“But―”
She kisses me hard, as if the pressure of her lips can drive the promise home.
It can.
“OK,” I say when the kiss is over. “I'll wait. I won't do anything stupid.”
She sighs in relief. “Good. I need you to promise me one more thing: that you won't tell Mark about Anton. It would destroy him. My brother would throw everything away to get revenge: your future and his. He needs to stay focused on the competition, and―damn it!”
“What?”
“I shouldn't have told you it was Anton. I don't know why I did; it was selfish. It's not going to help you focus tomorrow. You'll see Anton in the crowd and―”
“Hey,” I tell her. “No, it's OK. You just gave me another reason to win when I look at him, that's all.”
“Are you sure? I mean, knowing he was the one, that isn't too much? I don't want to be one more thing for you to worry about.”
I pull her close. “You aren't.” Our lips meet, and then she's nuzzling my shoulder. “I'm going to help you get justice,” I whisper. “Whenever you want.”
She nods, snuggling into me. We fit together so easily, so naturally, it isn't long before our breathing slows and we're asleep.
30
ALL I FEEL
Lucy's gone when I wake. I wonder if it was all a dream, but no, I can still smell her, still feel the warmth of her body in the empty space next to me. I don't want to get up. I just want to lay here and remember the look, the feel, the smell of her. So beautiful. Then I remember what she told me about Anton and I know that promise or no promise, I'm going to make the inquisitor suffer. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.
The hours before school are surreal. It's like I woke up in someone else's life. I do my morning workout and eat a light breakfast, going through the motions of smiling and nodding because it's the only thing I can do to keep from freaking out. I look at the faces of my parents, at Mark and Lucy, and wonder if they're going through the motions too.
Everything changes today.
I look out the dining room window and see Shadow in the tree. The raven cocks its head, caws once, then flaps its wings. I take it as a sign of encouragement, but I know it has another meaning: Be ready to leave this world behind.
I look away, then back. The raven is gone.
Can I really do this? Can I leave Mom and Dad? Mark and Lucy? It's all so crazy! These kinds of things don't happen to kids, not even kids like me. Hell, they don't happen to adults either.
They happen to heroes.
I wish I knew what I was. I wish Hannah had told me. Then I'd know what to do. How can you know what to do if you don't know who you are?
Dad makes a joke―one of his rare ones―and everyone laughs like it's a normal day. The kind of day I've wished for but never had.
I force myself to smile, saying, “Good one, Dad.”
He beams at me, and I wonder why it's only at the end of things that we truly become ourselves. If only we could reach this point sooner, what a world we would live in…
“A toast,” Dad says. “To you, son, and your success. I know you'll make us proud.”
“No, to us,” I say. “To all of us.” I raise my glass to my family and friends, then give a last lift to James, who stands in the doorway. He smiles, waiting the appropriate number of seconds for us to finish toasting before announcing the limo is ready to take us to school.
But it's not just to school. It's to everything.
I look around the table, trying to hold on to this moment, to press it so deeply into my mind that it will never go away. If this is the last time I'll ever be here, with them, I want it to be a good memory. The best memory: hopeful, kind, loving. So I push back against the fear, the doubt, the anger. I push down hard until all I feel is love.
31
SOME DREAMS
Everyone stares and whispers when we arrive at Axios. The Academy is where this all began and where it must end. Kids I know and kids I don't are rooting for me or rooting for Blake, but it in the end, they're rooting for blood, for glory.
Glory to Axios.
Glory to Cronus.
And a thrill for themselves.
Outside the locker room, Mark and I say goodbye to my parents and Lucy. There are proud hugs, tearful kisses, then we leave them behind. Inside, the locker room is empty except for Mr. Cross. He nods at us, grim-faced. We nod back.
“Renovations done?” I ask.
“Yes, boys. It's all been done…” Mr. Cross turns away, then stops. “Remember what I told you at the gym yesterday?”
“Expect the unexpected?”
He smiles. “Exactly, Andrus. You've both come a long way, but the road is long and never ends. Especially for heroes. Especially when…” He pauses, as if considering whether to say more.
“Mr. Cross?” I ask. “On Friday, after class, you warned me that 'dreams will destroy you in this world.'”
“I did.”
“Well, I've been thinking about that. A lot, actually, and you're right. This world isn't fair. It's a harsh place, and it's easy to give in and stop dreaming of something better. Or worse, to dream the wrong dreams. The kind that make the world better for you but worse for everyone else. Only…”
“Only what?” Mr. Cross asks.
“I think some dreams are worth destroying yourself over. And destruction doesn't have to mean the end, but the beginning.”
Mr. Cross nods. “I was wondering when you were going to figure that out.”
“Really? It's not like I had a choice.”
“No,” Mr. Cross says, “but the timing was important. For you to possess this wisdom now, before the rematch, makes everything that is to come easier. Easier, but not without cost.”
“Wait,” I say. “What do you mean, 'what is to come' and 'not without cost'?”
Mark looks from me to the teacher. “Um, guys? Am I missing something? Don't keep me in the dark here…”
The locker room door slams. Blake Masters struts in, cocky as ever. “Morning, ladies!” he says, “Who's ready to get their ass whupped?”
