Games Untold (The Inheritance Games #5)

The Time with the Sloth

The Time with the Sloth

D angling upside down off the front of an airplane, two-year-old Xander Hawthorne, who was currently a sloth, had an excellent vantage point for the drama unfolding below. The Cessna to which toddler Xander clung was a new addition to the playroom, but the fact that he and his brothers had been given an actual airplane to play on did not strike Xander as strange in the least.

To be fair, he was two, and he was a sloth. Not much struck him as strange.

Down below, his brothers Jameson and Grayson waged an epic battle—or rather, Super Jameson was in hot pursuit of the Graysonater . Xander, who was not a superhero because he was a sloth, assessed the situation with great interest.

Grayson was bigger than Jameson.

Grayson was faster than Jameson.

Grayson was probably going to win… unless Jameson used his head. That was something their grandfather was always saying. Use your head, boys. And… yes! Jameson was using his head! As a battering ram! Wa-pow! Super Jameson and the Graysonater both went flying.

Xander was fascinated. Innnnnterrresssttttting , he thought, dragging the word out super slowly, so committed was he to being a sloth—a sloth who really hoped that Jameson would do that awesome head thing again.

Down below, the Graysonater recovered quickly. Xander watched, captivated, as his brothers wrestled. Grayson was on top! No, Jameson! No, Grayson! The next thing Xander knew, Grayson had Jameson pinned.

Unable to move his arms or legs, Jameson fell back on a move of last resorts, one that two-year-old Xander knew all too well. “Beware the tongue of doom!” Jameson yelled.

Grayson was mortally offended. “No licking!”

Jameson bent his neck upward. He extended his tongue. He went in for the lick, and the Graysonater reared back. Super Jameson surged and—

“Boys.” With a single word, Tobias Hawthorne brought the battle to a complete and utter standstill.

Jameson’s tongue was still hanging out.

“You’re Hawthornes,” the old man said. “If you’re going to do something—and I do consider wrestling to be something —then do it well. Do it right .”

Grayson and Jameson scrambled to their feet.

Their grandfather raised a brow. “Where is Xander?”

“Not up here!” Xander yelled down. Their grandfather angled his eyes up to the Cessna. “I’m a sloth,” Xander declared loftily. “Look at my toes!”

Billionaire Tobias Hawthorne almost smiled. “They are very nice toes, Xander.” Then the old man turned back to Jameson and Grayson. “Now, you two. Show me how to wrestle with proper form.”

“Oh, c’mon.” A new voice entered the fray. “They’re just playin’.”

Xander, still hanging upside down, beamed at his oldest brother as said oldest brother stepped into the playroom. Nash was Xander’s favorite! Nash was ten! Nash was making a funny face at their grandfather!

The old man looked from Nash to Jameson and Grayson. “Boys,” he said to the younger two, “I believe your brother has just volunteered.”

For what? Xander wondered.

Down below, Jameson grinned. Grayson took one step forward. And suddenly, Xander understood: Nash had volunteered to wrestle !

Super Jameson and the Graysonater were teaming up against Doctor Nashtopus.

Swinging himself back and forth on the nose of the Cessna, Xander contemplated the universe. Perhaps… perhaps he was not a sloth anymore? Perhaps he was a boy? A boy who could play wrestle, too?

“Watch your stance, Grayson,” their grandfather called out. “Jamie, you’re advertising your next move. Eyes on your target, both of you.” Xander barely heard the string of corrections his billionaire grandfather offered his brothers. He was too busy being sneaky.

Sneaky.

Sneaky.

Sneaky.

Grayson went low. Nash absorbed the hit. Jameson twisted and threw his weight forward. Nash sidestepped. Grayson surged and—

Wa-pow! Xander used his head! Grayson fell backward. Xander landed on his chest, then bounced. “That was fun! Can we do it again? And again? And again?”

“Definitely,” Jameson told him with a wicked little smile.

“No,” Grayson said, removing the bouncing toddler from his chest.

The old man really did smile this time. “Let that be a lesson to you, boys,” he told the older three. “Never take your eyes off the sloth.”