by Ruby Vincent
Laughing, he threw up his hands. “Hold up, dude. Give me a chance.”
“Sorry. I looked over every inch of the website, but it didn’t say much about what we do this week or about the battle system.”
He inclined his head. “For good reason. It’s kind of intense and they don’t want to scare people away. Over the next couple days, we’ll be running, jumping, swimming, throwing, and competing in the sports used for the physical tests. Those are the trials.”
My jaw dropped. “We’ll be what?!”
“Yep. Starting tomorrow and straight through to Friday. We have Saturday off to rest and then Sunday we take the placement test.”
“But why? Why are we taking physical tests?”
“It’s all a part of how they decide what class we’ll be in,” he replied. “That’s what Breakbattle is all about—students who are smart, but also in peak physical condition. It’s what the battles are based on.”
I leaned forward, hanging on his every word. “What is a battle?”
“It’s like they said this morning. In the real world, we fight for everything and we’ll be doing the same here.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean fight? I thought battle was just a cute term? They don’t really make us fight each other, do they?”
“Not like how you’re thinking. It’s just— Pretty much we—” He stopped, face scrunching up as he thought. “Okay. It’s like this.” He scooted forward until we were inches apart. “Let’s say you get into that math club you were talking about before.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Well, the clubs here have limited space. The math club only allows fifteen students. It’s full up and I want to get in. The only way for me to do that is to challenge one of the members to a battle.”
“I’m with you,” I said. “So you challenge me to a battle to get into the club.”
“Yes. I challenge you to a test in my best subject: English. Since you were the one who was challenged, you get to pick the physical test. We have to do both. Academic test and physical test.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “So I have to do my best subject for the academic test? So I’d challenge everyone to a math test?”
“You don’t have to choose math, but you want to win, so everyone goes with their best subject.”
“Makes sense. What about the physical tests? What are they?”
“There are only five options for that. You can race, play soccer, play basketball, wrestle, or swim.”
I made a face. “Why only those five?”
He shrugged. “That’s just how it works.”
“Alright. So, if someone comes up to me and challenges me to a race, what—”
I stopped at his headshake. “No, the challenger picks the academic test and the challengee picks the physical test. Those are the rules.”
My head was spinning trying to keep with everything he was telling me, but I had to keep it straight. “What do I do if I get challenged to a battle?”
“You report it to a teacher and the coach. They have to supervise both tests to make sure there’s no cheating and that the loser holds up their end. If it’s not supervised, it doesn’t count.”
“Okay.” I leaned back in the chair, letting my head fall onto the cushion. “What an interesting way to run a school, but it sounds like a hassle. I’m guessing battles must not happen very often.”
Adam’s snort brought my head back up. The look he was giving me made my stomach twist. “Are you kidding? There are battles almost every day of the school year. Sometimes up to five in one day.”
I gaped at him. “Five? But why? Who would want to take more tests than they have to? Who would want to spend their free time running and jumping all over the place?”
His expression morphed into one that was bordering on pitying. “You really don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, do you? They make us compete for pretty much everything, Zeke. Spots on field trips, volunteer opportunities, tutors, library time, computer time, office hours, getting into clubs, getting on teams.”
My eyes widened as the list grew. He couldn’t be serious. “Adam, the joke is over. There is no way they’d make us fight over all that stuff. Library times? Office hours? They can’t limit that.”
“They can, and they do.” The genial smile was nowhere to be seen. I shut my mouth at the seriousness on his face. “The Elite Class and the A Class get first dibs, but after that, if we want it, we battle for it.”
“But what are the rules?” I cried. “We can’t battle over everything, right? I mean, someone couldn’t challenge me for all the money in my pur— wallet,” I quickly amended.
Dammit, Zela. Be careful.
Thankfully, Adam didn’t seem to notice. “Actually, they can’t. That is one of the rules. Battles cannot involve money, breaking school rules, or anything illegal. You also can’t be challenged to something that would hurt you. Like telling you to purposely flunk a test or be late to class and get detention. The teachers have to know what you’re battling over so no one can get you to do something awful. The battle would be rejected.”
“Well, that’s something at least, but still. What if I don’t want to do the battle at all?”
He was shaking his head before I finished the question. “If you turn down a battle, it’s an automatic ten points off your final grade, every time. You refuse enough of them and you’ll end up flunking out.”
“Is there at least a limit to how many battles I can be challenged to?”
“Nope. You could be challenged a hundred times a semester, but that’s not likely,” he rushed to add, no doubt seeing the look on my face. “You’d have to have something someone wanted and they’d have to believe they’d win the battle. They won’t waste their time if they can’t win.”
That made me feel marginally better, but the tight ball in my stomach hadn’t quite loosened. I was a smart girl—Mom made sure of that. She’d done a great job homeschooling me and I trusted that I could hold my own in academics and crush everyone in math, but the physical tests...