Mr. Cross steps out from behind the row of lockers that's obscuring him from the door. Blake gulps. “Sorry, Mr. Cross. I, uh, didn't see you standing there.”
“Where I stand shouldn't matter, Blake. This is my locker room. You know I don't allow that kind of talk.”
“Sorry,” Blake mumbles. “I was just trying to psych them out is all.”
“And trying to psych yourself up,” Mr. Cross adds.
“Yeah,” Blake admits, “that too. You got me.” He comes over to us, holding out his hand. “Good luck today, guys.”
I shake reluctantly, wincing as he tries to crush my hand in his. Our eyes meet and Blake grins. “You'll need it.”
“We all will,” Mark mutters. And he's right.
32
THE CURTAIN FALLS
When I enter the gym, the first thing I notice is the sound. The crowd is bigger than I thought. The bleachers are packed. I thought this was supposed to be a rematch for our class, but it looks like the whole school's here. Could this be a mandatory assembly? It must be―there's the principal, Mrs. Ploddin, and all the teachers. I scan the crowd and see my parents and Lucy in the front row. I also see Anton lurking nearby, flanked by two warriors and looking as venomous as ever. His gold mace is looped to his belt. He smirks as we lock eyes, and to my surprise, he stalks toward me, the warriors keeping pace behind him, then fanning out to push Mark and Blake back out of earshot.
Anton gestures at the crowd. “I hope you don't mind an audience. Do you think it will effect your performance?”
“No. Your trick won't work.”
“My trick?” Anton rolls his eyes. “The assembly wasn't my idea. I would have preferred to keep this private, but it seems your family is not without influence… for now.”
“You mean my parents arranged this?”
“You mean they didn't tell you? Well, no doubt they wanted to
keep it a surprise. Get the whole school to cheer you on and witness your victory.”
“But not you,” I say. “You want me to fail.”
Anton laughs. “Not at all! On the contrary, I want to see you win more than you know. Good luck, and remember―”
“Cronus is watching,” I finish for him.
“Yes!” Anton cackles. “Yes, indeed! Cronus is watching. Isn't it funny how intuitive we can be about some things, yet so desperately clueless about others?” He grins at me, near wide enough to split his evil face, and it makes me wonder about what he's not telling me.
What don't I know?
“The crowd isn't the only surprise,” Anton adds, pointing at the rock climbing wall―or rather, where it used to be. There's a large blue and white curtain hanging from floor to ceiling. Two slaves stand by, one on each end, each holding a gold rope that ties the curtain in place.
Why the mystery? What have they done to renovate the wall? I turn to ask Anton, but the inquisitor is already moving away, taking his warriors with him. Mark comes up and demands to know what he said.
“He says he wants us to win.”
“He does? Really? That's great!”
“No,” I say. “I don't think it is.”
Mark gives me a puzzled look. “But why? I mean, I guess it doesn't matter because we have to win or else.”
“Yeah, I know. We don't have a choice. We're gonna win, no doubt. I'm just not sure what's going to happen when we do.”
“Are you kidding?” Mark says. “They'll probably throw us a party! I tell you, Andrus, our luck is changing. Don't be so paranoid. Enjoy the moment.”
I glance at Blake and Brenda, who are giving us the evil eye. No doubt they're jealous Anton didn't come over to wish them well. They should be glad he didn't.
Mark follows my gaze. “Hey, don't let them psych you out. We got this, right?”
“Definitely.” I know not to say anything more. Whatever my fears, whatever my doubts, I need to keep them to myself. Whatever happens, I need Mark to stay confident.
“So what do you think's under the curtain?” Mark asks.
“Nothing to worry about,” I lie. “We got this.”
The principal comes out and says a few words to introduce the event, then Anton as our special guest. He doesn't mention our guest is an inquisitor. That would only make people nervous. Beaming, the principal hands the mic to Mr. Cross and takes his seat next to Anton.
Mr. Cross addresses the crowd, explaining the rematch as a contest of champions from which only one team will emerge victorious. “Tied to Andrus and Blake are the two lowest ranking students in my class…”
This gets boos from the audience. Mark and Brenda squirm. Mr. Cross holds up his free hand for silence. “Quiet, please! That is not to say that Mark and Brenda are not excellent students in their other classes. They are. And normally, we would not expect perfection in every area of their education; after all, that is why there are priests and warriors.”
Cheers erupt, the response clearly divided between the jocks and brains, each thinking their side is superior.
Mr. Cross continues, “As you know, each of us is called to serve the Titans in our own way, and we, the faculty at Axios, are here to help guide our students to the appropriate choice. However…” He pauses to glance at me. “We want our graduates to be as well-rounded as possible. To be last in anything is not acceptable. So I say that the best owe it to those who are struggling the most to help them rise up. And by their rising, they raise us all in the eyes of the Titans! That is why Andrus and Blake are here. To help Mark and Brenda reach their full potential.”
More cheers.
“As many of you know, Andrus and Blake have battled before. They have won much glory, but now let us see who is the stronger! Who has done the most to help train their partner? Which team will stand atop the new wall and serve as a shining example of strength and courage? Let us find out now together, for Axios!”
