The Magnificent 12 by Michael Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

and—
    And then there was a bunch of screaming as kids noticed. Some of that screaming came from Jennifer Schwarz, but pretty soon everyone—regardless of gender, race, creed, or national origin—was screaming.
    It certainly did attract the attention of the Tong Elves and the Skirrit.
    The golem bolted for the exit. But he was unable to move quickly due to the fact that he was dragging fourteen feet of tongue using legs now no bigger than turkey drumsticks.
    â€œOooookay,” Camaro said, somewhat discouraged. “Let’s get ’em!”
    She charged at the Tong Elves, who were charging at the golem, who was dragging his tongue out into the common area outside the all-purpose room. Most of her bullies followed her, but none was exactly leading the charge.
    So Camaro plowed into the back of a Tong Elf. It was like hitting a statue. Tong Elves are tough. Camaro couldn’t know this—indeed, few people do—but Tong Elves are raised from the age of three in deep underground caves 26 where they are required to carve their own living space out of solid bedrock using nothing but a lighter and a hatchet. Their only drink is the condensation on cave walls, and they scrape the lichen from rocks with their specially adapted lower teeth. The lederhosen they wear are the tanned pelts of bears that they kill and skin in unarmed combat.
    So, they’re tough, the Tong Elves. Even the treasonous ones.
    Camaro literally bounced off the Tong Elf she’d hit. But she landed well and rolled back to her feet.
    The Tong Elf turned wicked eyes on her and reached for the trident dagger that was the specialized weapon of his tong (Live Oak Tong). The weapon had three blades, the center one longer than the other two and serpentine in style.
    â€œYou filthy bag of seething worms!” the Tong Elf snarled.
    â€œWho are you calling a . . . whatever you said?” Camaro demanded.
    The Tong Elf slashed at Camaro and she dodged out of the way, but it was a close call. One of the smaller blades shaved a strand of dark hair from her head.
    â€œWhoa!” Camaro cried.
    â€œI’ll carve you like a Thanksgiving turkey, you vile, hideous, pestilential primate!”
    Camaro had been a bully since second grade, but no one had ever almost killed her. This was a new experience and she didn’t like it. Her eyes darted to the wall, to the red steel-and-glass box that held the fire extinguisher. She leaped, grabbed it, and swung the heavy cylinder blindly just as the Tong Elf stabbed his three-way blade at her.
    The steel cylinder caught the blades and broke one.
    She raised the fire extinguisher and slammed it hard at the Tong Elf’s wrinkled-up apple-doll face.
    Wham!
    The Tong Elf recoiled, staggered back, and Camaro was on him in a flash. She hit the Tong Elf a second, powerful blow and—
    Suddenly she fell to her knees.
    She dropped the fire extinguisher.
    She stared down at the long, glittering steel shaft that extended out of her chest. It was smeared with blood.
    Feeling stupid, she turned to see the Skirrit standing behind her, its insect claw wrapped tightly around the short spear.
    The golem tried to cry out in fear, seeing Camaro fall, but his tongue first had to be raveled back into his mouth, and his body first had to reassume some kind of normal proportions, and only then could he cry, “Camaro!”
    The golem ran to her and knelt beside her as the Skirrit, showing no emotion on its dead-eyed face, pulled the spear from her body.
    â€œGolem . . . ,” Camaro gasped.
    â€œCamaro!” the golem cried.
    Fighting, which had broken out between the foul creatures and the bullies, ended abruptly. It ended with half the bullies unconscious and the rest running for home and trying to come up with stories to explain why they had run in terror from their first real fight.
    â€œGolem,” Camaro said, wheezing through her pain, “they’re going to try