Kittinir (Mates of the Mylos #9)

Chapter 1

KITTINIR

“And I just throw it?” I eyed the heavy ball in my hand.

Carl winced. “Yes, but before you try anything, please let me demonstrate.” He picked up the ball he’d brought, stood behind the marked line at the beginning of the lane, looked at the things he’d called pins from over the top of his ball, then lowered his arm and let go of the ball as his arm swung forward.

It wasn’t so much a throw as a guided toss, I realized, as the heavy resin ball rolled down the middle of the polished wood lane and hit the pins, knocking all but two down.

“See? Like that. No hurling it like Jilnar did last week. We don’t want to go smashing the wall above the pins or leave a dent in the lane floor, or anything like that.

We simply want to try to get it to roll down to the pins and knock down as many as we can during our turn, preferably with one throw. ”

“I see. And how many throws do you get?”

“During our turn, two, unless you knock them all down the first time. That’s called a strike and since you knocked them all over, your turn is done.”

It sounded ridiculously easy.

“Ready to try it yourself?” Carl asked me with a smile.

“You need to try to knock down your other two pins,” I reminded him.

“Yep, let me do that now.” He went again, hitting one of the pins. The second one teetered, but remained upright.

“Okay, your turn now,” he said, as the apparatus reset the pins.

He stepped aside, and I moved to take his place.

I tried my best to mimic his stance and movements, and when I was certain I had it, I swung my arm back, then forward, and released the ball.

It hit the lane with a thunk, rolled forward, and then veered off into the channel on the left hand side, missing the pins completely. I stared at it, pursing my lips.

“That happens a lot at first,” Carl said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “Tell you what, wait here a moment, and I’ll go borrow some bumpers. We can use them until you perfect your aim.” he sighed. “Whenever that will be,” he muttered under his breath.

He didn’t wait for an answer or indicate that he realized I’d heard that last remark, instead turning to go get the bumpers.

I was not waiting. Every week for the past six weeks, I’d asked him the same questions and he’d given me the same responses and guidance.

This was a challenge that as a warrior, I was going to face head on.

I went to the ball dispenser and picked up my returned ball.

I tried again, and this time, the ball skidded halfway down the lane before ending up in the right hand channel.

I tried once more, realizing that perhaps I was putting too much force into my swing.

Perhaps it required a more tender touch.

The ball slowly rolled on a drunken path, but did not go into the gutters.

It did, however, stop just as it reached one of the outermost side pins, tapping it as it came to a halt.

The pin fell, taking three more with it.

“Ohhh, much better!” Carl praised me as two bowling alley employees began placing large foam cushions in the gutters. “Thanks, guys!” he said as they finished. They gave him a nod, staring at me curiously as they left.

“Do you feel those are truly necessary?” I asked, indicating the bright green bumpers.

“Only until you get a feel for the ball and improve your aim,” he replied cheerily.

I grunted, knowing he would roll his eyes at me if I insisted we remove them. It was better to simply let my friend get his way for now. I had no doubt in my mind that within the hour, they would be completely superfluous.

“Professor Jeffries?” a young male gasped, approaching.

Carl turned to face the student.

“Yes?”

“Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was pretty sure that was your car out there. The, um, yellow Mini.”

“Okay, and?” he replied much more patiently than I would have.

“Someone’s just smashed the window in it. I think they’ve stolen your radio.”

Carl swore. “Hey, Kit, you okay to practice a bit while I go see what the hell is going on? I’ll need to call the police and my insurance. Goddamit!”

“Go,” I told him. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I won’t. You practice your aim! I want to see you ready to play a game with me next Friday against James and Laurence. Those two assholes think they’re something else, but I know we’ll be able to beat them and then it will be them paying for the pizza and beer!”

I shook my head at him, wondering if perhaps I should put the ball down and go outside with him in a show of solidarity.

But, he’d told me to stay and practice, and his heart was set on us playing and winning a match next week against the two math professors.

I decided to take him at his word and turned my attention back to my practice.

I was going to conquer this lane, and those pins? They were all headed for a fall.