Mom’s ideal of strengthening the body was a healthy diet, daily yoga, Pilates, and the three months of Tae Kwon Do I learned while we lived in South Korea. I had played soccer and basketball, but only a friendly game when I ran into kids my age. I could swim, but I sucked at treading water. My lungs burned into cinders if I ran for longer than twenty feet and I had never wrestled in my life.
If someone challenged me, how could I hope to win?
The thought pulled a question from my lips. “How do you win a battle? What if I win the academic test, but fail the physical one?”
He pulled a face. “That’s tough to answer because it depends. Academic tests are weighted more so you might still win the battle, but in the end, the judges will decide. They have a whole system for determining the winner in every case.”
“I feel like I should be writing this down.” I sighed. “You said before that the Elite Class gets first dibs. What else do they get?”
He threw out his hands. “They get rooms even nicer than this, but they don’t have to share. There’s only ten of them in each class so they get the whole top floor to themselves. They’re like the top five percentile so not only do they get privileges from the school, but universities fall over themselves to offer them scholarships or scout them for their teams.”
I bobbed my head. “They’re the ones who have everything the other students want. They must be in battles every day.”
“Actually, they get another advantage there too. They call it ‘choosing your champion.’ If you challenge someone in the Elite Class to a battle, they can face you themselves or ask someone else in their class to do it for them.”
“Are you serious? But no one else can do that, can they? You said everyone else loses points if they don’t do a battle.”
“Yep. It’s not fair, but the system isn’t based on fairness. If you want to take on an Elite, you have to be ready to take them all on. Cameron dominates
in biology and basketball, but if you challenge him thinking you’ll crush him in math, then he’ll just ask Santi to take over. Same thing for every subject. They get their best to battle for them so students outside of the A Class don’t think about challenging them. They get to have everything and they get to keep it.”
I nodded slowly, thinking about what this meant for me. “So the easiest way to get through Breakbattle is to get into the Elite Class. I’d have my own room. I wouldn’t have to worry about the physical tests. I’d... even be in the same class my dad was,” I whispered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I shook myself, coming back to reality. “I was just saying that I have to get into the Elite Class.”
“That is what everyone on this campus is saying. The competition is brutal and it never stops. The next four years are going to be intense.”
I blew out a breath. “I definitely didn’t know what I was getting into, but you know so much.”
“You will too. In the fall, they’ll give us a guide that explains the system and how it works better than me.”
Adam explained it pretty well, but there was still one more question nagging away at me.
“Alright, but why do they separate—”
Ring. Ring.
“One sec, man.” Adam heaved himself out of the chair and rescued his phone from his backpack. “Hey, Dad. It’s going great. We’re staying in the A dorms. Yeah, they’re sweet. My friend Zeke and I are shooting for A Class now.”
It wasn’t cool to listen in on other people’s phone calls, but I’d be lying if I said a tiny thrill didn’t go through me at being called his friend.
“No,” said Adam. He stuck the phone in the crook of his ear and began unpacking. It suddenly occurred to me that I should be doing the same. We had to go down and meet Cameron and Santiago soon. “Yes. Mom’s fine, Jaxson. How is she going to overdo it? She sits around all day. You know I’ll be there for her.”
I let Adam’s chatter fade into the background as I opened my duffle bag. The large ornate wardrobe easily fit the few clothes I brought, and since I wasn’t lugging makeup and perfumes, I set out my toiletries in less than a minute. I didn’t come to a stuttering halt until I gazed down at the box of pads lying innocently at the bottom of my bag.
I peeked at Adam through my lashes. The guy was completely oblivious and focused on his phone call.
It’s not like he’ll go through my things, right? He’s a nice guy.
I zipped the bag closed and stuffed it under my bed. It’ll be fine. If they hadn’t found me out already, then my disguise was working. As long as I didn’t slip up, I’d be able to do what I came here to do.
By the time Adam finished his call, it was time to go back down. Cameron and Santiago were waiting in the spot they promised. They didn’t seem too excited about their job as volunteers, but they did it well.
The two led our group of twenty on a tour of the school, showing us where the classrooms, lunchroom, and administration were. The inside tour ended in front of the principal’s office. Any further and we would go over to the girls’ side which was not a part of the tour. Instead, we went through the back doors and spilled out onto a verdant, sprawling quad.
Breakbattle sat on ten acres, and as my eyes swept over them trying to take in everything at once, I could see they had used them well. Patches of flower gardens lined the building. There were more cobblestone paths and they led to different structures.
“Okay, guys,” said Cameron. He pointed to the buildings. “That’s the gym. That’s the swimming pool. The basketball courts are in there and behind all of that is the track and soccer field. You can go and check them out if you want. Just meet us back here in twenty minutes.”
The group broke apart. I stuck with Adam, but I wasn’t the only one who wanted to hang with him. Three guys peeled themselves out of the pack and descended on him.
“Adam!” A tall, gangly kid with a wicked smile seized him and they bumped chests. Adam did the same with the other two.
I absentmindedly rubbed my hand over my bindings. It would hurt to be doing that all day. Jordan was right about that.
