“I told you, it’s magic.”
“Intellectually, I know it’s just an illusion, but I’m still impressed. It’s a real talent. How did you learn that?”
“I had lots of time to practice. Mostly when I was hiding in the closet from my dad.”
That made me stop, consider my next words carefully. “You had to hide in the closet from your dad? Was it hard growing up with him?”
“Hard?” He laughed, seeming to be genuinely amused by my question. “I wish it had been hard. It wasn’t hard. It was brutal. You asked me the other day at the gym why I touch the wall when I swim. It’s because of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can swim just fine, but I need to be near a wall so I can grab it if I start to feel panicked. That’s why you always see me swimming on one of the side lanes.”
“Why would you panic? You’re a good swimmer, Jax.”
“Yeah, well, anyone can master a technique. I’m not afraid of swimming.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“Drowning.” He leaned forward, not looking at me and pressing his elbows on his thighs. “My old man was a drunk. When he wasn’t beating my mom or me, he was torturing us. When I was four, he threw me in the deep end of our apartment pool for wetting the bed. My mom tried to jump in after me, but he held her back. I could hear her screams as I kept going under. I would have drowned if it hadn’t been for some guy walking past the pool to get to his room. He jumped in and saved me. No one said anything, no charges were pressed, and it was back to life in hell, as usual. Sometimes when I’m in the water, I have unexpected flashbacks. There are fewer and fewer as the years pass by, but the wall steadies me, reminds me I’m in control.”
I had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry, Jax,” I finally choked out. “I had no idea. Your mom…she stayed with him?”
“Yeah. She stayed with him.” He looked at the screen, where our game was frozen with our winning score. “I think she was planning to leave, but she never got the chance. One day, she was slow in bringing him a beer. He knocked her down hard. She hit her head on the bricks when she went down. Died instantly. I was six and witnessed the entire thing. My old man told the police she slipped, and they bought it. Then, when she was gone, he only had one target left.”
I was so revolted, I pressed my hand against my mouth. I finally managed to locate my voice. “Is your father still alive?”
“No. He died.”
“How?”
“I killed him.”
“You did…what?” My eyes widened in horror.
“He came home late one night, drunker than I’ve ever seen him. He hauled me out of bed and started beating me without even uttering a word. Smashed my nose, my eye, broke a rib and my arm, and almost choked me to death. He would have succeeded, but he was too drunk to hold on, and I wasn’t a little kid anymore. I got away, but I had limited vision because it was dark and the eye he’d hit had swollen shut. I slipped on the stairs and fell. I hurt my ankle and couldn’t walk, so I crawled through the living room, trying to get out the back door. He caught me at the fireplace, same place as Mom. As his fists came down, I pulled the poker from the fireplace stand and used it to protect myself.”
“Oh, no.” My voice was hardly a whisper. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“What happened after that?”
“No charges were pressed against me. I’d been beaten within an inch of my life. Every cop in the room knew what had happened. I had no other family, so I was placed in a state-run group home. This year, at seventeen, I was able to declare myself independent and support myself on various odd jobs while I finished up school. Then came the UTOP offer, and here I am.”
“You live on your own?”
“I did until now.”
My mind whirled from his revelations, remembering he tutored kids after school and worked odd jobs. He was alone and supporting himself at seventeen. It was staggering to imagine how hard that must be for him.
“Your father’s death—it wasn’t your fault,” I finally said.
He shrugged. “No one else held that poker.”
“You were protecting yourself. It was self-defense.”
“True, but it doesn’t change what happened.”
I tried to compose myself, but my emotions were running high. “Does Mr. Donovan know?”
“Of course he knows. They all know.”
“Well, they haven’t held it against you,” I said. “You wouldn’t have gotten invited here if that was the case.”
“Perhaps. I like to tell myself I’m here because I’m intelligent, I take tests well, and I can think on my feet. Or even maybe it’s because I have some skills that could be useful for an operative, like a hypersensitivity to people’s behaviors and body language. It’s a skill I learned from an early age when trying to judge my father’s moods. Occasionally, I entertain the idea that they’re impressed by my sleight of hand. But do you want to know what I really think is the reason I got invited to UTOP?”
I was almost afraid to respond. “Yes,” I finally whispered.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one among us who’s killed someone. I bet they figure if I did it once, I could do it again.” He pushed off the couch. “So, now you know my secrets, Red. Good night, and good luck on the trial tomorrow.”
Without another word, he walked out of the gaming room, closing the door behind him. I sat there in silence, shamed I had pushed him to reveal such a hidden part of himself.
Pressing my hands over my face, I wondered what dark secrets the rest of us were hiding.
Chapter Forty-Three
ANGEL SINCLAIR
“Angel, are you asleep?”
I rolled over in the bed and peered down at Frankie on the bottom bunk. She was sitting up in the bed.
“No. I’m awake.”
“Can I come up?” she whispered.
“Sure.” I sat up and crossed my legs to make room for her to sit.