“FOR AXIOS!” the crowd shouts.
“And for the Titans!” Mr. Cross adds, pausing to give me a long, curious look.
“FOR THE TITANS!” the crowd screams.
Mr. Cross turns back to the audience. “May the Titans watch over and bless us all. Reveal the new wall!” He nods to the pair of slaves by the curtain. They yank the gold ropes.
The curtain falls.
And everything changes.
33
FACE THE WALL
The new rock climbing wall is like the mountain in my dreams: Olympus. The same stone, the same color. I can't believe it. This isn't a remodel, this is a reimagining of what a rock climbing wall can be. There's even a snow-topped summit. It's fake, of course―the snow, all of it―but how did they get it to match the Mount Olympus in my dream?
Or did my dream match their design? Could I have known through some psychic sense, some precognition? Or was it an omen? Sent by who? The Gods? The Titans? Cronus himself? What if everything has been leading up to this moment? That it's not just a competition, but…
“It's just a wall,” Mark says.
“What?” I shake my head to snap out of the weird state I'm in.
Mark frowns. “I said, it's just a wall. Don't look so freaked out. I admit it looks tough, but I didn't think I'd be the one telling you not to be worried.”
I crack a grin. “Sorry. It's not the wall. Not exactly. It's hard to explain, but don't worry. I'm OK. We've got this.”
“You sure?” Mark asks.
I nod. “Just follow my lead.”
We stretch to warm-up before the climb. I keep stealing glances at the wall. Sizing it up. The artificial handholds aren't there; instead, there are natural grips―cracks and crevices, ledges and even a few fake scrubs. It's designed to work like the real thing.
“You see what I see?” I ask Mark.
“Yeah. It's more like Bronson Canyon than the one at the gym. Good thing we went caving―despite the concussion. I'll try not to screw up this time.” He makes a joke out of it, and I realize how hard he's trying to hold it together. How brave he's being despite the fact he isn't ready for a climb like this. I'm not sure I am either.
“You get anything out of that book I loaned you?”
“A little,” Mark says.
I raise an eyebrow.
“OK, a lot,” he adds with a smile. “Enough, I think. I only read it twice.”
That makes me feel better. The book's full of good techniques and practical advice, covering far more situations than we've had time to go over together. Mark starts to tell me some of the most important things he's learned. I nod, relieved to hear him speaking with such confidence, but find my attention wandering to our opponents.
Blake and Brenda don't look happy. He's giving her a pep talk, trying to reign in her fear. I can't help thinking it's funny how enemies think they're cheating us, holding us back, when they're really forcing us to think outside the box. To get better, stronger. Smarter.
When Blake blocked us from using the downtown gym, he had no way of knowing what a bad decision he'd made. He forced us to practice on a real wall. By screwing us over, he may have lost the rematch. I'm glad I let Brenda and him use the gym yesterday. Glad I listened to Lucy and didn't take the low road, the same road Blake took. I wanted to. I really did. But Blake's not my real enemy, and I'm better than that―at least, I try to be.
We finish warming up. I look over at Anton, feeling the rage, the frustration it's so hard to keep in check. I can't give in to it; I can't let it control me. I have to control it to win this and everything that comes after. And I have to do it without losing myself in the process.
My right hand itches. I scratch idly at it, hoping it won't bother me during the climb. My palm feels warmer than it should. But there's no more time to worry about this or anything else because Mr. Cross asks if the teams are ready.
“Always,” Blake answers smoothly. He seems to have Brenda's fear under control―and his own. But that's just for now. Once we get o
n the wall, anything can happen. I know he'll do anything to win, including pulling dirty tricks.
Expect the unexpected.
But I don't think Blake is what Mr. Cross meant.
“Andrus, Mark?” Mr. Cross asks. “Is your team ready?”
“We're ready,” I reply.
I take one last look at my parents and Lucy, watching in the front row. I give them a big smile and thumbs-up, then turn and face the wall.
34
MY MOUNTAIN
Our teams start on opposite sides of the wall. Mark and I take the left, Blake and Brenda the right. A nylon rope clipped to our climbing belts binds us to our teammate. Mr. Cross says, “First team to the top wins. On your marks…”
I dig my heels into the gym floor, feeling my muscles tense.
“Ready…”
I glance over at Blake and Brenda. They glance back. Determined. Daring me to beat them.
“Set…”
This won't be easy. I have to gain focus. Get control.
“Go!” Mr. Cross clicks his stop watch.
We begin to climb. I'm surprised how real the wall feels, even more surprised when I realize the stone's not fake. Somehow, they've shaved off the side of a mountain, broken it down, and reassembled it in our gym. What bothers me most isn't how they did it, but why.
The first third of the climb goes well. No surprises. I almost lose myself in the simple joy of hands on rock, feet on stone, every part of me thrusting toward truth, toward destiny.
I take a moment to check on Blake and Brenda; they aren't far behind. They're edging closer to our position, and I remember how Blake tried to yank me off the wall the last time we competed here. Blake sees me and shouts, “We're coming for you, Andrus!”
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