by Dylan Steel
She looked around to see what she might be missing. The closest doors were yards away and didn’t appear at all unusual. A giant woven tapestry depicting the stoic old members of the Original Five was hanging beside them, but otherwise, the hallway was bare and unfeeling.
“You should see your face!” Penelope laughed.
“Penelope, this isn’t funny. Can we please go back now?” Sage felt her cheeks grow hot.
She rolled her eyes. “But we haven’t gotten to the best part yet. We can’t leave now!”
With a giddy smile and a great deal of effort, Penelope pushed back the tapestry and revealed a door. It was disguised partly by the pattern of bricks along the wall, but mostly, the tapestry had done its job of masking the exit.
Sage gaped at her in disbelief. “Where does this go?”
“Move it! This thing’s heavy!” Penelope grunted, ignoring her question.
The two scrambled inside, dropping the tapestry back in place behind them with a dull thud. Sage took in her new surroundings. They were in a narrow stairwell that circled upwards. The stairs appeared endless.
“C’mon.” Penelope motioned for Sage to follow her.
As they wound their way up the staircase, Sage peppered Penelope with questions, most of which she simply waved off.
“You’ll see in a minute.”
When they finally arrived at the top, Sage glanced back over the railing. She could no longer see where they had entered the room—it was enveloped in darkness below. Penelope grinned at her reluctant friend and pushed open the door.
A rush of cold air hit them in their faces as they stumbled out of the stairwell. Penelope took a few steps forward and turned around, grinning at her unwilling accomplice.
“Whaddya think? Worth it?” Penelope teased.
Sage was speechless.
They were standing on top of the Institution. The view of the city from the roof was absolutely breathtaking, but she was more overwhelmed by the pinpricks of light peeking out of the sky above. She hadn’t seen the stars since her parents were still alive.
“Well?” Penelope asked expectantly.
“It’s beautiful,” Sage answered. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. “How’d you know about this?”
“Well, obviously, the faculty would completely freak out if they knew any of us knew about it. Can you imagine? But I have my sources.” She winked.
“I’ve actually never been up here before either. But lots of upperclassmen—couples—talk about it,” she continued.
Sage just nodded, only half-hearing what Penelope said. She walked toward the edge of the building.
The gates encircling the Institution seemed so small from where she was standing. Freedom felt closer than it had for a long time. She closed her eyes and threw her neck back, stretching her arms out at her sides and letting the moonlight wash over her face.
One tear slid down her cheek. She hurriedly brushed it away before turning back to Penelope.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Happy birthday, Sage.”
She smiled. “It wouldn’t kill you to tell me what you’re planning, you know.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Penelope giggled.
Sage rolled her eyes but then suddenly grew serious. “Did you hear that?”
“No.” Penelope’s eyes darted around. “What?”
“I think someone else is up here.”
Penelope grabbed Sage’s arm, and the two of them sprinted behind a vent, ducking down quickly.
“We’re going to be in big trouble, aren’t we?” Sage hissed.
Eyes wide, Penelope gestured wildly, putting a finger to her lips.
The sound of crunching gravel grew louder. Sage gritted her teeth and stared at the ground, unsuccessful in willing herself to shrink. Someone else was definitely up there with them. Muffled voices carried across the rooftop, but she couldn’t make out what was said.
For a moment, there was silence. Sage let out her breath softly. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it. As soon as she did, footprints began approaching them.
Sorry, Penelope mouthed. Sage bit her lip and stared at the ground for a moment before squeezing her eyes shut.
“Well, whaddya know.” A familiar stern, low voice sounded just over their heads. “No sense in hiding anymore, girls.”
Sage grimaced and looked up. Kai was standing beside the vent, arms crossed.
“Come on, you two. Stand up.”
As they rose from their hiding spot, Sage glimpsed another figure behind Kai.
“I’m pretty sure both of you know you’re not supposed to be here.”
Sage hung her head. She was sure tonight’s excursion would cost her even the smallest freedoms she’d enjoyed. Nausea began to overwhelm her as she thought about being shunned until her graduation.
“Well, you’re here,” Penelope said pointedly.
Sage looked up in surprise at her brazenness.
Kai narrowed his eyes and spoke in almost a growl. “Level Sixteen Ambassadors are afforded a lot more privileges than lower levels.”
He motioned for his companion behind him to join them. Sage could finally make out Rosalind’s outline as she stepped forward.
“Ros, would you mind taking Penelope back to their Common Lounge? I’m sure Madame Humphrey is going to be collecting them for the evening soon. It’d be terrible if she wasn’t there on time.”
Rosalind nodded and stretched out a hand to usher her to the staircase. Penelope looked back at Sage apologetically.
“I’ll be by with Sage in a minute,” he called over his shoulder. “No need to wait, though.” He looked down at her. “Wouldn’t want them to decide to wander off somewhere together again.”
The door swung closed, and Kai paced a few feet away. He wasn’t facing Sage when he spoke. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if someone else would have caught you out here tonight?” He turned back around.
She nodded miserably.
