“I already leave too often,” she mumbled, biting her lip. “To perform as a student, I need to focus more. To immerse myself in learning.”
“Arial!” I said, snapping by her ear and letting my hand fall on her shoulder. “Arial, stop it, no you don't. Lucio, can't you help her?”
“Help me what?” she asked as Lucio scanned the room.
“Not here,” he answered. “Too many distractions, and it would be too obvious!”
“If you would help me be Upper, I would be happy,” Arial contributed, smiling, and twirling a finger around a lock of her hair. “We can be Uppers together! Wouldn't that be sweet, SC? Should we start now? The more we train, the better our chances.”
“No, Arial,” I responded, shaking my head. “Later, later, we can do it. We’ll, ah, help you become an Upper, then.”
“Good!” she said, standing. “Until then, I’m going to head to the practice gym. I’ve been falling behind; it’s time to get ahead. Since I’m only a Flier, I’ll have to work harder than the others to make it ahead.”
The table was quiet as Arial departed, until Lucio broke the silence.
“See how we felt?” he stated. “That was you, not too long ago, until we shook you loose.”
“And so much for the idea of using her father, SC,” Darian snorted, rising to follow Arial. “That's not going to happen. But one thing is certain, whether or not you listen to Siri. If we become Bottoms, we’ll have no time to develop a plan. And if we are separated, the singing will drive us mad. So I suggest we train. And SC, don’t think for a second that if we become Bottoms I’ll stick around – at that point, you can consider your promise broken, because I'll know you won't be able to make a plan.”
The lunch room was half empty and Darian out of sight when Lucio spoke up, shaking me from thoughts that had turned to brooding.
“You know, it’s not really that bad here,” he said, his voice a flat monotone, unlike the typical prying dance that it normally performed. “At least not for the three of us, since we're now immune to the singing. I don’t see why Darian hates it so much – but you, you still want to stay. How do you feel about it?”
“I feel like there’s something going on that I don’t know,” I returned, forcing myself to finish the food on my plate though I was no longer hungry. “Something that could be a clue to find my mother. But even if it isn’t, I came here to learn to fight. And I still have a long ways to go.”
“So you’re saying that you’d just leave otherwise?” he asked, leaning in. “If there was no fighting and no clues about your mother? You’d just up and go? As if nothing happened, as if we never met?”
“I wouldn’t really have a reason to stay, would I?” I answered, picking at a few crumbs on my plate before deciding they weren’t worth the effort and setting my fork down.
“I suppose you wouldn’t, but after this, what then? Darian, he’s always trying to find something new. Even without this facility, he’d be trying to escape something. We've only known each other a few weeks and already I can tell that. But what are you going to do?”
“Find my mother. That's my only goal.”
“But then what?” Lucio practically yelled, then crossed his arms and sat backwards. “You’re just going to off and leave once you do that, aren’t you? Did I ever tell you where I was born, SC? Why I have this power?”
“Yes, Hollywood. You said it when we met. I’m sorry, Lucio, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Right, Hollywood. The land of movies, but also the land of forgotten faces, forgotten actors and actresses and stories that never made it to the screen. Of dreams buried under Sunset Boulevard. I was born to a mother who didn’t want me, SC. In an alleyway behind a bar, a forgotten baby, left behind while she drank enough tequila to forget everything else in her life. That’s why I’m a Memwriter – like Linns said, when we are born, our power clings to whatever it can in the outside world. And I think in that moment, even newborn me knew that I too would be forgotten unless I did something about it. Unless I created memories.”
Lucio’s chair stuttered backwards as he stood, and with a start, I saw his eyes glistening with moisture.
“And for once in my life, I’d like to create some real ones. To not be the forgettable orphan. Because at least inside here, I have friends. And when we leave, that’s something I don’t want to lose.”
Then he stalked away, turning so I couldn’t see his face and leaving me at the table. Alone. And without a plan.
