by Martha Carr
This way, Amanda learned everything there was to learn about the game without actually putting on one of those headsets and stepping into a practice herself.
I could. I wouldn’t have to train nearly as hard as any of the other players here. I know all the rules.
Plus, she had access to Mr. LeFor’s training by listening in and watching.
When the team’s fourth Louper match rolled around, Amanda was the first student spectator sitting in her seat in the central field to watch the projection. The players huddled around Mr. LeFor for their coach’s pep talk about the upcoming game—how winning didn’t matter so much as improving their game scores, stats, and skills. “Still, try not to get yourselves kicked off the field in the first fifteen minutes, okay? That’s all I want you guys to focus on this time around.”
The seats slowly filled as the students came to watch the game. Only about half of them showed up this time. It was a Friday night, after all, and the Florida Gators hadn’t won a single game yet. Amanda had told Grace, Alex, and Jackson that she wanted to watch the game and start getting involved, but her friends were among those who didn’t feel like it was worth it to sit through another game as they watched their rough-and-tumble new team fall to another loss.
“Besides, I’m trying to finish that writeup for Ralthorn,” Grace had said, glancing awkwardly at Jackson and Alex. “You know, describing how our little talk with our ancestors on Halloween ties into our personal history as a magical. I think it’s a stupid assignment, honestly, but I don’t wanna fail.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Jackson had added, scratching his head and avoiding looking at Amanda. “Maybe we’ll join you for the next game.”
Both of them had left dinner early, and Amanda couldn’t help but ask Alex what was going on with them.
The half-Wood Elf shrugged and tossed his long brown ponytail back over his shoulder as he leaned over his bowl of soup. The loud slurp from his spoon didn’t buy him much time. “They’re a little freaked out about the whole dead family thing.”
“What?”
“You know. That you didn’t tell any of us first.”
“Are you freaked out about it?”
He looked up at her with his bright green eyes and slowly shook his head. “They’ll get over it.”
That was what Amanda kept telling herself as she sat on a folding metal chair in the center field before the next Louper match. They’ll all get over it. So will I. I didn’t come here to make everyone else feel comfortable. I came here to be the best.
Her hand almost went into the pocket of her loose sweatpants, but she stopped herself before her fingers got anywhere close to the purple crystal resting against her thigh.
The Master of Ceremonies’ voice came through the magical-virtual projector, announcing the start of the game between the Academy’s Florida Gators and the New Orleans Crawfish. As the team broke their huddle and strapped on their headsets, David turned and immediately found Amanda sitting in the crowd. The half-Kilomea upperclassman sneered at her and jerked the headset down over his eyes.
“You’d think he’d enjoy having any die-hard fans at all,” Summer said behind her.
Amanda jumped in her seat and turned to glare at the girl before she laughed. “Still sneaking up on me?”
“Only when you’re—”
“Distracted. Yeah, I know.” Amanda nodded at the empty chair beside her. There were a lot more empty chairs beside her these days—at the picnic tables, in class, and now in the center field during Louper games.
With a smirk, Summer stood and slipped through the row of chairs to sit beside her friend. “I bet you’d make the best player on the team with how much you’ve been hanging around them lately.”
The shifter girl snorted. “If Mr. LeFor ever lets me put on a headset. I mean, I’m pretty sure I have one of the highest grades in his class already. It’s not like I’m gonna break the gear or kick the whole team out of the game so I can hog the spotlight.”
“The spotlight’s kinda your style, though, isn’t it?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Players, take your places and prepare to enter the playing field,” the Master of Ceremonies announced, her voice warbly through the projection as it came through from an undisclosed location for this particular match.
“He might let you practice eventually,” Summer muttered. “I don’t think you’ll ever play a game.”
Amanda frowned at her. “Why?”
“Reason number one? You’re a girl. Number two, you’re a shifter, and now everybody knows it, so…” Summer grimaced and shrugged. “I guess the Academy’s trying something different from the other schools.”
Gritting her teeth, Amanda looked back at the Louper team, each of whom flickered out of existence as they were teleported to the new game field for the match and appeared as their avatars on the projection. “I knew it.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You know, I asked him if those were the reasons he wouldn’t let me try out for the team. LeFor told me it was because we had detention that weekend. Lied right to my face.”
Summer puffed out a sigh and shook her head. “Yeah. They tend to do that.”
“Teachers? Tell me about it.”
“I was pretty much talking about the entire world, shifter girl. Everybody lies right to our faces. Especially when we’re the kind of magical kids nobody wants around.”
A cheer went up from the students who’d bothered to attend the match. Amanda stared at the game projection as it panned out to give a wide-angle view of all twelve players on the new field as they found their teammates and took off together to find the prize, whatever that happened to be.
