Chapter 12 — Jealousy

  I rode the bus that day, as Carolyn had a prior obligation. The whispers enveloped me, kids wondering if my meal ticket had finally run dry, if I'd been punished, if I was running away. They speculated endlessly on the nuances of my life, rather than discuss their own. I wondered why.

  Didn't everyone have more important things to talk about than me sitting on a bus seat? Wasn't the country on the verge of collapse or something? I felt like every day, I was hearing more about how the Northwest might split off, the Cascadia movement growing. Texas was already voting on secession. The United States was breaking apart, and yet all everybody wanted to talk about was… me.

  The attention was seriously uncomfortable. I'd dealt with enough already today.

  As soon as the bus was getting near my stop, I took off. It wasn't the closest to Lloyd's, but the bus driver wouldn't know that—after all, he'd only just met me, and was still in the early-gawking phase of being too speechless to deny me. I barely stopped myself rolling my eyes as he stammered an apology before swinging the doors wide to let me off.

  I jogged through the suburbs and up the steep slope to the upper section where Lloyd's mansion waited. At intersections, I checked the forum on my phone, watching for more duel opportunities. To my relief, a new one had popped up, and not in the middle of class this time either. I'd be dueling on Halloween. Typing as I jogged, we negotiated a time and place downtown to meet up.

  A car horn blared.

  I jumped back instinctively—lucky, as the car had been barrelling right at me. They were going far too fast for a residential neighborhood, but at the same time, I was the one wandering around without looking. I stowed my phone back in my bag and started to jog again. The duel could wait thirty minutes while I got back.

  Carolyn's car was in the drive, while Lloyd's typical car wasn't. Curious, I headed straight inside. Maybe he'd taken a different car, or they traded for some reason. I was wrong on both guesses.

  My ersatz father's loyal servant stood by the kitchen table, watching the front door. Waiting for me, I recognized without a doubt. I walked forward, nervous. Carolyn had a letter open on the table, and was watching me with a stern gaze. She'd never acted like this around me before. I was a bit confused.

  "Miss Súileabhán, I thought you should know about this first," she said, gesturing to the letter. Formal with my last name, despite my previous request. This was serious. I sat down at my chair and picked the top one up. It was from the school. "Your grades and absences are being noticed."

  I didn't reply, scanning the letter. She wasn't wrong, my grades were dropping. A school administrator had notified us, but not on the official letterhead. Something about this letter was a bit odd all-around. It listed my grades, but in a scattered table. Nothing like the progress reports I was used to.

  "This is unofficial," Carolyn added, recognizing my confusion. "The school is not putting it on any official record yet, due to your special circumstances. However, I will need to inform Lloyd." Her face softened. "I thought you'd appreciate the advance warning."

  Not like I could use it for much. I doubted Lloyd would even bring it up. He dropped out of school himself to work on his project in college, and it made him millions. Still, Carolyn had gone out of her way for me. I appreciated that, for sure.

  "Thanks, Carolyn," I said, and forced a smile. "I really appreciate it."

  She smiled in return, and hers was genuine. "Is there anything else, Noël?"

  "...Do you think the country's really going to break up?" I asked, more to change the subject than anything. I barely noticed the news myself to be clear—my knowledge really all came from overhearing Kyla rant about it during games.

  Carolyn shrugged. "If it does or if it doesn't, my life doesn't really change much. I've never considered myself an American, just an Oregonian."

  "Same." I frowned, thinking. "Do you think that means people will finally stop protesting so much about the stuff with my parents? Autocars and all that? Maybe I can go back to being a nobody."

  She sighed. I appreciated that—Carolyn was honest with me, when others might want to just ease my worries. "Once you enter the public eye these days, it's very difficult to leave it completely. We live in the age of a billion cameras where every single person can have their own TV channel. Someone will remember." Carolyn flashed a sad smile. "You will always be safe here. Free to be a nobody as much as you wish."

  Wish… if only, right?

  Don't remind me. I took a ship mast through the shoulder for this insanity already.

  Worse than that, Noël. You're going overboard. Be careful.

  The voice in my head needed more variety. In the meantime, I spent the rest of the weekend recuperating. Whatever Check had given me seemed to do the trick nicely. Based on what I could read online, my wound healed much faster and cleaner than should have been possible. I wondered—if someone were to scan it, might they see the microscopic futuristic robots repairing my body? The blood and ocean water came back with me.

  What if I took Check's gun? Her cybernetics? I could reverse engineer them, make my own fortune with impossible technologies. I was pretty sure they'd return to her on the next duel, just as they did if they were destroyed in the fight.

  Or would that be against the rules?

  I went to sleep with that speculation running around my head, and plunged into nightmares of seaships, where Rana was the one flying overboard. Every time, I leapt for her, and every time her hand slipped through my fingers. My brain played it on an endless loop, until I'd woken up so many times in cold sweats that I bolted from the soaked mattress. The nightmares couldn't be escaped.

