The Resisters (2 page)

Three Mississippi
. Among the
squicks
of soles on the green-painted metal field, there was the unmistakable
whoosh
of an incoming, solid-rubber, high-velocity ball.

Ethan stomped and spun.

For a fraction of a heartbeat he saw the ball he knew Bobby would pass—a blur rocketing at two hundred miles an hour—right to him.

Ethan head-butted the ball downfield and sprinted after it.

The crowd screamed—but the sound faded … drowned by Ethan’s thundering pulse and the thumping of his suit’s hydraulics.

Three Warrior defenders raced after him.

Ethan twisted, gears and gyros screaming in overdrive as he caught up to the ball and dribbled it between his feet.

Warriors closed on all sides to block him. There was no more time.

He had to take the shot now—still three hundred feet from the goal.

He snapped on his suit’s targeting system. Arrows and grid lines popped onto his view screen.

The goalkeeper faced him, and suddenly Ethan’s screen fuzzed with static.

He was getting jammed by the goalie!

Less than two seconds on the clock.

Ethan crouched, tensed the frame of his suit—head to boots—and kicked the ball as hard as he could.

The ball ripped through the air, a smear of black and white.

It bounced once and shot off at a different angle because of the wicked spin he’d given the ball.

The goalkeeper tried to reverse his direction to catch it.

But the ball screamed past his fingertips—

—and into the net, stretching it to the tearing point, and then dropping to the ground, smoking from the incredible air friction. It rolled to a stop.

The end-match buzzer sounded.

Ethan stood stunned, not sure he’d seen that right.

His team surrounded him, clapping Ethan on the back with metallic clangs, hugging him, and even Coach Norman shook his head with disbelief and smiled. The team lifted Ethan up on their shoulders.

Despite his suit, Ethan felt light as a feather—like he could fly.

Everyone in the Grizzlies section of the bleachers ran onto the field, waving red flags and cheering.

They’d won! The Grizzlies were going to state finals!

It was like he’d won every science fair
and
just taken Mary Vincent’s hand.

But some instinct nagged Ethan. He felt uneasy and glanced up at the bleachers.

The only people still there were the two strangers.

The pale boy and girl stared at him. The girl made a chopping motion to her friend—and they stalked off.

Goose bumps crawled down Ethan’s back.

ETHAN SHOWERED OFF HIS SWEAT AND THE
suit’s grease and gear grime. He’d whooped it up and enjoyed more back slaps and high fives from his teammates in the locker room. But then they’d all gone off to some celebration party.

Ethan had told them to call him later and he’d catch up.

He wanted to walk home alone. He needed a few minutes to get used to his own body, minus the six hundred pounds of exoskeleton.

Really, he wanted time to think. So much had happened so fast.

He toweled dry, got dressed, and marched off campus onto the streets of Santa Blanca.

He knew every inch of his neighborhood. He spied imprints in the sidewalk’s concrete of tiny hands and scratchy
initials made by him and his sister Emma. He inhaled, smelling freshly cut lawns, barbecuing hamburgers, and a cool breeze from the mountains that surrounded his town. Streetlamps cast circles of light, but between them it was a clear, moonless night, brimming with stars.

He took it all in because it might end in a year. That’s when he’d be tested and, hopefully, certified mentally, physically, and socially ready for high school.

That’s when he’d leave the neighborhood.

Not everyone got tested at the same time. You had to be mature enough and have the grades and the right combination of extracurricular activities. It was a
big
deal—maybe the most important thing that would ever happen to Ethan.

Part of him
never
wanted to leave.

His family was here. He knew every person here and every book in the library. It was familiar, comforting, and safe.

But another part of him wanted to see the world. Do things you couldn’t do in the sleepy community of Santa Blanca.

Winning the match tonight had been great. So would be going to the state championship. If they won
that
, Ethan and his teammates would get scholarships to the high school of their choice.

It would be MIT Prep for him, of course, the best science high school in the nation—his dream come true.

And if he didn’t get into MIT? Well, there were plenty
of technical prep schools, but those didn’t offer the advanced classes on physics and aerodynamics.

More than anything else, Ethan wanted to fly, maybe be a test pilot … or an astronaut! He needed MIT Prep to get there.

His dreams abruptly vanished and Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. The hair on the back of his neck stirred, and he took an involuntary step backward.

Past the next streetlight, two figures stood in the shadows.

As Ethan’s eyes adjusted, he recognized them. Who wouldn’t? The boy was just as big (although not as tall) as he’d looked in the bleachers, and the skinny girl’s hair spiked up like several insect antennae.

The girl was cute, but her face was pointy and her eyes glittered like jagged green glass. The sleeves of her too-big T-shirt were scrunched up to her elbows, showing off well-defined muscles.

The boy cocked his head sideways, examining him. “You Ethan Blackwood?” His voice was soft and a bit higher than Ethan’s.

Ethan had at first thought these two might be teenagers, but seeing them up close and hearing the big guy, he realized they weren’t any older than him.

“You’re the straight-A student?” the girl asked. “Winner of two science fairs with a dead frog leg and a robot arm?” She made a gag face. “Got a thing for severed limbs?”

Ethan’s mouth went dry. In the pit of his stomach something curled inward. Ethan didn’t understand. There was nothing to be afraid of in his neighborhood, apart from the occasional spooky bedtime story his mom and dad had told him when he was a kid.

But that scary feeling
was
here.

“I’m Ethan Blackwood.” He stood straighter and took a step closer, not wanting to look frightened. “What do you want? An autograph?”

The girl pressed her lips into a white line.

The guy strode to Ethan—making a knuckle-cracking fist.

