by Kobe Bryant
“Good luck,” Janos added. “Train hard. Compete harder. Honor your house, your school, and yourselves. And remember, never violate Junior Epic Code. Now go with grace!”
A cheer erupted as the kids rushed off the van. It had parked on a broad public concourse that divided the two sides of the village, which perfectly mirrored each other. The purple-festooned Dreamer enclave was to the left. The Realists went to the blue half of the village on the right.
Pretia, Rovi, Vera, and the rest of the Ecrof Dreamers headed for the welcome center, where they were assigned to one of two residential towers—vaulted structures that closely resembled traditional Phoenician architecture and rose higher than the rest of the village.
Pretia couldn’t believe the extent of the village, her home for the next month. It was a literal city, with walkways and causeways, kiosks, an indoor and outdoor dining hall, a health center, a natatorium for swimming, a track for training, a media center for press conferences, a visualization center, a grana temple, and a quiet grove. At the center of it all was a scoreboard. Pretia paused in front of this when they passed. There were three categories: total medal count, academy medal count, and individual medal count. Right now, all of these stood at zero, evenly divided between House Somni and House Relia, the eight elite academies, and the entire pool of competitors, all of whose names were listed on the board.
There were athletes everywhere in the village, most of whom were wearing their school colors. Pretia proudly displayed her Ecrof green-and-gold-silk tracksuit as she strode to her tower flanked by her friends.
The Dreamer fight song blasted from speakers designed to look like Phoenis’s signature turrets. Banners whipped and waved, welcoming the students. Pretia’s heart swelled. There was a bounce in her step. She was a Dreamer. She was from Ecrof. She was here to win.
Vera and Pretia were in the West Tower, Rovi in the East. They said goodbye and promised to meet for lunch.
The girls took the stairs, up and up to a room on the top floor, where they found their names on the door. Vera rushed to the window. The view over the marvelous Junior Epic Village and into the heart of the Upper City of Phoenis was spectacular. “Look,” Vera exclaimed.
Pretia followed the path of Vera’s finger. A golden pyramid rose into the sky, its tip nearly puncturing the perfect blue heavens and pointing directly at the burning orb of the overhanging sun.
“The Temple of Arsama!”
The temple was remarkable, but something else had captured Pretia’s attention. “Vera, check out what’s on the beds.”
Vera turned. Her eyes lit up. “Our gear!”
Together the girls tore into the huge duffels. Singlets and tank tops and running shorts and socks and tracksuits and jackets and hats and wristbands and swimsuits and swim caps and headbands and T-shirts and even several pairs of sneakers all in Dreamer purple spilled out. There were more clothes than they could imagine using in a year, let alone a month. Each item had that year’s Junior Epic insignia on it—the Temple of Arsama in golden thread—as well as the Ecrof crest. Printed on the back of all the tops were their names: Praxis-Onera and Renovo. Even the sneakers bore their initials.
Vera seemed speechless for once as she sifted through the piles of gear, holding up each item like a holy relic.
The girls changed immediately, pulling on matching T-shirts and sweatpants. They laced up their sneakers and put on wristbands and headbands just for fun.
At the bottom of each bag they found a piece of paper listing the fifty events at that year’s Junior Epic Games. Next to each event was a small box.
“We’re supposed to check off the ones we want to compete in,” Vera said. She grabbed a pen, and her hand flew wildly down the page.
“How many are you choosing?” Pretia asked.
“Well, I need ten medals,” Vera said, tapping her pen on the paper. “And since there’s a risk I won’t medal in every event, I need to compete in at least thirteen to be safe. Possibly fifteen. And since I won’t be selected for every event I choose, I figure I might as well mark . . .” She paused, clearly counting something out in her head. “Twenty.”
“Twenty!” Pretia said.
“It’s just enough,” Vera said. “What about you?”
“I don’t know.” Pretia stared at the paper. She was good at sprints and jumping.
