“I think your example far outweighs my friendship with that asshole.” Zack gestured up at the house.
“Love is love. Pain is pain, and heartbreak is heartbreak. You can feel betrayed that Justin hurt you, and he’s still hurting you, and now he wants to be happy with me.”
“Here.” Zack held out his arm, and, a little surprised, I moved so he could sling it over my shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that shit in your life.”
I leaned and looked over at him. “I’m not. I kept going to the teen group, and it really helped. Everyone’s life is shitty some of the time or all of the time. There were teens there from perfect seeming families that went through shit that was just plain sick. I’m really open about my story because, over the years, lying day in and day out was too exhausting. People look at a girl living in a condemned house and say, damn, I’m glad I don’t have her dirtbag life. They would never look at a rich kid who lives in the biggest mansion on the hill and think the same thing. But yet, I’m genuinely happy with my life.”
“And everyone in that mansion is miserable.” Zack squeezed my shoulders and stepped away. “Though one could argue that they’re in a prison of their own making.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “It’s hard to see that from here.”
“As much as I want to debate that, if Lucas doesn’t get his ass up and we don’t get you to the trials, you’re going to be doing that obstacle course at midnight.” He pointed at me. “Though, I’m beginning to hope you fail a bit.”
“Thanks?” I said, dryly.
He grinned wide. “I just don’t like the idea of you and Mia joining forces in an argument. I have a feeling you’d be a force to be reckoned with. Then again, I like a challenge. All right. You have my permission to rock these trials.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, thank goodness. I couldn’t have gone on without that.”
“You’re welcome.” He pulled out his phone, and a minute later, Lucas trudged out of my apartment, gaze unfocused and eyelids drooping.
Lucas gave me thumbs up and said, “You’re going to do amazing.” Then, he crawled into the back of the truck and passed out.
I looked out the window. “You guys still good with occupying my nana until I get back?”
Zack glanced over as he put his truck into gear. “Aunt Pam is picking her up for church, and then she’ll be hanging out for the rest of the day. But your nana is safe. I swear it on my life.”
The image of the pitch-black room and the glowing figure at my window blossomed in my mind. I shivered even though the temp was probably already in the eighties and the AC hadn’t kicked on yet.
We said nothing for the three miles it took to get to the trial complex. Unlike last time, there was a long line of cars trying to get into the lot, and people walking from window to window, checking names against a list.
“If I were you, I’d just get out and walk,” Zack said, before reaching back and smacking Lucas’ knees.
Lucas’ snores cut off abruptly. “What? Are we there?”
“Say good luck to January,” Zack said, giving me a smile and a wink. “Hey, no matter what happens today, we’re glad we got to meet you. And, who knows, maybe we’ll be family one day. Go cut everyone in line.”
Lucas leaned between the seats. “You’ve got this.”
Nervousness swelled in my belly as I hopped out and headed down the line of cars. A brunette woman in her twenties stopped me before the gate and checked me off on her list.
I followed a family into the first warehouse in the complex as cars took turns parking. Only a few groups stood in the line before two reception tables. The warehouse was a large building with couches and chairs scattered throughout the space. An unlit screen stretched above the area. From what Richard told me, that was where the scores would show. By the time it was my turn in line, my heart was beating so fast, I didn’t know if I’d be able to make words.
A man in a suit called me up to the front with a wave. He was probably thirty, even though he was already balding. He smiled, though it seemed more practiced than felt. “Name?”
“January Moore.”
He went through his list, tracing a finger over the lines, and stopped at the very last name. Then his finger slid over to a red checkmark beside my name.
“What does that mean?” I asked as I leaned in. “Um. I can’t help but notice that my name is the only one on there with a red checkmark beside it. Can I still compete?”
The man made no response. He just lifted his folder and picked up a piece of paper that had been stored under it. Holding it up, he said, “It just means that they preassigned your times.”
I looked down at the paper he gave me, reading the lines.
Athletic Trial: 6:30 AM Building A
Character Trial: 7 AM Building C
“I thought this started at seven?” I asked, showing the man my paper. It was five past six when I left the Baldwin brothers’ truck. This would mean that I had minutes until my first trial, and then I would have to run to the Character Trial.
“It looks like you are starting at six thirty,” he said before nodding. He gestured out. “Please, step to the side.”
I held out my paper, so it was right in front of his nose. “The Academic Trial?”
“Oh.” He took my paper back. Sliding over his tablet, the man scrolled down the page and clicked on something. He inputted my name. “Your Academic Trial will be at eight forty-five a.m. in this building, Building B.”
I grabbed a pen from the table and jotted the information down. “Can I request my trials be further apart?”
“No. We have quite a line coming in. Please step aside.”
I took my paper and skirted along the long line of people who’d come in behind me. Parents and students chatted in low voices all along the line, and suddenly, I selfishly regretted telling my grandmother to go on to church, and I would be fine. My palms were sweating, and stepping into the heat did nothing to calm my nerves.
