by Ruby Vincent
He stopped dead, pulling me up short. “Then you’re not doing it without me. I’ll help you.”
I turned on him. Determination etched into every line of his face. “You don’t have to be a part of this,” I said.
“Like I would let you do this alone. Besides, you need me anyway. If you’re going to find out what was going on with Cameron in his last year, we have to talk to his friends and you have charges pending against all of them. They can’t, and won’t, talk to you. I can get them to talk to me.”
“Zela,” called Mom. “Open the door.”
I peered over my shoulder. “But you—”
“I love you.”
Derek pulled me in for a searing kiss that made me stumble back onto the bed. Then he blew out of the door shooting a goodbye over his shoulder.
Mom came inside. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
You should tell her. Now is your chance to before it goes any farther.
“Everything is fine. Let’s eat, Mom. I’m starving.”
“ZELA, THAT CAN’T BE true.”
Landon looked like he had been sucker-punched. Still his reaction to the news was a lot better than mine.
“It is true.”
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
The two of us sat on the grassy pitch in the middle of the track. It was early Monday morning. Michael looped around us, giving us space to talk. I already told Michael what I learned about my parentage. I asked Landon to join us so we could have that talk. Later tonight, I would talk to Cole.
I saw Derek that morning in the clearing. He wouldn’t stand for me to miss another morning meetup. This time we talked and he tried again to change my mind. When it didn’t work, he recommitted himself to helping me.
“Dominick Dupre is your father,” Landon repeated.
“Yes.”
“Cameron is your brother.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to find his killer.”
I nodded.
“Holy shit,” he said again. Landon scrubbed his face, suddenly looking like he felt every minute of his six a.m. wake up. “This is insane, Zee.”
“I know, but I had to tell you. All of you. I don’t want there to be secrets between us.” I leaned in and pecked his nose. “That said, you guys won’t change my mind about this. He was my brother. If the police can’t find his killer, I will.”
Landon snapped up. “Not without my help and not alone.” He peered at me hard. “I’m serious, Zela. If I found out you arranged some back-alley chat with a suspected killer and went there by yourself, I’d lose it. Whoever this guy is, he beat Cameron to death and he was twice your size. Do not fight me on this.”
Despite everything I was going through, a smile tugged at my lips. “I wasn’t going to. I need to do this, but I don’t need to do it alone. We can keep each other safe.”
He opened his arms and I fell into them. I breathed in his sweet, citrusy scent. “This went much better than my talk with Derek or Michael.”
“Just wait until you get to Cole.”
My smile evaporated. “Oh, yeah. That won’t go well.”
WON’T GO WELL WAS THE understatement of the century.
“Fuck no.”
“Cole—”
“Come on, Zela!”
Cole stalked up and down the rim of the pool. Coach was back in his office. He had to be here, but he trusted us not to dump dye in the pool. It left Cole free to yell at me.
He was fresh from a swim, dripping wet and wearing the school swim trunks that I always thought were skimpier than they needed to be. Of course on Cole, I liked them.
Desire stirred in my lower belly, responding to his anger like an aphrodisiac. On a normal day, this fight would end in sex. I didn’t expect it today.
“What do you think you’re going to do that the police haven’t done already?”
“Something was going on with Cameron last year,” I replied. “He went through the trouble of kidnapping and dragging me to the woods to prevent me from ruining the Network’s plans, and then he pretends I don’t exist. He wasn’t himself. You must have noticed.”
Throwing up his hands, Cole said, “Yeah, he was off, but what does that prove?”
“I don’t know, Cole. I don’t know anything yet. I just know where I’m going to start. The fundraiser.”
He stopped pacing. His expression smoothed out. “The fundraiser.”
I nodded. “It was months before his death and walking into the room covered in Cameron’s blood implicated me more than it did anyone else, but that overheard argument is proof someone was pissed at Cameron. They attacked him.”
“But you didn’t see who it was.”
“No, but we were at a high-society gala at the Evergreen Country Club. I doubt some random wandered in off the street. The only conclusion is—”
“The person who attacked him was at the party.” Cole’s anger fled. He gave up pacing and sat next to me. “The place was stuffed with the board, the Network, and their families.”
“A long list but a lot smaller than everyone in Breakbattle.”
“If the fight is connected to his death,” he reminded. “Cameron wasn’t the nicest guy. The killer might be someone else who hated him.”
“It’s all I have to go on right now.” I placed my hand on his knee. “Do you understand why I have to do this?”
“No.”
“Will you not fight with me about it at least?”
“No.”
I cracked a smile. “I won’t ask you to help me, but—”
He scoffed. “Of course, I’m helping you. I already know where to start. Christina’s coach wants me to tour the campus and check out the swim team. Santiago got into Somerset. I can track him down and talk to him while I’m there.”
I opened my mouth to say I’d go with him.