“Let’s do a few together,” Vera urged. “For sure the 4x400 relay. That’s an important one, and I think it comes last. Four athletes on a team all from the same academy.”
Pretia checked it.
“The marathon, too,” Vera suggested. “I’ve heard they take the most competitors for that one.”
Pretia checked it. Then she checked the 100, the 200, the high jump, and the long jump. She wrote her name on the paper.
“Let’s go deliver these.” Vera was already out the door. “I want to get mine in as early as possible.”
Together they raced back down the stairs, passing Dreamers from other schools who were equally excited about their new gear.
Pretia felt as if she were floating. She smoothed her tracksuit jacket, making sure the Ecrof crest was clearly visible.
She could hear a few comments in passing as people noticed her name on the back of her jacket. But she only smiled and waved. There was one thing she was certain of—she hadn’t been selected for the squad because of her parents. Her parents hadn’t even wanted her to be here.
Music blasted from speakers. Dreamers on the elevated walkways called down to teammates on the ground below. Everywhere Pretia turned, there were pickup soccer and basketball games. Kids were doing flips and handstands.
They found Rovi at the kiosk where they were supposed to drop off their selection sheets. He was talking to two boys from different academies whose kits identified them as coming from Aquiis, a school on the Rhodan Islands famed for training elite swimmers, and from Dynami on Mount Oly, renowned for middle- and long-distance runners. Like Pretia and Vera, they were all kitted out in their Junior Epic gear.
Rovi introduced his friends, Nevo from Aquiis and Max from Dynami.
“Tomorrow they’re making event selections,” Nevo said. He had a swimmer’s build—powerful shoulders and muscular legs. His hair looked bleached by time in the sun. “What have you all put in for?”
Pretia listed her choices.
“I also put in for the 4x400,” Rovi said. “Hopefully we can all race together.”
“I’m sure Eshe put in for it as well,” Pretia joked with a look at Vera.
“Why?” Vera asked.
Rovi just laughed, exchanging a glance with Pretia. “I applied for the 800 and the 1,500 races, too,” he concluded.
“What about you?” Max asked Vera. Max was long and lean, like a distance runner, with tawny skin and startling blue eyes.
“Me? The marathon, the 400, the triple jump, the long jump, the high jump, the 100- and 200-meter freestyle and same for butterfly, the individual medley, the—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nevo said. “Do you have some sort of death wish?”
“Well,” Vera said, “I’m going to break the record for most Junior Epic Medals.”
“Doesn’t your brother hold that record?” Max asked. “Julius Renovo is your brother, right?”
“He is,” Vera said. “But he doesn’t hold the record.”
Pretia and Rovi rolled their eyes in unison. “Have you ever heard of Farnaka Stellus?” Rovi asked.
His new friends shook their heads.
As Vera opened her mouth to explain, Rovi nudged Pretia. “Let’s explore,” he said. “Or get some food.”
“Yeah,” Pretia echoed. “I think I’ve heard enough about Farnaka Stellus to last me a lifetime.”
They left Vera talking to Nevo and Max and set off. There was so much to see in the Dreamer side of the village that Pretia and Rovi got tu
rned around on their way to the dining hall and wound up on the Grand Concourse that divided their side from the Realists’.
It was like looking into a strange mirror, seeing their village reflected in an entirely different color palette. Pretia and Rovi stuck to the Dreamers’ side as they walked down the wide boulevard. She could now see that both sides were lined with columns, the Dreamers’ topped by their trademark Pegasus and the Realists’ with owls.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Pretia said.
“Me neither. And I can’t believe I’m back in Phoenis,” Rovi said. “It’s going to be so great to see my gang.”
“You mean the Star Stealers,” Pretia said uncertainly. She hadn’t wanted to believe a word of what her parents had said about Star Stealers. But she couldn’t help being nervous at the idea of meeting them. What if they were planning something dangerous?
“Yeah,” Rovi said, “my friends. It’s going to blow their minds when they see me race.”
