CJ shot me a look that said much, all without words. Fenice and one of her Oregon jousters had joined us, sitting on the row below, offering commentary on all the jousters—all but Farrell’s team members. I felt obliged to fill in the gaps of their knowledge, whether or not they wanted them filled.
“Allen told me his dad used to joust with Farrell, but he’s retired.”
“Ah,” Fenice said.
“Allen has been jousting since he was a kid.”
“Has he?” Gary, Fenice’s friend, said in a very noncommittal voice.
“Yup.” I waited for a count of three, then added, “His favorite color is blue, he wears a size-eleven shoe, and was a virgin until he was nineteen.”
CJ glared at me for a second. I grinned back at her, then directed my attention to the arena as Bos and Allen lined up, both waiting for their
