Alex Armstrong: Awakening (17 page)

Alex followed his hologram through a series of punches, kicks, and blocks, his heart rate increasing with each passing minute. By the time he finished, he was sucking air. Alex turned to the back wall and arced his water bottle into his hand. He sent it back after a few gulps and then took a look around the room. Each warm-up routine was unique, based on the student’s skill level. Patrick’s was the most difficult. Alex could hear his hands and feet hissing through the air.

And then there was Philip. He huffed and puffed and flailed about, paying no mind to the fluid movements of his hologram. He finally gave up mid-punch and doubled over, chest heaving, belly fat sneaking out from the confines of his shirt.

“Just a few more minutes, Philip.”

“I need a time-out.”

“No you need to push yourself.”

“But I can’t. I’m too thirsty.” Every now and then, Philip’s hologram flickered.

Sonnier stopped chewing his gum and stared.

“Really,” Philip said. He rubbed his throat and produced a dry, weak cough. “I’m parched. And I forgot my water. And I—I think I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded.”

Sonnier sighed loudly enough for the class to hear. “Perhaps one day you will make it through a warm-up without getting…‌parched.” He nodded toward the door and turned away from Philip. “The rest of you: Back to your center square. Prepare for Sync One.”

The holograms rotated and shifted back a few feet so they now overlaid each student’s body, giving everyone an electric glow.

“Begin!”

Block low, block high, right elbow, right punch
…‌Alex timed each move with the chant that played in his head, his hours of practice evident by the absence of his hologram. All of their movements were in perfect harmony, right down to their bow at the conclusion of the Sync. Alex looked down and saw “100%” flashing on the display—his first perfect score. He turned to Eva and was met with a fake yawn. They tied.

“Awww, I rained on your parade,” she said, smiling.

Alex shook his head. “I don’t even wanna look at Patrick’s.”

“One hundred and ten!” he called.

“Figures,” Alex said. “It’s so annoying. We finally start getting graded and I’m not the…”

“Best?” Eva said. “Alex, you can’t win at everything. And I guarantee you we were getting graded that first semester. Why do you think there are only twenty of us in here? The rest are stuck in Intro I and
not
taking this class.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And I’m sure Professor Sonnier’s heard the stories about you.”

“Philip! You’re back!” Sonnier called. “I trust your water was tasty.”

Philip cut his eyes in Sonnier’s direction.

“Hurry up and get your shoes off and join your classmates. The rest of you, prepare for Sync Three.”

“Dollar?” Eva said. She leaned outside the center square so that Alex was looking at two smiling faces: one real, one digital.

“Bring it.”

“Begin!”

The chant played loud and clear in Alex’s mind as he ripped through the first half of the routine. “Better get that dollar ready!”

“Don’t get cocky,” Eva said. “We’re still on the easy part.”

“I’ve got this.”

“For about five more seconds.”

She was right. The pace ramped up to something that felt just short of out of control. Alex did his best to focus but it was futile—there were just too many steps. He lost his rhythm and then everything crumbled. He started seeing his hologram’s legs and arms when he should have been seeing his own, his blue square blinking with every misstep. He stopped moving so he could regroup, but it only made the floor blink faster. He put his hands on his hips and looked at Eva.

“All kicks in this next part,” she said. “High, low, straight. High, low, straight. Remember?”

Alex watched her for a bit and then it all clicked. He fell back in sync with his hologram and the floor stopped blinking. It was still solid blue when he finished. Sixty-seven percent.

“I would suggest double or nothing,” Sonnier said. He was standing at Alex’s side. “You were moving well at the end.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I’d still put my money on her.” Sonnier looked at Eva and winked.

“I’m so tired of this
stupid
class.”

If it was meant to be a whisper it was a poor attempt. Sonnier snapped his head in Philip’s direction. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Philip said.

The overhead lights snapped on and the checkerboard pattern on the floor faded away until there was only a blank white screen below the glass. The professor crossed the room at something between a walk and a run until he was standing toe-to-toe with Philip. The only sound was Sonnier smacking his gum. “Speak up, boy. I didn’t catch that.” He stopped chewing and tilted his ear toward Philip.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Hmmm. I could have sworn I heard you call me over for help.”

“No sir.”

“You don’t need my help?”

Philip’s forehead looked greasy in the bright light. “No.”

“I think you do. Your square went black halfway through that sequence. That means you failed.”

Philip rolled his eyes. “I can do it.”

“So you didn’t try? Sounds like we’re back to our first conversation today.”

Philip looked down at his shoes. “There’s no point.”

“Speak up.”

“I said there’s no point to all this! It’s stupid. Why in the world would we ever have to use hand-to-hand combat when we can use TK?”

Sonnier stood there chewing. He placed a meaty palm on Philip’s chest and shoved him to the ground.

Philip landed hard. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “What was that for?”

“Get up.”

Philip got to his feet only to be pushed down again.

“What’s the matter? You can’t stop me? What about your precious TK?”

Philip raised himself on his elbows and glanced wildly around the room.

“What? Nothing in here you can pick up?” Sonnier looked at the clothes and shoes piled against the wall. “What about one of those boots? That tan one looks heavy. Might even give me a bruise.”

Philip considered it and then thought better. His shoulders relaxed and he sank lower into the floor. He flinched a bit when Sonnier offered his hand, but when he realized the intent, he took it and was pulled to his feet. He avoided the stares of his classmates as he brushed himself off.

Professor Sonnier returned to the head of the classroom. “I see the way some of you are looking at me. Like I’m the bad guy.” He shook his head. “I assure you that I am not. The real ones are out there, beyond these walls, and I can promise you they won’t care one bit how skillful you are as a telekin. They’ll just try to take you out faster.

