“Well, I’m excited to hear what you have in store,” I told him and took a sip of my drink.
“It should get a few laughs,” he said. “Hopefully some from you.” He did a quick pan of the Box. “Where’s your leech?”
I gave him a disapproving sigh but nodded toward the entrance all the same.
“Ahh,” Theron laughed. “So you finally admit your boyfriend is a freeloader. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”
“Shhh.” I looked around to make sure no one heard what he was saying. Theron had a tendency to push too far when it came to Bas. I knew he was joking, but the right sound clip in the hands of the wrong reporter could be devastating. I threw my voice a little louder. “I said no such thing. Bastin is a remarkable man with a remarkable destiny.”
“Yeah. ‘To build.’ How much do you want to bet that if he wasn’t the grandson of a minister, he’d be on the crew building new air rails or containment units instead of in charge of it all? I can picture Mr. Manicure hauling beams around.”
“Keep your voice down,” I warned him. “You know very well a Destiny Specialist evaluated what Bas should be doing.” There was no way a Specialist would give special treatment—deciphering accurate callings at birth is what made our system work. So I just smiled and reminded Theron what he already knew. “They wouldn’t arbitrarily assign something, unless it was meant to be.”
“Lucky for you,” he replied, pointing at a stony-faced PAE officer across the room. “Can you imagine having to laugh at that guy’s jokes instead of mine?”
The officer glared back at Theron, and I swallowed back my laughter.
“See, I’m already doing my job. I heard you laugh,” Theron said.
“Try a grunt of annoyance,” Bas said as he joined us, draping his arm around my shoulder. “Is he bothering you?’
I was used to the bickering between Bas and Theron. They hated each other. And not just because of Theron’s destiny, but because Bas was a by-the-book type of guy and Theron, well, he liked to have fun.
I patted Bas’s arm. “Give him a break. This is almost as big of a day for him as it is for Aldan. And you know he’ll do anything to make me smile.” He would, at that. Theron’s destiny was to make me laugh—or, if you wanted the specifics, to make the Minister of the Seven closest to his age laugh, which amounted to the same thing. As a result, we’d practically grown up together. And since there was no time stamp on his destiny, we would be bound for life.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Sound check or something?” Bas asked him coolly.
Theron raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I shirk my destiny? What would Granddaddy say?”
I felt Bas’s arm tighten around me as he went on the defensive. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Okay, boys, enough.” I said. “Today isn’t about us. We’re here to watch the championship, and support Aldan’s Destiny Day while we’re at it. Not to fight with one another.”
Theron nodded and got a faraway look on his face. I could tell his mind had moved back to the race and his upcoming role.
“You’ll be great,” I assured him and nudged Bas.
“Yeah,” my boyfriend muttered.
“Besides,” I said, “It’s Aldan up there. It’s only right that you’re part of his big day.” The two were best friends. Theron had been there to see every record that Aldan had broken—which was all of them. “Remember how amazing he was at the track last summer?”
I almost hit myself for bringing it up. The last thing I wanted to think about was last summer, hand in hand with Link, sitting together at the practice track watching Aldan do impossible trick after trick. Back then we’d even talked about coming to the championship together. But that was before Link’s stubborn streak had ruined everything.
I pushed away the memories. “Anyway,” I said before Theron could respond. “I know you have to get ready, so we’ll let you go. Good luck tonight.”
As Theron headed back to the booth, my eyes scanned the others in the Box. There was no sign of Link yet, and I took a deep breath, willing the tight knot in my stomach to release. I wanted to sit before he and his parents showed up. Maybe I’d be able to avoid them that way. “Want to sit down?” I asked Bas.
“Sure,” he said, grabbing my hand again.
We walked through several rows of purple-clad spectators, many of whom I knew through various charities or fundraisers. I waved hello to a few acquaintances as Bas led me to the front of the Box. The Seven took up most of the front row seats, of course. All but Dr. Og, the inventor of the destiny system. He rarely made it out anymore. When he did, it was for meetings, and he was always accompanied by his caretaker.
