by Kobe Bryant
Now she headed for the stadium. At the entrance she passed an older Realist from Ecrof who had cramped in the homestretch.
Pretia hit the track. She was shocked to discover there were only three runners ahead of her—Vera and two Realists.
She took a deep breath, ready for a final exertion. She would sprint the final lap. She would do what it took to catch the runners ahead. It was possible. It was if— She was about to accelerate when she stopped. She could feel herself starting to pull away, to split. Her shadow self was about to emerge. She felt a wavering, a momentary separation. Her shadow self wanted to win. It told her she could win. She could catch the pack and pass them. She could snag Junior Epic Glory and prove to her parents that she had been right in coming to Phoenis. She could write herself into the record books. She could achieve the dream of nearly every child in Epoca.
But actually, she couldn’t.
Not with the stands packed with spectators. Not with everything that was at stake.
She could feel her shadow self separating. It was going to take off. “No,” she muttered. But it was too late. She had split. She had stepped outside herself.
“Stop!” And then Pretia did the only thing she could think of in the moment—she tripped herself, diving onto her side with a painful crash. She didn’t worry about the humiliation of falling in front of fifty thousand people. All she wanted to do was recall her shadow self.
To Pretia’s relief, her selves collided. She rolled over. A race official had sprinted to her side. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Pretia assured him.
“That was a nasty tumble,” he said. “I’ll take you to the medics.”
Pretia dusted the dirt from her knees. “I’m going to finish.” She might not win, but she was not going to be disqualified for failing to cross the finish line. And before the race official could object, she dashed toward the end.
She was too late for the podium. She watched Vera cross in first place and raise her arms in an exhausted victory salute. The two Realists followed. Pretia came in fourth.
After she crossed the finish line, she found Vera and hugged her. “You won gold!” She held up her hand for a high five.
“Did my stupid brother and his friends cost you a podium spot? Did they slow you down?”
“No,” Pretia said. “They didn’t even know who I was with my headscarf.”
“I wanted to kill Julius. If I hadn’t been in the middle of a race, I would have.” There was fire in Vera’s eyes. “Right after the medal ceremony, I’ll find that pompous gang of Realists and give them a piece of my mind.”
“No,” Pretia said. “No way. And you don’t have to do that—you just won the marathon! That’s amazing. Focus on that.”
Vera’s face relaxed. “Okay, but I am going to show Julius.”
“Show him by destroying his record,” Pretia urged. “Now go get your medal.”
Pretia stood on the sidelines and watched Vera climb to the winners’ spot. The smile on Vera’s face was as wide as the sea between Cora and the mainland. Pretia felt her heart swell as the flags rose and the anthems played.
When the medal ceremony ended, Vera stepped off the podium still grinning from ear to ear. “I’m beat,” she said to Pretia.
“No recovery training?” Pretia teased.
“By the gods no,” Vera sighed. “Just rest.”
“Not so fast, Ms. Renovo.” The race official who had come to Pretia’s aid on the course now stood in front of them. “Do you know that you’re the youngest winner of the marathon in the history of the Junior Epic Games?”
Vera gave him a slightly smug smile. “Yes, and I’m only the second female winner, too.”
The race official looked impressed by her knowledge.
“And now the Dreamers have won the marathon three more times than the Realists,” Vera continued. It was clear that she had more to say, but the official interrupted.
“You must attend a press conference at the village immediately,” he said. “Yours is quite an accomplishment. Unless you are too tired, of course.”
“Not at all!” Vera said. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll go with you,” Pretia said.
Satis was waiting by the Epic Coach to escort them. A few eager Phoenician kids stood by the door, holding out memorabilia for Vera to sign.
“Really?” she said, taking a pen. “You want my autograph?” She inked her signature on a few hats and programs.
“That was wild,” she said as Satis ushered the kids away.
The coach sped away to the Dreamer village. When they disembarked, a crowd of athletes was assembled to greet Vera, chanting her name.
“Wow,” Vera said. “It was just the marathon.”
“Well, it was historic,” Satis said. “And it’s put you on the map as the athlete to watch.”
Vera beamed at her fellow Dreamers.
“Are you ready to face the press?” Pretia asked, relieved that she wasn’t the one who would have to answer questions from a bunch of adults.
“I can’t wait!” Vera gushed.
They cut through the village swiftly, heading right for the media center. Pretia watched as Satis led Vera to the front of a crowd of reporters. Behind her, on a screen, a clip of her crossing the finish at the marathon played on repeat.
The reporters all spoke at once. The room was noisy and chaotic, with everyone trying to be heard over each other.
“What does it feel like to be competing for a different house than your family’s?”
“How do you feel being the youngest person to win the marathon?”
“Did you always plan to follow in your brother’s footsteps?”
Vera answered all their questions with her usual brand of assured confidence. She was a Dreamer. That’s all that mattered. She was thrilled to win the marathon. She was here to break records and exceed expectations.
“Are you planning on breaking Julius’s medal record?”