Chapter 39
“Since the challenges have been issued and the brackets are up, it’s only normal to experience anticipation,” stated Instructor Linns from the front of the classroom that Wednesday. “But that does not mean you have a free ride to doze off or act up in class. Pay attention! Those of you who do will be grateful this coming Saturday, and those who do not will likely regret it. Consider this some free coaching.”
Instructor Linns whipped a ruler against his teaching desk, the crack making several students in the back start.
“Now, many of you aspire to become Uppers, an admirable position. But there is a reason that the current Uppers are Uppers – to be frank, their powers are more advanced than your own. Without training, I would classify you as crazy to fight them – but with training, you stand a chance. Now, class, who remembers why an unknown power is so difficult to defeat?”
“The element of surprise!” shouted Lucio, directly into Darian’s ear and making the larger student jump.
“Well demonstrated,” commended Instructor Linns with a nod, “and correct. Remember, the advantage comes from the enemy being unable to find an angle of attack – with no knowledge of a power, there is no way to know their weakness. And far worse, there is no way to know if you are exposing your own weaknesses against an unknown power! But this Saturday, that rule has been turned on its head. Now, several days in advance, you not only know the powers you will face, but you have the opportunity to choose them as well. You know their weaknesses as well as your own. And you should understand how to exploit them.”
“But they’ll know what’s coming!” whined a student in the back, and Linns shook his head. “There's no way we can sneak up on them.”
“Some will, those more prepared. But remember, they are proud to be Uppers. Many think they are intrinsically better and this fallacy of pride will be their downfall – from my experience, more warriors fall from pride than any other weapon on the battlefield. Here, let us work through a few examples – however, I won’t be going through any from this coming week, as that would be an unfair advantage. Let this a lesson to you on the importance of choosing not the weakest Upper, but the best match for your own power.”
Instructor Linns turned to the board and wrote two powers in large, looping letters.
Electrospark and Vibrant.
“Now, which of these are more powerful? Which would you, if faced off in a fight, prefer to avoid?”
“Electrospark, obviously,” yawned Lucio. “Vibrants can only make plants grow – lower levels can probably even be defeated by skilled Regulars. But an Electrospark would turn me into a Barbeque, and complement the meal with a few of the Vibrant’s vegetables.”
“Again, correct! Electrosparks are feared and feared for good reason,” said Linns and turned back to the board to circle Vibrant twice. “But in the field, Vibrants are one of the top powers used to diffuse Electrosparks. In fact, with proper training, a Vibrant will defeat an Electrospark consistently, which is why Electrospark and Flamethrowers are often paired together. Can anyone here tell me how?”
“Plants aren’t very conductive,” said a reluctant Darian when no one else spoke up, his voice drawling. “A shielding could be created from leaves, such that the Vibrant sacrifices plants against the lightning.”
“Close, but not quite. Most plants do not conduct electricity, but what’s interesting is that some varieties are excellent at being conductors. Take aloe vera, with heavy electrolyte fluids, or any
plant that is comprised primarily of water. Instead of creating a shield, Vibrants use a technique called the Walking Vine against Electrosparks – that is, they grow conductive vines like veins around them, and these vines sink into the ground to take root with each step. Should an Electrospark attack, the lightning is absorbed by the vines and dissipated into the ground before any damage can be done to a Vibrant, rendering any electrical power useless. And at this point, the battle is no longer a Vibrant against an Electrospark. Rather, it has become a Vibrant against a Regular. Does that make sense?”
“Sure,” I said, waving a hand. “But that example seems pretty extreme. For most of us, our powers will not completely neutralize an Upper, no matter how much planning or preparation we use.”
“True, but it will provide an advantage, such that it is no longer Upper versus Average, but more similar to an Average versus Average,” said Instructor Linns, illustrating his point by leveling two of his palms from an uneven formation. “Now, any more questions?”
The class was silent, most students scribbling on their notepads as they thought ahead to the fight in just four days, and others showing visible regret. Had this lesson occurred a week before, many would likely have made different choices in who they would challenge.