  A snack, a glass of water, and the sunrise out my balcony were my companions after that. I didn't make it back to sleep that night, but I did enjoy a beautiful morning with an old favorite book. It wasn't the time to dive into something new—I didn't have the time, and I was looking for comfort more than escape anyway. It wasn't a long read, and yet I fell asleep before I finished it.

  The train horn in the distance startled me awake, just as it did the birds in the trees around my perch. I pulled my face off the bannisters, and my legs up from where they dangled. My stomach growled. I needed breakfast, or whatever meal it was. My phone was dead, so I couldn't check the time.

  Lloyd was at the table when I wandered in. The letter from the school was open nearby and not where Carolyn had left it, but as expected, Lloyd didn't say a word. I could tell he sounded a bit more sad than before, but he just asked his usual questions. After that, we ate in silence. It felt so awkward, I even picked up a newspaper just for something to do, since my phone was upstairs charging.

  The rest of the day went by in fits and spurts, as I catnapped in between trying to catch up on classwork. Every time I started to get some momentum, I'd get tired, my hands shaky, and my thoughts would drift off to one of my recent duels. I had a pretty good memory, and I could recall a lot of individual moments from those duels picture-perfect.

  It made for a better study than anything from class. As soon as I shoved my textbooks aside and focused on those memories, my brain was lightning-quick again. I studied how people had reacted, their facial expressions and cues when they made certain moves. One of my notebooks exploded with handwritten thoughts, messy scratches I doubted I could ever read again. It didn't matter. As long as the thoughts were put to paper, they solidified in my mind.

  Halloween arrived in earnest. There would be trick-or-treating at Lloyd's—he always sprung for a huge lavish decoration designed by professionals, unique every year for the children of the neighborhood to enjoy. As I jogged past, dressed dark to avoid prying eyes, I spotted Robin in the nearest crowd making for Lloyd's door. Everyone came by, far and wide, for the only holiday Lloyd really enjoyed, to take in the spectacle and enjoy the rare candies he imported from afar.

  Plus the usual standards, all king-size. Lloyd knew kids better than that.

  I think he liked the ability to disappear into a different persona for a while. It was an excuse to act out, like so many teenagers had discovered before him. Lloyd's childhood wasn't a particularly happy one either, from what I could dig up. He kept it as private as I wished mine could be, so I didn't dig much deeper than that. What I did know is that he didn't come from any kind of privilege, same as myself.

  There was an affinity I appreciated in that common upbringing… and a bit of a resentment too. Here I was now, being treated as a special case rich kid. If my adoptive parent weren't so rich and influential in this area, would I be getting a freebie warning instead of academic probation? Where were my teachers confronting me over missed assignments?

  Don't get me wrong, I didn't want those things either. It could only interfere with my ability to duel. But still… there was a level of privilege now that made me seriously uncomfortable, just like the kids at school. I didn't want special treatment in either way, negative or positive. Just let me be normal again. A face in the crowd.

  My fourteenth duel waited.

  No costume today, just a simple practical outfit and a warm jacket. If anything, I was emulating Check a bit. It took me a good thirty minutes to jog out to the meeting place. I didn't want to take Carolyn away from enjoying the night with Lloyd, so I went alone. Only Rana knew where I'd be.

  I had texted her the address and let her know I was dueling there. She would understand it wasn't an invitation. Just insurance, in case… in case something happened.

  My nightmares hadn't abated Saturday night. I was still running low on sleep. Every muscle ached just a little bit, moved just a little bit slower than usual. I wasn't at my best, but I wouldn't let it show. As long as my opponent couldn't read my fears and my pains on my face, I could win. The physical exertion was Check's show. All I had to do was play cards.

  Why is it a card game, anyway? Of all things, a card game?

  I don't care. Better this than some physical contest where I'd be screwed out of the gate as a girl.

  You think they chose it because everyone's on equal footing?

  With where those people are based out of, and how impossible all of this is? I don't think we can ever understand why.

  Might be helpful if you could.

  The thought echoed in my mind as I sat down across from my opponent. Another empty park, lit by a lantern he'd brought. I set my cards down on the marble chess table between us, thinking about the possibilities of gaining an advantage through knowing why this game of all games was chosen. My thoughts were everywhere, darting down a dozen tracks at once, and I barely noticed the dueling grounds had already been laid out.

  He struck a Dangerous ground before I did, and I mirrored him with the other. My opponent smiled gratefully. Common courtesy aside, we got down to business. The world faded away as we tossed away the final grounds, leaving us with Warbeck Theater.

  A huge stage swirled into being around us, with a crowd dozens of rows deep and four balconies tall watching our every move in absolute silence. Curtains rose up hundreds feet above us, to rafters so far away they were invisible. Stage lights pointed down from every direction, keeping us a little bit sweltering as we settled in.

  Of course, this wasn't just a huge stage. Nestled amongst the speaker clusters were machine gun turrets, and laser cannons lined the ceilings. On the floor of the stage, I could make out faint outlines of trap doors everywhere, ready to spring with deadly saws and flamethrowers. This was Cynthia Warbeck's theater, the Coryphee of Calamity, Dancer of Disaster, Ballerina of whatever-the-hell-starts-with-B. I couldn't remember off the top of my head.