I didn’t know if I was getting preferential treatment at Mr. Roberts’ bequest or if I was getting the opposite at Gina Roberts’ direction. It was probably the latter as I would have missed my first trial if I didn’t arrive forty-five minutes early. I jogged through the parking lot as the crowds of parents and kids surged the other way. More than one student argued with their guardian, and a few looked as if they were a hair away from a complete breakdown.
Building A wasn’t even open when I ran up the steps, and I had to bang on the metal doors and wait. A woman answered the door, mid-forties with black hair shot with streaks of gray. She smiled, and deeply etched smile lines wrinkled up around her kind, brown eyes. She held the heavy door open. “January Moore? Come on in.”
“Thanks,” I said. The hallway was blissfully cool, and I stood just inside, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Ma’am.” I showed her my schedule. “Is there anyone I can talk to about changing my second and third trial times? I have everything back-to-back.”
As I talked, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that the woman was inspecting my face. It was more than a little unnerving. She held out a hand, and when I passed over my schedule, her gaze scanned the page. “No, that all looks right.”
“So, I can’t change it?”
She handed my page back and gave me another warm smile. “You might be able to change your Academic Trial after your Character Trial is over.”
Except the Academic trial was the only one I wasn’t scared shitless of.
“Come with me.”
She led me into the small room before the elevator entrance of the obstacle course. Instead of an empty room, now it was filled with padded weapons, various sports equipment, a bike, a skateboard, and a few other items. The woman gestured out as her eyes still studied me. “Have you chosen an accommodation?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “I want all of the lights to be out, please.”
Her lips pursed, and she didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then th
e woman smiled. She pushed her long dark hair behind her ears. “That is a new one, but it’s well within our rules.” She gestured out toward a bottle of water sitting on the bench. “Make yourself comfortable. You’re not allowed to bring any other items with you, and there are cameras here to keep everyone honest. There will be a loud buzzing sound that goes off when we’re ready for you.”
“Can I take off my shoes?” I asked.
“As long as you take them with you through the whole course. If you use them as a weapon and someone hits them with paint, that will still count as points against you.”
As soon as she left, I chugged down the water. I probably wasn’t making the right choice for my bladder, but nervousness was making my throat sandpaper dry. After kicking off my shoes, I tied my laces and hung them over my shoulders again. The yoga pants and shirt I wore were tight and fitting and hopefully would keep quiet as I moved.
Maybe it was better this way. I’d be finished with everything by ten, and I could check on Justin.
This was better.
A loud buzzer beeped through the air, and I jumped and dropped my empty water bottle. I covered my heart as I caught my breath. “Dude, January.”
I was going to give myself a heart attack. After scooping up the water bottle and tossing it into a recycling can, I headed over to the elevator.
The elevator door slid open, revealing a dark car. They’d even turned the lights off here. After I stepped in, the door slid closed, and the space began glowing deep blue and purple. To one side, the panel shined in circles of green, and I pressed the button up.
As the elevator door slipped open, techno music filled the air around me. The sound pulsed through the air exactly as I’d remembered it in the practice round. The roof glowed a dark blue color with lines of green running its length. Crouching down, I padded to the edge of the roof and peered down.
What. The. Hell?
There were supposed to be eighty or at most a hundred, but there had to be two hundred glowing bodies in the street, and when I craned my neck, there were people along every wall, hiding in the rafters to attack. The buildings had to have people in them too.
I thought that perhaps my fear was just exaggerating the numbers, so I did a quick count and stopped when it was well over two hundred. No wonder only a few transfers made it in a year. Maybe it was true that they actually didn’t want transfers taking the scholarships. I was wasting minutes. Precious minutes. But when I moved around the building, I saw that people hid in the rafters along the walls.
There was a small space between two large, glowing figures, and knowing that it was my only chance, I grabbed onto the rafter bar and the edge of the roof and slowly lowered myself between the two figures. They both wore night goggles, and the glowing dark blue equipment stood out in stark relief from their bright yellow, blue, and red forms. But, from the angle of their eye-gear, I could tell they were both facing down, meaning they likely thought I was going to use the alley below to cross between buildings. It was what I did last time. It was still pitch black in here, meaning, that until someone turned on a flashlight, they couldn’t see with their night goggles.
I didn’t know what they were waiting for, but I definitely wasn’t complaining.
Holding my breath, I reached toward the overhang rafters on the adjacent building. They were probably two feet away, but I was dangling over a six-foot drop. If I slipped, I would make a loud boom as I hit the ground.
My hand wrapped around the pole, and I slid my foot onto the adjacent rafters and pulled myself across.
My arm screamed at holding all of my weight for a second, but then I was across. I rolled my shoulder as it immediately ached from doing something it was very unused to, exercise. Trying not to focus on the two figures about of foot from my right and my left, I stood and attempted a pull-up on the roof. My arms reminded me with strikes of pain that I was an artist, not a gymnast.