At this Vera’s eyes lit up. “I will totally break my brother’s record medal haul. But I have a larger goal.”
“And what’s that?” the reporter who was questioning her asked.
“I’m going to break the record number of medals won by Farnaka Stellus.”
Suddenly the room fell silent.
“What did you say?” the reporter asked.
“Did she say Farnaka Stellus?” another reporter demanded.
Vera opened her mouth to repeat her answer. But in an instant, Satis was at her side, pulling her away from the podium.
“What’s going on?” Vera demanded.
“I believe that’s enough questions,” Satis said. “This interview is over.” He held up a hand to the reporters.
“But I was just telling them about—” Vera said as Satis led her out of the room with Pretia on their heels.
“If you want to chase records,” Satis said, “you need to rest and not chat to reporters. Focus on the upcoming events instead of what has already happened.”
“But why?” Vera protested.
“Just listen to your Trainer without contradicting,” Satis said in an uncharacteristically sharp tone.
“Okay,” Vera mumbled. She didn’t sound all that convincing.
But Pretia considered Satis’s advice. She couldn’t dwell on her frustrating finish to the marathon. She was going to need to find a way to make these Junior Epic Games worthwhile, or all her sacrifice and risk was for nothing. And doing that meant looking toward the future.
14
ROVI
A REQUEST
Rovi was grateful that he had another day off before his next event—the Epic Mile. He needed to regroup and get his head back in the game. But he still couldn’t shake the image of his fellow Star Stealers being led off like serious criminals. And he hadn
’t been sleeping well. His dreams had been filled with disturbing images of the subterranean Hafara Prison.
At least today wasn’t a competition day for him. But it was for Vera. She had two events in the pool—one in the morning and one in the evening—and he and Pretia were going to watch.
They met, as they had agreed, at the Grand Concourse, where spectator transport took non-competing athletes to the various venues. Pretia was glancing up and down the concourse nervously.
“Still no decision?” Rovi asked.
Pretia shook her head. “Not yet.”
“It’s so unfair,” Rovi said, “keeping you waiting like this.”
“Tell me about it,” Pretia replied. “I’m starting to wish I’d listened to my parents in the first place and never come.”
“Don’t say that,” Rovi implored. But he had to admit, she had a point. Her Junior Epics weren’t exactly all fun and games.
The spectators’ van pulled up, and a crew of Dreamers bearing flags and signs supporting their friends and teammates got on board.
“Let’s sit in the back,” Pretia suggested.
Rovi followed her to the rear and settled in, once more, to watch the Upper City of Phoenis pass by.
It took Rovi a moment to realize where they were headed, as he gazed out at the genteel and colorful streets of the Upper City. He knew, of course, that they were going to a pool. But as they drew near, he recognized the exterior of the Royal Baths where he had spent his last moments as a Star Stealer.
He and Issa and the gang had snuck into the Upper City and the pool—a place to which only the most elite members of Phoenician society had access. They’d braved the possibility of detection by the Phoenician guards to swim in the delightful waters and forget for an instant that nothing so nice was ever allowed them. But when the guards had noticed, they had rushed for the Star Stealers and would have caught Rovi had Satis not appeared and whisked him away to Ecrof.
The Dreamer spectators exited the van and entered the baths. The familiar steamy eucalyptus scent hit Rovi right away. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
The pool was as spectacular as Rovi remembered—wide and deep, surrounded by arches and colonnades on all sides where, during a normal day, affluent Phoenicians lounged. Today these areas had been converted into stands for spectators. On one end of the pool were the starting blocks for the swim event and at the other the high diving boards and the springboards. In order to make use of the whole pool, the swimming and diving events were staggered.
The vaulted ceilings were trimmed in gold and painted with the constellations of the Phoenician sky. The pool looked less like a place for serious competition than it did like a luxurious playground. But Rovi knew better. He knew that today’s races were going to be fierce, especially with Vera taking part.
The Junior Epic Athletes who’d come to watch were instructed to sit on one of the longer sides of the pool facing supporters from Phoenis and elsewhere. Pretia found seats near the swimming blocks so they could watch Vera take off.
“We can move later if we want to watch diving,” she said.
But Rovi had no interest in moving closer to the diving boards. He winced at the memory of skirmishing with a Realist boy, only to belly flop off the high diving board.
His confrontation with the Realist and the resulting scuffle had caught the attention of the Phoenician guards, who had swooped in and tried to capture the Star Stealers. Because of Rovi, his gang had been imperiled. Knowing now what the Star Stealers were up against, Rovi felt doubly sickened by the memory.
An announcer’s voice echoed through the swim complex. The first race was about to start—the kickoff heat of the individual medley. Rovi and Pretia got to their feet and cheered as they saw Vera shed her enormous swim coat, snap her swim cap over her puff of wavy hair, and step onto the block. Rovi watched her mutter the Grana Prayer under her breath. Then the bell went off and the swimmers dove in.
Vera won easily, finishing half a pool’s length in front of the second-place swimmer.