Everyone lies. Maybe that is the truth. I lied. By omission, sure, but now my secrets are all out, and it still doesn’t matter.
She could hardly pay attention to the match now that she had Summer’s oddly insightful statement to mull over in her head.
“No, Montgomery!” LeFor shouted at the projection. “You have to dodge his attack and—” The man slapped a palm to his forehead, knocking his glasses to the ground. “There goes another one out for the whole game. Fifteen minutes and thirty-four seconds. At least he made it that far.”
LeFor bent to retrieve his glasses and quickly fumbled to right them again on his face.
Spells flashed across the projection as the players battled each other, trying both to knock the other team out of the game and find the hidden prize that ended the game early and won the match for the team that got their hands on it.
Amanda’s gaze swept over the projection, but she wasn’t paying attention until she saw a glimmer of silver light in the corner. “Oh, wait. There it is.”
“What?” Summer glanced at her until Amanda pointed at the projection.
“Bottom right corner. It’s a…I don’t know. Looks like a giant leaf.”
Summer squinted at the projection, then her eyes widened. “Shit. Look at that. You got a good eye for this.”
“I mean, it’s glowing.” If she could have screamed at their players to head toward the silver leaf, she would have. However, the projection only worked one way. “If Lenny doesn’t get there first, it’s game over.”
“It’ll probably be game over for our team every single match of every single year.” Summer slumped back in her chair and shook her head. “I was excited to have this game here, but our players suck.”
“Go, go, go!” LeFor shouted as Lenny darted beneath an opponent’s fireball blast and headed for the glowing leaf.
“Or maybe they’re getting better.” Summer shrugged. “He’s gotten pretty fast! Damn, we might win this.”
The students watching the game cheered their player on, and Lenny Burke’s avatar leapt toward the glowing leaf, his arm outstretched. Before he could touch the prize, the projection sputtered and went out.
“What happened?”
“Hey, we’re still watching!”
“Did we win?”
No
w the students were shouting in confusion and anger. Mr. LeFor scowled at his device that kept track of his team’s stats and stabbed it. “I don’t—”
All six team members were teleported back into the central field simultaneously, without the Master of Ceremonies’ announcement of a winner. They whipped off their headsets and looked around.
“What happened?” LeFor shouted. “Did you end the game?”
David shook his head and dangled his headset in front of their coach. “It went black. Nobody won the game. Like, it just turned off.”
“Mr. LeFor.” Glasket stood from her chair beside the stage. “Is there something wrong with our gear?”
“Of course not.” LeFor stabbed his device again. “I have no idea what happened.”
The principal frowned and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll see what happened.”
Amanda scanned the players’ faces—all of them looked confused and pissed, mostly because they’d been on the verge of winning their first game before something knocked them out of the match.
When Glasket returned to the stage and slipped her phone back into her pocket, she raised her hands for the students to quiet down. “I spoke with the dean of the other school. It seems there’s been some kind of malfunction within the game system itself. No one won. Until we can figure out what happened, we’ve both agreed to forfeit the game and call this match a draw.”
The students groaned.
“Are you kidding me?” David roared. “We would’ve won. We should get the points for that.”
“It’s already agreed on, Mr. Grady. Plus, the system won’t reset the game, so there’s no more playing anyway.”
The team captain snarled and chucked his headset to the ground.
“Hey!” LeFor shouted. “You pick that up right now. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to recalibrate a broken—”
“They’re all broken. We’re always gonna lose.” David glared at the coach, then turned and stomped off across the field toward the dorms. The rest of the team glanced at each other in confusion, then slowly headed after their hulking captain, frowning and scratching their heads as one by one they dropped their headsets into LeFor’s duffel bag for their gear.
Amanda watched the teachers approach each other to talk about what happened, and none of them looked sure about how to proceed. Her shifter hearing picked up the conversation easily enough.
“I have no idea what could’ve done this.”
“She said there was some kind of interference with the system. Is that possible?”
“It shouldn’t be. This game has been around for a while.”
“Well, we need to figure out what happened. If someone got their hands on the system, even long enough to insert a virus or to shut down the game, we’ll have a lot bigger problem on our hands than a disappointed student body.” Glasket took off toward the faculty building while pulling her phone out again to make more calls.
Amanda leaned toward Summer. “Something’s wrong with the gear.”
“Ya think?”
“I think it’s—” She stopped when a flicker of purple light caught her eye, right behind the faculty building. It was the wards again, and in the confusion around the malfunctioning game, no one else noticed. The scent of sulfur and that odd sweetness hit her again.
“You think it’s what?”
“I don’t know.” Amanda turned to look at Summer and raised her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure we can find out. Later.”
Summer smirked. “As long as we don’t get caught again, right?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They met in front of the main building that night after Lights Out. Amanda had already shifted back and put her clothes on again, and she reached the front doors as Summer pulled two lockpicks from them. “See? Told you I knew what I was doing.”
