stinker and fished it out of the wheelchair, followed separately by the dripping shoelace. “I kept it as a remembrance. A souvenir.”
“Couldn’t whatever problems you had be solved peacefully?”
The knights kept silent.
“Right,” Elk said, looking at his watch. “Be at the principal’s office in ten minutes. We’ll talk.”
He walked out.
“Hey, what’s that?” Humpback said and touched Grasshopper’s shoulder.
Elephant, sitting on the blanket, was surrounded by pins forming a colorful mosaic.
“Here! Look at this one. Pretty, huh?” Siamese implored, bringing the pins one by one closer to Elephant’s wet face. “Just look at it . . .”
Siamese’s contribution to the wall consisted of a stork and a crocodile. The stork was standing on one leg and therefore occupied very little space, while the crocodile was apparently flying, splayed above the wolf and the owl. Elephant worked for a long time, and when he finished painting there was a flower in the corner, looking very much like an inkblot.
Stuffagers threw the pot with the broken plant out into the hallway. The only thing belonging to Siamese that they didn’t manage to bring over. Siamese found it on their way back from the canteen, picked it up and tried to revive it, but it withered anyway, so they had to bury it in the yard in an old shoebox.
Everyone was quietly preparing for the next fight. Stinker mended the umbrella. Siamese grew out their nails. Magician whittled himself a cane. Every night they had a war council. The time spent in the canteen was taken up by threatening stares and scary faces. Then they grew tired of all that.