“I represent a bit of a cold, hard truth here at Pal Tech. Something that gets lost when you’re in the lab playing with basketballs and golf balls and Legos. And it’s that those of you that graduate as Greyjeans and go on to work as Palkins are signing up for a dangerous life. You will see people injured, and you will see people killed.

“It is my job to give you the skills that will allow you to survive when someone bigger and stronger than you is staring you in the face and knocking you to the ground. Because in that moment of panic, when you lose sight of your surroundings and your vision is consumed by your enemy, your precious TK will mean very little. And when that happens, I don’t want any of you to just curl up and die. I want you to fight back. I want you to live.”

He paced to the back of the room. The lights darkened and the squares reappeared under the glass. “Prepare for Weapons Training!”

17 - Chosen

17

Chosen

It was Wednesday night, the room was cold, and Alex was cozy under a mound of covers. Sleep was coming on fast, but instead of closing his eyes and forcing the issue, he lay there scanning a collection of the day’s headlines on his monitor.

Alex shifted his pupils and the cursor moved across the screen. He winked and the page loaded. She looked normal enough. He tried to picture those skinny arms thrashing about as she chased her husband through the house, wielding the green-handled scissors displayed at the top of the page.

Alex was just getting to the part where she picked up a steak knife when his monitor chimed.
New message from: PalTechAdmin
scrolled across the status bar. Alex frowned. It was late for an official email. He moved his cursor to the top of the screen.

Goosebumps popped on his arms. He read the e-mail one more time and decided he should take a look at the course catalog. He eyed the pile of dirty clothes. His tablet burst forth from the bottom and flew across the room, a dirty sock wedged between the screen and the cover. Alex tossed the sock aside and swiped to the exam section. The description was as brief and cryptic as the email.

Alex could take a hint. He checked his sneakers to make sure they hadn’t moved from the last time he tossed them against the wall, and when he saw that they were there, he nestled his head deep into his pillow and stared at the ceiling. He lay awake for a long time that night.

****

“Sa’day?” Patrick’s word was lost behind a mouthful of eggs and sausage. He squinted as he forced too big of a swallow. “
Saturday?
”

Alex nodded and handed over his phone.

Nate was already looking at his tablet. He shook his head. “They can’t do that. It says right here it’s supposed to be in June.”

“Well, apparently they can,” Patrick said. He slid the phone over to Nate. “Looks like Alex has been put on the fast track.”

Nate read the email, still shaking his head. “Was there anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Any other emails?”

“Nope. That’s it.”

“You would think they could’ve eased you into it a little better. Maybe have Startsman or Sonnier reach out and give you a heads up. I mean, you know how important this is, right? This would be called a final at any other school.”

“You nervous?” Patrick said.

Alex shrugged. “Less now than I was last night. No point, really. Being nervous, I mean. I’ll just do my best and see what happens. What’d you tell me that one time, Nate? Be water, not the cup?”

“That’s right. Bruce is a wise man.”

“Who?” Patrick said.

“Bruce Lee. The guy I’ve got hanging on my wall.”

“The little Asian guy? What’s he got to do with anything?”

“Be water, my friend.”

Patrick shook his head and turned to Alex. “Help me out. I don’t speak poetry.”

“It means to go with the flow. Adapt.”

“Now that I can understand,” Patrick said. He went back to his food, drizzling syrup over a piece of thin, crispy bacon. It lifted into the air and folded in half once, twice. Sugary goodness dripped over its edges and onto the plate. Patrick opened his mouth and the bacon floated right in. “Mmmmm. Nate, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

The four of them ate in silence for a few minutes. Usually, these lulls were Patrick’s cue to step in and stir the pot, to get the conversation going again. But not today. And Alex knew why. Something was bubbling up inside of Eva and was on the tip of her tongue, and Patrick was giving her the stage. It didn’t take long for her to step into the spotlight.

“Why would they schedule your exam in the middle of March?” She said it as much to herself as to the rest of the table.

Alex could tell by her tone and the worried look in her eyes that the conversation was about to become emotional. Not good. Discussing anything to do with feelings was not his strong suit. Not to mention it felt like a waste of time. None of them really knew why they had scheduled his test so early; they’d just be speculating. And there was absolutely no way he was going to have some heart-to-heart with Eva in front of Patrick and Nate. No way. So he figured his best bet was to say something that didn’t give her anything to work with and hope that it’d be enough to delay the conversation to some time when they were alone. “I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t know. I’m not…‌I’m not looking for a
reason
.” She looked at Alex through reddening eyes. “Please don’t give me that blank look. Haven’t you thought about what this means? Haven’t any of you thought about what this means? Don’t you guys see? Everything might change. This,” she said, twirling her finger around the table, “this may never happen again after this weekend.”

“What, us eating together?” Patrick said.

“Yes! Alex’s whole schedule could change. This is supposed to be our final, and he’s taking it in two days. What, is he supposed to go back to Intro II with the rest of us on Monday?” Her voice trembled, her words spilling out faster and faster. “What if they make him go to new classes? What if he has to take something with Kim and that idiot New Yorker that almost punched him in the face? Or they could give him an assignment, make him go off campus. We may not see him again for who knows how long.”

“That’s okay,” Patrick said. “I’ll be the official friend-finder. Get us a substitute while he’s gone. How about that cute redhead over there? What do you think, Nate?”

“Not now,” he said under his breath.

Eva lifted her face and looked at Alex. Her eyes were red. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

This conversation had not gone as planned. Alex knew he had to tread carefully, that any wrong words would be used against him. He needed help, but he couldn’t look away. That would only make things worse. He searched within for some kind of answer that Eva would want to hear, something that might make her smile. But he came up with nothing. So he just shrugged.