by Kobe Bryant
The stadium broke into a clamor. “The squad will be away in Phoenis for a month. During this time, Ecrof business will continue as usual under the guidance of our best Junior Trainers. When the games are over, the squad will return to campus and resume training as normal.”
“But it won’t be normal,” Rovi whispered in Pretia’s ear. “How can anything be normal once you’ve been to the Junior Epic Games?”
Janos clapped his hands. “Go!” he bellowed. “Prepare yourself for the tasks ahead.”
All at once, the students got to their feet. Adira passed close to Pretia. “I guess we know one member of the team,” she said.
“Vera?” Pretia asked.
Adira snorted like Pretia was beyond silly. “You. Do you know anyone else who can split themselves? Janos might as well have said there were only twenty-one spots available.”
“Who knows,” Pretia replied. “I’ve never tested my grana with water sports.”
“That’s a relief,” Virgil said. “I don’t need anyone taking my spot as a diver.”
“So you’re not trying out in the pool at all?” Adira asked.
Pretia shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Virgil and Adira exchanged a glance, then looped arms and walked off.
“All of Vera’s training nearly killed me. I can barely stand,” Pretia said. “I’m going to soak in the TheraCenter.”
“Me too,” Rovi added.
“I’m going to do a few more laps around the track,” Vera said, trotting past them.
“Vera, come on,” Pretia groaned. “Your legs will fall off.”
“You heard Janos,” Vera replied. “We have less than two months to become the best we can.”
“I don’t think he meant for us to train nonstop,” Pretia said. “Haven’t you ever heard of recovery?”
Vera’s eyes flashed. “No.”
“Me neither.” They all turned to see that Eshe Sonos had joined their group. She gazed at Vera with a look of admiration and determination. “So where are we training?” she asked.
Vera rolled her eyes. “We?”
“I mean, since your friends are too lazy, I figured we could train together. You and I.”
“The Infinity Track,” Vera said through gritted teeth, and trotted away, Eshe at her side. The moment they were far enough away, Rovi and Pretia doubled over with laughter.
“The look on her face—” Rovi said. “Those two are totally made for each other.”
“I didn’t think the world could take another Vera,” Pretia agreed. “But I’m glad Eshe is going to train with her. My legs are like jelly!”
Gingerly and with much effort, the two of them made their way to the TheraCenter.
* * *
That night, Pretia was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
She didn’t dream. She didn’t move. She just slept.
Until—
“Pretia?”
Pretia rolled over. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Vera was standing over her, a sheen of sweat gleaming on her forehead.
“Don’t you dare tell me you need someone to train with you right now. You need to get some rest.”
“No,” Vera said.
“Thank the gods,” Pretia said.
“But I do need to talk to you about something.”
“Now? Can’t it wait?”
“Not really,” Vera said. “I’ve been trying to talk to you alone, but it’s been hard.”
Pretia sat up. Vera did have something on her mind. “What is it?”
Vera looked concerned. “It’s about your grana and what you can do.” She swallowed hard. “While I was home this summer I overheard some stuff I shouldn’t have. From Julius.”
“Like?”
“Julius is too old for this year’s Junior Epics. But of course he’s going to be there, since he’s basically a hero after his last Epic Games. I mean, he won more medals in his first senior event than Janos did at his age.” Vera’s voice was sour as she talked about her brother.
“Whatever,” she continued dismissively. “Here’s what’s important. Julius is going to be at the Junior Epics, since he’s the most decorated Junior Epic Champion except for—”
“Farnaka Stellus,” Pretia said with a groan.
“Right,” Vera said. “Anyway, he’s not simply going for the Parade of Past Champions. He’s also going to lead a protest.”
“Against the Star Stealers?”
“No,” Vera said. “Against you.”
Now Pretia was wide-awake. “Me?”
Vera’s eyes slid away as if she couldn’t look at Pretia directly. “Because of your grana. He thinks splitting yourself gives you an unfair advantage.”
“What?” Pretia cried. “It’s not unfair. That’s just how my grana is!”
“I know that. But Julius is a very popular athlete. He never lets me forget it. He’s circulated a petition, and a lot of people, mainly Realists, have signed it. They’re going to try to forbid you from splitting yourself in competition.”
Suddenly Pretia felt sick. “Can they do that?”
“Who knows,” Vera replied. She wiped the sweat off her forehead. “I just wanted to warn you.”
Pretia had no idea what to say. “Um, thanks.” She hoped she at least sounded somewhat relaxed. In truth, her mind was racing. A protest? If her parents knew about this, they’d double down on their prohibition against her going to Phoenis.
“Don’t worry,” Vera said. “I’ll have your back no matter what happens.”
Pretia’s heart beat fast. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” Vera said. “Julius and his friends will make some noise and try to cause a scene. But the Dreamers will support you. And your uncle will, too, probably.”
“Janos is totally on my side,” Pretia said. “Which is weird because I’m on the opposite team . . . but I guess he doesn’t care about teams when it comes to family.”
“So, you have nothing to worry about,” Vera said. “Realists can be total bullies.”
