Page 17

“If you know, then dance like it.”

I look down at the water, the blue too bright for my eyes. The pale green scales scattering the surface of my skin glitter in the harsh, midday sun. I know I’m stronger than I’m performing right now. I’ve been training for this moment for years. I’ve worked to build every ounce of muscle on my body.

I know I’m not weak, but something is standing between me and the kind of effort I know I can give.

“Run the sequence up to the jump again, and focus on the height. Your tail needs to fully clear the water if you want to get full points.”

As I sink below the surface, I already know I’m going to come up short again. I invert my body, holding my tailfins rigid as I lift and lower them from the surface on the precise beats I’ve memorized. My hands spiral on either side of my head, keeping me perfectly straight in the water.

Right on cue I dive down, careful to skim the bottom of the pool, and power upwards with one, two, three, beats of my tail before breaking the surface in what is supposed to be a dramatic arch above the water.

I know I’ve half assed it when my tail drags the surface. Rather than the splash-less entry, my whole body slaps down on the water. Somehow I’ve done worse this time around than the last run through.

Fuck, some part of me thinks, but even louder are the excuses clambering to the surface, tinged with an embarrassment that leaves me nauseated. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, why I’m giving anything less than my best effort.

I want this. I want to win. I need to win so badly I’ve been on the verge of panic since I arrived in Monstralia. I’ve been trying to manage it as best I can—smoking and walking through the village, reminding myself I need to win for me.

Your courage will touch the lives of strangers, Javier had said last night in the darkness.

I can already feel Javier’s disappointment when I break the surface of the pool. He shakes his head. “You are wasting your time, Aleks.”

He’s right, but instead of agreeing with him I ride the wave of anger suddenly expanding in my chest. I don’t even try to redirect it, instead letting the words spill from me without any regard for their outcome. “What the hell do you know about anything?” I’m shouting, my voice cracking from the strain. “You walk in here telling me what to do, and who the fuck are you? Some washed up coach who’s never done anything? Some fucking loser who leaves? Don’t tell me about how I’m using my time. You don’t have to be here, so if I’m such a fucking disappointment there’s nothing to stop you from walking away.”

I slip under the water, letting the quiet wrap around me as I catch my breath. What the fuck is wrong with you? My skin is too hot, too tight, and I wish I could experience the way a human’s lungs burn when they stay underwater for too long. I wish there was something I could do to quiet the roar in my head.

Movement catches my eye. There’s a hand under the surface at the edge of the pool, and my eyes focus on the tiny black hairs waving in the water.

Like I’m being pulled, I swim toward it.

The hand slips above the water before I can reach it, and it feels natural to follow. I pull myself up, gripping the edge of the pool, and rest my leather-covered chin on the back of my hands.

“Look at me.”

For a moment, I close my eyes. I’m not ready to see the way Javier looks at me in the wake of my latest tantrum.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. I can picture the disappointed frown on his face. “Aleks,” he says, his voice close. “I am going to go. When you decide you want to listen, come find me.”

I look at him then, hope turning rancid in my chest. I narrow my eyes, meeting his patient gaze head-on.

“This is not me walking away,” he goes on, like he could hear the accusation I’d been preparing to throw at him. “I am here, on your side, when you are ready.”

Something burns in me as I watch him walk away. I clench my teeth, my jaw aching from the tightly cinched leather strap of the vocal filter. It doesn't matter that the sun feels perfectly warm on my skin, or that I’m finally on the verge of doing what I set out to do two years ago.

All that matters is he’s walking away from me.

The sound I make isn’t even remotely human, and I slap a palm on the surface of the water.

As an elite athlete, I have to be disciplined. I’m disciplined in my training. I’m consistent with practice. I don’t make a habit of giving up.

Right now, though, my head is a fucking mess. After practice this morning, I’ve been hiding out in the bungalow. Javier is wherever the fuck he is, doing whatever the fuck he’s doing.

I don’t care about him.

I set up the gaming system in the tiny living room, and grab my headset when I see Damian is already online. It takes me a minute to join him in the game—our minotaur avatars are mid-battle with a twenty-eyed spider in an arena.

“Why are you up?” I ask him instead of a greeting.

He switches from a mace to a magical boomerang. “I hung out with Sara and Bayer after my shift tonight and drank one of those cursed energy drinks you left behind.”