Fire flashed behind his eyes. “And you still came out here anyways?” He kept his voice low, but he wasn’t trying to hide his anger.
Kai clenched his jaw. “Sage, you can’t afford to be so careless right now. It’s bad enough with the tournament coming up... And you told me you weren’t wasting my time. You have no idea the sacrifice it is to spend time training you.” He began pacing.
“You have to play it straight.” He pointed his finger at her. “The rest of this year. The administration’s already paying a lot of attention to you. This was a stupid risk.”
Sage fought back tears. All she’d wanted was one day away from the nightmare that she lived in. And she’d almost gotten it—at least partly. But reality always came crashing back.
He noticed her despondency and softened a bit. “I’m just telling you to be careful. You never know who’s watching, and next time it might be someone a lot less friendly.”
Sage nodded.
“Alright, enough lecture. Let’s get back to your lounge.” He swept his hand to the side, motioning her in front of him.
“Technically, I should be reporting this,” he continued. “But we’ll call it a birthday present that I don’t.”
She looked at him quizzically. She’d only just told Penelope it was her birthday a few hours earlier—no one else knew.
“Oh, please,” he said, interpreting her expression. “You think I wouldn’t have read your file? I’ve invested way too much time training you. There’s no way I don’t know everything about you that the Institution knows. I know everything from your placement scores last year to how you wound up at the Institution in the first place.”
He seemed almost sympathetic with that last statement. “Come on. Let’s get you back before you actually get in trouble.”
12. GETTING STARTED
“Level Nines check in over there!” Ms. Batrille shouted over the noise of the crowd in the Grand Hall.
Sage’s stomach
was in knots. She was standing uncomfortably close to Carnabel as they both waited for their instructions.
Until today, she’d held onto the smallest hope that she would be pardoned from the Bokja Tournament due to her injury. The headmaster’s final decision was rendered that morning, however, and his official statement was:
“We cannot show leniency to one in the event that many will gain a wrong understanding of the severity of the discipline that is a part of Eprah’s laws and society. Excusing Sage from the tournament would be as irresponsible as the actions she initially took that first guaranteed her a place in the tournament.”
The words still rang in her ears. She was at more of a disadvantage than she would have imagined.
Ms. Batrille finished calling out instructions to the other students and turned to leave. Sage and Carnabel exchanged a confused glance—one of the few times they’d been in agreement.
“Ms. Batrille!” they called in unison.
The organizer turned around quickly, clearly startled by the bold youngsters.
Carnabel glared at Sage and continued. “Ms. Batrille, where should we go?”
“Oh, you two. I’m sorry, I forgot to mention—you can go check in with the Level Nines. Over there.” She pointed to a corner of the room with a crowd of the younger students gathering.
Carnabel elbowed her way past Sage, rushing toward their check-in. Sage’s nostrils flared. Clearly, one of them was eager to fight today.
This wasn’t her first time backstage, but everything seemed bigger than she remembered. She saw her own worry reflected on the faces of some of the students around her. But of course, others appeared as cocky and brash as Carnabel.
The lack of friendly faces was disconcerting. It seemed most everyone was on edge about the day’s events.
One of the Level Nines shoved Sage forward. “Your turn,” he hissed.
She stepped up to the table. A squatty man with thinning hair was poking at the databook in front of him. A familiar metallic tool sat on the table inches from his hand. He extended his palm.
“We don’t have all day,” he said dully without looking up.
Sage hesitated. She glanced at the other students on either side of her and followed suit, sticking her hand out.
The man sighed in annoyance and looked up. “The other one. I need your bracelet.”
“Oh, sorry.” Sage quickly switched hands.
She watched as he placed a prong on either side of the bracelet. Remembering what had happened the last time, she shuddered, half-expecting the bracelet to turn into a fine powder again. Instead, it simply split in two and dropped off her wrist like all the others around her. The man closed the bracelet and shoved it into the next open slot in a long cylindrical box.
Sage stared down at her bare wrist in shock. Had they really just granted her her freedom?
“Your bracelet has been removed exclusively for safety reasons during your matches. Come back here immediately after your final loss to pick up. Please remember the doors to the building are locked during the event, and no one will be permitted to leave without their bracelet.”
The man droned the recitation as he continued poking the screen in front of him, not once looking back up.
With those words, Sage’s temporary hope plummeted once again.
“Here’s your number.” He pressed a small disc on the back of her hand which seemed to dissolve into her skin, leaving behind a series of digits.
“Next!”
She stepped to the side and stood there aimlessly for a moment before being swept up in the crowd of students moving around her. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself standing at the edge of the stage.
Everything looked different—more open—than she remembered. The stage was covered in mats for the tournament. There must have been at least two dozen fighting zones on stage. She had trained for months for the fighting, but she suddenly felt completely overwhelmed and unprepared for the magnitude of the event.
The room was buzzing. Sage glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of a friendly face. She saw Kai and Rosalind a ways off, but they were quite obviously focused on their own looming performances and didn’t notice her.
