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she chanted:
    RAH! RAH! SIS BOOM BAH!
    KICK ’EM IN THEIR NUTS!
    PUNCH ’EM IN THEIR GUTS!
    SLICE ’EM, DICE ’EM,
    FILLET ’EM AND PUREE ’EM!
    GO-OOOOO, TEAM! GO-OOOOO, TEAM!
    â€œWell, what do you think?” she demanded, beaming a smile at Valentine and Clarisse. She shook out her pom-poms, and a few stray strips of colored paper drifted down onto the remaining Danish. “That’s the new Slate softball-team cheer,” she explained. She draped the pom-poms over the back of one chair and pulled up another to the table.
    â€œIt certainly gets the message across,” Valentine ventured after a moment.
    Instead of sitting down, Niobe rushed back to the open door. Stepping onto the outer landing for a moment, she returned carrying a folded tabloid-sized newspaper and a small wooden box. The box was gray and red with a brass handle screwed into the top. “Newt and I worked out that cheer last night. We practiced it all night long.” She closed the door and crossed to the table, placing the paper and box down before she sat.
    â€œYour neighbors must have been delighted,” Clarisse remarked.
    â€œThey’re afraid of me,” Niobe returned, shrugging. She leaned across the table and peered closely at Clarisse. “You look just terrible.”
    As if taking that as a cue, Valentine got up quickly and busied himself with getting coffee and a plate for Niobe.
    â€œI worked a double again yesterday so that this one”—she cocked a thumb in Valentine’s direction—“could go out on a hot date.”
    â€œWas it busy last night?” Niobe asked sympathetically.
    â€œIt was a nightmare,” Clarisse said huskily. “I jammed the tape machine and ruined Sean’s new tape. Seven cases of empty beer bottles fell on top of me. A pair of lovers barricaded themselves in the ladies’ room and had a violent breakup— for an hour and a half—at the top of their lungs, until Sean finally got the door off the hinges and threw them out. At a quarter to two, when I was dragging the trash out to the side of the building, a bum in the playground spilled Sterno all over himself and caught on fire. He was wearing sixteen layers of clothing, so the fire department got there before the fire got down to his skin. Sean, of course, invited the firemen inside for coffee, which I ended up making, because Sean was too busy trying to pick up one of the firemen who was going off duty. He succeeded, so I had to clean up all by myself. I didn’t get to bed till after four o’clock.”
    â€œLittle annoyances come with the territory,” Valentine said loftily.
    Niobe delicately wiped away crumbs from her mouth. “Wait’ll you work a full moon,” she said.
    Clarisse made a little hissing noise. “I should know better than to expect sympathy from either of you.”
    â€œHow do you like my outfit?” Niobe broke in. “Newt designed it, and I sewed what I couldn’t buy.”
    â€œIt’s very…eye-catching,” Clarisse said diplomatically.
    Niobe narrowed her slanted eyes. “You hate it! I can tell by your tone!”
    â€œI don’t hate it, Niobe. It’s…well—”
    â€œWhat? What?”
    â€œSnug,” Clarisse finished. “I mean, with all the jumping up and down you’ll be doing, it doesn’t look as if it’s going to be comfortable.”
    â€œI like my clothes to fit,” said Niobe defensively. “The worst feeling in the world is having material slipping and sliding all over my body. Gives me the willies. I like to know that something’s not going to fall off while I’m walking down the street.”
    During this, Valentine sat down again and peered speculatively at the gray-and-red box Niobe had brought in with her. It was the size of a small shoe box, with ornate brass wirework covering three inch-square openings on either side. A