Crusader by Edward Bloor Read Free Book Online

Kristin calls this Karl's "window of opportunity," when you can talk to him for a while like he's normal.
    I said, "It's going okay, Karl. How about you?"
    By way of reply, he handed me a note and commented, "I guess this is for you."
    The note was in Uncle Frank's handwriting. It said,
Roberta, take the Wizard dummy to the trash trailer. Ask our own dummies to help you.
I reread the note, puzzled. Was he trying to be funny?
    Karl eyed me curiously. "I'm not one of those dummies, am I?"
    "No."
    "Good. Good." Karl returned to his magazine, his brow furrowed in concentration.
    When I opened the back door, I saw that the guys had dismantled the Wizard already. The Wizard had been our mallway display dummy for the past three months. We all thought he looked pretty cool, with his star wand and his pointy blue cap, but the Crusader made him look like a garden gnome. Now, Hawg and Ironman had stuffed his various parts into two large garbage bags. I said, "Are you guys ready for the trash trailer?"
    Hawg was sweating from his exertions. He grunted, "Yeah. Hell, it'll be nice goin' someplace cool. Right, Ironman?"
    Ironman grinned. He didn't have to say anything. I knew that he, too, really liked this part of the job. He and Hawg each grabbed a bag. I grabbed a fast-food drink cup that Karl had left behind and led them out the door, across the back parking lot, to the trash trailer.
    The trash trailer is a long rectangular box—ten feet high, ten feet deep, and fifty feet long. It is actually a walk-in refrigerator. The temperature inside is a constant twenty-nine degrees Fahrenheit. All trash from the West End Mall has to be stored in the trash trailer overnight and picked up first thing in the morning. It's the law. Ray Lyons got the law passed shortly after the mall opened and his Century Towers condos were overrun by rats.
    I pulled on the big metal handle and opened the door. Hawg and Ironman pushed past with their bags, eager to get into the cold air. They carried them down to the far end and placed them next to some barrels marked FOOD COURT ONLY. Then Hawg reached up and pulled the string on the overhead lightbulb. I let the door close behind me and followed them down there, laying my cup in the barrel. Then I said, "Come on, guys, it's freezing in here."
    Hawg said, "Well, it's a damn refrigerator, ain't it?"
    "Are you coming?"
    "Naw, we're gonna chill here for a little while. Right, Ironman?"
    I didn't need to look at Ironman to know he agreed. Against my better judgment, I said, "All right. But don't tell Uncle Frank I let you. And don't forget to turn the light out when you leave."
    I left the back door of Arcane unlocked for Hawg and Ironman, something I would never have done if Uncle Frank were
there, and walked up to the front of the arcade. Dad was out in the mallway looking at the Crusader, so I joined him. He pointed at the Crusader's chain-mail collar and asked me, "Are those words there? Is something written on his collar?"
    I looked at it again and answered, "Yeah. We think it means 'two volts' in Latin. He has one of those battery-operated heads. Like the Wizard."
    Dad said, "Cool. People are going to love him. Who do you fight?"
    "I don't know." I called inside, "Karl, has anyone done Crusader yet?"
    Karl looked up from his magazine. "Yeah, I did it this morning. It's awesome. Real kick-ass."
    "Who do you fight against?"
    "I don't know. Some guys with turbans on their heads."
    I said, half serious, to Dad, "We might think about an Arab Policy." He just laughed and walked off toward the food court.
    I looked around the arcade. Not one customer was in there, so I sat down on the Crusader platform to rest. It was shaping up like a bad day, financially speaking. Sundays often are. That's why Uncle Frank usually takes Sundays off. Kristin does, too. Karl, on the other hand, never takes a day off. He comes in every day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year. At least he did for his first two years. Last year