“Yeah,” Pretia said, thinking once more of Castor. He was a Realist and a bully—and he also didn’t like her talent for splitting herself. She could easily see him joining Julius’s protest.
“Plus,” Vera said, “you’re the princess. You can totally stand up for yourself.”
“I don’t know,” Pretia said. The idea of drawing attention to herself and staking her claim to use her grana made her uneasy. “I’d rather show them on the field.” She’d leave the big statements for her parents. She preferred to hide behind sports.
“Hopefully that’s all you’ll have to do,” Vera said brightly.
Pretia looked at her friend. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Vera hesitated. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Rovi or anyone else.”
“Why not?” Pretia asked.
“I don’t know. It just seemed private.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Pretia said. “Let’s hope there are no protests.”
“And if there are, we’ll show my brother and his silly friends exactly how great you are,” Vera declared. She wiped her forehead again. “I need to shower.”
Pretia was still awake when Vera returned from the shower. She watched her change, not into pajamas like a normal person, but into a fresh set of training gear, and climb into bed.
“Vera,” Pretia whispered across the dark room, “it doesn’t bother you when I split myself, does it?”
“No,” Vera said sleepily. “I love it. It forces me to train harder.”
Vera was certainly the only person in all of Epoca who would have given that answer.
Pretia stayed awake for hours staring at the moon. This was the second time in four days she’d
been told there was something wrong with her grana. The second time she’d been urged to keep it in check. It had even made her mother uncomfortable. She tossed and turned, unsure of what to do—unsure if there was in fact anything she could do.
Maybe she shouldn’t have come to Ecrof. Maybe she shouldn’t be using her grana. Maybe, despite what she’d thought she’d seen in her book, her fate was not to be an athlete but a ruler. But she’d come all this way. She’d risked her parents’ anger. Now she had to make that team and show everyone what she was made of and what she could do. She had no choice but to prove herself on the field.
6
ROVI
A MEMORY
Rovi was used to exhaustion. He’d spent many years on the streets of Phoenis, jolted from his sleep by any number of disturbances—wagons passing by on the Draman Bridge above where his gang camped, someone or something falling into the river next to his pallet, the snores of his fellow Star Stealers, the shouts of the Phoenician guards shaking him awake, telling him and his gang to move on. He’d been kept awake by hunger, by heat, and by the odd cold spell for which he wasn’t prepared. Too many nights to count, he hadn’t slept at all, watching the sun set over the Tile Palace to the west and rise above the Moon Palace to the east. He had been so tired that he didn’t remember what it felt like to be well rested.
The tired he felt now, at Ecrof, was something different. In the first weeks he’d trained harder than he’d ever imagined.
He trained using weighted vests and ankle and wrist weights. He trained uphill. He trained in wind machines.
He did sit-ups. Push-ups. He did all sorts of plyometric exercises—box jumps, side-to-side jumps, jump squats, and squat thrusts.
He ran relay races. Half marathons. Full marathons.
He did hurdles. High jump. Long jump. Triple jump.
He ran until his lungs felt like they might explode. He jumped until he worried his calf muscles would snap. He sprinted until his thighs burned.
He ached in his bones, his joints, his lungs. After a day’s training, Rovi could barely lift his fork to his mouth—and that was saying something for him. He could hardly climb the stairs to his room.
Toward the end of the second week of term, he lay on his back during a break from track practice in the Panathletic Stadium and listened to Cleopatra Volis, who had been promoted to Head Athletic Trainer, as she listed their next activities: ropes courses, followed by wind sprints, then a short-distance run to cool down. After a quick break there would be resistance training.
He closed his eyes briefly and opened them to see Cleopatra squatting next to him. “Let’s have a little chat, Rovi,” she said. She sounded stern. “Walk with me.”
With a groan, Rovi stood. “Am I in trouble?”
Cleopatra didn’t reply as they walked away from the track. “I see you’re working hard, and believe me, I am pleased. It’s quite a difference from last year.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Rovi asked.
“It would be . . . if I didn’t know that you can work harder,” Cleopatra said.
“What?” There was no way he could give any more on the track or anywhere else.
“It’s great that you’re happy for your friends when they beat you. That is an admirable quality. But you also need to be tougher on yourself.” Cleopatra paused to make sure she had his full attention. “It should hurt to lose.”
“It does,” Rovi said, massaging his hamstrings, still burning from the last race.
“Not in your legs, Rovi. It should hurt in your heart. I’m not telling you to be a sore loser. I’m just asking that every time you lose, you pledge to work harder.”
“I don’t know if I can work any harder,” Rovi groaned.
Cleopatra reached out and pressed a finger into Rovi’s stomach. “Listen to what’s in here. If your core, the seat of your grana, tells you that you can do no more, then fine. But I think your body will give you a different answer.”
When she walked away, Rovi flopped on his back next to the track. He put his hands on his belly where Cleopatra had just touched. He could smell oleander and grass. His legs felt heavy. His feet ached. Cleopatra was wrong. He was already pushing himself to his limit.
