Page 134 of Spiced!

The room gaped.

Tyler surveyed his audience.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Ty,” Skyler said.

“I have been vetoed,” Tyler said, “from the public event.” He paused. “This, mon amis, is not the public event.”

“Tyler—” Finn tried to regain control.

“This is a family event,” Tyler said. “And family—” He reached for the belt of the trench coat. “—gets the full performance.”

“Tyler, please stop!” Skyler shouted, a beat too late.

The belt came undone.

The trench coat flew off.

And the room produced a sound that was not quite a scream and not quite a cheer. Mostly, it was a collection of individual noises that had arrived simultaneously from different people from every conceivable direction.

Tyler was indeed wearing the Speedo.

And nothing else.

It was electric blue.

Printed across the front in bold white letters was the word “GOAL.”

“I had it custom made,” Tyler announced over the noise.

“OH MY GOD,” Benji squealed.

“The font,” Erik said, “is bold but appropriate.”

“ERIK, PLEASE,” Skyler said.

Tyler stood in the spotlight, basking in our attention.

Then he turned around.

And the back of the Speedo read, “FIVE HOLE.”

The room went from loud to something that had no name, a human reaction that existed somewhere between hysteria and cardiac arrest. Jacks grabbed Skyler’s arm, Chase grabbed Finn’s, and Benji grabbed the bar because the bar was what was nearest.

“FIVE HOLE,” Benji shrieked, pointing, unable to form a more complete sentence.

“It’s a hockey term,” Tyler said.

“I KNOW WHAT IT IS—”

“It refers to the space between the goalie’s—”

“NOT IN A GAY BAR!” Benji had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I wanted the Speedo to be educational,” Tyler said. “The front is the objective. The back is the method.”

Finn made a sound that had never previously come out of Finn. It sounded like whales humping.