by Kobe Bryant
“But I thought—” Rovi began. “Aren’t you all in hiding or something?”
“We have our ways,” Issa said. “As long as we keep a low profile, we’re golden. This is a proud moment for Star Stealers across the land. Everyone, not just our band, is pulling for you.”
Rovi beamed, then felt himself blush.
“And I hear you’re pretty good,” Issa continued.
The announcer delivered the results from the first heat over the megahorn.
“I have to get ready,” Rovi said.
“Make us proud,” Issa urged.
Light on his feet, his heart happy and full, his mind certain and confident, Rovi went through his final preparations. He shed his tracksuit and Memory Master. He retied his Grana Gleams and leaned into a few last stretches.
It was time for the third heat.
Rovi positioned himself in the starting blocks.
The stadium disappeared.
The noise from the crowd evaporated.
He was barely aware of the other racers uttering the Grana Prayer in their different dialects.
His lips moved unbidden: May the gods grant us the fortune to compete with grace and the grana to excel beyond our expectations.
Then it was just him and the track.
And go.
His legs were in charge.
They led the way.
He felt no strain.
No pain.
No effort.
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t think about his competitors. The track was a blur beneath his feet. He ran with his arms tucked to his sides. He glided through the turns on an angle, taking them easily. It felt like he was moving effortlessly, barely touching the ground. It was as if he wasn’t racing at all, just flying forward wrapped in the familiar warm Phoenician air and kissed by his hometown sun.
He crossed the finish line ahead of the pack, posting his best time ever.
Rovi jogged to a halt. He had come to rest in front of his Star Stealer gang, who were all on their feet cheering wildly, their arms extended skyward, fingers plucking invisible stars in celebration, while Issa tried to calm them down so they didn’t attract undue attention.
“You did it!” Amrav, Rovi’s old rival in the gang, cried.
“Hey,” Rovi said. “It’s just a heat. The real work is yet to come.”
“Good job,” Issa said quietly. Then he turned to get his gang under control. “Go focus on your race, Rovi. I’ll find you after.”
“Where?” Rovi wanted to know.
“You know better than to ask,” Issa said with a grin. “I turn up where I turn up. And I always turn up.”
Rovi laughed. Issa never failed to keep his word. He was the most steadfast and reliable person Rovi had ever known. He was also the most daring and loyal, willing to sneak into the best-protected places of the Upper City if he knew it would help his gang.
“Then I’ll see you when I see you,” Rovi said.
“You’ll see me,” Issa replied.
Rovi floated back to await his assignment for the next heat.
He was drawn in the second group. He jogged lightly to stay loose. Then just as before, when it was his turn, he took to the starting blocks, serene and confident.
Once more his feet did the work.
Once more he moved effortlessly.
Once more he glided across the finish line ahead of the pack. Another personal best.
He jogged to a halt, arriving at the same spot where Issa and his gang had been sitting—but their seats were empty. Rovi searched the stands.
It didn’t take him long to find his leader, his brother, the boy who’d been his best friend when he’d most needed one. Issa was running, darting this way and that through the crowd, cutting a haphazard path. Rovi instantly recognized what he was doing. Rovi had done the same thing countless times when he was a Star Stealer. Issa was trying to escape the Phoenician guards.
Rovi scanned the crowd for the telltale red hats. He saw three of them spread across the crowd. They weren’t chasing Issa. They had each seized a different member of the gang, including Amrav, and were forcefully leading the captive Star Stealers away. The kids thrashed and kicked against their captors. They fought fiercely. And worse—the crowd was booing them. Rovi watched in stunned silence as the crowd parted to make the guards’ job easier.
In the commotion, Issa and a few other Star Stealers had vanished. But that didn’t make up for the three who had been captured.
The hubbub settled down. The spectators returned to their seats. And when the Phoenician guards returned, the crowd applauded them.
Rovi’s breath caught in his throat. He walked to the end of the stands and waved his arms, trying to summon a nearby guard. Eventually the woman noticed him and came down to his level.
“What happened?” Rovi said.
Never in his life did he imagine he would be talking to a Phoenician guard like this, face-to-face without fear.
“It was handled,” the guard replied. “You’re safe.”
“Of course I’m safe. But what happened to the kids who were sitting down here?” Rovi indicated the part of the stands where his fellow Star Stealers had been sitting.
“You mean the gang of Star Stealers?”
“Yes, them,” Rovi said, trying to keep his cool.
“They are not allowed in the Upper City. They were causing a disturbance.”
“Who was disturbed?” Rovi demanded. “They were just watching.”
“They were congregating,” the guard said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Star Stealers have always been a problem in Phoenis. But recently they have been gathering in larger groups and causing trouble. It is now strictly against Phoenician Law for Star Stealers to appear in a group larger than two. And they broke that law.”
Rovi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “They broke a law because there were more than two of them?”
“Young man,” the guard said in a tone that Rovi hadn’t heard since he’d been a Star Stealer, “you might be here as a visiting athlete, but I should warn you that voicing such public support for Star Stealers in Phoenis is a violation of our code of ethics.”