No, I can’t. Even if Mom let me out of the house, Santiago wouldn’t talk to me to tell me I was on fire.
“Good idea. Thank you for doing this.”
“I think this is crazy and I won’t give up on convincing you to stop,” Cole said. “He may have been your brother, but he’s not worth you getting hurt over.”
I let the comment pass through without consideration. I loved my guys, but they didn’t need to understand this. I was doing what I had to do.
I tapped my lips. “Kiss, please.”
Cole pulled that face that scared others off but that I found cute. “You don’t deserve one.”
“I always deserve a kiss.”
“No.”
“Right now.” I hooked my finger through his trunks, drew it back, and let it snap.
Growling, he grabbed my head. “Fuck you,” he said before giving me a hot, spine-melting kiss. We went at it like we were fighting—our tongues clashing together and triggering heated moans.
He tore away, breathing hard. “It’s not too cold tonight. Let’s go to the clearing.”
“Let’s go.”
In the end, my conversation with Cole went a lot better than expected.
THE NEXT MORNING, MELODY and I woke to a new message on our tablets.
“Zela, did you read this?”
I looked at her reflection in the vanity. “Read what?”
“Morning assembly directly after breakfast. The whole school is supposed to report to the auditorium.”
“We don’t have to ask what this is about.”
I read in her eyes that she was thinking the same thing.
“We have a right to protest,” she said.
“And Whittaker has a right to detention.”
“Detention won’t hurt us. This system does.”
I sighed. “I wonder why he can’t see that. This school is ranked the best in the country, and they turn out a high number of graduates who go on to become a success. The Elite Class and their resources are great, they really are, but we shouldn’t go through battles and tournaments to get through them.”
“That’s just it though,
isn’t it,” Melody said. “In Whittaker’s head, we all have the same chance to prove ourselves and those famous alumni reinforce that he’s doing everything right.”
“I’d like to sit down and talk to him like I did with the board. Explain to him what it’s really like.”
“Do you think he wants to hear from you after the whole Zeke thing?”
I cringed. “Not even a little bit.”
Melody climbed out of bed and hugged me from behind. “We’re at the point where we have to make him listen and we will. He can make us go to all the assemblies he wants. I won’t quit.”
“Me either.”
We finished getting ready and went down to breakfast. There was a different energy in the room. Too quiet. Too tense. My friends and I didn’t talk much. I think we were all feeling the weight of the pins on our chests.
Most of us were up and heading toward the auditorium before the bell rang. Seeing all the teachers and staffed lined up on stage, I sharply recalled my first day at Breakbattle Academy.
Cameron was the first person I met. He was the first person I spoke to. I thought he was angel-crafted perfection, then he opened his mouth. My first rival. My brother.
“Fill in the front rows and then move back,” Argyle instructed. “Quickly, please.”
The boys and I parted at the second row. They went one way and Melody and I went the other. We grabbed two seats on the aisle.
“Good morning, everyone,” Argyle began. “I have a few updates and then your principal will address you. First, I want you to know the police have concluded their interviews and the secondary search of the B dorms and classrooms. At this time, they are not certain of who For All is, but they will not give up and neither will we.
“Despite the claim that he will stop now, For All committed crimes against this school and he will be held accountable for them. He is not a hero. He is not a martyr. For All is a vandal. At this point, I’d like to urge anyone who has information about For All to come forward. You will not be punished. Our only desire is for the attacks to end and you all to feel safe in your school”
I looked down the row of Elite girls. They were all nodding their heads. If one of them knew who For All was, they’d give him up so fast For All wouldn’t have time to blink.
“An officer has been officially assigned to the school and they will work with the security team to ensure there are no more incidents,” she said. “This brings me to my next announcement. All of the gyms will be open by Friday. We replaced the pool water last week, and this week the new mats will be brought in and the scoreboard replaced.”
Half the room erupted into cheers. The half that wasn’t wearing pins.
“Any questions before I give the floor to Principal Whittaker?”
Everly raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Mackenzie?”
“What about the knife? You said the police’s search didn’t find anything.”
“Forgive me, I should have said the knife was found where For All said it would be in confiscated property. And while we’re relieved he doesn’t have a weapon, confiscated property is locked in a drawer in the administration office. We’re highly disturbed that he broke in not once, but twice for a knife he shouldn’t have known about.” Her hard gaze passed over us, lingering on those with pins. “This is why I’ll say again, he is not someone to look up to.”
Whittaker got to his feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Argyle. On that note, I should speak.”
She stepped aside for him to claim the podium. Whittaker walked up and adjusted the mic. He took his time taking out a set of note cards, placing them in front of him, and then smoothing his jacket. You could hear a rat breathing in the walls it was so quiet.
“Students,” he began, “I’m disappointed. Why am I disappointed? I’ll tell you.”
Melody and I shared a look. I could tell neither one of us knew what to make of his calm, even tone.