Ignoring their complaints, I pulled myself onto the roof and crawled over the ledge.
A spear of light shot through the darkness on my left, and I flattened myself against the roof. More flashlights turned on, all through the obstacle course.
“Did she never get off the roof?” the man on the rafters asked from directly behind me. There was a rustling, and then the person on the platform climbed up and sat on the edge of the roof five inches from where I lay.
They shone their light onto the roof I started on, moving it over the space a couple of times. “She’s climbed down,” a deep, male voice called. The figure slid forward, clearly about to climb down, when they looked over their shoulder. Their flashlight shone off to the side, and if they looked directly down with their night vision goggles, there was no way they could miss me. They lifted their flashlight, and the bean of light passed a few feet over me. The person turned back around and slipped down off the roof. “Check the buildings!”
Going to hands and knees, I crawled forward. My heart raced as beams of light moved around from the street below, but I kept creeping onward, moving as silently as I possibly could. Techno thumped through the air from just below me, and then grew quieter as I climbed the length of the long roof.
Only when I reached the other side of the roof did I realize that I had somehow made it past both the red zone and the yellow zone without being hit once. How was that even possible?
Peeking over the edge of the building, I found a rafter full of glowing figures. A small crowd gathered below, many of them shining flashlights. The way they designed this obstacle course, it was obvious they wanted you to fight your way out. And, I might have to do just that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I waited, perched above them and looking down. There was no way I could slip between these bodies unnoticed. Time was running down, and I only had a couple of minutes before I would be disqualified. I was going to just push between bodies and hope for the best when one of the figures directly below whispered, “Ugh, it’s too hot in here.”
The person who I was pretty sure was a woman pulled off her helmet and set it and her flashlight onto the ledge of the roof before fiddling with her sweatshirt.
Thinking of the can of cleaner I used for a distraction last time, I grabbed the flashlight and chucked it as far as I could toward the front area of the club. Then, I grabbed the night vision goggles and put them on like a hat.
“Shit! She’s coming out the front of the club,” a woman called from below, and then she and a couple other of the figures hopped down off the rafters. The only one left there was the woman struggling with getting her sweatshirt off.
I slipped down beside her, and, seeing that the area just below was clear too, I slid down.
At least thirty bodies separated me from the door, and flashlight beams moved around the space. I pulled the goggles over my eyes, and my vision filled with green light, a faint echo of my vampire night vision. I walked through the crowd, pretending that I was one of the alumni searching the space. A couple of light beams hit me and kept going.
“What the . . .?” someone cried from behind me, likely the woman discovering her goggles were gone, but I didn’t look back. There were only five feet. Three feet.
I grabbed the handle, yanked the door open, and jumped through. Someone caught the door behind me, but I had already rushed into the waiting room. I pulled off the night vision goggles and held up my hands, breathing hard.
A small crowd of people looked through the doorway, peering at me with wide eyes and open mouths. They all looked to be in their twenties or thirties, aside from the guy holding the door, who looked mid-forties with dark hair and wide features. He held out his hand. “I’ll take that, Miss Moore.”
When I handed back the goggles, he held them out, and a woman jogged up and grabbed them. “How did you do that?” She whispered. “You move like a ghost.”
“Nineteen minutes and twenty-two seconds,” a woman said from behind me.
I turned to find the woman with gray-streaked hair, fiddling with a tablet
. Her eyes lifted, and she scanned over me. “You are our first ever perfect score.”
“I was trained by Richard, from Blackburn, and Susie helped too, ma’am,” I said, giving credit where it was due.
She looked back to the alumni who still held the door open. A silent message passed between them. Their eye contact lasted a few more seconds, and then the woman’s gaze cut to me. The smile returned to her face as she gestured out. “Let’s head over to your Character Trial. I’ll go ahead and walk you there.”
I had expected that I would feel exhausted after the Athletic Trial, but it was the exact opposite. There was a bounce in my step, and my heart was positively skipping. I still couldn’t believe that just happened. If you had told me thirty minutes ago that it was even possible that I could get a perfect score, I wouldn’t have hoped to trust it.
No one sat in the waiting area of Building C, and I realized I was probably the first person in for the Character Trial as well. If Gina Roberts set this up to screw with me, her plan backfired.
The entire way to the Character Trial, the woman guiding me kept glancing over.
“What, is there something wrong?” I touched my cheeks, finding a thin layer of sweat. This was my one chance to make a first impression, and I probably looked horrendous right now.
“You’re fine,” she said while opening the doors to a small meeting room. Inside, two men and a woman sat at a long table. They all stood and studied me as I approached the table.
They each looked like they were in their mid-forties, with bodybuilder physiques. Instead of suits, this crowd all wore purple, short-sleeved collared shirts with Blackburn Academy emblazoned on the front in gold lettering. Their muscles strained at the sleeves and necks pushed their collars wide. The woman offered her hand first.
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