  My opponent wasn't Cynthia though—instead, Check faced off with Naeflin Dusylari, an elf from the Tethesyldar forests, equally skilled with a bow or throwing a fireball. She was a trickster, well matched with Check if this were a real fight.

  This wasn't a fight. This was a duel. My duel.

  The crowd gasped, oohed, and applauded as our duelists began their deadly dance. None of the traps fired—this wasn't a Dangerous ground, just Indoor—but this crowd wasn't out for blood like the Corpodome. They wanted a drama. Either of us dying would be a disappointment, if anything. I'd do my best to oblige.

  As usual, I started out strong. The guy was pretty easy to read off the bat, and I made good headway early on at building up a solid hand. A few surprises, like a Charge when I'd expected a defensive move, but I was in a good rhythm. Check would get her lockdown trap going, Naeflin would be stuck in place, and we'd have the first round well in hand.

  Simple, efficient, executable. My strategy played out exactly as intended. My opponent wanted to take things slow, but my confident card drops—so fast after each bout, the last round seemed to vanish into thin air—pressured him to keep up. That kept him off guard, and in turn, allowed me to control the game. Right into my hands, and into my partner's sword.

  ROUND ONE: CHECK.

  The burning rush of pure gratification hadn't diminished with every time the voice called out my victories. I savored the syllables, almost wishing I'd picked a duelist with a longer name simply to draw out the announcements. It was an idle joke in my head though—glancing at Check at my side, sharing a knowing smile, I knew I'd made the right choice. She was a partner like nothing I'd ever known. We'd have each other's backs, whether on the ocean floor or in deep space.

  My lead stayed strong heading into round two, but something started to change. My opponent wasn't as easy to read. I was dropping more bouts than I was winning, and not in a way I could easily recover. Was I just too tired? I hadn't slept very much all weekend, ever since the whirlpool and Rana. My head was all over the place still. Thoughts of Kyla's family, or Lloyd and Carolyn, or even the troubles of the damn country kept sliding into my head and blocking out my perception of the game.

  Focus, Noël.

  I glanced at Check, wondering if she had any sage advice to offer. Futile, of course—she'd only ever spoken the once, and I still wasn't entirely sure it had really happened. This was my hole to dig myself out of.

  What had changed? Easy enough, once I sat back to think about it. We weren't moving as fast, even though in my mind, the pace hadn't changed. I was so distracted I hadn't noticed, but my opponent wasn't trying to keep up with my moves anymore. He was waiting, deliberating, taking in more information than he was giving out. I needed to read him better, so my unrelenting pressure turned out more wins and allowed me to build up my combos.

  It was too late. I won a few bouts, surging back into the game, but the damage was done. Naeflin dealt too much chip damage off her fiery attacks, and Check couldn't survive long enough to get anything going. As the last fireball splashed against my companion, waves of heat crashing across my face, the voice called out.

  ROUND TWO: NAEFLIN DUSYLARI.

  I needed a new tactic. It was time to slow things down myself. Speed wasn't working against this guy anymore, not like it had my other opponents. He'd adjusted, and it was my turn to do the same. His face seemed like an open book. I could tell when he wanted to be aggressive, when he was pulling back, everything. I should have been able to win this game no problem.

  So why was I losing?

  Naeflin spun in place, dodging a bullet from Check's gun and drawing her bowstring back as she did. An arrow sliced through Check's side, cutting a bright red line in her undershirt. She fell to one knee, hurt but still kicking. The crowd gasped, leaning forward in their seats.

  I couldn't keep my focus. My eyes were struggling to stay on the cards, preferring to dart around and examine every single detail beyond. It was either keep my momentum going, or collapse from exhaustion. There was no middle ground, but I needed that middle ground. Slow and steady was the best way to beat this guy, and I just couldn't get to it. I couldn't settle.

  Another leap and shot of the bow. Check dodged it, but how many more did I have in me? I hadn't known a Dodge was good there. It was a blind guess. I should never be playing a blind guess. My mind refocused, trying to determine his next move. Attack? Block? No, he wasn't much of a blocker, despite his slower play. Dodges were preferred, so he could lay down Naeflin's fireball attacks.

  "I blitz," announced my opponent. Every prediction flew out the window. I'd forgotten he even had that option. Hadn't he used it earlier?

  No, he hadn't. I wasn't paying enough attention to remember.

  Naeflin's blitz was the wrath of nature itself. Since we were indoors on a stage, nature had to make do. Trees burst out of the walls, through the floorboards. Ferns and vines crawled up through the cracks in the trapdoors, while far above trunks towered above us and fell inward. The forest itself had come to fight, and created a new battlefield that heavily favored Naeflin.

  Check was glancing in every direction for an opponent that had entirely disappeared. All we could see was my opponent, sitting calmly across the table with a slight smirk. I knew that smirk, knew that expression. He'd won, and fighting it out longer was just inflicting unnecessary suffering on myself and my partner.