Minister Edward Worthington, my boyfriend’s grandfather, stood as we approached. He wore a deep purple suit and matching pinstripe tie. A multicolored pin was attached to his lapel, representing the seven rings. His gray hair and matching beard were perfectly groomed, as always. Minister Worthington was tall and thin, where Bastin was broad and muscled. But he and Bastin shared the same cool, blue eyes. He turned them on me, nodding politely.
“Hi Granddad,” Bas greeted him. The two shook hands.
“A good day to you both,” he replied. He turned to me and pumped my hand as well. “I saw the broadcast of your speech to the Industry Employers over in AnaKurtz. Motivating yet firm,” he said, giving me an approving nod. “Well done.”
“Thank you, Minister,” I replied. I had spoken to three hundred employees in the manufacturing sector named for our former president. It took me two days to write and prepare my speech, and then I ended up scrapping it, instead speaking off the cuff. I received a standing ovation.
“And I’ve heard your inauguration date is set,” he continued. “Next summer, is it?”
“That’s my girl,” Bastin said, slinging an arm around me.
I smiled broadly at both of them. “I’m very much looking forward to it.”
Which was an understatement. There had been complications during my birth. My destiny had been extracted with no problems, but its time stamp was another story. Everyone knew how quickly details about one’s destiny faded after birth—the specifics were completely lost within the hour. In my case, immediately after my destiny was recorded, my mother had a seizure. She recovered just fine, but as a result, the Specialist wasn’t able to continue the extraction and my time stamp was lost. It had never really been a problem for me. It just meant the date of my rise to council was “to be determined.” Or had been until last week when the council announced I would be inducted next summer. I took it as a huge vote of confidence they felt I was almost ready.
Minister Worthington rubbed the hair on his chin thoughtfully. “You’ll be the youngest minister in history,” he said. He didn’t have to say the next part. It was implied. Being the youngest meant that everyone would be watching—closely.
“I won’t let you, or any of the other ministers down, sir,” I said. “And I’m honored.”
He chuckled as he turned back to Bas. “I’ll see you this Sunday for dinner?”
Bas nodded. “Looking forward to it. And maybe afterward I can show you the new schematics I’m working on for ring security.”
As Bas and his grandfather continued to talk I made my way down the line of the remaining Seven, stopping to shake each of their hands and exchange a few words. The only one who made me feel at ease was Minister Tagon Corbin. He was by far the youngest of the Seven, and a major loop enthusiast.
“Madden,” he greeted me.
I shook his hand and smiled. “Are you excited for the race, Minister?” I asked.
“Oh, absolutely.” He shook his head enthusiastically, and gestured toward the giant loop coaster rising in front of us. “I’ll be interested to see how the players will navigate this orientation.”
We both turned to appraise the course. From this vantage I could fully appreciate just how many modifications had been made for the championship. The track it
self was built out of the same clear material used for the light rail, complete with the magnetic surface for the racers to hover over. But that’s where the similarities ended. There were eight loops to pass through before a player could reach the end, with some sections wider, and others narrower so that only one racer could get through at a time. Colored lights pulsed through the structure in quick bursts. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Get a load of that drop.” Minister Corbin pointed to the end of the track. “There’s never been one that steep. It almost goes straight down.”
My eyes widened. It was hundreds of feet. It looked impossible to maneuver safely.
A young girl’s voice interjected from behind us. “Aldan could still coast that thing with his eyes closed,” she said.
I turned around. An earnest little girl peeked up at me through a cloud of dark ringlets. She looked even smaller sandwiched between her security detail. “I bet you’re right, Aya,” I replied.
The girl gave me a shy smile. “I always pretend I’m Aldan when I play Loop Racer. Have you tried it?”