Rovi and Pretia watched the remaining heats. The only other swimmer they knew in this race was Cyril. Except for Vera, all the other swimmers who’d qualified for the next round were Rhodan Islanders or students at the Aquiis Academy.
There was another race—the backstroke—after Vera’s to give the swimmers in the medley time to recover before their next heat. Pretia and Rovi didn’t know any of the athletes but cheered loudly for House Somni.
“Hey,” Pretia said when the first round of heats was over, “I think there’s someone in the stands on the far side of the pool waving at you.”
Rovi shaded his eyes and stared across the starting blocks to the facing spectators. “I don’t see anything,” he said. “Just a bunch of Phoenicians cheering for their houses.”
“I could have sworn—” Pretia began. “Never mind.”
When Vera’s second round began, Rovi and Pretia got to their feet to cheer her on. “Vera! Vera!” Rovi chanted. He knew she was in the zone and couldn’t hear him—or rather shouldn’t hear him. But maybe she’d feel his support.
Then he felt Pretia tug on his arm. “There,” she said over the melee. She was pointing across the pool. Rovi followed her finger. There was one figure on the opposite side who wasn’t cheering. But before Rovi could get a good look, the person vanished.
“They were definitely waving at you,” Pretia said.
The friends turned their attention back to the race. Vera swam well, but the other swimmers were equally strong. Rovi and Pretia remained on their feet, cheering her on. After two laps, she was in fourth place.
“Oh no,” Rovi said, “what if she doesn’t make it out of this round?”
“I hope she’s not distracted,” Pretia said.
“What on earth could distract Vera?” Rovi wondered. Her focus was usually so razor sharp that he couldn’t imagine anything taking her out of the moment.
“Well,” Pretia began. “There was this thing at the media center. She was telling the reporters about Farnaka Stellus, and Satis practically yanked her away from them.”
“Probably because no one wants to hear about some guy no one cares about,” Rovi said. “It’s much more interesting if she’s chasing her own brother’s record.”
They watched Vera close in on the two leaders.
“You’re probably right,” Pretia said.
Vera was catching up. Rovi and Pretia cheered louder, so loud and forcefully that Rovi nearly toppled into the row in front of him. To their delight, Vera touched the wall in second place.
Rovi waved his arms and shouted her name as loudly as he could as she pulled herself out of the pool. She’d made the finals.
“There!” Pretia said.
Someone was standing in the shadows of one of the bleachers. Rovi could feel eyes on him, boring into him from across the pool. He stopped cheering and watched. But again, the person vanished.
Throughout the following heats Rovi scanned the area surrounding the pool. He could feel someone watching, but he couldn’t pinpoint the spy.
Next up was the second round of the backstroke. Rovi paid no attention to the race, hardly even bothering to cheer for House Somni. When that heat was over, Pretia tapped him. “Okay,” she said, “here she goes.”
Rovi glanced over at the starting blocks in time to see Vera utter the Grana Prayer.
The bell rang out.
The swimmers hit the water.
Everyone’s focus shifted to the final race.
And that’s when the figure who’d been watching Rovi stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself fully. He raised an arm straight up in the air, palm upward, fingers pressed together as if to pluck a star. It was Issa. He dropped his arm and began beckoning Rovi across the room, an urgent look on his face.
Pretia cupped her hands around her mouth and
shouted, “Veraaaaaaa!” Then she looked at Rovi. “How come you’re not cheering?”
Rovi called Vera’s name. But he wasn’t focused on the race. He was tracing Issa’s path so he could find him later.
The next thing he knew, Pretia’s arms were around him. “She did it! She did it!”
“She won?”
“Were you even watching? She came in second! But that’s still a medal. And a Dreamer came first, so we did great overall. Vera is up to four medals. Almost halfway to what’s his face’s record.” She held up a hand for a high five, which Rovi returned distractedly.
“Pretia, cover for me.”
“Do what?”
“Cover for me. Don’t tell anyone where I’m going.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to find someone.”
Pretia gripped his arm, trying to restrain him. “Wait! You’re not going to leave the grounds, are you? You can’t! It’s not allowed!”
But before she could ask any more questions, Rovi slipped away through the crowd.
For a moment, he wasn’t Rovi Myrios of Ecrof, a Dreamer, but Swiftfoot the Star Stealer. He slipped through the crowd like a ghost, past teammates, competitors in their puffy swim coats, rivals, Trainers, and delegates from different academies. It was as if he weren’t there at all—a shadow no one saw. He slid into the colonnade. He knew where Issa had gone—toward the hallways that led from the pool through which his gang had snuck into the Royal Baths more than a year ago.
He didn’t have much time. After the medal ceremonies he’d have to rejoin his group on the van or risk being thrown out of the Junior Epic Games. If that van left without him—Rovi didn’t like to think about the consequences.
But right now, what he needed to do was find Issa. He slipped along the corridor, away from the cheering crowds. The eucalyptus scent from the steam room and recovery bath got stronger as he went deeper into the complex. Heady vapor wafted down the hall. Rovi waved his hands in front of his face to clear the air.
