“Scarlett can’t be blamed,” Mrs. Amberson lied. “She genuinely had no idea. Spencer told me privately, client to agent. It’s just a little show for the fans.”
“Ten-oh-two,” Scarlett said.
There was a murmur, and Spencer appeared out of nowhere, breaking through the crowd and running up the steps. The faithful were ready with the doughnuts, and they came in a steady volley. But Spencer was moving fast and missed them all. They fell against the courthouse steps and exploded into chunks and blotches of jam. A few people looked like they were going to run after him, but no one moved.
“People of New York!” he called, once he made it halfway up the steps. “Did you all come out to see me tonight?”
A chorus of hisses and boos and weird cheers.
“I know what you people want,” he went on. “I know you’re all upset about that cop. So, tonight, I’m going to…”
Eric must have been hiding behind one of the large Grecian pillars at the top of the steps. He came barreling from behind Spencer and jumped on his back. The crowd roared in approval. The fight began in earnest. The beat-down was spectacularly choreographed—they used everything they had. Body slams, punches, flips. But unlike normal, Spencer just took most of the blows, getting up again and again to suffer.
Scarlett’s mom was wincing and shielding her eyes partially with her hand.
“I know he knows what he’s doing,” she said to herself. “I know he does.”
The police moved closer and talked among themselves and into walkie-talkies, but they were smiling and seemed willing to let this go on a little bit longer, as long as everyone stayed where they were. One man started to step forward, wanting to join Eric, but he was cautioned back. Eric took Spencer by the collar, pinned him face-first up against one of the grand Grecian columns, and started repeatedly slamming his head. Spencer broke away, acting woozy. At the top of the steps, he wavered for a moment, looked out over the crowd…and tumbled, taking at least a half dozen of the big stone steps or more, in the exact move that Scarlett had seen him do in the basement. The one he said was so very idiotic and dangerous.
“Oh my God!” Lola yelped. “I hate it when he does that! He had better not be dead.”
Eric threw up his arms in triumph. He did a victory lap up and down. Scarlett was surprised to see Laertes and Hamlet hurry out of the crowd. They must have been called in to help as well. They rushed to where Spencer was sprawled and threw a sheet over him and picked him up, his body drooping in their grasp. The crowd parted as they brought him down the stairs, a few people cheerfully pitching the last of the doughnuts at the sheet. One person right next to the Martins had his arm cocked back and was ready to let fly, when Scarlett’s mom stepped in front of him.
“That’s my son under there,” she said calmly. “You weren’t planning on throwing that at my son, right?”
Eric ran down the steps and started high-fiving the crowd. When he ran past the Martins, he slowed just a bit to acknowledge them, then quickly sprinted away. Lola and her dad were speculating on Spencer’s possible injuries. From the way her dad was imitating some of the body blows, Scarlett got the feeling that he had thoroughly enjoyed what he’d just seen.
“You know you’re grounded,” Scarlett’s mom said quietly. “Right? Because I know that you did this.”
“Yeah,” Scarlett said. “I know. How long?”
“Let me think about it,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m going to let any of you out of the house ever again.”
There was no particular anger in her voice. She almost sounded like she was congratulating Scarlett on a job well done.
“He’s meeting us around the corner,” Scarlett said. “Can I just have five minutes? That’s, um, you know. Max. From school. He just came down to ask me something about Bio and…”
She looked toward Max, who was still being grilled by Marlene.
“I’m Powerkid of the Year,” she heard Marlene say.
“I have no idea what that is,” he replied.
“Five,” her mother said. “Not six. Five. I’m timing you. I need that much time to kill your brother anyway.”
Mrs. Amberson guided the Martins off, throwing Scarlett a knowing glance over her shoulder as she left. This act of being left behind so publicly made Scarlett instantly self-conscious. Max must have felt the same way. He started playing with the strings of his hood, tightening it around his face until he could hardly be seen, then grabbing it and loosening it again. She let him do this a few times before she spoke.
“Marlene likes you,” Scarlett said.
“Yeah. I’m thinking about asking her out. You cool with that?”
“Be my guest,” Scarlett said. “She’ll eat you alive.”
Another silence. Another minute ticked away. Scarlett struggled to find some other remark, and had just about gotten one together, when she heard a familiar voice calling her.
“Hey!”