I shook my head no, and she punched a few buttons on her wrist tracker. A small hologram appeared before us. “It’s kind of like the real race. You have to guide your board to the bottom of the track without getting knocked off by the other players. Only in the game you also have to dodge falling stars and lightning. I’m on level 147. I bet you’d like it.”
“I’m sure I would,” I agreed. “Maybe you can teach me sometime?”
A smile lit up Aya’s face, and she nodded furiously. “Definitely,” she said.
I returned her smile. I was seeing more and more of the little Purple of late, and I had a feeling I would continue to. She was the only person on record to have a classified destiny—it was even above my Violet clearance—and every time we spoke I had to stop myself from begging her to tell me about it. I hated unsolved puzzles. I’d find out once I joined the Seven, of course, but in the meantime I’d just have to trust that she would play an important part of our future.
The first bell rang through the stadium, letting us know the competition would be starting shortly. “I guess I should find my seat,” I said to Aya. “Enjoy the race.” I nodded to Minister Corbin as I turned. And that’s when I saw him.
I felt the bubbles from my drink twist through my stomach as I examined my ex. Link looked even better than when last I’d seen him. His dark blond hair was cropped close to his head. It was shorter than it had been when we’d dated. More befitting of his status as a Destiny Specialist. Although he still wore the faded lavender shirt I never liked. It was even more faded now—to the point that it had a tinge of ash. The handcrafted royal purple shirt I’d had Willa make him to replace it was still wrapped in my closet. Link had never spent money on clothes, or on anything really. Instead he donated his salary to his family. Even then, it was barely enough to counteract the tax Dax’s status cost them. I sighed. He wasn’t even bothered by having a Blank in the family. It was a good reminder of one of the many reasons we’d have never worked out. It didn’t bring me any comfort, though.
Link looked up at that moment and locked eyes with mine. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to turn away, but instead I gave him a courteous nod. There were cameras everywhere, and I refused to have an awkward moment on record.
“Madden,” Bas called, still standing next to his grandfather. “Come sit.” He combed his hair back with his hand and adjusted his purple tie. Not that there was any need. Bas was always immaculately dressed for any occasion.
I made my way to my seat. Bas and his grandfather had moved from pleasant conversation to a heated debate on the latest Blank legislation that was held up in the Delegation—a group of appointed politicians chosen to represent each ring from New City and the other territories of the States. The Seven could eventually move the bill forward, but the Delegation might stall it for at least a few more months, or even years if they didn’t plan carefully.
“Just overrule them,” Bas said, exasperated by what I assumed his grandfather’s explanation of policy was.
Minister Worthington gestured to me. “I’m sure Madden could explain the political intricacies. At least someone here is up on their studies.”
I hated when Minister Worthington put me in the middle of their family squabbles. Bas was always desperately trying to win his grandfather’s approval, and it didn’t help our relationship to be pitted against one another.
“Gentlemen, today is about racing, not policy. Look at that track.”
Minister Worthington gave a hardy laugh. “Right as usual, Madden. But my grandson here could use a lesson on the finer points of government. Do you mind switching places with me so Bas and I may continue our conversation?”
I looked down the front row, careful to keep my anxiety from showing. Minister Worthington’s vacant seat was next to three additional empty ones, and I had a feeling I knew who would be taking them. “Of course not,” I said, and moved to my new seat, where I feigned interest in the screens floating outside the Box. They broadcast snippets from last year’s race.
“Madden Sumner, is that you?”
I did my best to keep the dismay from my face, instead twisting my lips into something I hoped would pass for a smile.
“Mrs. Harris, how delightful to see you,” I responded to Link’s mother. My words sounded flat, and I couldn’t help but notice her yellow gown had two thin stripes of purple crossing one shoulder—a stripe for Aldan and another for Link. A little tacky, I thought, but by rights she had earned them.
“You dear girl,” Link’s mom gushed. “We have absolutely missed you to bits. Isn’t that right, Bill?” Link’s father leaned around his wife.