  I turned to my duelist. She was still wary, eyescanner sweeping the forest, but I stood and put my hand on her shoulder.

  "We lost," I murmured.

  She frowned, but after another sweep of the forest for a foe she could no longer track, her shoulders sagged. Check knew it as well as I did. This one was done.

  I flipped her card over on the table.

  NAEFLIN DUSYLARI HAS WON THE DUEL.

  The elf dropped down from the nearest tree as soon as the voice called out her victory. She threw Check a lazy salute, one that somehow conveyed respect despite its casual nature. Check likewise nodded to her opponent, moments before they disappeared once more into the endless rainbow void. We transitioned away, and soon enough found ourselves back in the park. I realized for the first time, the table hadn't transformed with us. Apparently a marble chessboard was plenty fitting for Warbeck Theater.

  As usual, I left without a word. It was a quiet walk back to the mansion, passing by groups of children on their way home. They'd gotten what they wanted that night. A victorious conquest returning with the spoils. Everybody had won, except for me.

  I crashed into my bed and fell asleep almost instantly. Exhaustion swallowed me into vague dreams that never coalesced into tangible forms. Nothing that could be called a nightmare, just a general sense of dread and fear. I could deal with that—I'd been dealing with that for over three years. As long as I finally managed to sleep, it was enough.

  Carolyn drove me to school the next morning. On the way, I got a text from the Moderator, informing me that my next penalty was ready to be completed at my convenience. I ignored it, watching the street flash by outside. To my surprise, my usual drop-off point wasn't unoccupied. Rana stood waiting, leaning against the wall and watching for my car. I considered asking Carolyn to take me past and to another spot, but I couldn't do that. If Rana was here waiting, it had to be important.

  "Hi," she greeted as soon as I opened the door.

  "Hello, Rana," replied Carolyn, after I didn't answer right away. Truth be told, I was mostly distracted trying to get a strand of my shirt out from a hook on the door, but it must have come across cold to Carolyn. She couldn't see me from her angle.

  "Noël, can we take a quick walk before school starts?" Rana asked, turning to me.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Err—"

  "Just a walk between two friends," she said firmly.

  After a glance toward the school, where a few curious kids were already looking our way, I nodded. Bag in hand and door shut behind me, we started off in the opposite direction from the front doors. A walk like this wasn't too abnormal—I'd done it a couple times with Kyla, in fact. There was a nice loop through a neighborhood near the school that took you right back to the west entrance, so it didn't even waste much time.

  The real question was why Rana had asked for it, especially so soon after what happened on Friday.

  "News travels fast," said Rana quietly.

  "Huh?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "Your loss."

  These people sure do talk a lot for all being so secretive.

  "I got sloppy," I said dismissively. "It won't happen again."

  "Your second loss," Rana added. She frowned. "And your second penalty."

  "I'm fine, Rana," I said, voice firm and unbroken. "The first one is already gone. I know what I did wrong and I won't fall into that trap twice."

  Rana didn't speak for a couple blocks. Her starlight eyes were wandering the street ahead, following birds and squirrels darting about. I wished I could reach out and hold her hand, but there were so many reasons why I couldn't. Not least of which, we were in public. Rana and I had to look like friends, nothing more.

  "Maybe you should slow down a bit," said Rana, finally glancing back at me. "Maybe even stop for a while? The League won't kick you out for taking a break."

  "Why would I stop?" I asked, surprised. "Even with this, I'm twelve and two. That's still a really strong record."

  "You've been going non-stop," said Rana. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper as she continued. "Even when we were together, you were always partway thinking about the League… you're obsessed, Noël."

  "And if I am?" My own eyes turned forward this time. No squirrels or birds for me to follow, just the kids ahead of us as we began to approach the school again. "This matters more than anything. You know that."

  "I do…" Rana sighed. "And I'll help cover for you when I can. I just… I'm worried about you."

  "I can't," I whispered, surprising myself. The words jumped out unbidden, just like so many other phrases seemed to around her. Rana brought out the deeper part of myself, the guarded Noël I kept locked away waiting for my parents to return. "People are already winning. We've seen it's possible. I can't stop."

  Rana's body seemed to unconsciously move towards mine, but it broke away the moment she realized what was happening. We kept walking, heading into class together, where Reylon and so many other kids waited. Rana split off, but not before I'd echoed my words one last time, as much to myself as to her.

  "I can't stop."

  ***

  Maybe it was Rana, or maybe the universe itself intervening on her behalf, but I only found one more duel all week. It was a quick, easy two-zero victory against a Livewire player, fought in the sandy open fields on the Outskirts of Candir, under the walls of Kalledor's city. Check shot the poor superhero so many times, he simply collapsed from the sheer number of bullet holes.

  I did my best not to think about the penalties I was inflicting on my opponents. My own fresh penalty loomed over me, but I'd learned more about how they worked. It wasn't discussed openly on the forums, but my conversations in private online had people revealing a lot more about their own progress than they normally would.

