“Then give it one hundred and ten.”
She grumbled something inaudible and nodded. “Aye, aye, captain.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled. Her breathing steadied. Her chin tilted up slightly. I held my spare hand up to Rooke, signaling him to wait.
“Think about my hand. Forget about everything else,” I told her. “Let yourself go numb, except your core.”
She nodded, and her breathing slowed even more. The training room filled with the soft whispers of her breaths. I signaled Rooke. He pushed her shoulder, gentler than before. Hannah bowed with the force and swayed back. I nodded at her, even though her eyes were still closed. “Better. Keep breathing. Slowly.”
Rooke hit her again. She swayed but remained on the beam, and didn’t need to use her hands to steady herself. I kept my own hand pressed against her stomach. Rooke circled around the beam to hit her from the other side.
Soon Lily and Derek joined us. I stayed with Hannah as the trio began shoving her from all sides.
Hannah frowned as she felt multiple hands attacking her. “I’m not sure if you guys are helping or just using the opportunity to beat me up.”
As my teammates continued the shoving fest, I felt Hannah’s body change under my touch. Her muscles relaxed. Her shoulders dropped. She melted from rigid to soft to complete jelly.
During the onslaught, Derek snuck a quick jab in Lily’s ribs. She grinned and punched him back. He grimaced.
After several minutes, I motioned for my teammates to step away. Then I slammed both palms into Hannah’s shoulders. She bent all the way back and bounced back up like a Weeble doll. No wobble. No arm flailing. Balanced. Perfect.
Her eyes popped open, followed by her mouth. Then she screamed. She tackled me off the beam and we landed in a pile on the mats, taking Lily down with us in the process. The three of us rolled onto our backs as the laughter rolled off our tongues. The training room filled with the sounds of our giggles.
The boys appeared over us, peering down at us on the mat, shaking their heads at our shenanigans. Derek nudged Rooke. “This could get interesting.”
Rooke said nothing but didn’t disagree either. And honestly, I couldn’t care less. I felt a sense of peace fill me again. I smiled.
In less than two weeks, we’d racked up over a hundred hours with the staffs and balance beams. In a few days, we’d face off against the invincible InvictUS. My stomach didn’t turn. My chest failed to tighten. Win or lose, we’d trained and pushed ourselves as hard as we could. There was nothing more we could do.
We were ready.
—
That night, the cameras clicked and flashed all around us though we weren’t on any red carpet. The five of us sat inside the press-conference room, the only media event we were participating in before the match. It was a frenzy. No one had seen us in the days leading up to the championship match. Reporters jammed the room from wall to wall, some spilling out into the hallways. Everyone shouted and shoved each other. Borderline mayhem.
Perfect.
Security struggled to keep the press back. In fact, they had to call in other staff members of the facility to assist. A few people got punched. Much more, and we’d need to call the cops.
The emcee stood behind his podium, though the terrified expression on his face told me he wished it were a device to teleport him out of the room. He shouted and made a calming motion for everyone to step back and quiet down. After a few futile attempts with some homemade sign language, he gave up and motioned toward one of the reporters, trying to get the conference under way. The reporter shot to his feet.
“In three days, you’re heading into the championship match. What have you been doing to prepare?”
The mayhem of the pressroom dulled down to a general rumble as people realized the questioning had begun.
Hannah spoke up, answering a question seriously for once. Our characters were melting away. “We’ve been training harder than ever and longer every day. We study our opponents, but more importantly, we study ourselves.”
The sea of hands waved wildly, like the wheat fields in high wind. Another reporter stood.
“Kali, you’ve become reclusive in these past few weeks, especially this one leading up to the championship. Is that some part of your strategy?”
In so many ways.
I leaned toward the microphone and unleashed a wicked smile. “You’ll have to watch to find out.”
Then I winked at the cameras. The room exploded in flashes, and I blinked back stars. The emcee must have motioned toward a reporter, because another question echoed through the room while I blinked away the psychedelic haze of the cameras.
“Rooke, any comment on your relationship with Ms. Ling?”
He paused before leaning into the microphone. “The arena isn’t the only place where she’s a warrior.”
He glanced at me, heat in his eyes. The reporters reacted, chuckling and exchanging bold looks. A few of the men clapped. It’s for the show, I told myself, though my foot itched to kick him under the table.
A voice called out from the back of the room.
“Your rivals InvictUS had some incredible things to say about you during their last interview. Some people are calling this the greatest current rivalry in all of sports. Do you have any response?”
Derek looked directly into the camera. “We’ll see you in the fields.”
A reporter stood in the front row. “Between the millions of dollars in prize money and your reputation as athletes, what’s more at stake for you?”
Lily answered.
“Pride.”
I smiled to myself, feeling that very emotion swell in my chest. So much that I decided to be bold and pressed my lips against my microphone.
“Win or lose, we’ll be dedicating the match to our former teammate Nathan. In case some of you forgot”—I paused to clear my throat of the vindictive tone stuck inside it—“Nathan died earlier this season of a drug overdose. Winning the tournament was his dream. He’ll be in our minds and hearts through the matchup, and we ask that you keep him in yours as well.”
