" I was arguing with Robbie. I should know better. The only time I ever won was on the baseball field, and we weren't on the field now. "Why?" I had a chance to check out the judges. The other song wasn't gonna work." So? It's not like we care about winning. It's just one of the requirements for vocals."Robbie gave me one of her looks. The kind you'd give your grandmother with Alzheimer's who couldn't remember her own name. "It's always about winning."I sighed. "Let's see the music."The year was winding down. Two days left of school, and Tuesday was just a half-day.Baseball was done, at least school baseball. There was still Babe Ruth League to look forward to. The team had done pretty good. We went twelve and one, losing our last game because the damn shortstop, who shall remain nameless, bobbled the ball in extra innings and let the runner from Wingate score.Mr. Hallowell turned out to be a pretty good student. He listened when I explained why I did certain things and asked. ‘Oh Max, I wish you could see what you look like right now,’ she said her voice still husky. ‘And how’s that?’ Max asked defiantly. ‘Pathetic,’ she said and pulled a gun from her back, pointing at Max. She giggled and her five men around the Mako gave a short but hearty chuckle. Max rolled his eyes. He shifted his gaze to Gillian. She straightened her aim on him a little. ‘Come on down, Maxy, we can’t detain you while you’re up there, at least not without hurting you.’ Grudgingly Max jumped down and three of Gillian’s men were around him instantly. Two of them produced guns of their own while a third began patting Max down. The gunmen were positioned so that if they shot and missed, the bullets would sink into the Mako, a fact that was not lost on Max. ‘Such well trained little lap dogs,’ Max mumbled just loud enough for his temptress to hear. The guard patting Max down stopped for a second and punched him in the face. Max took the blow, his head jerking violently to the side, but.
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