  The things people say to a girl pretending to be interested in them online…

  Did I feel bad about exploiting them? Maybe a little, but this was a competition without any clear rules. Our game was more psychological than strategic, and the League encompassed more than just the arenas. Penalties and wishes were evidence enough of that. If I refused to engage outside the game, I'd be handicapping myself. I'd be risking the things I cared about.

  Some of my competitors clearly felt the same way. Case in point, as I walked to lunch on Monday the 8th, one opponent continued his own brand of psychological warfare.

  Reylon appeared out of nowhere as I rounded a corner. His hand slammed against the nearest locker. The lineman was too large for me to dodge out of the way, blocking my path to lunch where Kyla was probably shuffling her cards and glancing around the room, doing her "people-watching". Just a couple hundred feet to my best friend.

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  Reylon wasn't going to let me get there on time… if at all.

  "So now you think you're somethin', huh?" he asked, voice low. "Won a couple games, mouthed off to the press. You're the shit now, is that right girl?"

  I shrugged. Today wasn't a day to deal with Reylon, even more than the day with the reporter ambushing me. I tried to step past, but he moved to block me again. Despite his size, Reylon was too nimble for me to really get around him, and there was a bustling crowd of oblivious kids on either side. This confrontation was going to happen.

  "I'm busy," I said abruptly. I turned around and started off the other direction. The cafeteria had four entrances, I could just go around the guy.

  Of course, Reylon wasn't going to make it that easy. As soon as I'd turned around, he was in front of me again. The kids around us were thinning out, and more people were noticing him getting in my way. A few furtive glances almost gave me the vague hope someone might intervene on my behalf. Reylon had a full foot and probably a hundred-fifty pounds on me. This wouldn't be a fight, if it came to blows—it'd be a joke.

  Nobody did a thing. I was an outcast rich kid. The poor kids resented me, the rich kids felt scorned, and everybody in-between just didn't care. I was on my own.

  Reylon took a step forward, and I couldn't stand my ground. No guns, no swords, no magic powers or armies to call upon, just my scrawny arms. This wasn't a duel, this was the real world, and Reylon was corralling me into an empty classroom. Worse, this one had windows facing inward, to an empty courtyard where nobody would see us. Unless some good Samaritan happened by the door, I was on my own.

  A chill ran down my spine as the door clicked shut. I didn't really know Reylon, just Rana's impression of him. Who knew how biased that was? How blind she might be to the other parts of his life? Reylon was certainly capable of violence—he could be making six figures off it in just a few years. What else might he do?

  "You've been stepping where you don't belong," said Reylon. His voice was low… dangerously so. The arrogant attitude was gone, replaced with quiet animosity. "I told you to stay out of the League."

  I didn't respond. Just continued backing away, step by step, keeping myself in view of both the door window and the classroom windows. Every hair on my body stood on-end. The painful chill in my blood doubled over. I didn't dare look behind me, but my eyes flicked over to the door, praying someone would notice the danger I was in.

  Nothing but empty space. A quiet hallway, as all the students were in classrooms on the opposite wing of the building, or in the loud cafeteria. Even if I shouted for help, I doubted anyone would hear. Worse, I'd probably provoke the young man staring me down. I was alone.

  Reylon could do anything he wanted to me.

  I tried desperately to get a read on him. Panic distracted me, along with exhaustion, pain from the break with Rana, and so many other stressors wracking my body. Was Reylon meaning to hurt me, or was this just intimidation? Was this worse? I knew what could happen. My parents knew the area we used to live in, knew the risks for a girl in the big city with two busy working parents. I'd carried a knife and pepper spray all the way until the end of the first year with Lloyd, but I'd never expected to use it. They were at home on my dresser, utterly useless now that my parents' fears might finally come true. It had never crossed my mind that it could happen to me.

  Not until this exact second.

  The panic redoubled. I needed an out, now.

  "Duel me," I said abruptly. To my relief, my old skills held firm. No matter how I felt under the surface, my voice sounded steady and confident.

  Reylon stopped. He looked genuinely surprised. I had some leverage.

  "You're in the League, you know what this is for," I went on. He didn't react, so I kept talking. "I'm not going to quit. Don't even know if you can. My parents are on the line."

  "So what?" asked Reylon. He looked interested though, despite his projected attitude. I was starting to pick up on his tics, his impulses. The more I watched, the more I recognized emotions he tried to bury. "We all got wishes on the line. It's a competition, and there ain't any rules to this."

  "Direct violence is frowned upon by the Commissioner," I quoted, as the memory floated back into my head. "You want to risk your wish?"

  "Frowns are cheap," Reylon shot back. "'Sides, don't matter one way or the other. I'm here to make sure she wins."

  "She's my girlfriend," I nearly shouted. His eyes went wide. I regretted saying it without her, but at the same time, Reylon was the only other person in the world besides Carolyn who knew Rana was gay—the only one who truly understood the insanity we were in. "You don't think I want that too?"

