by Kobe Bryant
“All right,” Saana said at the front of the Granology classroom, “let’s get going with our books.”
But before she could begin the class, a loud blast of horns shook the campus. It went on for five full minutes, playing the Ecrof fight song over and over. The entire class looked at one another, confused by the disruption. When the music fell silent, a dark shape appeared in the doorway, casting a long shadow into the room. It took a moment for Pretia to realize that it was her uncle, Janos.
“Recruits,” he said, stepping into the room and to the front of the class. “That noise represents one of our proudest Ecrof moments. Just now the Epic Elite Squad departed to the far side of the island for intensive training. They will remain there until close to the end of term. As you know, these athletes are the ones who have already represented their houses in the Epic Games, and a few others who have shown exceptional promise.”
Adira’s hand shot into the air. “How can we get classified Epic Elite?”
“You will all get your chance in our yearly tryout,” Janos said, “which is exactly why I’m here. This tryout will be held in just over a month—”
Before he could finish, Adira’s hand was back in the air. “But what are we trying out for if the team has already been selected?”
“Well,” Janos said, an irritated flicker in his eye, “you are trying out for the chance to join next year. And perhaps even this year, if you show exceptional ability.”
Now Vera’s hand was in the air. She didn’t wait for Janos to call on her. “Did my brother go?”
For a moment, the Head Trainer looked confused.
“Did my brother go with the squad?”
“Yes,” Janos said. “Yes, of course. He’s always on the squad.”
“But wasn’t he in the TheraCenter?” Vera asked.
“He was. But he isn’t anymore. Both he and Iskander Dracos left directly from the TheraCenter for secret training.”
“I didn’t see him go,” Vera said.
“There’s a reason it’s called secret training,” Janos replied.
“Is he okay?” Vera persisted.
“He’s better than okay,” Janos said. “He’s leading the squad. As always.”
Vera crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to make Epic Elite,” she said, “and I’m going to join him.”
“Very well,” Janos said gravely. “Then you will have your work cut out for you in the coming weeks.”
“And beat him,” Vera added.
Janos gave her a half smile. “Very well, Vera. Only two recruits have ever made the squad before.”
“So that means it can be done,” Vera said.
“I admire your spirit, Vera Renovo, in the face of everything,” Janos said, fixing her with a dark stare. Then he turned to the rest of the class. “So, you all have been warned. You’ll be competing against your classmates and the rest of the school to make the squad. My suggestion is to up your dedication to training. Practice as much as you can. Never rest. And never take anything for granted.”
Adira’s hand shot up once more.
“Yes, Adira,” Janos said, a tense note in his voice.
“You didn’t tell us what the event is.”
“My apologies,” Janos said. “Long jump.” And with that, he strode out of the room.
“Long jump,” Rovi whispered to Pretia. “Seems pretty unfair to the younger students with shorter legs.”
Pretia chose not to reply. She didn’t want to get into another tiff with Rovi about her uncle’s fairness.
“All right, all right,” Saana said, trying to settle the class once more. “I think that today is a good day for quiet contemplation of your books. Now, who would like to think of a question?”
Castor’s hand shot into the air. “I can.”
“Careful, Mr. Praxis,” Saana cautioned. “I won’t have any bullying questions in my class.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Castor said. “I think we should ask, What is the hardest challenge I will face this year?”
Virgil raised his hand. “Can’t we ask something less serious?”
“Are you scared?” Castor asked.
“Of course not,” Virgil replied.
“That is a rather big question,” Saana said, considering.
“I thought we were at Ecrof to challenge ourselves,” Castor said.
Pretia recognized the simpering tone in his voice from a hundred family occasions where she’d had to endure him kissing up to their relatives.
“Well, if that’s how you see it, Mr. Praxis, I hope you rise to the challenge with a profound interpretation,” Saana said. Then she clapped her elegant hands together. “Everyone, open your books.” She wrote Castor’s question on the board. “Now, don’t rush into knowledge. Take your time.”
There was the sound of rustling as the recruits began to leaf through their Grana Books. Pretia closed her eyes and flipped through the pages until one just felt right. She couldn’t say why it did, why she stopped flipping when she did, only that she knew she had come to the right page.
She’d tried different methods before. She’d tried opening the book at random and sticking with whatever picture she’d come to. That’s how many of the Realist kids did it. Bam. Open. There’s your page. This didn’t work for Pretia. It seemed too slapdash, too reliant on luck instead of focus. She’d also tried selecting her pages like Adira and Virgil and the other Dreamers, carefully turning through the book, page by page, slowly, slowly, looking at everything until something spoke to her. But this intense concentration took too much effort and made the practice of learning anything from the Grana Book seem unnatural. Deliberately selecting a page seemed to be forcing her into an interpretation instead of letting one come naturally.
Pretia had her thumb wedged in her book. She could feel that same eager electricity coursing through her body as it had the few times she’d let her grana loose on the playing field. She was about to open the book and see what page she’d chosen as an answer to Castor’s question about the hardest challenge she would face when a cry erupted in the silent Granology classroom. The cry was followed by a crash.
