by Ruby Vincent
“Alright, class,” O’Quinn announced. “A few announcements to begin our day.”
The boys quickly settled down.
“First, Career Day will be held next week.” She clasped her hands in front of her shin-length skirt. “People from the community will be coming in to speak with you. Their goal is to tell you more about their jobs and the paths they took to get to where you hope to be.”
She reached behind her and picked up a stack of papers. “This is why I had you do those essays. I wanted you to truly think about where you’re headed.” She held up the papers. “This is a list of attendees. Make note of who is coming and write down a few questions to ask them.”
O’Quinn stepped forward and began passing around the sheets. I took mine and scanned it with interest. My Networking essay detailed how I wanted to major in mathematics and then go on to become a professor. I wanted to teach others to love math the way Mom did with me, but also have the support and funding to do my own research.
The list was broken down by name, field, and which company or organization the attendee worked for. I immediately circled the three working in mathematics.
My pencil froze over a name.
Ryder Shea (Construction) – C.E.O of Shea Industries
Adam’s dad is coming too. I wonder if his other dads...
I found their names right away.
Ezra Lennox (Media) – News Reporter
Jaxon Van Zandt (Music Industry) – Owner/Producer of Interstellar Records
Maverick Beaumont (Technology) – C.E.O of Maverick Technology
All of Adam’s dads were coming. I would have to stop by and say hi.
My eyes drifted down to another name three below Maverick Beaumont.
Dominic Dupre (Finance) – C.E.O of Dupre Financial Holdings
Cameron’s father.
I hesitated for one more second and then circled his name.
“Okay, class.” O’Quinn’s voice dragged my attention away. “As you’ve heard, members of the state board of education will be staying with us this week. What you may not know is the F Wing will be their first port of call.”
Whispers broke out until a look from her quieted the room.
“They will spend part of their time tomorrow observing us,” she continued. “We’ll carry on with class as normal, but the last ten minutes of the block will be spent answering any questions they may have. Understood?”
“Yes, Dr. O’Quinn.”
“Final announcement,” she went on. “There will be a Fall Dance next month held in the wrestling gym. It will be coed.”
A brave soul whistled.
O’Quinn’s head snapped around. “Gary Marsh! Outside now!”
Marsh trudged out, mumbling inaudibly under his breath.
O’Quinn sniffed. “As I was saying, the dance is for both campuses, but unfortunately, not open to every student. Ds and Fs who wish to attend must battle for the privilege.”
“Sounds about right,” Nico mumbled behind me.
“That’s it for now.” Our teacher peeled herself off the desk and moved around to the chalkboard. “Let’s see if you did the reading.”
CLASS PASSED IN A BLUR of textbooks, chalk dust, and stern looks from Dr. O’Quinn. I went up to her desk after the bell sounded for lunch.
“You wanted to speak to me, Dr. O’Quinn?”
“Ah, yes.” She put down the eraser and turned to me with a smile. “It’s about Career Day.”
“Yes?”
“What we do every year is allow a few students to volunteer with the setup and break down of the event. Students enjoy this because it’s five volunteer hours toward graduation and they tend to snag some one-on-one time with the attendees. There are spots for two F students and I would like you to be one of them. What do you say?”
“I would love that,” I replied. I didn’t have to think about it. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Perfect. I’ll let Vice Principal Argyle know.”
I waved goodbye and then ran to catch up with Adam and the guys.
The end of the school day saw me back in front of O’Quinn’s desk waiting for Will Strup and his teacher to arrive. Will was a C and member of the science club. I watched him in other battles and even though he always picked wrestling and tended to win, he favored the same moves. My research also included speaking to Justin and he told me Spanish was Will’s weakest class. It felt a tad wrong to challenge him in a language I was fluent in, but after Bill, I had my first battle with an A and I needed this to be easy.
Only Elites and As could sign up for the Future Leaders Club and I needed into that club. As may not be on the same level as the Elites I battled, but they were still plenty tough to beat.
Wincing, I pressed my fingers to my temples. A dull, persistent ache pounded behind my eyes. If I was honest, the headache cropped up days ago and never really went away.
It’s because of all the late nights, I thought. I just have to get through the week, get into the clubs, then I’ll go home on Friday and pass out for two days.
“Zeke? Are you alright?”
I dropped my hand. “I’m fine, ma’am. It’s only a headache.”
She tutted as she pressed her palm to my forehead. “You’re not warm, but if you’re not feeling well after the battles, I want you to see the nurse. You’ve been looking quite pale lately.”
“Okay, I will.”
The door swung open. Will and his teacher walked in. I took my seat and he claimed the one next to me, shooting me a poisonous glare on the way. My battle sprees had the whole school talking. My wins against the upper classes had their jaws on the floor. My choosing Will as my next opponent had him in a mood. He demanded I take the challenge back four times before I told him to either accept or take his ten points off.
He threw himself down as O’Quinn rattled off the instructions.
The academic test was as easy as I knew it would be. We were given a set of sentences to translate from English to Spanish, then another set to translate from Spanish to English. I was done with twenty minutes to spare. Will took the whole time.