He swung at Ethan’s head!

It took Ethan a split second to react. There were bumps and jostles in a soccer match, all good-natured (more or less). But rougher play landed you in detention and went on your permanent record.

And a
real
fistfight? Anyone stupid enough to throw a punch got shipped off to Sterling Reform School. Or so Ethan had heard. He’d never actually seen it happen.

Ethan had played too many matches, though,
not
to duck.

The boy’s fist was half the size of Ethan’s head—Ethan got a close look at it (callused knuckles and all) as it whooshed past his nose.

“Hey!” Ethan stumbled back. His hands instinctively rose and balled.

“He’s got the reflexes,” the girl said. “He even had
them in that antique
mechanical
suit. That will help.” She sighed. “And he’s the right size, Felix. He’s going to have to do.”

The boy gave Ethan a doubtful look.

Ethan’s fists flattened into a peacemaking gesture. He wanted to turn and run … but then something occurred to him. Maybe this was the Westside Warriors’ idea of a practical joke. His fear became prickly irritation.

Yes. That had to be it. This was a sore-loser prank. And a bad one.

Well, he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him scared.

“What do you mean, I’ll ‘have to do’?” Ethan demanded.

The large boy’s fists dropped to his side (still clenched, though). “Pathetic. There’s no fight in him. He’s just going to die—or worse, get
us
killed.”

“None of them have any fight,” the girl said resignedly, “but there’s still a chance to save
dozens
of them and the suit. It’s worth it.”

A block or two away, the thumping bass of music and cheers started. A party.

The big guy looked over his shoulder. “Adults are close, Madison. And this place is watched. We’ll have to do this later.”

The girl gave Ethan one of those up-and-down glances and shook her head in disgust. She spun around and walked across Mr. Samperson’s yard, crushing his primroses.

The big guy followed her.

They vaulted over Mr. Samperson’s backyard fence and vanished into the night.

Ethan stood watching, waiting to see if they’d come back, and then he blinked.

Those were two very weird people. He’d have to tell Mom and Dad. He shuddered and shook off his bad feelings. He wasn’t going to let some practical joke played by Westside ruin his night. Tonight he was going to enjoy himself. He’d earned it.

Ethan jogged the last two blocks to his house, a blue-and-white Victorian with a wraparound porch … where he discovered the source of the music he’d heard.

The party was
here
.

All his teammates, his school friends, and their parents mingled on the porch and on his front lawn. Tiki torches flickered, and a bunch of people waved sparklers. His dad manned the barbecue, and his mom handed out pink lemonades.

There was a banner hung between the live oaks that read:

Coach Norman was there too. He raised a lemonade to toast Ethan.

Ethan smiled back. He was sure there was going to be a long lecture about “following the play,” even though his
kick had won the match. Coach would wait a few days, though. Tonight wasn’t the time for lectures.

Ethan’s teammates spotted him, and there was another round of lifting him on their shoulders, running around, and growling “Grizzlies!” victory cries.

Ethan really wanted to talk with Mary Vincent (whom he saw with Emma)—but he got caught up for the next half hour talking about the match with Bobby and the rest of the team, figuring out how to win state finals in two weeks.

“Whoa!” Bobby said, glancing at his watch. “I better get some cramming in before bedtime. You know there’s going to be a surprise test in pre-algebra tomorrow.”

Ethan sighed. Like he could forget that Mr. Lee
always
had a quiz after a match to knock the school’s superstar athletes down a notch.

His teammates nodded, realizing it was late for a school night, and their parents started making those little unmistakable hurry-up-let’s-go gestures.

They said their goodbyes, and everyone wandered back home.

The party was over.

Ethan noticed Mary Vincent was gone too.

“She left five minutes ago,” Emma said from the porch. She flipped her long black hair from her freckled face, then came down and slugged Ethan in the shoulder. “Nice match, by the way. You need a little practice, though, in
other
areas.”

“Oh …,” Ethan said, frowning.

The one thing he’d hoped for tonight was to talk to Mary, maybe even try to hold her hand (the right way this time).

Or maybe it was too weird? Ethan still couldn’t decide if girls were gross … or wonderful.

“She’s nuts over you, like you didn’t know,” Emma said, and picked trash off the lawn. “A girl just needs to know she comes first. When you grow up a little more, you’ll understand.”

Grow up?
It wasn’t like Ethan was a kid.

Emma was only a year older.

Ethan grabbed the recycle bin and helped her clean up.

Emma had already been accepted into Vassar Prep, one of the best high schools in the world … while Ethan would be stuck here. She’d be gone soon, and Ethan wouldn’t see her except on holidays.

Ethan liked his brother and sisters (even the twins’ constant toddler drooling). He and Emma stuck together no matter what—getting caught stealing chocolate puddings late at night, or accidentally shooting his model rockets into the neighbor’s garage. That last stunt had gotten them grounded for a month, and his mom and dad had had to intervene with the School Board of Ethical Behaviors to make sure nothing worse happened.

“Don’t worry about Miss Mary Vincent,” Emma told him. “You two have a whole year before they even test you for high school.
A lot
can happen in a year.”

Before Ethan could protest that a year seemed like a geological era to him, Mom called from inside the house,
“Emmaaaaa!”

It was bath time, and getting the twins washed, ready for bed, and tucked in took at least two seasoned toddler wranglers.

“I got this.” Ethan waved at the litter on the lawn.

“Thanks,” Emma said. “Don’t let Mary know you’re so worried. Us girls can smell the fear!”

Like telling Ethan
not
to be scared of girls was going to make him any less nervous.