“Greetings my dear,” he said. “As the bard says, ‘How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.’”
I’d never cared for Shakespeare and wasn’t interested in starting now. I nodded politely to Link’s father. “Very nice to see you again, Mr. Harris,” I replied.
“Link?” Mrs. Harris called. “Link, come and tell Madden hello.”
Link turned from the conversation he’d been caught up in. Our eyes met again, and I froze, caught up in his perfect face. No one had features like him. His eyes, his jaw, his… I felt myself growing red and yanked my gaze away from his. Crilas, I thought. Why did I look away first?
“Hi,” he said simply.
I looked back up. “Hello, Link. How pleasant to see you. Are you looking forward to the race today? Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?”
It was as though I was on autopilot, mouthing words that didn’t belong to me. Lots of words that I couldn’t seem to stop. Why did he have to look so good?
“I bet you can’t wait to see what Aldan will do on the loops,” I continued. “Because, you know, the loops are really ultra.” My heart was racing as quickly as my words, and I couldn’t stop the last few from tumbling out. “I mean, what an incredible Destiny Day, and what a wonderful chance for all of us to share it. You must be pretty excited.” This wasn’t happening. I’d spent the last year planning what I would say to Link when we next spoke. In all of these imaginary conversations, I’d been satisfied by the regret I knew my words would spark.
Link nodded his head somberly. “Pretty excited,” he agreed, echoing my inane words. He didn’t take his eyes off of me, and my heart was going faster than Aldan on a track. I used to love the way Link looked at me—like I was special, like I was all that mattered, like I was his destiny. But that was before. Now his eyes were filled with disappointment and a trace of betrayal. Our lives were no longer in sync.
The second bell rang, and I sunk down into my seat. Link would sit on the other side of his parents and everything would be fine, I reassured myself. I wouldn’t have to look at him anyway. I wouldn’t have to wonder what if…
“Oh, I have a marvelous idea,” Mrs. Harris said, clapping her hands. “Honey, why don’t you come sit next to Madden?”
She grabbed Link’s hand and pulled him toward me. “Take my seat. Quick now, the race is about to begin!”
And with that I was seated next to Link Harris.
“Come on, Laira,” I said, dragging her closer to the entrance of the arena, and doing my best not to wrinkle the gray cotton dress I’d borrowed from her for the occasion. Its sleeves hid Aldan’s cuff perfectly, but I hadn’t counted on just how delicate it would be. I reached under the fabric and rubbed the cuff for luck. If we didn’t get through the crowd soon, we might not make it into the arena. Everyone in New City was there, and Ashes weren’t exactly a priority for seating.
Laira had stopped for the moment, transfixed by the images of Madden Sumner projected across the overhead screens. Our country’s future leader was quite literally larger than life as she took a sip from her drink. Unless that drink was dribbling down her perfectly powdered chin, I had no interest in watching. I grabbed Laira’s arm and dragged her after me, elbowing my way through the crowd with the others. It was still taking way too long, so I cut through the refreshment stands, collecting glares from the people working there.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeated like a broken voice cube as we snuck through their workspace.
Klay Kemp, who was manning the water stand, just shrugged. “Water?” he asked, holding out a bottle.
I shook my head no, right as Sol Josephson rounded the corner.
“Aww, come on,” Sol said, flinging himself into our conversation. “You can’t support your own classmate in his tireless pursuit of destiny? Isn’t that the whole crux of our society? Our whole reason for living? What kind of person are you, anyway?”
“He does have a point,” Laira said, totally missing the glint in Sol’s eyes and the smile he was fighting to keep off of his face. “Klay’s destiny is to give water.”
“I always have a point, Laira,” he answered, taking a bottle from Klay. “Aldan Harris, Loop Champion,” Sol read from the label. “Well, Klay, I’m impressed with your professionalism. So much that I’d like to help the cause even further.” He grabbed a second bottle from him and tossed it in his bag.
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