The reporters stared at me, dumbfounded, throwing sideways glances at each other. I could practically hear their thoughts. A drug overdose? What is she talking about? I thought Nathan died of a heart defect.
Above them all, I could hear Clarence screaming in my head, too, until I pictured him as a little ant that I crushed with my thumb. The emcee shot me a look of sheer shock. He cleared his throat into the microphone.
“Okay, that’s enough for tonight.”
Like always, he was ending the press conference early while the reporters shouted in protest and hollered more questions as we left, and even after the doors had shut behind us. Clarence called me into his office as soon as the conference ended. I stood in front of his desk as he lectured and stuffed items into his briefcase.
“I know the sponsors were the ones to encourage the memory of Nathan, but I’m not so sure how much they’d like you talking about it.”
Ah, yes. The sponsors. Even Clarence was in the dark about that one.
“Gives us something even bigger to fight for, right?” I said, feigning innocence. “The more we stand to lose, the better. The more conflict and tension there is, the more the audience will eat it up.”
Clarence halted for half a second, as if someone had temporarily hit the pause button in his life. Then he snapped back to reality and rummaged in his desk again.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t matter anyways. The censors cut out the part about his drug overdose, so no harm done. Good thing there’s that ten-second delay to air.”
My stomach fell to my knees. I stuttered.
“B-but the reporters—”
“Won’t say anything. Hell, half those magazines are owned by the sponsors’ parent companies.
They won’t print anything they shouldn’t.”
My eyes fell shut, and I let a slow sigh pass through my nose. Defeated. How else was I going to speak the truth? I couldn’t hack the advertising database again. No sponsor would claim responsibility for it this time, given the content. And I couldn’t get the word out through the cameras or the tabloids. I didn’t accept defeat easily, but how was I going to get past the media?
“I have to admit you have a gift for this, Kali,” Clarence began, “for manipulating the game in your best interest.”
So right, and so wrong. Manipulating the industry for the interest of the game and those who played it, maybe—not the other way around. Though it didn’t surprise me that was the way he saw it.
“If I didn’t know better,” he said with a click of his tongue, “I’d consider you a threat to my job.”
Oh, I was a threat, even if I was only a mere blip on his radar. Every day that passed, my desire to rip down the gaming industry grew. Though part of me had to wonder if this was a test. In ancient civilizations, to become top dog, you had to take out the dictator. I was a gladiator, after all. But Clarence wasn’t the real problem. He was a puppet.
I was no puppet.
If I owned a team, I’d let them be themselves, not some image created for them. I’d give them regular therapy sessions. Mental checkups would be just as important as the physical ones. I wouldn’t falsify their drug tests. Hell, I’d do everything differently because my attention would be on those who really mattered. The gamers and the fans, not the industry and the sponsors.
I watched Clarence jam a few more items into his briefcase and seized the change of subject.
“What are you doing?”
“I have meetings to attend tonight with the sponsors,” he said. “We have to finalize any last-minute ads for the championship.”
My stomach did flip-flops. He was leaving? Like, really leaving?
“I trust that you can manage the team well enough,” he continued, “especially since you won’t be stepping outside the facility.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
I beamed. “That’s the plan.”
He nodded. “Excellent. I knew it was a good idea to keep all of you in. The sponsors are chomping at the bit about this. This is the VGL like they’ve never seen it.”
Clarence droned on about the meeting and how brilliant he was. I simply smiled and nodded, though my hands itched to give him a good shove out the door. Funny how only a few years ago I was doing this same thing whenever my parents were leaving for the night.
What? VR Parties? Noooo.
Once Clarence had left for the night, I met my teammates in the rec room and revealed our owner’s departure.
“Too bad we can’t go out,” Hannah said. “We could really party it up tonight without the wrath of god hanging over us.”
I stepped forward. “You’re right. We can’t go out. But you know what we could do?”
We exchanged glances with each other before the screaming started.
“Classic video games.”
We raced to the rec room and locked ourselves in for the night. We took turns, one sitting out while the other four played. But all of us laughed, killing ourselves over who won and who lost, no matter what game we played or who was playing.
For that night, we weren’t so much a team. We were more than that. We were friends now, and most of all, we were having fun.
The way it should be.
CHAPTER 24
Friday night. The last night before the championship.
I sat on the roof overlooking the facility, where I’d reclaimed my favorite alone spot as just that—alone. Below me, traffic flowed through the streets in endless streams, like raindrops sliding across glass. Up on the rooftop, high above it all, a soft breeze caressed my hair. I tossed my head back and smiled as I looked out over the city. The atmosphere glowed with the reflection of neon and a thousand blinking lights. I glanced down at one of the countless signs weaving its way across the building blocks. It read:
ESPORTS: RAGE CHAMPIONSHIPS
SATURDAY OCTOBER 31—7:00 PM PST
FIGHT-FOR-NATHAN.
