Guinea Dog (12 page)

The cap was made of blue, stretch-fit material, which meant there wasn’t one of those clunky adjustable straps in the back, which was good. The visor was blue, too, and was sturdy and flat, as all great visors should be. The Kap logo—a fat capital
K
—was sewn onto the front of the cap. A smaller one was sewn onto the back.

I glanced at Kai. His mouth was open, but nothing came out. He was overcome by the cap’s supreme amazingness.

“Go ahead, Enz,” Dad said. “Try it on.”

I set the cap on my head and pulled the visor down to eyebrow level, where visors belong. The thing fit like a glove. Dad guided me to the mirror over the couch. I looked like a prince who had just been crowned, but not one of those fancy, old-fashioned princes in tights. More like the Prince of Sports. Like an Olympic gold-medal winner up on a pedestal. I wanted to bow, or do something ceremonial anyway. I stood up straighter, held my shoulders back and my chin up. I curled my lip, made my game face.
Man,
I looked good.

The Sisterhood (minus Nadine), of course, cracked up.