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Then I hear his cry.

I pull my shield away.

I see Thad drop to the ground in his gladiator outfit, his arms and legs splayed, blood spurting from beneath his thin chest plate, down his torso, into the sand.

—Lynie, he says, barely pushing my name from his lips.

I get his chest plate off and press my hands over the wound.

Sheryl, the nanny, is running toward us now, as if she could still catch him in time to prevent what’s happened.

Julie and Lloyd are running into the arena behind her.

I keep telling Thad he’s going to be all right.

Uber shouts for the medics, the ambulance.

Julie tears a swath of cloth from her dress and kneels next to me, pressing the cloth against his chest.

—I told her not to bring him! I scream at Julie, through my tears.

I look at Thad’s confused face.

He can’t catch his breath.

I think he’s starting to turn blue.

—You have to hold on, Thaddy, I say, kissing his forehead.

The ambulance pulls up close. They apply a dressing and strap an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. The bed is popped out of the back and they hoist him up.

They tell me to stand back.

—I’M HIS SISTER! I shout.

—You have to stand back so we can save him, a female medic tells me.

Julie pulls at me, saying we’ll follow them over to the hospital.

I watch the ambulance doors shut, the ambulance lights go on. The siren pierces the absolute stillness. I watch it pull out of the stadium.

The nanny is crying. She tells me he wouldn’t stay home, that he got under the train table and kept hitting his head against the wood until he was bleeding, that she didn’t know what else to do.

I tear myself away from Julie and pick up my sword.

With the handle in both fists, I drive the blade into the sand as hard as I can so it penetrates the wood below and stands straight in the air.

—NO MORE! I shout.

Uber throws his shield on the ground and brings his sword over next to mine and drives it into the ground as well.

And the last thing I see as I rush out of the arena is the rain of plastic souvenir swords.

Thousands and thousands of swords as they’re pitched into the arena.

EPILOGUE

I’m crouched outside a hotel room in Harvard Square. I have my tape recorder, and a notebook and pen in case technology fails me. While I think over my questions to Joe Byers, I get a call from Uber telling me he and Thad have arrived at Singing Beach. It’s funny the way he’ll go off with Uber and be perfectly okay with this—they haven’t known each other long. Maybe Uber reminds him of Tommy in some way.

—Make sure Thad doesn’t go in the water above his knees, I say, —unless you’re right there with him. And don’t let him oracle too many strangers.

I include cautions about sunblock and a hat. People recognize Thad everywhere he goes now, and he tires easily because everyone wants a personal reading.

Another inch or two and my sword would have gone through his heart. That’s what I’m trying to live with. Whenever I change his bandages, Thad gives me his manga look, his eyes large and wide and eager to get the tape pulling over with. Predictions trickle from his lips as if this might make it easier to deal with the tug at his chest. I’ve begun to write down as many of them as I can.

I don’t know what it means that Thad’s wound is in the same spot where my avatar had her spear, but I try not to focus on this because it makes me nervous, and then I think I make Thad nervous and the important thing now is to look forward and put our world on solid ground.

I fired Sheryl, the nanny, outside the ER that night. And once Thad was on the mend, I retained an attorney to get my funds from Caesar’s, along with the deed to the house. They claim, since it wasn’t a fight to the death, Uber and I are required to have a rematch. They gave Thad and me an initial sum to live on for a while but nothing close to the contract. My attorney claims that Caesar’s created an unsafe and hostile work environment, and that the amphitheater facilities put my brother at risk since he was able to climb down