  Reylon took a few seconds to respond. I could practically see the wheels spinning just behind his eyes. "...You and her?" he asked quietly.

  "Yeah."

  "She happy?"

  "Yes." God, if only we were… I was still getting over her lying to me, taking me into the League without warning of the dangers she knew full well. I wasn't going to let Reylon know that, but… I think he saw it in my face anyway. By the time he spoke again, his voice was back to where it had started. I wasn't enough.

  "You got too much stake," Reylon said. As he did, I could tell he'd settled the conflict in his own mind already. "Girl you just met against your offed people? No way. You don't know her like I do, you can't know her."

  "So duel me," I said, hoping I hadn't spoken too quickly. If we were going to have a confrontation, it had to be on my turf, or I was headed to the hospital.

  Reylon lifted a fist and glanced at it pointedly.

  I shrugged, and in a burst of inspiration, projected my fear and stress openly. If I showed my panic, he might take this more seriously. He'd only said I won a couple duels—I was up twelve, but most of those were under a fake name, many without a single witness. Plus, he knew I'd lost to Robin. All I had to do was convince him that he could win. Once I had him on a dueling ground, Check at my side? I'd crush him.

  Just had to survive that long.

  "I win, you leave me alone. You win, you put another penalty on me," I went on. "You know about penalties, right?"

  A bit pushy, maybe a little bit bratty, but Reylon took it the way I wanted. "'Course," he said gruffly. "Got two myself."

  I nodded. "So you get to punish me in the rules. No risk of the Enforcer coming down on you for attacking me outside the League. You met her yet?"

  Reylon nodded slowly.

  "After school, then?" My eyes turned out to the windows, though of course there was nothing but an empty courtyard to look at. I needed to get away from his gaze, make it look like he'd scared me into flinching.

  "One game," said Reylon, projecting his own confidence like a spotlight. "Basement of the parking garage near Drizzle."

  One game, exactly how I liked it, where I met Rana and this whole thing started. Perfect.

  "See you there," I said, and allowed the tremble into my voice. Reylon's lip curled into a slight smirk as he turned away and left the classroom. He was cocky. He was a winner, a varsity champion, the strongest guy in any given room. He thought the world was ripe for the taking.

  He was mine.

  ***

  I was quiet through lunch. Kyla recognized something was off about me, but kept it simple. Just a few jokes and a single round of Riposte. We couldn't play a whole game, since I was so late to arrive due to Reylon's confrontation. I won, but it was close. My match with Reylon might have been weighing on my head, or maybe Kyla was getting better, who knew. Check's whisper echoed in my ear: focus.

  As soon as school ended, I set off. The sun beat down, last vestiges of a warm autumn before winter came in full force. Snow was predicted earlier than I could ever remember it coming. The world hadn't yet managed to kill the massive changes occuring in the atmosphere, and our seasons shifting were one of many consequences. It felt wrong somewhere within my body, a deep-rooted sensation of nature being off its axis.

  I arrived at the parking garage, still deserted. Thanks to the telecommuting revolution forced on us, garages like these simply didn't serve more than the tourist crowd anymore. I only saw two cars way at the opposite end as I stepped over the rusty chain and started down the utility staircase.

  Reylon was waiting, at exactly the same cheap table as Rana and Bradley had dueled on. His cards were out. He looked ready for an actual fight, with how he sat in his chair. As I sat down, he started shuffling the Grounds deck. His duelist was flipped over on the table, hidden from view.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Did it really make a difference? I'd see them in full glory as soon as we transitioned into the game.

  Whatever. He's confident, I show nervous. I mirrored him and placed Check facedown myself, but managed to make the card slip and land face-up. The show was part of the match. On the surface, he should be feeling the easy win coming up. As he dealt the grounds, I was getting that same arrogance I'd recognized the first day I met him.

  Six grounds on the table—two dangerous, one forest, two aerial, one indoor. Zero open, zero urban. Not a great draw for me at all. I immediately knocked out one of the two Dangerous grounds, the high fantasy goblins-and-wizards Battle of Ravenhead. Would Reylon take out the other one?

  Nope, of course not. Wangban Jungle was next, removing my only evasion bonus that could help Check survive whatever rushdown tank Reylon had chosen as his commitment. If I was going to win this, I needed to take out his own bonuses. The double-blind pick here was hurting me more than I wanted to admit. I couldn't set up my first-turn momentum as easily when I didn't know who I was banning against.

  How is that even allowed? Doesn't it make this banning stuff a total crapshoot?

  Not like I could tell Reylon that. I knew what I needed, and I could figure out what he wanted based on his picks. Case in point, as I took out the Deathbot Factory, Reylon countered by dropping Andalar Tower. He didn't want an Aerial ground, and all we had left was one of those and the Dangerous ground. My call between the two. Disadvantage on the Deck of the Resplendant Canary, soaring through the sky on an airship, or head down the Fenwick Rapids?

  I'd beaten a watery deathtrap before. I could do it again.

