Page 23 of Caveman Alien's Touch

Unin’iz clearly can. He’s fast, and he knocks down many targets before the drum’s quickboom-boom-boomsounds over the field.

“Nineteen!” Sarker’ox announces. “Nineteen targets in the time allowed.”

The crowd cheers, but I only have ears for a thin little voice that stands out.

“Noker!”

I spin around. And there’s Bronwen, standing with her friends and waving me closer.

I jog over. “I didn’t think you wanted to watch!”

She smiles up at me, her face flushed. “I had to finish this. It’s for you.” She holds out a folded-up bundle of fabric. I take hold of it and unfold it. It’s a pair of pants, a type of garment that some tribesmen sometimes use and which Bronwen herself is wearing right now.

“How wonderful,” I manage, not sure what to do about this.

“They shorts,” Bronwen tells me. “Try them on, if you want.”

“Now?”

“If you want.”

9

- Bronwen-

I’m not surprised that he’s confused. I’m also confused about all these impulsive ideas I’m having about him.

Noker turns the shorts over in his hands, finding what’s the front and what’s the back. He pulls them on under his loincloth.

I tug on the old, worn garment. “Take this off, maybe?”

He undoes the belt and slides the strap off his shoulder so the loincloth falls. Now he’s wearing only the shorts I made for him from the fine, brown fabric Bryar has given us. They’re a kind of primitive cargo shorts, because I know he likes to bring stuff with him. He looks indecently good in them, his giant muscles stretching them in a way that makes my eyes widen.

“Are too tight?” I ask.

He walks a couple of steps back and forth. If anything, from the rear he looks even better.

“They feel good,” he reports.

“They will help run faster,” I assure him as I help adjust them and fasten the drawstring. I’ve been very careful about not making the shorts too confining or too tight to run in, and it looks okay. “On Earth, warriors wear those to run when in a game. Thanks for saving me from irox, Noker. Now win the contest.”

He returns my smile, looking confident and strong. I even think his back is straighter now.

He takes up his place by the start and adjusts the grip on his spear. His thighs flex like crazy. The pots are ready, and the drummer boy lifts his drumstick.

Boom!

He sprints off, sending dirt and debris flying from the acceleration.

“He’s a freakingmissile!” Piper exclaims. “Look at him go!”

“I think those shorts must be magical,” Alba says in wonder. “I never saw anyone run so fast.”

Noker reaches the first target and hits it with the side of the spearhead. When it hits the ground, he’s halfway to the next one.

“My dad used to play tennis,” I tell the girls, my voice shaky with excitement. “He said that whenever he got a new piece of equipment, like shoes or a racquet, his game would always improve and he would win the first match, even against players that usually beat him. But after that, he returned to his usual level. It was like the new item made him more confident. I thought, maybe it’s true for penk, too.”

“Applied psychology,” Alba says with satisfaction. “I think you and your dad are on to something.”

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