Then he took a deep breath. And when he did, he felt something press against his hands—an electric current, a reserve of energy that he hadn’t noticed before. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he leaped to his feet ready to race again. There was more he could do. There was another level he could reach.
“Castor,” he called, “let’s do this.”
“Let’s do what?”
“Let’s race,” Rovi called.
“I need a break,” Castor said. “Why don’t you ask Pretia? I’d love to watch her beat you again. Even if she has to do that thing she does.”
“Are you sure, Rovi?” Pretia asked. She looked uncertainly at his wobbling legs.
“I am.”
They lined up, and Cleopatra counted them down. Rovi’s feet were on fire. He felt as if his legs were going to give way. If Pretia split herself, there was nothing he could do—but he had to try.
Like the last race, at the final turn, he sensed her about to blow past him. “Dig,” he urged himself, “dig.”
And as if they had a mind of their own—which it sometimes seemed that they did—Rovi’s feet accelerated. They barely touched the track. In fact, they didn’t touch the track at all. He was gliding. He was flying. He was moving faster than he’d thought possible. He reached the finish a millisecond after Pretia. He had almost caught her. He had almost beaten her, even though she’d split herself. He fell to the ground utterly exhausted.
“Whoa!” Vera squatted down next to him. “I’ve never seen you run so fast.”
Rovi couldn’t talk. He closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, taking in the grassy, salty scent of Cora Island, the smells of his childhood. Despite his exhaustion, he smiled. His father would have been proud of his effort. Then he heard Cleopatra’s voice above him. “You see, Rovi Myrios. There is always more to give.”
* * *
That afternoon, Rovi could barely walk to the pool for swim training. All he wanted to do was soak in the baths at the TheraCenter. But he knew he’d get in serious trouble for skipping practice. And this year more than anything, he wanted to avoid trouble.
Rovi didn’t excel in swimming. He found the water soothing, but when he tried to swim competitively, it made him feel clumsy, heavy, and graceless. After only a few days of swim practice, he had lost hope that the water would yield to his grana. Despite this, he loved the pool because it was perhaps the most miraculous place in all of Ecrof—and that was saying something.
The pool was hidden underground far beyond the main sports fields, to the west of the campus, deep inside a craggy collection of low hills. The entrance to the pool area was down a winding, damp staircase that led to a dark tunnel, which eventually opened into a massive subterranean cavern. The walls dripped with water. Voices echoed and bounced around the cave. High overhead, a hole in the cavern’s roof let in the sun or the moon or the stars—depending on the time of day—making the water catch their dancing reflections.
Each time Rovi saw the pool, it managed to take his breath away. The water shimmered blue. There were natural waterfalls and a bubbling hot tub fed by a hot spring. Slides had been carved into the cavern walls, slick with water that sent you flying into the pool. Dozens of lanes divided the pool for different distances, with a shallow end for doing underwater sprints. There were all sorts of diving boards attached to the towering cavern walls. Bleachers were built into the side of the cave on one end. On the opposite was another flight of steps that led deeper below the earth to a viewing area under the pool, where instructors could get another angle on the swimmers’ strokes.
Rovi barely had the energy to change into his swimsuit. Nassos and Cyril, the Rhodan Island
ers, had already dived in and were swimming like dolphins. Vera was doing her best to keep pace with them. Far above his head, he could hear Adira and Virgil up on the highest diving board, getting ready to turn an impossible number of flips and twists.
Lavinia Lux, the compact, muscular Head Swim Trainer with blue eyes the color of the sea, clapped her hands for attention, then instructed everyone to warm up with ten lengths. Rovi dove in, thrilled with the cool water rippling against his skin. He swam hard, as hard as he could. But he couldn’t help noticing that at each turn, he fell farther and farther behind his classmates.
When the warm-up was over, they all hauled themselves out onto the pool deck. Rovi trailed the rest of his classmates. He rolled onto his back, staring at the distant roof of the cavern.
“Nice effort, Rovi,” Lavinia said.
But it didn’t feel nice. It felt pathetic.
Rovi pressed his hands into his abdomen where Cleopatra had told him his grana was centered. He felt nothing. Was it possible he was giving his all and failing? That hurt worse than anything.
“Okay,” Lavinia said, gathering the students. “Today we are doing Sea Lion Obstacles. Of course, you’ll never do anything like this in a real swim meet, but it’s good to push past what is normal. To train yourself to go above and beyond what will be required.”
Adira’s hand shot in the air. The entire class knew what she was going to ask before the words were out of her mouth, Lavinia included.
“No, Adira,” the swim instructor said with a smile, “you can’t just dive instead. You have to complete the whole practice before there is free time for the exercise of your choice.”
Adira made a face. “Fine,” she said.
“All right,” Lavinia continued. “The idea of this is sort of like hurdles, but in the pool. You’ll swim two at a time and do one length of butterfly, but on every fifth stroke, you have to pull farther out of the water and dive through one of the rings without touching the edges. There are ten rings. Each time you touch one, a second will be added to your finish time. If you miss a ring entirely, you’ll be disqualified.”