“I’m disappointed because in the midst of attacks, police, and the school board’s decision, select students have decided now is the time to pile on more. For All’s video was not a call to action. It was an incitement to legitimize his actions and make you all a party to them. And to my disappointment, students fell prey to his propaganda.”
Whittaker stepped out from behind the podium.
“I am not a harsh man. I am not unfair.”
I could have imagined it, but I thought he glanced at me when he said that.
“I want you all to have the best education and I ensure I hire the best teachers to provide it. Do you disagree? Tell me, students, from the Elite Class to the F Class, do you believe your teachers are giving you a subpar education?”
No.
The answer came unbidden. To admit it now would be foolish. Despite this, I couldn’t say Dawson and Dr. O’Quinn were bad teachers. F teachers or not, I learned a lot from them.
“Let me ask you this,” Whittaker went on. He began striding up and down the length of the stage. “For All spoke of your rights, but what rights is he referring to? Your right to an education? You are receiving an education and the battle system doesn’t hinder it. On the contrary, it is written in our rules and charter that you all must receive what is required to complete assignments and pass your exams. No one here has given you a book report and then told you to battle for the book. We don’t ask that you swim a fifty meter and then battle to get into the pool. The education you’re entitled to is given freely with no restriction.”
He paused at the end of the stage. “But then... For All isn’t speaking of that right, is he? He’s speaking of the right to tablets, dances, birthday parties, televisions, movie nights, and field trips to Orlando, Florida. But here is the issue, none of those things are rights. They are exactly what we call them: privileges.
“It is a privilege, not a right, to go on non-academic field trips. It is a privilege, not a right, to have a dorm with a television and computer. You can devote your entire life to constitutional law and you will never find the grounds to state your public high school owes you a party on your birthday.”
He resumed striding. Our heads moved side to side, following him as one.
“But here at Breakbattle, we do grant you these privileges and they are available to all students. We do not discriminate against you by class, wealth, or any other metric. If you want that party, battle for it. If you want to change classes, the tournaments are open to all. What you earn and how far you go has always been squarely on your shoulders.
“For All would have you believe otherwise, but make no mistake, this is about him and not you. His deep-seated hatred of the battle system is something we’ve seen a few times. Hours of training or studying that don’t move you forward can wear on you.”
He gestured at us. “You’re giving your best, so how could the problem be you? No, it’s the system. It’s rigged. It’s unfair. It can’t recognize your talent. It must be changed. This is the common progression of thoughts from those embittered by the system. We understand this frustration and we want to help you, For All.”
Whittaker’s tone shifted as he spoke to the masked activist. “I know you’re in here, young man. Trust me when I say I don’t want the situation to escalate farther than it has. Come to my office, turn yourself in, and we can discuss the best way to move forward.”
He fell silent. Below him, we looked around as if expecting someone to jump up and say, “It’s me.”
No one did.
Whittaker released a deep sigh. “Think about it and make the right choice.”
“In the meantime, I must make one more thing clear.” Whittaker’s tone shifted. “Your right to protest is not in question, but the way you have chosen to do so will not be tolerated. For All was mistaken in the notion that we won’t carry out the stated penalties if you decide to refuse to participate in the battle system.”
Whispers broke out around the room. The spell had been broken.
“You could not walk into the classroom, announce you won’t
do your assignments, and then expect there to be no consequences,” Whittaker said. “Battles are a part of your curriculum and if you refuse to accept them, your grade will reflect it. I suggest you all remove those pins and focus on earning what you want the right way.”
Whispers reached a crescendo and erupted into full blown shouting.
“That’s not fair!”
“We’ve never had a fucking choice in this place!”
“Get rid of the ten-point penalty!”
“Silence!” Whittaker’s bark cut through the protests. “You’ve been informed. What happens next is entirely up to you? This assembly is dis—”
“Excuse me. If I could say something.”
Miss Val went to Whittaker’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. We couldn’t overhear their conversation but the shaking of his head said no loud and clear. Miss Val didn’t move. After a minute of back and forth, Miss Val walked up to the podium.
“Before you all leave, I think it’s important to circle back to one thing the principal said. If anyone is feeling frustrated, trapped, or helpless for any reason, I want you to know you can come to me at any time. You don’t have to wait for our scheduled appointments. Talk to me,” she implored, “and I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“What does that mean?”
I snapped around. Tanner was on his feet.
“Everything you can to help,” he shouted. “What if the reason we’re feeling frustrated, trapped, and helpless is because of the battle system? How will you help us then, Miss Val?”
“Sit down, Mr. Grady,” Whittaker ordered. “How dare—”
Miss Val put up her hand, halting the principal in his tracks.
“If the battle system is effecting you to the point of damaging your health or wellbeing,” she said clearly, “then owing to my responsibility as your therapist, I will grant you the right to refuse. You will no longer have to participate in the system.”
“Miss Moon!”