Project X-Calibur Read Online Free PDF Page B

edge of a rising column, legs flailing, before finally pulling himself up to safety. They all turned to glare up at me.
    â€œSorry,” I winced with an apologetic little wave. I turned to the kid. “Haven’t you ever heard of regular elevators?” I hissed.
    He shrugged. “Live and learn.” He pushed open the door in front of us.
    I looked in and saw an Asian kid with spiky hair. He stood shirtless, his legs bent and his arms out as he swayed side to side.
Was he surfing?
But there was no board, or much of anything else, around him except for a few chairs and a couple of white curtain dividers.
    I hesitated. This place was a little nuts.
    â€œThere are only friends here, Benjamin. No enemies,” the kid who brought me here coaxed.
    I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.
    â€œSee you soon!” Suddenly, the kid was gone, and the door was replaced by wall.
    When the Asian kid saw me, he stopped “surfing” and jogged over.
    â€œWhat up? I’m Kwan!” He looked my age, lean, but not skinny, and really tan. He was about my height, but he was definitely more athletic than me.
    â€œYou don’t have an accent,” I noted.
    â€œI’m Korean American. Emphasis on
American.
” He stood tall, chest out.
    â€œNo, I mean you don’t have an English accent.”
    â€œSo what’s your name?” The words came rapid-fire. This kid had energy to spare.
    â€œBen. Ben Stone.” I held out a hand, and Kwan shook it with both of his.
    â€œWhere ya from, Ben Stone?”
    â€œTexas—” I barely answered before Kwan shouted over his shoulder. “Hey, Big Guy, another American! Texas this time!”
    Another kid stepped out from behind one of the white curtains. He was also my age, with a puffy baby face and a buzz cut, but he was at least a foot taller than me and Kwan, and big. Not muscular, just bulky, like a hairless bear.
    â€œTyler’s from Florida,” Kwan chirped. “Check this out—he wrestles
gators.
”
    â€œAnd crocs. Don’t forget the crocs,” Tyler said with a calm smile. Even though he was a foot taller than me, his presence was somehow less in-your-face than Kwan’s.
    â€œBut no croc or gator is a match for you, right?” Kwan slapped Tyler on the back. Hard. He had guts, that’s for sure.
    Tyler paid him little mind. “The tourists pay to see me win,” he shrugged. “I give them what they want.”
    â€œWhat’s your deal, anyway?” Kwan asked me.
    I was lost. “My deal?”
    â€œYeah. What do you
do
? Like, I’ve won more surfing championships than anybody else on the planet under eighteen years old. I’ve been on the cover of
Sports Illustrated Kids
twice. And you already know what he does.” He nodded toward Tyler. “Ten million hits on YouTube!”
    Kwan snapped his fingers on both hands and pointed at me. “So what do you do again?”
    â€œWell, I go to school,” I fidgeted. “And I work on cars sometimes.”
    They stared back at me.
    â€œMostly oil changes. I charge fifteen to twenty dollars, depending on the car.” I was kinda proud of that last part.
    â€œSo you
race
the cars?” Kwan prodded.
    â€œNo. I don’t have a driver’s license.”
    â€œHmm,” Kwan managed. Tyler frowned like someone had just farted.
    â€œBenjamin?” Another door appeared at the other end of the room, and a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat stuck her head in. She looked dignified and well put together, but her eyes were narrowed and her mouth was puckered up like she had tasted something sour. “Are you ready for your physical?” she asked, and I realized that her puckered expression had nothing to do with me; she looked like that all the time.
    I nervously glanced at Kwan. He grinned. “Don’t sweat it, Earnhardt. We already did it. Piece of cake.”
    â€œEarnhardt? I told