Sage watched as the headmaster gingerly picked his way across the mats to the center of the stage. It was almost comical to see him so obviously uncomfortable. Clearly, he was unaccustomed to getting his hands dirty, and his face didn’t hide his feelings. The very idea of the Bokja Tournament was beneath him.
He faced the crowd and began his speech.
“People of Eprah, thank you so much for joining us here today as we have a chance to showcase and observe the great talent coming up through the ranks at the Institution. I have no doubt we will see a great deal of impressive athleticism.
“As I’m sure you know, I am Headmaster Alexander of our great Institution, and these,” he swept his arm across the stage behind him, “are the wonderful students who are part of this Institution.”
He paused long enough to puff out his chest and flash his unsettling smile to the audience before continuing.
“As a refresher, each student will compete against one other at a time in ninety second increments. The winner will go on to face other winners, and the loser will go on to face other losers.
“Unfortunately, there is only so much time to be afforded to such an event, and this prevents us from enjoying each match one at a time. As a result, there will be multiple matches occurring simultaneously.
“Our Coordinators will be ensuring that each match progresses smoothly, and they will direct each student to the next appropriate match.”
At that particular announcement, a whir of activity began taking place in the wings. The tournament Coordinators, who were really just upper level instructors, began checking numbers and shooing students to their appropriate areas.
Sage was ushered toward the back of the stage. For that, she was incredibly grateful. With the crowd a bit farther away, she hoped she would be able to focus better on the fight.
She knew she’d be part of the first round. She and Carnabel were the only Level Eights in the tournament, and every level was required to start at the same time.
As a sneering Carnabel walked up beside her, Sage forced her eyes toward the audience.
“You’re going to lose,” Carnabel hissed in her ear.
Sage gritted her teeth and turned to Carnabel. She was sure she would have come up with a scathing remark, but the headmaster’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“And this year, we even have a couple of Level Eight students joining us.”
The headmaster looked back at where the girls were standing and scowled before returning his attention to the audience once again with a rehearsed smile plastered across his face. Sage’s face grew red.
“Now then, let’s all enjoy the day, shall we? Let the Bokja Tournament commence!” With a clap of his hands and as dramatic an exit as he could muster while walking across the uneven surface of mats, the headmaster pronounced the official beginning of the tournament.
The Coordinator in Sage and Carnabel’s section was a gruff-looking man already sporting a morning stubble. He pushed the two girls forward into the bounds of the mat in front of them.
“You know the rules. Start and stop at the tone. Don’t stop unless your opponent taps or can’t tap. If you go out of bounds, you lose.”
Sage steadied herself a few feet from her opponent. Carnabel licked her lips eagerly and paced back and forth.
A loud, high-pitched tone rang out across the room. The tournament had begun.
13. THE TOURNAMENT
Carnabel wasted no time. Her fist was halfway to Sage’s face before the starting tone ended. Fortunately, her first attack was always the same, and Sage was already automatically ducking and striking at her torso.
Sage hesitated for just a moment, savoring the look of shock on her adversary’s face as she doubled over in pain. She’d made first contact. The fight was starting
out in her favor.
But that moment was all the time Carnabel needed to recover. She shrank to the ground, rolling backwards. Surprised, Sage started toward her, not willing to stop her attack and make the same mistake as before.
Carnabel’s foot shot out from under her, catching Sage’s ankle and throwing her off balance. Taking advantage of Sage’s flailing arms, Carnabel bounced to her feet and landed a punch on her chin.
Her jaw was already starting to smart. Sage quickly recovered and pulled her fists back up, just in time for Carnabel’s next strike to land on her forearm instead of her face. Fire shot down her arm.
She clenched her jaw and stood her ground. Carnabel immediately followed up with another strike on the opposite side. This time, Sage dodged the blow. She tried to return a punch, but her arm turned to lead and wouldn’t move forward quickly enough. Carnabel noticed her sluggish reaction and drew back to land a punch while her arms were down.
Just then, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. A student in one of the other matches had just won in a major, unexpected upset. Both girls were momentarily distracted, but Sage managed to refocus her attention first, landing a kick that caused Carnabel to stumble backward.
Anger burned behind Carnabel’s eyes. She charged wildly toward Sage. Instinctively, Sage dropped down into a tight ball. Even as she did so, she began berating herself for losing the match in such a cowardly way.
Carnabel was unable to stop herself. Her legs collided with Sage’s body as she tumbled over her. Both girls cried out in pain. Sage took a knee to her injured shoulder and a sudden, blinding heat radiated from her socket. She gasped desperately for breath and rolled onto the ground, writhing. None of her training mattered anymore—she couldn’t move.
She grabbed her shoulder with her good hand and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable attack. A moment passed which seemed like an eternity, and Sage felt nothing. No punches. No kicks. No body weight crushing her lungs.
She opened her eyes and searched the mat quickly for Carnabel. She was crouched over on the edge of the mat with a spiteful look on her face, rubbing her shins. Their section Coordinator had one hand on her shoulder and the other stretched out toward Sage.