"Dodgeball," Mr. Armstrong shouted. "The sport of kings. The sport of survival. If you get hit, you are out. If you catch it, they are out. Simple physics. Action and reaction."
Alex stood on the baseline. He bounced on his toes.
"Reflexes," Alex whispered. "Calculate the trajectory."
Mark stood next to him. Mark was wearing swimming goggles and a snorkel. He had also taped two pillows to his chest with duct tape.
"I AM THE TANK!" Mark yelled. "HIT ME! I AM SOFT AND SQUISHY!"
"Mark," Alex said. "You cannot run with pillows on your chest. It is not aerodynamic."
"I do not need to run!" Mark said. "I am a fortress! I will absorb the impact!"
Mr. Armstrong blew his whistle.
Chaos erupted.
Balls flew through the air like red meteors.
Alex did not run. He watched.
A ball came at his head. He tilted his neck to the left. The ball missed him by an inch.
A ball came at his knees. He jumped.
He was the Matrix. He was water.
Mark, however, was a magnet.
