“How many ribs are broken?” I ask, trying to hold onto my temper. Stubborn, infuriating boy!
“Two, maybe.” He sounds so indifferent!
“That’s a hell of a lot of bruising for two ribs. I was there, remember? Zimmerman came down on you like a freight train. You can still go to Dr. Giardo and-”
“Stop.” He cut me off. “I can’t back out. I’ll wrap my ribs and we’ll be fine. It’s not bad.”
“Kon…” I sigh. “One challenge is not worth the risk of getting hurt so badly that you’re out of the Academy, is it?”
“I won’t.” Taking my face in his hands, he makes me look up at him, “And you’re not going to tell anyone. Promise me.”
“I…” His eyes are blazing, an electric blue I’ve never seen before. “I won’t,” I reluctantly agree, “Please don’t be reckless.”
“Of course not,” he says, picking up some medical tape. “When do you have to meet up with Lucca’s group?”
I check my iPhone. “Twenty minutes, I must get dressed and geared up. Do you want me to help you wrap up your ribs?”
“I’ve got it,” he gives me a quick, polite smile and I feel him pull away from me, as clearly as if he’d shut the door in my face.
“I know I don’t need to tell you this,” Lucca says, “but I will anyway. Shut down everything else in your brain today. All the external chatter, all your fears and anxieties. We all must be completely focused on the tasks and each other. This challenge is…” he ran his hand through his hair, “different. This is going to be dangerous, well,” he corrected himself, “more dangerous than usual. Look at Dean Christie.”
We all turned to stare at the Dean, who was pleasantly humming and looking out over the students. Everyone was assembled on the lawn in front of the Dean’s Building.
Who would want to miss out on a fellow student’s horrific death?I thought cynically.
There are four majors at the Ares Academy. For the challenge, each Leader - who is almost always the firstborn in a family - is required to pick three students from each of the other three divisions; the Spies, who handle intelligence and surveillance for their family, the Warriors, who head up the organization’s soldiers and security, and the Assassins, who do most of a crime family’s dirty work. Lucca, who is the youngest in the Toscano mafia family, is the only student in recent history who was moved to the Leader’s division.
“The Dean looks too happy,” Lucca says. “That’s never good.”
“Yeah, I’m wearing my St. Jude medallion today,” Carlo said. He’s a gloomy Junior from the Warrior’s division, a mountain of a man who still approaches every day at the Academy as if it’s his last.
“Inspiring speech, chief,” drawls Athena. I’m secretly happy she’s on our team. She’s strong and smart, and she’s relentless when it comes to getting what she wants.
Lucca laughs, “Thank you for the reset. Fuck ‘em. We’ve got the strongest team I’ve seen in my four years here. Stay alert.”
Dean Christie steps up on the raised stone dais, lifting her mic. “Welcome to the year’s first Leader’s Challenge!”
There’s a rousing round of applause that dies off a bit as her grin stretches to feral proportions. “Professor Fukumoto, would you present the first task?”
“We’re starting with a task that takes place off the Academy grounds,” he says. “Teams, trucks are waiting to take you to the location if you’ll head to the front gates.”
Walking past the other students, I hear the low murmur building. This is unprecedented, no one ever leaves the Academy grounds during the school year, aside from rare visits to Kilronan Village, the closest bit of civilization to the school.
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” I lean in close to Lucca so no one else can listen in. I don’t know why I’m bothering; the truck beds are uncovered and the chilly Aran Island winds are roaring past us.
“The airstrip,” he said, eyeing the landscape, “I caught them loading harnesses in the SUV that left before us. Have you gone skydiving before?”
“Several times,” I nodded, suddenly grateful for my sister-in-law Tania’s wild streak and her need to drag us along on her adventures.
“Good, we’ll find out who doesn’t have experience when we get there and match them up with those of us who are certified. I know Carlo is certified, and Haneul,” he said, looking over our group.
“Anders does, we talked about it one night,” I volunteer. “I don’t know about the others.”
As Lucca predicted, the convoy of trucks turns onto the road leading to the island’s airstrip. Six Cessna SkyCouriers are waiting on the tarmac. Professor Fukumoto and the Dean climb out of the first truck.
“We’re going to do this in waves to accommodate all the teams,” Fukumoto instructs us, “once you’re in the air, you’ll receiveyour instructions for the task.” He holds up his fist, holding several straws. “Leaders, draw your straw to determine your flight order.”
Lucca pulls out a short straw.