“Any suggestions for difficult powers to combat? Remember, everyone has a weakness.”
“A Teleporter!” I spoke up after a moment of silence, deciding to take a chance. “How could any of us defeat Instructor Peregrine? Any of us.”
“Your aspirations have jumped far above Upper!” Instructor Linns laughed, his eyes sparkling. “Peregrine himself would be more difficult to defeat due to his experience in the field – fighting him is something I would not recommend. But for a normal Teleporter, let’s take Arial as an example. Or any Flier, for that matter.”
“Me?” asked Arial, suddenly stirring. “How would I do what?”
“Defeat a Teleporter, Arial. Please, pay attention – this lesson is designed to help you,” Instructor Linns chided. “Now, Teleporters are an interesting breed. On flat terrain and armed with a blade, they can cut down vast numbers of troops before there is time to react. But Teleporters have an interesting property that Fliers can exploit – have any of you have felt slight breezes of warmth or cold coming from Peregrine as he uses his power?”
“Yeah!” exclaimed Lucio. “Near burned me once when coming down from the rafters!”
“Precisely, precisely,” continued Linns. “When working with different heights, Teleporters have to account for energy deficits and expenditures typically associated with climbing and falling. When traveling downwards, they release heat – when moving upwards, they absorb heat. Due to this restriction, jumping too high or low is extremely dangerous, and Fliers can take advantage of this to drain Teleporters or dodge beyond their reach. The rest, I’ll leave to your imagination, as class is ending and I have one final piece of advice.”
Students started packing their bags, and Linns continued speaking, drawing a rough depiction of the fighting arena on the board.
“If you have learned anything from this class, let it be to use knowledge to your advantage. Study the arena and terrain, reduce the number of unknowns that can affect the fight. And use those unknowns against your enemy. Now, for the next two days, I will be answering questions to help you on Saturday. Come to the next class prepared.”
Chapter 40
I was so worried about Saturday that I nearly missed its arrival.
“Get up, SC!” shouted Lucio, shaking me. “We’re going to be late!”
“What – How did we oversleep?”
“We didn’t oversleep, you overslept,” lectured Darian, leaning against the door with his arms folded across his chest. “Come on, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to miss our chance to be an Upper, would we?”
“Figured you could use the extra sleep,” continued Lucio as I dressed, hopping into my gym clothes as we had been instructed the prior morning. “With all the extra training over the last two days, it will only help. Besides, there was no singing last night – I think they want us to be extra alert. Makes for a better show, right?”
“Right,” I muttered. “Might as well give them one, then.”
At breakfast, the plates were notoriously empty – even the students who stayed overnight could only muster half a bagel, and those known for piling their portions high every morning now stared at their food in silence instead of eating it. Only a few conversations broke out across the room, and those were snuffed out quickly, like match heads that flared up before dying only moments later. The silverware clinked like the ticking of a clock, each chime a reminder that soon the tables would have new inhabitants. Some for the better, and some for the worse.
Then the last fork was dropped onto a tray, and the inhabitants of the cafeteria stood in a wave – the decision unanimous to depart, and together we trickled into the hallway. Opponents skittered away from each other, some refusing to make eye contact, while others attempted to use stares for intimidation.
We arrived in the secondary gym to find bleachers erected – a large section in the middle for Average with two smaller ones on either side for Bottoms and Uppers. Beyond, the brackets had been moved to cover the far wall, a number placed next to each fight to indicate when it would occur. And behind the table where the point scoreboards rested, the two guards that had dragged me through the front doors on the first day sat, their expressions stone as they watched us trickle into our seats, their hands drumming on the table in a mirrored cadence.
Here, even the breathing of students seemed subdued as we waited, staring at the clock above the entrance door as the second hand seemed to resist the palpable force of anticipation. With five minutes left, Siri walked to the center of the combat field; Instructor Linns on her left and Instructor Peregrine on her right. With two minutes left, she cleared her throat. And with thirty seconds left, she produced a microphone from within the pocket of her blue suit, tapped it to make sure it was working, and spoke to the waiting crowd.