Pretia looked up and saw Leo standing up at his desk. His mouth was wide open in shock. And his Grana Book was now lying on the opposite side of the room. Had he . . . thrown it?
“Leo,” Saana said, her quiet voice filled with concern. “What did you see?”
Leo clapped a hand over his mouth and was shaking his head.
“There’s no need to fear your book,” Saana said. “It’s not a fortune-teller or a crystal ball. As I’ve told you before, there is good and bad in every image.”
Leo was still shaking his head.
“Something has clearly spoken to you,” Saana continued, now sounding impressed more than concerned. “Something powerful.”
Adira and Virgil exchanged annoyed looks that something strong hadn’t spoken to them.
“I—I—I . . .” Leo stammered.
“Trust yourself,” Saana urged. “Trust your book.”
“I—I—I . . .” Leo stammered again. Then he took a deep breath. “I saw my grana vanishing.”
For a moment, the room fell into an even deeper silence than usual.
Saana looked confused. Then she brushed her confusion off with a smile. “All right, Leo. That certainly qualifies as a strong and interesting interpretation. Can you take us through it?”
Timidly, Leo walked to the front of the room. He put his book facedown on the projector so the image he’d chosen could be seen by the rest of the class. The picture was bright and sunny, which took Pretia by surprise. The page was divided in half by a vertical river. On one shore was a bunch of flowers—dandelions. The opposite shore was empty except for the dry, baked earth common to much of Epoca.
“If that tells you your grana’s
disappearing,” Nassos said, “I can’t wait to see what you make of something that’s really scary.”
“I didn’t say the picture was scary,” Leo said in a small voice. “I just said how I interpreted it.”
“And how do you see a picture of flowers and water and sunshine as meaning that your grana vanishes?” Adira asked in a concerned voice.
Leo looked at her, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words.
“It’s all right,” Saana said. “There are no wrong interpretations. An interpretation can be something you feel or fear. It’s not necessarily something that is actually going to happen. For instance, what you are sensing could be a moment in the future when you might perform terribly and it might feel to you as if your grana is gone, even though that’s not what’s really happening.”
A tidal wave of relief seemed to crash over Leo’s face. And he started to speak. “Well, okay,” he said. “I’m guessing this picture represents Epic Elite trials. See those flowers on the left? Well, there are seventeen. So that’s seventeen recruits, right? That’s us. Now, one of the flowers is smaller than the rest. I guess that’s me.” Leo took a deep breath. “Now, the river represents Epic Elite trials. Because what do rivers do? They run. And how do you cross them? You jump. So that’s the long jump.”
“All right,” Saana said so slowly that Pretia couldn’t tell whether she approved of Leo’s interpretation.
“But see what’s happening on the left?” Leo said, pointing at the flowers. “See?” He tapped his finger on the smallest flower, the one he seemed to think was him. “It’s being blown by some kind of wind.”
Pretia peered at the picture. It did seem that the flower was bending forward.
“In fact,” Leo said, “some of the petals are being blown off the flower. But the flower hasn’t turned to seed yet. It’s not ready. It’s being forced.”
Pretia glanced at Saana, who had cupped her chin in her hand and was nodding as Leo spoke.
“So that’s my grana disappearing,” Leo added in a whisper. “You can tell it’s gone, because the opposite side of the river is totally dry. It’s empty. And that’s what it would feel like to miss your grana.”
When Leo finished speaking, Saana continued staring at the picture for a moment without saying anything. “Very nice, Leo,” she said eventually. “Very nice usage of what you see on the entire page. So it seems, at least as far as you are concerned, there is something to fear on Epic Elite trial day. But remember, your interpretations are not literal. They are not real. They are only suggestions.”
Leo closed his book and returned to his seat. A few seconds after he sat down, Nassos snuck up behind him and pinched him on the neck. “Poof, there goes your grana!” he said.
Leo shrieked and fell out of his chair.
“Recruits!” Saana said softly but sternly. “Until you all can come up with as complete and complex an interpretation as Leo just did, I suggest you refrain from joking around.”
“Even if our interpretations don’t make any sense?” Castor said.
“Even if they sound as if they don’t make any sense,” Saana said. “Now, those of you who haven’t opened your books, please do so.”
Pretia was sick of listening to Nassos and Castor tease Leo. She dragged her desk closer to his. “Don’t worry about them,” she said. “And don’t worry about your grana.”
Leo looked at her. “What do you know about grana?”
Pretia flushed and opened to the page she’d selected. “Sorry,” Pretia snapped, “I was just trying to be nice.”
“Leave me alone,” Leo said. He was staring at the closed cover of his book like it might bite.
Pretia dragged her chair back to its original place and looked down at her page. And to her surprise, she was staring at the same image she’d opened to on the first day of Granology—the forest reflected in the lake with the bright moon above and the muddy one below. And just like the first time she’d opened it, the initial sight of the image made her slightly sick to her stomach. Pretia furrowed her brow. If she looked at it one way, it seemed as if there were a lot of trees in the water. If she squinted her eyes, it looked like a single tree. She cocked her head from side to side, hoping an interpretation would come. But the picture still meant nothing to her, unless it was cautioning her not to use her grana. Perhaps the healthy tree was Pretia herself as she had been before lighting Hurell’s flame.