A certain taste hung in the air, but not pollution or smog, or even the coolness of the night. It tasted like triumph.
Tomorrow was the end of it all. The weeks had soared past. High school had always dragged by, endless days, years that went on forever. No one told me how fast time starts to go as you get older. And I realized it was funny how, while I always thought I’d get here, I never figured this would be my path. Fighting for someone other than myself, alongside a team that believed in me as captain and a sort-of boyfriend who believed in me for everything else. Okay, fine. An actual boyfriend. What Rooke and I had was real now. What started out as complete fabrication had evolved into the most interesting and complex relationship I’d ever had.
“I thought I’d find you up here.”
So much for alone time, and speaking of the boyfriend . . . Rooke approached from behind and sat beside me.
“Did you see this?” he asked, pushing a tablet into my hand. The screen featured tomorrow’s copy of the L.A. Times. On the front page was a picture of us during our press conference days earlier. The fine-print caption below the picture read:
Team Defiance focuses their thoughts on their fallen teammate as they head into the championship round of the RAGE tournaments.
I skimmed through the article. There were quotes—real quotes—from all of us regarding Nathan and how we were motivated by his memory. Although his drug overdose failed to grace the morning edition, my lips still spread into a smile. This wasn’t just another crack in the façade. This was a rip-off-the-mask and stare-into-the-sun moment.
Below the article was a video feed of the conference. I tapped on it and watched as it scrolled through the interview. I focused in when the cameras landed on me toward the end of the conference, right before the emcee had called it quits. It is weird seeing yourself on a video, at first, but I’d long gotten used to seeing my image plastered over television screens. And digital ads. And T-shirts.
“Win or lose,” I began on the screen, “we’ll be dedicating the match to our former teammate Nathan. In case some of you forgot, Nathan died earlier this season—”
The feed cut off, still disguising the truth behind Nathan’s demise. I rolled my eyes. Clarence wasn’t kidding when he said they’d cut my confession out of the press. Marcus and Howie popped up on the screen. They looked pissed. Guess Clarence wasn’t the only one I’d upset over my little reveal.
“And that’s the report from Team Defiance,” Marcus said, pushing his standard-announcer voice through his anger. “In less than twenty-four hours now, they’ll be facing off against their rival InvictUS in what is sure to be a fantastic match—”
I paused the video feed, not needing to hear any more. It sucked ass that I couldn’t get the word out about Nathan. If we hacked the advertising database again, the sponsors would know it wasn’t any of them that committed the act, and we’d be caught. As much as I was willing to give myself up for the right thing, I couldn’t ask it of my teammates. Still, at least this was all heading in the right direction. Months ago, this would have never happened in the VGL.
Rooke must have read my mind because he said, “What was it Clarence told you once? You can’t change the world, Kali.”
I held up the tablet. “It is progress, but I don’t think this changes the world.”
“All revolutions have to start somewhere.”
I pointed a finger at him. “If you start quoting famous revolutions from history, I’ll make you swallow this tablet whole.” I shook it at him to emphasize my threat.
“Just one?”
“NO.”
He chuckled but didn’t tempt the seriousness of my warning. Which was good for him because I wasn’t kidding. I turned back to
the article and scrolled through it some more. I sighed.
“I still wish I could get the truth out, though.”
Rooke shook his head. “Kali, you’ve done enough. Let it go.”
I shook my own in response, stubborn as ever. “Not until people know the truth. They don’t know why Nathan died or what this sport drives gamers to do.”
“Well,” he began, not testing the strength of my obstinacy, “you got Clarence to let us stay in to train, and you inspired your teammates to want the same thing. Maybe you’ll motivate someone else to follow your lead.”
“Is this another one of those ‘good leader’ things? I don’t think everyone practices life through Chinese philosophy.”
“Unfortunately.”
We shared a grin.
“Where’s everyone?” Rooke asked, nodding down at the facility.
“The team? They’re sleeping.”
He sighed. “Lucky.”
“Yeah. I can’t sleep either.”
“Can’t believe the championship is tomorrow. This all went by so fast.”
I looked at his profile. “Did you ever think you’d be here?”
“Yeah, but it’s like a dream that doesn’t seem real even when you’re living it.”
I nodded. That’s exactly what it felt like. A dream.
“Kinda feels like we should do something to mark the occasion,” I said.
“How about a round of shots?” he joked.
I laughed. “No.”
“Sex?”
I laughed more. “I was hoping for suggestions a little more suited to the occasion.”
“Hey, sex works. You could dress up.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I punched his shoulder.
“Wait.” Rooke grabbed my arm. “I know what we can do.” He grinned at me but didn’t say anything more. The twinkle in his eye tugged at my curiosity.
“What?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he took my hand, led me to his bunk, and sat me down on the bed.
“Just wait here a second.”
“I thought I said no to sex.”
He ignored me and went to the side of the room. From a wall compartment, he pulled out a metal briefcase, placed it on the bed, and opened it. I peered inside. My breath caught in my throat at the contents in the case.
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