“So they actually let you in here, Moon?” Tall Guy asked. “They’re letting the standards slip.”
Adam socked his shoulder. “They let everyone in, but they for sure should have made an exception with you.”
“Hey, what dorm are you in? I’m in the D Class dorms and they’re shit. If that’s not motivation to place higher, then I don’t know what is.”
“I’m saying,” Adam replied. “I was just telling my dad I’m getting into the A Class. Those rooms are sweet.”
The four of them yukked it up while I stood there awkwardly. I should go and let him hang with his friends. I’ll go check out the gym or something.
I made it two steps before—
“Zeke, where are you going? Come and meet my friends.” A hand grasped my arm and tugged me back. Adam threw his arm around my shoulder and his heady scent engulfed me. He pointed at Tall Guy. “This is Zachary Fields.” Then he moved on to a shorter, stocky boy with a dusting of freckles on his cheek. “This is Justin Samuels.” The last guy sported long, brown hair held back with a single tie and an arm in a blue sling. “This is Owen Price.”
I gave a little wave. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sup, Zeke.” Zachary grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled me in. Before I had time to think, he smashed his chest against mine. I twisted away when the others came in to do the same.
“What happened to your arm?” Adam asked.
Owen groaned. “I wrecked it falling off my skateboard. I’ll be in D Class for sure because of this. I won’t be able to do most of the trials.”
“What?” I piped up. “They can’t do that. It’s not your fault.”
“My mom tried that argument, but they said no exceptions. It’s all about how you score. If I can’t do a trial, I get a zero.”
No one said anything in reply. What was there to say? One talk with Adam and I got the lesson. The competition is everything here and not being able to compete meant life would be a whole lot harder in Breakbattle Academy.
“Let’s check out the battlefields,” Zachary finally said. “I heard the gyms are state of the art and stuff. All the best equipment.”
The five of us took off to explore the rest of the school. We went into the gym, indoor swimming pool, and checked out the tracks and I figured out right away that state of the art was underselling it. No expense had been spared. Breakbattle boasted sleek courts, an Olympic-sized pool, and nothing was worn or out of date. Everything was ready for the battles that would come in the new school year.
We did a lap around the grounds and then came back to meet up with Cameron and Santiago.
“We have half an hour until lunch,” said Cameron. “We’ll hang out and answer your questions and then you’ll meet up with your folks.”
That was fine with me. I still had a lot of questions. We followed the two inside to an empty classroom.
“This is a D classroom,” Cameron said. “It should be reason enough to place higher.”
I looked around. The class resembled the ones I had seen on television and in movies. Rows of chairs lined up before a simple brown desk and a whiteboard. “If this is considered bad, what are the F classrooms like?” I asked.
Cameron peered at me over his shoulder. “You should hope you don’t find out.”
“Forget the F Class,” Zach said as he grabbed a seat. “What are the Elite classrooms like?”
“You should hope you do find out.” Cameron hopped onto the desk next to his friend. “Alright, you’ve got questions, we’ll answer, but first, tell us who you are and what class you think you’ll get into.”
Zach’s hand shot into the air. “Zachary Fields. My family owns Fields Hospitals. All As in science—bio and chem—so I’m getting into the Elite Class.”
Cameron lifted his foot onto the desk and draped his arm over his knee
. He was the picture of poised and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Not just because he was handsome, but because he had the look of someone who had everything come easy to him in life. He had yet to face a problem he couldn’t handle or an obstacle he couldn’t overcome. It was funny that in twenty-six countries and cultures, that look of self-confidence was the same.
“It’s not just about the grades,” said Cameron. “At our level, you have to kick ass on the court too.”
Zachary didn’t lose his grin. “I was the captain of my baseball team too. Trust me, I’m getting in.”
“Nice.” Cameron’s eyes darted in my direction. “You.”
“I think—”
He held up a hand. “Not you, Manning. I want to hear from Moon. Where does the son of the tech mogul, record producer, television reporter, CEO, and therapist think he is going?”
Son of the who now? I twisted around in my seat, facing Adam. How many parents does he have?
Adam’s signature smile hung on his lips. “My mom and dads don’t care where I go, but I’m alright with English and can hold my own in the water. I’d say A Class.”
A snort sounded to my right. “Alright with English? Hold your own in the water?” Owen repeated. “Dude, you won the state essay contest three years in a row and came in second behind Reed in last year’s swim meet, and that was only by half of a second. You’re Elite, for sure.”
I glanced back at Adam, seeing the chill, jovial guy in a new light.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Cameron’s voice cut in smoothly. “The Elites don’t do second place, but I would like to meet this Reed guy.”
Adam’s tone didn’t change. “You’ll get your chance. I saw him in the auditorium. He’s here too.”
“Then, you’ll have another chance to prove you’re better than him.”
Adam’s reply was immediate. “I’m not better than him or anyone else.”
“Then, you’re not Elite.”
I stiffened even though I wasn’t part of the conversation. You could cut the tension in the air, and despite Adam’s neutral expression, I sensed there was a history between him and Cam.