Frankie carefully climbed up the bunk ladder and sat at the foot of my bed, her feet hanging off the bed. “I can’t fall asleep.”
“Me neither.”
“Are you worried about the trials?” she asked.
“No.” I sighed. “Yes.”
I’d been thinking about Jax all night, wondering what would happen to him if he didn’t make UTOP. What would his future hold? How would he manage without the support and love of a family?
Then I thought about Kira. Would her father permit her to be a doctor if she didn’t make the cut? What would happen to Mike, Bo, and Hala if none of them made it, too?
I blew out a breath, deciding to be honest with Frankie. “I’m worried about everyone. I’m also worried about us, the White Knights. The only way this plays out well is if none of us make it.”
Frankie was silent for a moment. “Do you want to go on to UTOP, Angel?”
“Yes.” I lifted my hands, miserable. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do this in the first place. But now that I’m here, a part of me really wants to win one of those two slots. This is just a little taste of what we would get at UTOP, and if I’m honest, I like it. I haven’t been this challenged in my entire life—intellectually or emotionally. It’s…exhilarating. But I don’t want to get a slot at the expense of yours or Wally’s friendship. The others have a lot to lose, too, if they don’t make it.”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “Angel, you aren’t going to lose my friendship, or Wally’s, either, if you get chosen and we don’t, or vice versa. Real friendships don’t just disappear. The others will find their own paths, as well. You heard Mr. Donovan. Candidates are just encouraged to show their skills in different ways within the intelligence agency.”
“Do you want to make it, Frankie?” I asked. “You know, live the life of an operative?”
“Of course I do. That’s why I’m here. But regardless of what happens, it’s all part of my journey to becoming a better person, a productive
person.”
“How do you do it?” I twisted my sheet between my fingers. “You seem to go through life without anxiety. But think about it. If one of us went on to UTOP and the rest of us didn’t, things would change, and I was just getting used to having you guys around. I like having friends, Frankie.”
“And your friends like having you.” She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “But friendships change regardless. It’s called growth. If you went to UTOP without us, it wouldn’t change that.”
I loved her, I really did. But I didn’t believe her. “It might, Frankie. Seriously, it really might. That’s the part that has me worried the most—although I don’t know why I’m stressing so much. I’m not getting one of those two slots. I’ve outright failed two of the trials and sucked at most of the rest other than the gaming challenge.”
“That’s so not true. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re always coming up with original ideas.”
“Yeah, well, executing those ideas is the problem.”
She patted my knee. “Do you know what Charles told me?”
“Charles?” I searched my brain in confusion but came up empty. “Who’s Charles?”
“Charles Mayford, the personal trainer/lifeguard guy with the dark curly hair and pretty blue eyes? For heaven’s sake, Angel, you’ve seen him a dozen times at the gym. He’s really sweet and engaged to be married this summer. His fiancée, Renee, is a homicide detective. Imagine that.”
I searched my memory and came up with a dark-haired guy that I barely remembered. I shook my head. “Is there anyone you don’t know, Frankie?”
“Of course. There are dozens of people here I haven’t met. Yet.” She rolled her neck. “Anyway, Charles gave me an excellent piece of advice. He told me that ‘continuous improvement is better than delayed perfection.’ He’s right. This is a school, Angel. Even if it’s a spy school, no one expects us to be perfect right out of the gate. What they’re looking for is potential. And of all of us, you have the most of that.”
I lifted my hands in astonishment. “You really believe that about me?”
“I really do.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. There was a serious probability that she might be the most intuitive person on the entire planet. She’d said exactly what I needed to hear at this moment—that I had potential, and an honest shot at one of the slots.
“Thank you, Frankie.”
She chuckled and crawled across the bed to give me a hug. “No, thank you, Angel, for the talk. I feel sleepy now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
After she climbed back down and settled into bed, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. How did she do that? She’d somehow turned around the conversation to make it seem like I was helping her when, in reality, she’d known I needed this talk to get my head straight. That girl had mad people skills I couldn’t even begin to fathom.
I was dang lucky she was my friend.
Chapter Forty-Four
ANGEL SINCLAIR
“Please report to the front of the building after breakfast at oh seven forty-five and wait for further instruction.”
It was Friday morning, and all eight of us were eating breakfast in the cafeteria. I’d tried to make eye contact with Jax, but he had headphones in and was sitting with his back to us. I wasn’t sure how to handle what he’d told me last night, but it made me see him in a new and different light.
When the announcement to go out front came over the loudspeaker, I dropped what was left of a bagel on my plate and exchanged a worried glance with Wally.
He looked at me, scared. “Why are we going to the front of the building? Are they going to take us somewhere?”
“Probably.”
He nervously wiped his hands on a napkin. “I just hope that whatever we do today, it’s not physically demanding. I think my body has reached final capacity on that front. Everything hurts.”
I hurt, too, but the truth was, we were all looking leaner and stronger. I kind of liked the way it made me feel—a bit more confident and sure on my feet. Unfortunately, the exercise hadn’t seemed to improve my awkwardness or social skills. Guess that was going to take a different kind of training. Still, I agreed with Wally’s sentiment. The last thing I felt like doing was grappling with another round of push-ups, pull-ups, and chin-ups that I couldn’t manage. Not that I had any control over what we’d do next.