Amanda glanced around in the darkness, but they were alone. “Think you can get that to work on the gear room?”
“Are you kidding? I can open almost any door, shifter girl. As long as it’s not the alchemy supplies.”
They slipped inside and silently made their way toward the west wing and the hallway lined with locked doors of supplies for each of their classes. When they reached LeFor’s room, Summer withdrew her lockpicks again and got to work.
Five minutes passed, then ten. Amanda leaned against the wall beside the door and stared at the end of the hall. Someone’s gonna find us if she doesn’t hurry up.
“Are you sure you can do this?”
“Hey, you said you were sure you could figure out what’s going on with the headsets. I’m sure I can open a damn—” A flare of orange sparks rippled up Summer’s arms, and she lurched away from the door. “Really? Come on. Since when did he start putting wards on this lock too?”
“Probably since someone messed with the game.” Amanda only hesitated for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out the purple crystal. “Here. This will work, right?”
Summer scowled at her, but it transformed into a smile instantly the second she saw the crystal. “You’re getting a lot better at being badass. You know that?”
“Just use it.” She wiped her hands on her sweatpants and scanned both ends of the hall again. “Hurry.”
“No one’s gonna come looking for us, Amanda. Relax.” Summer closed her fist around the crystal and pointed at the lock. A flash of white and orange light rose around the door. Then the lock popped open. “We’re in. Good thinking.”
I’m surprised she didn’t think of it first.
Both girls hurried into LeFor’s supply and gear room and gazed around at the shelves of tech pieces and miscellaneous gadgets the teacher apparently thought were too important or dangerous or both to leave in his classroom.
“Man, think of all the things we could build with this stuff.” Summer grinned and pointed at the extra magical weapons on the top shelf. “Hey, if we reprogrammed those, we could fly through the obstacle course no problem—”
“That’s not why we’re here.” Amanda reached the duffel bag with the Louper headsets and pulled it off the table. “I want to see what happened with the game.”
“Yeah, and maybe reprogram it a little, right?” Summer snickered and finally gave up when the other girl shot her a warning glance. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it. You think you can figure out how to use that thing?”
“Definitely.” Amanda pulled out LeFor’s device. It was kind of like a tablet that allowed him to view the team’s in-game stats and keep an eye on everyone at once, even when they weren’t front and center in the projection during the game. “Johnny’s big on stuff like this.”
Summer rolled her eyes. “This again?”
“I’m only saying I learned a few things. There’s always a way to figure out what happened. I have to find the—” She stopped and grimaced at the screen. “That’s weird.”
“What?”
“Nothing but a huge error message.” Amanda tapped different spots on the screen. “Like, even to open the data on this.”
“So the gear’s broken. Big deal. Maybe it’s not anything we can—”
The walls and floor shuddered around them, sending some of the smaller devices toppling off the shelves.
“Hey. What are you doing?” Amanda scowled at her friend.
“What? I’m not doing this.”
A warning buzz grew outside in the hall, and the girls looked at each other before racing to the door and stepping into the corridor. All the locks on the supply doors were glowing, throwing red and orange sparks in the air.
“You have the crystal, Summer.” Amanda pointed at the locks and their malfunctioning wards. “You sure you didn’t try to—”
“Why would I want to unlock every single door in the west wing, huh? That’s stupid.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“How the hell should I know? It’s not like—”
A new alarm they hadn’t yet heard at the school flared to life—a shrieking, warbling scream t
hat made both girls instantly clap their hands over their ears.
“Security breach,” a robotic voice roared. “Unidentified intruder detected. Security breach.”
“What the hell?” Summer gazed around the hallway. “Since when did they have a freaking robot keeping eyes on the place?”
“I mean, it’s supposed to be a Quantico for magical kids, right?”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, shifter girl. This thing’s gonna wake up the whole damn school. We need to get out of here.”
Amanda didn’t try to argue with her. They raced down the hall toward the front of the main building. Unidentified intruder? If it was us, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be the robot’s choice of words.
Right before they reached the front double doors, a massive crackling explosion rocked the campus. Both girls stumbled against the doors before Summer finally pushed one open, and they staggered out onto the grass. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. It’s—”
Another explosion interrupted her, and both girls turned to see the invisible ward line around the school going up in a blaze of purple light and flames and showers of sparks. One by one, like detonated bombs every six feet, the wards burst and popped, lighting up the night with blazing purple flashes.
Amanda looked at Summer with wide eyes.
The other girl shook her head. “This isn’t me. I swear.”
“Well, you’re the one who keeps blowing things up!”
An enormous gust of wind kicked up and blew them both backward. The howl that rose above the sporadic explosions in the wards sounded almost like a voice—growling, furious, and coming closer by the second.