O’Quinn collected the tests and the four of us headed out. My wrestling clothes were beneath my uniform, so I was in and out of the bathroom in minutes, ready to go. Will came out and gave me a baleful look as he stepped onto the mat.
I didn’t understand his attitude. Battles were a part of our life. What made a challenge from me any worse than one from a D?
“You boys know the rules,” Coach Franklin began. His muscles rippled beneath his skintight shirt, making him look more intimidating than he already was. “I want a clean match. Step up. Shake hands.”
Will gripped my hand tighter than necessary. “I know what you’re doing,” he hissed.
I scrunched up my face. “What?”
“It’s not going to work, F,” he went on like I hadn’t spoken. “Your fucking crusade ends today. I’m not losing to you.”
My jaw slackened. Crusade? How did he know?
Coach blew his whistle and we got into position. Will came at me fast at the first opportunity, but I dove out of the way. This was his game plan. He went in hard, coming at his opponent from every angle until they eventually tripped up.
Will lunged at me again and I twisted in a near imitation of a pirouette. It was fitting. Wrestling was like dancing. I got behind him and wrapped my arms around Will’s middle in an embrace and pulled him close. He let out a soft grunt as I swiftly brought him to his knees and laid him out flat on the mat. Coach awarded the first points of the game to me.
Thirty minutes later, I walked out of the gym the winner and Will walked out with his middle fingers in the air. “Fuck you, F!”
“Nice guy,” I muttered.
O’Quinn shook hands with Coach Franklin and then came over to me. “Well done, Zeke. You’ve earned your place in the Science Club. One more battle, and then you’ll get some rest.” She leveled me with the steely-eyed stare she reserved for the rest of my class.
“I mean it. You have class and another battle tomorrow. I want you fresh and ready to go.”
“I will be very fresh, ma’am.”
She led the way to the classroom. Mason Prescott and his teacher were waiting outside the door when we arrived. There was no glare when he met my eyes. His gaze slid away as though I was wholly uninteresting.
We went inside and sat down to another Spanish test. This time we had to read a short passage and answer questions.
“On hot days the temperatures could skyrocket as high as one hundred and... three degrees... on hot days...”
The sentence blurred. I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed them with the tips of my fingers.
Focus, Zela. We’re almost done.
I shook myself and opened my eyes. I wrote the final sentence seconds before the teachers called time.
Back outside I went, but my destination was the basketball courts. Mason loped next to me, hands in his pockets, expression relaxed.
“You look confident.”
I glanced around. “Who? Me?”
The corner of his mouth crooked in a smile. “You think you have this sown up.”
Mason was an attractive guy. In a normal school, he might have been the best looking, but stacked against unnaturally beautiful beings like Cole, Michael, Landon, Derek, and Adam, he bordered on average. Everything except for the soft, sweet-smelling mop of curls on his head. It was his best feature, and it was clear he took good care of it.
“I think I could curl up in your hair and take a nap right now,” I replied, “but that’s about it.”
He barked a laugh. “Everyone says you’re a weird guy.”
“Do they?”
“Yep. You sneak around with your little notebook, analyze our weaknesses, and use it to give yourself a leg up in battles.”
I shrugged. O’Quinn and Mr. Howard walked ahead of us, oblivious to our conversation. “It’s not against the rules. If anything, Principal Whittaker would pat me on the back and congratulate me.”
“It’s not against the rules,” he agreed. “It’s obvious you never belonged in the F Class and you’re coming for what should be yours. I respect that. But...” His voice became frosty. “Passing it on to your F friends so they can cheat their way onto teams and take spots that don’t belong to them is not right.”
I stopped dead. “What are you talking about? I didn’t help anyone cheat.”
He spun around and faced me. The friendly smile was nowhere to be found. “We’ve seen you with the other Fucks, telling them what to do to win. That’s not how it works around here. If they want something, they battle for it.”
The flames of irritation stoked by weariness surged through my body. “That’s not how it works around here? Are you kidding me? All the classes stick together, back each other up, and freeze the others out. You think I haven’t noticed that my table is the only one in the entire cafeteria with a mix of people from all Classes.
“You work together. You practice together. You study together. And if you discovered a weakness in me, you wouldn’t waste a minute in running your mouth to your friends.” I lurched forward and got in his face. “Don’t tell me how it works around here, Prescott. I know exactly how it works.”
We glared at each other, nostrils flaring, chest heaving, until a shout tore my eyes away.
“Zeke! What’s going on?”
“Nothing, ma’am. We’re coming.” I sidestepped him and jogged the rest of the way to the gym. Coach waited for us in the middle of the shining, maple floors.
“Welcome, gentlemen. Let’s get started.”
I changed in the bathroom. The stalls were a tight fit. I leaned against the cool plastic as I wiggled into my gym shorts. I pulled my pants over my waist and wobbled. The dark blue barriers of the stall blurred and the world tilted.
Bang!
I cried out as my head smacked into the door. It wasn’t the world tilting, it was me. Righting myself, I went out, splashed some cold water on my face, and came out to find Mason and Coach ready to go.
My vision centered on the ball and only the ball. I needed to win, get into the club, and make them pay.