A little before seven forty-five, we all filed out of the front of the building. A bus was idling, waiting for us to get on. My heart started pounding in my chest, and every cell in my body wished it were twenty-four hours from now.
Wally leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Oh, boy. Here we go.”
“Good luck,” I whispered back. “You’ve got this.” I tried for an optimistic inflection in my voice, but it sounded fake and stilted. Wally was too nervous to notice.
Once we were loaded, including Mr. Donovan, the bus drove past the UTOP campus. We looked at the buildings with undisguised curiosity, particularly because it was forbidden to us. I assumed the students were in class, because there were just a few kids walking around. The campus was prettier than the KIT compound, with strategically placed redbrick colonial buildings, pretty courtyards, and well-kept flower beds. We passed the campus and kept driving on a paved road into the woods. It made me wonder how many square miles the entire area encompassed.
The bus stopped in a small lot, where a couple other cars were parked. We got off the bus and waited for further instructions. Mr. Donovan slid on his sunglasses and waved a hand at us. “Students, please follow me.”
We walked up a tree-lined path toward a rectangular building sitting at the top of a small hill. I couldn’t get a clear view of the building, because it was obstructed by a screen of large bushes. When we stood in front of the bushes, Mr. Donovan held up a hand, stopping us.
“Your trial will take place here. There are several stations you must successfully navigate. After the first station, you may proceed individually or as a group. Unlike previous challenges, not everyone is required to finish together in order for you to complete the course.”
I glanced at Frankie, who shielded her eyes with a hand pressed against her forehead as she listened to Mr. Donovan speak. She seemed remarkably calm, which in turn relaxed me. If Frankie wasn’t afraid, I shouldn’t be, either. She was right—we should do our best and let the chips fall as they may. The best two people would be selected, and that was how it should be. I felt the band of anxiety gripping my stomach ease.
“There are five stations in the final trial, with a two-and-a-half-hour time limit to complete all the stations,” he continued. “To get started, an individual will be randomly selected to be the ‘eyes’ for the first station. After that, you can decide for yourselves how you intend to address each challenge.”
I felt someone looking at me, and when I turned, I saw Jax’s eyes on me. I gave him a tenuous smile, and he nodded briefly but said nothing.
“Throughout the trial, there will be multiple obstacles or objects that are painted red or lit with red lights.” Mr. Donovan spread his arms. “These objects may not be touched by any student, nor may any object be used by a student to touch a red area. For example, a student may not walk across a red-painted moat, nor may you lay a board on the moat to walk across it. If any competitor touches a red area, or an item they’re controlling touches a red area, it will result in a five-minute penalty for that individual and they must return to where they were before they touched the red area along with any items. Progress will be monitored and penalties assessed by video monitoring.”
That sounded ominous. Wally exchanged a worried glance with me.
“If you incur too many penalties and run out of time, you’ll fail the challenge. Please be reminded that only two competitors will be selected. There are a lot of points up for grabs in this final challenge, so good luck to each of you. Are there any questions?”
We stared at each other, but n
o one spoke. I had a hundred questions, but without having seen the challenges, it was difficult to articulate them. Instead, I wrapped my arms around my waist and kept quiet. Everyone else must have been in the same boat, because no one else spoke up.
“Fine. I’ll move on.” Mr. Donovan unsnapped his briefcase and pulled out a flattened brown paper bag. He opened it and stuck his hand inside. “For the first challenge, there are no red zones, which is good because most of you won’t be able to see. I’m going to draw a name out of this paper bag. That person will be referred to as Eyes. The rest of you will don swim goggles that have been painted black so you cannot see. We will then proceed around those bushes behind me. You’ll be required to assemble the object on the far side. I will show Eyes a picture of what you’re to assemble. Once you begin, Eyes will not be able to touch anything to help you with the assembly nor can they tell you what it is you’re assembling. However, Eyes will be able to provide you with directions to assemble the item. Once you hear a bell, you’ll know that the item is satisfactorily assembled. You may then remove your goggles and proceed to the next station. I will leave as soon as we proceed around the bushes, after I show Eyes the picture. I will give Eyes up to two minutes to survey the station and develop a plan. The timing for the overall challenge begins at the end of two minutes or when Eyes gives the first instruction. You’ll have to figure out where to go and how to pass each subsequent station on your own. You will not see me again until after you have completed the trial or the time limit is up. There will be timers along the way to show you how much time is left. Pay close attention to them. Every minute matters. Are you ready?”
He studied us one by one, waiting for us to nod. Was it my imagination or did his look linger a little longer on me?
He reached into the brown bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He lowered his sunglasses and said, “Angel Sinclair.”
I blew out a breath, and everyone stared at me. Anxiety flooded my veins. If I failed in my duty, I would sink everyone. Holy crap. No pressure.
Knight Moves Page 21