  As I took the airship off the table, Reylon's eyes widened. He hadn't expected me to take the gambit. I smiled, and let my confidence begin to show through. Now that we were committed, with our duelists glowing on the table and the transition beginning to pull us inside, I didn't need to hide anymore. I could read him like a book, and I was going to win.

  We faded onto an opulent river raft, sailing through a beautiful forest. There were a few rocks and scattered lilypads in our path, but nothing significant. Birds chirped in every direction, bees hummed as they worked, and the whole world seemed at peace. If this place were real, I would have loved to take a ride on a similar raft with Rana, enjoy the lazy river and the sun on our faces with no one else around.

  Of course, it wasn't going to last. This was marked Dangerous for a reason. I'd read the book, I knew what was coming for us, just like they had come for Cynthia Warbeck as she fled a stunning performance. Reylon, on the other hand, looked completely taken off guard. He glanced around confused, murmuring to himself.

  His companion showed no such surprise—nor should she, as I realized with a bit of a shock. Her elegant white silk skirt and well-cut dress, rapier on one hip and submachine gun on the second, could only be one person. Reylon had chosen Cynthia Warbeck as his commitment, stiletto heels and hair-bow glittering in the sunlight.

  I glanced at Check, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged. I got the distinct impression she was amused by Cynthia's absurd appearance. Of course, they were from very different series—Check was out of a gritty cyberpunk novel, while the combat ballerina hailed from an over-the-top ultra-violent homage to children's cartoons. To Check, Cynthia must have looked like a joke.

  The weapons at her hips sure weren't.

  "Don't let your guard down," I murmured.

  Check nodded. She pulled out her smart pistol, booted up the operating system and took a quick diagnostic. As it completed, she spun it around in her hand and dropped it back to her holster, at the exact same moment I put down my first move. Reylon took a few seconds to match me, flicking the top of his cards with a perpetual frown.

  He looked nearly as absurd as his duelist, if I thought about it. Here was the traditional jock, the guy who'd be mocked endlessly by his team for engaging in such a nerdy game, and yet he was taking it as seriously as anyone. Reylon didn't belong here in the slightest, unlike the rest of us.

  I wondered what his wish was. His life sure seemed great to me.

  Reylon dropped his card, and we flipped. Check leapt forward on my command, katana flashing as it shot out from the sheath. The clang of metal as Cynthia's rapier caught it, but Check changed directions. She was stronger and taller than the ballerina, with more reach, and her katana had a longer blade. With a shove to the side, Cynthia's guard was flung open, and Check scored a vicious slice on her arm.

  Strike versus a block. Reylon's job in football was to block, and I guessed he'd go for the comfortable play. I'd won the first bout. Momentum was mine.

  The duel continued in Check's favor. Cynthia was a vicious fighter, no doubt. Her uzi fire raked across Check more than once, impacting her body armor with painful dents. Blood leaked out of a graze to her cheek. Check returned the favor with katana strikes, one to each shoulder, slicing through Cynthia's beautiful silks and staining the pure white to blood red.

  As we reached the sixth play, I braced for an impact. The river had gotten rougher with every bout, and sure enough, we were hitting the rapids proper. Our raft bucked, hard. Reylon found an easy grip, his weight no doubt giving him a serious advantage. I lost my footing, but a quick intervention by Check kept me from moving too far away. Her hands landed on my shoulders, keeping me square in my seat. The raft's bow splintered as it rammed into a few rocks, and it was still twisting through painful swirls, but I'd held on.

  At Check's unprompted move, Reylon's eyes widened. Cynthia had shown no such inclinations. If anything she seemed annoyed. Another advantage in my corner.

  "Thank you," I murmured to Check. She nodded, before returning to her mark and facing off against Cynthia again.

  My lead grew as we continued the fight. I knew when Reylon was playing defensive, and I took advantage of it. My pile of support cards grew, and I had combos to spare as soon as I decided to lay them down. Check took a few hits in the meantime, and I winced at every single one, but she didn't seem put off. I think she knew the plan, and was trusting me to carry it out.

  At the twelfth, the Rapids began to start matching up with the other Dangerous grounds. We'd gotten off easy for the sixth, but Cynthia's pursuit had caught up to us. Each turn, I saw hovercopters closing on us from behind. Reylon could too, and gave them more than a couple nervous sidelong glances. As they closed in, we heard the rush of soldiers on each riverbank, heavy footfalls in perfect unison.

  Supersoldiers, sent to kill the ballerina leading the revolution.

  Gunfire raked across the raft. The wooden walls of the cabin burst open, splinters flying in every direction as bullets shot through. All four of us dove for the deck. My hands flew to my ears, desperately trying to keep my wits amid the deafening shots.

  A gust of wind and a huge thump sounded above us. Water exploded from either side of the raft. The hovercopters were firing rockets. Staccato impacts rippled down the hull—flechettes impacting the walls. If any of us had been upright, we might have been ripped to shreds.

  This is insane.

  I could do insane. I'd lived insane. Could Reylon?