“Welcome, welcome. Today is the day you’ve been waiting for – the day to prove yourselves to me, the day to become an Upper. The day where your training will pay off, and we will see who among you is worthy, and who among you is fit for only lower duties. Come, show us. Show us not who you are, but who you can be.”
She walked back to the judges’ table, and gestured at the brackets.
“First, the Bottom versus Bottom matches will occur. Next, the Average versus Bottom, then the Average versus Average. And finally, the Average versus Upper will be the culmination of the brackets. Ties, should they occur, shall be awarded to the higher rank. Any interference from the audience will be punished, so do not interact with those inside the arena. Now, Peregrine, clarify the rules.”
Peregrine stepped forward to take the microphone, then appeared directly in front of us, an eager smile playing across his face.
“Leaving the confines of the arena counts as a point for the opposition – this applies to all circumstances, so should you find yourself cornered against a painted line, I would encourage you to fight your way back in with every ounce of energy you have. Fighters will start at opposite ends of the arena, and after each point is scored, they will restart at their original ends. Remember, the only way to score a point aside from forcing your opponent outside the arena is to deal a death or debilitating stroke, and remember, the final point cannot be scored by forcing your opponent outside the arena if the other points have been scored in this manner. May the fiercest among you prosper. Linns?”
Instructor Linns walked across the arena to take the microphone from Peregrine and paused before speaking, his words coming low and steady.
“The fiercest, or the brightest,” he countered, looking back to Peregrine. “Though both are necessary traits. Remember what you have learned, remember what we have taught you. And show us how you have improved over the last two weeks. I wish none of you luck – rather, I wish you the sense to use you
r ability in its most devastating capacity.”
“And with that,” finished Siri, plucking the microphone from his hands, “let us begin. Bout one, to the judges’ table! Show me you deserve to be more than Bottoms, even if I don’t believe you.”
Chapter 41
Match one was between Brianna and Mason.
“This is going to take forever,” complained Darian next to me in the stands. “Neither of their powers is of much use, so waiting for kill strokes is going to be boring.”
“Speaking of kill strokes, last I checked, you can only die once,” added Lucio. “So unless there’s a healer in here somewhere, this won’t work out well. Unless these two are cats and hiding eight other lives. You can never be sure, and I wouldn’t want to assume.”
He squinted, looking down as the two competitors reached opposite sides of the arena and Darian rolled his eyes. The two guards watched from behind the table, each with one hand palm down, the other one clutching the side of the score cards. And below us, Brianna and Mason turned rigid as Siri’s hand hovered above the buzzer.
“May the winner advance to the opportunity to fight for Average,” she said, addressing the entire crowd. “And the loser remain a Bottom. Prepare to begin.”
Brianna reached a hand upwards, checking that her blonde shoulder-length hair was still tightly tucked away, her sharp nose tracing paths through the arena. There was the stream to be avoided, the granite stepping stones that might aid in a speed boost, the obstacles for shelter in case of an unexpected attack. And there was the target, Mason, with his stare fixed on her, his face expressionless. Already he had dropped in a sprinter's crouch, his fingers twitching against the side of his leg. Then, without notice, Siri pressed the buzzer, the sound screeching through the gym as the two rocketed forward.
Mason rotated his arm along his cuff mid-stride, slinging a wave of water from the stream towards Brianna, his aquatic power barely managing to push a few scattered drops across her path. Without blinking, she darted through the wave, the water just enough to darken the fabric of her shirt, and danced around the car door. Mason reached back for another strike just as she leapt, her Jumper power propelling her a dozen feet into the air and clean over the spool in the center of the arena. Mason tried to stop, sliding on mud that he had created, his eyes widening as she arced through the air before him and rolled into a landing at his feet.
Star Child: Places of Power Page 13