“But I was a—” Rovi began, and then stopped himself. He took a deep breath. “Where are you taking them?”
“To Hafara, where they belong. At least until the games are over. We can’t afford trouble during these important weeks.”
“Hafara has been abandoned for ages!”
“Special circumstances have caused it to be reopened,” the guard said. “So don’t worry about Star Stealers anymore. That’s my advice.” And with that, she returned to her post.
Rovi stood there stunned. Hafara Prison was rumored to be deep underground in one of Phoenis’s tunnels left behind by the River of Sand. Long before Rovi had been born, Hafara had been closed when the Phoenician officials deemed it too gloomy even for prisoners.
Star Stealer tales said Hafara was a large, lightless subterranean complex below the Upper City. It was rumored that prisoners who’d been taken to Hafara when it was still in use were forever changed by the time they spent underground devoid of light and human contact. There were other stories too—ones that were only spoken of in whispers—that the remains of the River of Sand could be used to chase down any prisoner who attempted escape. Rovi shuddered as he thought of his friends locked away deep underground. What could the Star Stealers possibly have done to make the Phoenician authorities reopen Hafara?
“There you are!” Eshe was tugging on his arm. “They’ve been paging runners for the final race. This is it. You and I are taking that podium.”
Rovi stared at her blankly. It took him a moment to register where he was and what he was supposed to do.
“What�
��s wrong?” Eshe asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost,” Rovi said.
“Whatever it is, think about it later.” Eshe tugged on his arm again. “If you don’t get to the starting blocks soon, you’ll be disqualified.”
In a daze, Rovi followed her around the track. As a Star Stealer, he’d always been on the lookout for the guards. It wasn’t uncommon for some of his crew to be rounded up from time to time. Usually they were just told to move elsewhere, but if they were caught stealing, they would be sentenced to a period of time making the sand bricks he’d described to Pretia before being released back to the streets. Hafara Prison was a whole different story.
“Hurry,” Eshe said. She yanked him toward the starting blocks. Finally, she let go and rushed ahead herself, calling out over her shoulder that she’d meet him there.
He made it just in time, the moment the starter called, “On your marks.”
Rovi crouched. All he needed was two minutes of mental space not to think about the captured Star Stealers. All he needed was two minutes of focus.
He tried to say the Grana Prayer, but it came out twisted and wrong—a mangled mash of words.
He willed himself to forget about the guards leading his friends away.
He couldn’t.
“Get set.”
His mind wouldn’t obey. He saw them being dragged through the stands. He saw them fighting back against the guards.
“Go.”
Rovi was late out of the blocks.
His gait was unsteady. His breathing uneven. He was aware of everything—the length of the track, the roar of the stadium, the position of his competitors.
He tried to calm his mind. He tried to find his zone. But the race was passing him by.
On the last stretch, Rovi made a final push, an ungainly, panicked effort. He moved from last place into fourth, just missing the podium.
To his surprise, it was Eshe who won. A Dreamer from Dynami had come in third. Even Eshe seemed shocked by her own performance. Rovi knew what he had to do. He gave her a huge hug. “Congratulations, recruit.” He hoped he sounded happier than he felt.
“What happened to you this time?” Eshe asked through the broadest smile Rovi had even seen.
“I lost,” Rovi said.
“You were crushing it in every heat,” she said.
“I should have saved the best for last,” he replied. “You were the smart one.”
Eshe ducked her head. “I thought it would be both of us up there.” She indicated the podium.
“Hey, two out of three podium positions for House Somni is pretty good. And you scored us some Ecrof Glory, too.” He held up a hand for a limp high five, which Eshe returned exuberantly before heading off for the medal ceremony.
He watched Eshe mount the winners’ podium. Three flags rose: two purple, one blue. The green and gold Ecrof colors had been pinned to the top flag. The Dreamer anthem blasted across the stadium, followed by the Ecrof fight song. These should have inspired Rovi. Instead, he felt dead inside. He’d failed. He’d let himself be distracted. He wasn’t the Dreamer hero he imagined himself to be. He didn’t feel at all like the pride of the Sandlands.
Rovi didn’t join the raucous celebration on the bus ride back to the village. He took a seat alone near the back. The Dreamers were chanting Eshe’s name and singing their fight song at the top of their lungs.
“Are you upset about your performance?” Rovi looked up to see Satis slipping into the seat next to him.
“Among other things,” Rovi grumbled.
“I saw what happened,” Satis said. “In the stands. Your friends were chased away.”
“My friends were arrested. The guard told me they would be taken to Hafara Prison.”
Satis looked serious. “Rovi, I know that’s disturbing. But you are here to compete for House Somni and Ecrof. You can’t afford distractions. You are a Dreamer now, not a Star Stealer.”
“No one knows about my past?”
“No,” Satis said. “And we shall keep it that way. I’m sorry, but I have to remind you that you cannot go check on your friends. Being found off the Junior Epic premises would result in dismissal from the games.”