16
ROVI
THE OBSTACLE COURSE
Sometimes it seemed to Rovi that the recruits spent their time at Ecrof doing everything but training. This was especially frustrating because they were supposed to be training for Epic Elite trials. But between Granology and Visualization, Rovi was pretty sick of sitting still in a classroom. Sitting still wasn’t really part of his personality. He was made to run, to escape, to dodge and evade. Luckily, with Epic Elite trials a few weeks away, all students were assigned extra training sessions, which meant less time in the classroom and more time running around. And that suited Rovi just fine.
Cleopatra met the recruits at the Panathletic Stadium, as usual. For once, Rovi was early. But he was not the first to arrive. Vera was already running around the track, and from the looks of it, she’d been at it a long time. Rovi began to warm up, something he never did. He desperately wanted to make Epic Elite. He wanted to do anything to distract from the nasty nickname “Tree Killer.”
What made things worse for Rovi was that something definitely was wrong with the Tree of Ecrof. There was no denying it anymore. The bottommost branches were completely black. Rovi took a quick glance up at the tree, then moved away and started jogging and stretching on a far outside lane of the track.
Cleopatra blew her whistle, summoning the recruits to attention. Vera sprinted over from the track. She was already drenched in sweat.
“I hope you saved enough energy for training,” Cleopatra said.
“I’ve only been here an hour,” Vera said.
“Show-off,” Virgil hissed.
Vera tossed her ponytail defiantly. “I guess you don’t want to make Epic Elite.”
Cleopatra blew her whistle again. “All right, let’s get going. Off to the Decision Woods. Last recruit there gets a penalty lap after practice.”
Rovi was off like a shot, but not before hearing Vera complain, “The Decision Woods! Aren’t we supposed to be training for long jump?”
Rovi didn’t stick around for the rest. In no time he was at the Decision Woods, ahead of the other recruits. As usual, Pretia brought up the rear, moving no quicker than a leisurely jog. Rovi suspected she could run faster. She easily kept pace with him and never tired when they were assigned penalty laps, so he guessed she was holding herself back. But he couldn’t figure out why. And he couldn’t figure out why she so easily accepted her penalty punishments day after day. Even if she didn’t have grana, there was no explanation, no excuse for her performance.
However, there was no time to worry about these questions before Cleopatra started explaining the day’s training.
“Today we are having a relay race,” she said. “The race will take you through the woods. But these will not be the same woods you came through last time you were here. The obstacles are never the same. So be prepared. In fact,” she added, “they might even change as you move through the course.”
“We got this.”
Rovi turned and saw that it was Vera, whispering in his ear.
“We got this for sure,” she said again. “After all, Realists take the path, but Dreamers take the obstacles.”
Rovi gave her a low five. She was right. This was a Dreamer day.
But before they could plan their victory, Cleopatra was talking again. “Okay, recruits. There’s a wrinkle. Today, we are not teaming up by house. This won’t be Dreamers versus Realists, for once.”
“What?�
�� Virgil cried with a desperate look at Adira. “We’re always on the same team.”
“Sports are filled with uncertainty, and teams are not always who you want them to be,” Cleopatra explained. “One of the most important things, as an athlete, is to learn to work with anyone at any time. You need to be your best under any circumstances.”
“But when would I have to team with a Realist?” Virgil grumbled.
“Listen,” Cleopatra said sternly, fixing Virgil with her fierce almond eyes, “just because you consider your Dreamer recruits friends doesn’t mean every Dreamer in Epoca will be someone you want to team up with. You came to Ecrof to challenge yourself. I’m hoping you rise to it.”
Virgil looked down at his sneakers and didn’t reply.
Although he hadn’t spoken up—for once—Rovi pretty much felt the same way. He wasn’t much into teaming up in general. As a Star Stealer, he’d usually worked alone.
Cleopatra assigned the teams. Vera was with Tassos, Nassos, Cyril, Alexis, Myra, Adira, and Jason, which left Rovi with Leo, Pretia, Virgil, Hector, Zoe, Sophia, and Castor. He rolled his eyes and shuffled off to join his group. Xenia, a Dreamer, agreed to sit out to keep the teams even.
“Before anyone says anything, I’m captain,” Castor said. “We’re at a disadvantage already,” he added with a meaningful glance at Pretia, “so I’m taking charge.”
“Why?” Rovi grumbled.
“Because I’m a natural leader, that’s why,” Castor said. “It’s how I grew up.”
“Isn’t Pretia a natural leader?” Rovi asked. “I mean, she’s going to rule Epoca one day.”
“Maybe she will and maybe she won’t,” Castor said, giving his cousin a strange look. “You don’t mind if I take charge, Pretia, do you?”
“Whatever,” Pretia said.
Man, Rovi thought. There’s no denying it—sometimes Pretia acts like a total pushover.