“Are Star Stealers allowed to watch the games?” Pretia asked.
“Well, Star Stealers aren’t really allowed anywhere, but that’s never stopped any of them, especially not Issa’s gang. They’re basically forbidden from the Upper City, but they’ll be there. I’m sure of it.”
Slightly farther up on the concourse, there was a commotion on the Realist side. A large group of athletes had congregated and seemed to be singing, dancing, and shooting blue smoke bombs into the air.
“Let’s check that out,” Pretia said.
As they approached they could see their rivals were holding signs. “It looks like some kind of pep rally,” Rovi said.
“We should organize one, too,” Pretia suggested.
“Totally—” Rovi began. But he stopped abruptly when they drew close enough to read the signs.
NOT ALL GRANA IS GOOD GRANA
REAL ATHLETES KEEP IT TOGETHER
ONLY CHEATERS SPLIT
“Is that . . .” Pretia began. “Is that about me?”
STOP THE SELF-SPLITTER
Pretia stared at the protesters openmouthed, feeling as if a hand had closed over her throat. “They want to prevent me from splitting myself.”
“They want to what?” Rovi blurted.
“Vera heard about this from her brother. Julius is against me splitting myself. And so are all these people.”
A strange look passed across Rovi’s face.
“What is it?” Pretia asked.
“At the trials, Castor said something about you not being able to split yourself in Phoenis. He knew.”
“Who else knows?” Pretia wondered. Did the spectators know? Did the authorities?
“But they can’t really stop you, can they?” Rovi said.
“I don’t know.” Pretia felt close to tears. She wanted to turn her jacket inside out and hide her name on the back. She took a deep breath. No matter what, she wouldn’t let this ruffle her, at least not visibly.
She stood up straighter. She was the Princess of Epoca. She had to face this like a noble.
The Realists were cheering and chanting loudly.
“Stop the princess!”
“Splitters are cheaters!”
“I’d never cheat,” Pretia whispered.
“I know,” Rovi said. “Tell them.”
Pretia took an uncertain step forward. She opened her mouth. No words came out.
“Say something,” Rovi insisted.
“I—I can’t,” Pretia whispered. What could she possibly say to change the mind of this angry mob?
“Tell them you’re not a cheater,” Rovi said.
Pretia cleared her throat. “I—” she began loudly, but words failed her. It was all she could do not to physically shrink back into herself. She couldn’t speak. But she would do everything in her power to stand firm. “Sorry,” she whispered to Rovi.
No sooner was her lame apology out of her mouth than she felt someone push past her.
“Stop it!” Vera had materialized out of nowhere. “Stop it!” she yelled again. “Quiet.”
This only made the Realists cheer louder.
“I said STOP!” Vera raised her fists.
Pretia reached out and grabbed Vera’s arm, trying to restrain her. “It’s okay,” Pretia said, keeping her voice low.
“It’s not okay,” Vera snapped. “They can’t do this.”
“Says who?” a tall Realist boy shouted. He had blond hair, alabaster skin, and the perfectly lean physique of a talented runner.
Vera put her hands on her hips and tossed her long puff of black hair. “Says me. I’m Vera Renovo.”
For a moment the protesters fell silent.
Then the same kid said, “Well, Vera Renovo, your brother organized this protest. And this won’t be the only one.”
“Figures,” Vera said, “but I don’t see him here.”
“He’s not allowed in the village,” the golden-haired Realist said. “But don’t worry. He’ll make his presence known.”
“Who cares about Julius,” Vera announced. “I’m organizing a counterprotest.”
“Don’t. Please,” Pretia pleaded. She didn’t want Vera drawing more attention to her. And she didn’t want Vera risking her own games for Pretia’s sake.
“Go ahead,” a tall raven-haired Realist girl with ocher skin snarled. “No one will listen to you. Not even your brother cheers for you.”
“You think I care about that?” Vera snapped. “When these games are over, I’m the only Renovo anyone is going to talk about. My friends and I are going to bring home victory for House Somni.”
