I feel a little self-conscious as I unveil my design. It’s not the prettiest—it’s still a prototype and looks very homebrew —but I can’t afford to have a better version made. Not yet. Plus, I have no idea what kind of data I’ve overlooked that someone in Violet’s field might find useful.
Violet cranes her neck to peer into the case. “What does it do?”
“I can show you.”
“Yes, let’s do it!” She hops off the counter. “Bring it with you.”
“I thought I would show you in here?”
“I thought so, too, but now that I’m thinking about it, we need a guinea pig.”
“You have a guinea pig?” The words fall out of me before I realize what she means. “Ugh, sorry, you mean a test subject. I know that, I’m just nervous, so I’m all…” It’s my turn to do jazz hands.
Frankie would laugh in my face for the slip-up. It’s not uncommon for my mouth to get ahead of my brain. Violet seems relatively unbothered by this.
“If you demonstrate on yourself, you won’t be able to see what you’re doing. If you demonstrate on me, I won’t be ableto see. Therefore, we need to test your prototype on a willing victim. Come on!”
I bring the case and follow her out to the ice. She’s got her own sneaky entrance to the rink, probably to make it easier to remove injured players.
The Venom guys are practicing, running the same drills that I’ve now seen them do dozens of times. I’m gratified to see that Tristan no longer seems to be favoring either side. His movements are controlled and precise, and the puck goes in with every shot.
“Hey, Coach!” Violet calls. “We need a volunteer!”
Coach Metcalfe blows his whistle, and the guys scatter out of formation. Tristan spots me and waves. I give him a shy wave back.
“What’s this, now?” Coach asks.
Violet gestures toward me. “We want to try out Minerva’s device. If it works, it’ll be a game-changer.”
No pressure, then. I’m going to make a fool of myself if this dry run turns out to be a dud.
“Oh, hey, is this the thing for the concussion test?” Coach grins at me. How does he know about that? I’ve barely talked to him, so it’s not like I told him.
“Yeah, the one I was telling you about. Pretty cool, right?” Violet says, grinning.
I open the case again, and Coach comes over to inspect my work. I know that he isn’t going to grade me, but I still find myself wanting to earn a gold star for my homework.
“I’m looking forward to seeing it in action.” Coach lifts his head, and suddenly he’s talking to me, not to Violet. “You want to try it out on one of the guys?”
I nod a little too enthusiastically. “That would be great.”
“Cool. Hey, Knight, get over here.”
Viktor barks out a laugh. “Ha! Can’t wait to see if Hale has brain damage!”
“At least I’ve got a brain,” Knight retorts. “No wonder Coach didn’t pick you.”
“Hey, rude!”
“He’s right,” Camden deadpans. “There’s a reason we voted you ‘Most Likely to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse.’”
“I thought that was because of my parkour skills.”
“Nah,” Bowen says. “It’s because you’re the zombie equivalent of celery.”
“Negative calories,” Lenyx clarifies.
Tristan catches my eye and winks. Heat skitters across my cheeks before I can stop it. I don’t look away this time. Knight, meanwhile, has come over to the bench and is fumbling his helmet off. “What else do you need? Should I take anything else off?”