Franklin tossed the ball up and we leaped. Mason soared over my head and caught it effortlessly. He smacked down and raced across the court before I could stop blinking. I never deluded myself into thinking this battle would be easier... and yet it was still harder than I thought.
Mason zipped up and down the court, sinking shot after shot. I was right on his heels—so close I breathed in his curious mix of sweat and cinnamon body spray. He jumped, hands poised to throw the ball, and I raced around him and knocked it out of the air.
I came down hard and my ankle gave out. Stumbling, I caught myself before I could hit the floor and dove for the ball. Then I was off.
Mason’s shoes squeaked on the floor behind me. I skidded to a stop in front of my hoop and threw as his hand swiped across my vision.
“Wait for me!”
The mausoleum-white walls faded in a haze. People streamed around me, talking, laughing, carrying heavy shopping bags that hit me as I shoved through the crowd.
“It’s me! Don’t leave me!”
Pain exploded in my nose. A scream ripped from my throat and this time I couldn’t stop my descent. I fell to the court in a chorus of whistles, shouts, and thundering footsteps. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was a bright red sign: “Holiday at the Chesterfield Mall.”
“MR. MANNING? MR. MANNING, can you hear me? Mr. Manning?”
I cracked my eyes open and instantly regretted it. The harsh overhead lighting was a spike through my aching head.
I groaned. Not just my head. Everything aches.
“What... happened?” I slurred.
“What happened is the ball bounced off the hoop and hit you in the face,” came a dry voice. “Why the hell didn’t you move?”
“Quiet, Mr. Prescott,” snapped O’Quinn. “I’m sure you have work to attend to. Off you go.”
“O-off?” I got my hands under me and tried to sit up. Arms immediately came around me to help.
It took a minute for me to focus through the cloud of pain. My hands shook badly, visibly, and the thought came to me that I should hide them before someone noticed but the mere act of closing my fists felt impossible. My fingers twitched and I did not know if it was from the effort or the adrenaline-laced fear that rattled my bones.
It happened again. I was there. At the mall.
“Mr. Manning? Mr. Manning, are you alright?”
Why? Why again? I haven’t been thinking about it. I haven’t heard the voices.
I also haven’t been sleeping, another voice countered. I’ve been a wreck and... it finally caught up to me.
My stomach heaved at the thought. No, this could not be my punishment. I couldn’t do this anymore. What would it take to make that day disappear from my memory?
“Mr. Manning?”
Slowly, I was able to make out Coach Singh, Dr. O’Quinn, and Mason and his teacher as they walked away. It jerked me back to reality.
“Wait,” I called. “Where are you going? What about the battle?”
“The battle is over for you, son.” Coach Singh pointed. “Look at yourself.”
I glanced down and almost had a heart attack. Red stained my shirt like a crime scene. I touched my fingers to my chin and it came away sticky with blood.
“I’m pretty sure it’s broken,” Singh continued. “We can’t hold a battle when a student is injured.”
“But...” I tried to think through the pain. “Who won?”
Coach shook his head. “No one won. It’s called off. We’ll have to reschedule the battle.”
“But we can’t,” I cried. “The deadline to get into the Future Leaders Club is this week.”
“You can worry about that later,” said Dr. O’Quinn. “What you will do now is relax, wait for the nurse, and then go to your dorm to rest. You have my permission to turn your homework in a day late,
but I want you taking it easy tonight. Do you understand me?”
Even as a denial rose to my lips, I knew there was no point fighting it. Mason was gone. The battle was off.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said instead.
The nurse arrived minutes after they moved me to the bleachers. She clucked and tutted as she checked me out and then helped me to her office to load me up with painkillers and splint my nose.
People stared openmouthed in the halls as I left and headed for the dorms. I walked out of the main building and turned instead of going straight. My feet carried me six flights of stairs to the Elite floor.
Peeking through the window, I spotted a straggler in the hallway. When he disappeared into his room, I took my chance and hurried to Derek’s door.
Knock. Knock.
“What the fuck do you want?! I’m trying to read!”
The sound of Derek’s dulcet tones brought a smile to my face. I knocked again.
“Dammit, Hunter! Get off my teat!”
I stifled a giggle as I knocked one more time.
A string of foul curses accompanied the sounds of stomps. The door flew open, letting out a wave of pine air freshener and Derek.
“I said go...” Derek trailed off as he took me in.
I waved. “Hey. Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got an unexpectedly free afternoon and its been a while since we hung out. Why don’t we—”
“Who did this to you?”
The sentence fell from his tongue in such a threateningly low hiss, it made me back up a step. I never heard Derek speak in that tone before.
“What? Derek, no—”
“It was that shit Mason.” The muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his teeth hard enough to crack. “He’s always pulling something dirty, catching players with his elbow, and tripping them up on the court.” He surged out the door. “When I get my hands on him, I’ll—!”
“No!” I grabbed him and got dragged along a few feet. “He didn’t do this, Derek. He didn’t touch me at all. I did it to myself.”
He spun on me, mouth gaping. “What does that mean? Why?”
“It wasn’t on purpose.” I dropped my arm and made for his room. By his footsteps, I knew he was following. “The ball bounced back and hit me in the face.”