“Fat chance,” the pale boy said.
“Are you going to stop me?” Vera barked.
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” The Sandlander girl flashed Vera a victorious glance. “That’s Rex Taxus. He’s the fastest athlete at these games.”
Vera cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “You’ve never seen Pretia—”
Before she could finish, Rex Taxus strode in front of her. “The fastest legitimate athlete,” he said.
Vera stared him down defiantly. “Pretia is a legitimate athlete.”
“We’ll see about that,” Rex said.
From the back of the crowd of Realists, a girl’s voice cried, “The princess is a cheater!” Instantaneously, the protesters took up the chant, raising their fists and directing their anger toward Pretia.
Pretia told herself to be strong, to look them in the eye, and not to let them know how devastated she was inside. But she could only stand firm for so long until she felt she might crumble.
She started backing away from the concourse, back into the Dreamer Village. She wiped away the tears that were stinging her eyes. Why hadn’t she been able to stand up for herself? Why couldn’t she speak on her own behalf? She was ashamed that Vera could find the words she couldn’t.
But no matter what, Pretia promised herself, she wasn’t going to let anyone see her cry. She remembered the last thing her father had told her at Ponsit. He had been proud of how she’d behaved when her parents had broken the news that she wasn’t going to Ecrof. She’d acted with nobility. She would continue to do so, no matter how painful.
Vera backed away from Rex Taxus and put an arm around Pretia’s shoulder. She led her away from the protest. “Don’t worry. We’ve all got your back.” Vera swept her other arm wide, describing the entire Dreamer compound in front of them. “All of us. Every single person in this part of the village. Every Dreamer in all of Epoca, and I’m sure a few Realists, too. We all want you to do your best and do whatever it takes to win.”
“Just wait until our new teammates see what you can do,” Rovi added. “You’re going to be the biggest star of these games.”
Pretia managed a small smile. Vera squeezed Pretia’s shoulder.
&nbs
p; “Thanks,” Pretia said, trying to sound reassured. But when she glanced over her shoulder at the distant protest, she was unable to shake the feeling that no matter where she went or what she did, there was something wrong with simply being her natural self.
10
ROVI
AN HONOR
Rovi and Pretia knelt in the starting blocks on the Dreamers’ training track. The last few days had been a blur of excitement—exploring the village, meeting new athletes, and scouting information about the competition. Rovi hadn’t left the Dreamer compound once. His whole mind was given over to Dreamer Glory, Junior Epic Glory, training, and reveling in being a member of the most important junior sports team in the land.
The facilities in the Dreamer Village were more extraordinary even than Ecrof’s. The track was brand-new. It could rise and fall to mimic the obstacle course of a steeplechase. It could angle uphill to increase the difficulty of training. It could record the placement of a runner’s footsteps so she could revisit them later and assess if she’d taken the most efficient path. Even though he’d been training there for over a week already, Rovi still found it incredible.
All around them, other Dreamers from the elite academies were practicing for track and field. Cleopatra Volis clapped her hands, summoning all the Ecrof students.
“You all trained hard enough at Ecrof and for the last ten days here in Phoenis. It’s time to start tapering your training. Don’t overdo it,” she said with a pointed look at Vera.
Vera and Eshe had their hands in the air at once.
Cleopatra didn’t take their questions. “No exceptions. Taper training for all of you. A light workout followed by a modified version of your intended events in the morning. In the afternoon, recovery training: yoga, walking, even swimming if you’re a runner. Something opposite from what you did in the morning.”
Then she met each of their eyes in turn. “You are ready. Remember that. You. Are. Ready.”
“Do you feel ready?” Pretia asked Rovi before they took off for a set of middle-distance laps.
He thought for a moment before answering. “Yes,” he said. And it was true. He did feel ready. All the anxiety he’d felt during the trials had vanished, solidified into a core of confidence that told him he was going to do exactly what was necessary.
