The Middle Child of the Secret of the Lost Gavel

Donnie pounded around the track, sweating and wheezing, his co-ordination completely shot. It was his fourth lap and he wasn’t enjoying this at all.

‘Come on Donnie,’ called Elvis through a megaphone from the other side of the track. He was lounging on a deck-chair beneath a red and white beach umbrella. Beside him was a small table on which was a glass jug of iced tea, with slices of lemon floating in the amber liquid.

‘You can do better than that,’ he called out and lifted a glass of iced tea to his lips, pushed the cocktail umbrella away from the pink straw and sipped slowly, appreciating the blend.

He sighed, relaxed.

Donnie collapsed, his body giving up for the moment. He was picked-up beneath the arms by Marcus and Prime who dragged him over to a rest station. He sprawled on the blanket and they threw buckets of water over him to cool him down.

‘Thanks,’ he murmured, then passed-out

* * *

‘Good news Donnie,’ said Elvis, stepping into the room. ‘You’re Raznou’s replacement.’

‘Shhh,’ said Prime, glancing up disapprovingly sitting in Lotus-position on the floor.

Prime, Donnie and Marcus were meditating. Or rather, Prime and Marcus were; Donnie was fidgeting and wondering why he was in there.

‘You’re in here,’ said Prime in a quiet, measured and relaxed voice, ‘to learn how to calm your body and mind. This is Zen Yoga…’

‘How’s this gonna help him–’

Prime’s eyes snapped open and she gave The King a look: don’t.

Elvis nodded and left the room.

‘Now,’ said Prime, closing her eyes. ‘Repeat after me…’

Donnie tried to calm himself.

‘I am a unique… and interesting… snowflake…’

The others repeated the statement.

‘…Nothing and no-one can hurt me unless I give them that power…’

Again, the statement was repeated.

‘I am calm, relaxed and attuned to the universe…’

* * *