Rovi gritted his teeth. “I know.”
“Was Issa one of the ones who was taken by the guards?” Satis asked.
Rovi brightened slightly. “No,” he said. “Issa always escapes.”
“That’s good,” Satis said. “The Star Stealers will need him. He’ll take care of them. What you need to do now is to put your friends out of your mind. I know it’s hard, and I admire the compassion I see in you. But you are charged to bring honor to the Dreamers. You won’t help the Star Stealers or anyone else by falling short. Do I have your word you will focus?”
“Yes,” Rovi said.
Satis held his gaze. “No more distractions?”
“None,” Rovi promised. But his heart wasn’t in his vow.
13
PRETIA
A PROTEST
When the breakfast sorna horn sounded two mornings after Pretia’s ordeal at the tribunal, she decided it was time to confront her fellow athletes. Until then it seemed impossible to leave the room and face the outside world. She’d told Vera about her experience, but besides permitting her to tell Rovi, Pretia swore her friend to secrecy. She couldn’t let anyone else know that officials on both sides were concerned about her grana. That would only throw fuel onto the protesters’ fire and make them believe even more deeply in their cause.
Vera understood. She brought Pretia her meals and even wrote out some training regimens Pretia could do in their room.
In the last thirty-six hours, Pretia had taken four showers, hoping they’d scrub away the memory of her ordeal. But standing under the water, she was reminded of the eyes of the tribunal members boring into her, watching her thoughts emerge as she struggled to summon her shadow self.
What had they seen?
What had she shown them?
She knew she was being a bad teammate and a worse friend, missing Rovi’s 800 and two of Vera’s jumping events. She felt even worse when Vera told her about Rovi’s performance in the 800, how he’d totally flubbed the final race.
But now she knew she had to rejoin the games. She rolled over and picked up the paper with her event assignments. She’d been chosen for the marathon, the 100, and the 4x400, on a team with Vera, Eshe, and Rovi.
She tossed the paper aside. She couldn’t imagine competing. What was the point? If she split herself, people would say her victory was tainted. If she didn’t split herself, she wasn’t living up to her full potential.
The second horn sounded. In the other bed, Vera rolled over and stretched. She’d returned last night wearing two medals, a gold in the long jump and a bronze in the triple jump.
Pretia had tried to apologize for missing Vera’s competitions. But Vera had shushed her, telling her that after her ordeal, Pretia certainly deserved a day to herself.
Suddenly Vera was up like a shot. “It’s a new day,” she said, bounding to the side of Pretia’s bed. “Are you ready?”
“For what?” Pretia grumbled.
“The marathon!” Vera said brightly. “We have two hours to prepare.”
“I’m not competing,” Pretia said.
“You don’t know that,” Vera replied. “Anyway, you can’t spend another day hiding out in the room.” Vera began pulling her out of bed. “Get dressed. Running clothes. Tracksuit.” She went to Pretia’s closet and began throwing her competition gear toward the bed. “Let’s go!”
Pretia sat up. “I would have heard if there had been a decision from the tribunal. So I’m probably not allowed to compete.”
“We’ll figure it out. But you need to prepare as if you are going to run today.”
Pretia turned ov
er her singlet. “How can you be so motivated all the time?”
“How can you not be motivated?” Vera answered. “Come on, we’ve got races to win! Get dressed!”
Pretia sighed. “Okay, but only because I’m dying for some fresh air.” She knew there was never any arguing with Vera. She dressed in running shorts, a tank, a headband, and her favorite gold Grana Gleams. She pulled on her tracksuit and, arm in arm with Vera, headed for the dining hall.
The Dreamer anthem echoed through the village. Dreamers in their competition gear were everywhere. Pretia passed a kiosk offering purple face painting and another that did semipermanent purple hair coloring. A line of athletes was filing into the grana temple.
Pretia spotted a leaderboard that displayed the running medal count. There were a total of 150 medals at stake in the games.
House Somni was leading by a single medal.
Ecrof and Dynami were tied for most school medals.
Vera was in a four-way tie for most individual medals with two. The imperious, golden-haired Rex Taxus also had two medals.
“Ugh. Rex Taxus,” Pretia groaned. “Please don’t let him be the star of these games.”
“He won’t be,” Vera assured her. “I’ll see to that. But he’ll probably hold his lead through today, since I only have one event and he has several. How about you, Pretia? Are you feeling like a win for House Somni today?”
Was Vera trying to kill her with positivity? “I don’t even know if I’m allowed to race.”
“Hmm,” Vera said. “Well, they didn’t tell you that you weren’t allowed to race, did they?”
“Not yet,” Pretia said glumly.
“Let’s eat as if you’re running the marathon,” Vera said. “You want to be prepared.”
They headed for the interior dining hall, which was usually less crowded than the open-air one, and filled their trays with lavender oats, which would fuel them but not weigh them down.
Pretia was pouring honey into a bowl when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Satis standing over her, a serious look on his face.
At the sight of the kindly Visualization Trainer, her heart sank.