  The soldiers and hovercopters fell back, out of range but certainly not out of sight. It was time to end this, before things got too out of hand. I launched into my combos, laying in the support cards for overwhelming damage. Check began a dance of death to match anything Cynthia might have performed. Her cloud of lockdown kept the ballerina pinned, her katana sliced at Cynthia's neck, and her pistol landed easy shots when the ballerina tried to dance out of range.

  I had him by the seventeenth bout, only one to go before we'd find out the next wave of attacks from the supersoldiers. One final shot from Check burst open Cynthia's kneecap. She fell, leaking blood, grabbing for the utility pouches at her belt. Some kind of bandage went on, bringing her back to functional just in time for the voice to drown out the sounds of the forest around us.

  ROUND ONE: CHECK.

  Reylon looked seriously upset now. He knew now I'd lured him into a trap. I hadn't shown a single ounce of fear since we started.

  "Where'd you come from, Súileabhán?" he said, a bit dumbfounded—the first time I'd ever heard him call me by name. "How the hell are you so good at this?"

  I shrugged. "I've got more to lose."

  Truthfully, I thought Reylon was probably a pretty solid player. He knew how the game worked and how to build up a proper combo engine, and wasn't susceptible to support traps. I'd beaten him by manipulating him out of the game, not inside it. He just didn't have the commitment to train like I had, the background I'd dealt with. Over a long series of games, he might have pulled out further ahead.

  Here? One game, against me at my peak? He was mine.

  The second round didn't move nearly as quick as the first. Reylon was picking up on some of my patterns, which forced me to change things up. Like I said, he was a good player. I took more hits than I expected, and definitely more than I wanted. Each time Cynthia landed a shot, or stabbed into Check with her rapier, I felt the pain on my duelist's face. Check was suffering.

  We had to hang on tight to the raft as it entered the next phase. The rapids were getting more vicious, as were our pursuers. As we hugged the floor again, the next rocket skipped off the bow. Flames poured out, coating the wood and catching alight.

  I grabbed a bucket and sprinted to the edge. Reylon mirrored me, and to my relief, both Check and Cynthia joined in. Between the four of us, we managed to put out the fire without too much damage, though my sleeves and Reylon's pants were a bit singed. As we settled back down, now sitting in a few inches of water, Cynthia glanced at Reylon with even more pique than before.

  My socks were soaked through. I was starting to shiver. The sunlight wasn't enough to keep me warm. Still, I knew Reylon was feeling the same—I could see it in his face. This was hitting us equally, our raft slowly sinking as we continued to duel. If we fought too long, I had no doubt we'd be in the river sooner or later.

  I'm a terrible swimmer.

  "I blitz," said Reylon, catching me off guard. As he twisted Cynthia's card, she leapt into action.

  The ballerina pirouetted forward, spinning into a leap as Check tried to get her blade up to block. Cynthia leapt impossibly high, heels glinting in the sunlight, before spearing back down.

  Her rapier went straight through Check, and her weight followed, pinning my duelist to the deck.

  Cynthia let go, leaving the rapier speared in Check, and pulled her uzi. Bullets sprayed into Check's chest point-blank, bursting against her body armor, sending chunks of kevlar and leather everywhere. As her magazine ran dry, Cynthia backed off, but the rapier stayed, embedded into the deck and leaving my partner gasping for breath.

  Slowly, grunting in pain, Check began to pull the rapier out of her chest. Cynthia, meanwhile, took advantage of her free move to recover some health, pulling out more bandages and wrapping up some of the worse wounds Check had laid into her. As the rapier clattered to the deck, it disappeared in a shimmer of light and returned to Cynthia's hip. The two women were out of breath, dripping blood, but both looked ready to go again.

  ***

  The duel changed tones from there. It was no longer the elegant stabs of Cynthia versus the quickfire slashes of Check. Now they were vicious, taking underhanded shots, doing whatever it took to scrape out a hit. Their attitude matched myself and Reylon, as the raft continued to take on water and the soldiers approached yet again.

  Reylon looked scared. I'd never expected to see something like fear on his face. I was winning, but only just. My combo was near-useless against Cynthia as long as Reylon held onto a few cards. Her own special was an escape, a spin that removed any ongoing effects while spraying bullets in every direction. If I wanted to win, I couldn't rely on my tried-and-true lockdown-into-pistol-overload combo that had netted me so many victories.

  Bout eighteen. Check down to twenty hitpoints, Cynthia hovering at twelve. A roaring sound approaching. No way. I twisted around, and sure enough, the river plunged out of sight ahead.

  We were headed straight for a waterfall.

  There was no time to divert, no way to divert. Our pursuit broke off as we charged headlong into the breach. I leapt for Check and threw my arms around her, holding on tight. She had tech that could help ease a fall. After a moment's hesitation, I saw Reylon mirror me, to no avail. Cynthia couldn't do anything like what we could.

  The raft went over the edge.

  I felt a sense of weightlessness for a split-second, an almost euphoric moment of freedom as we flew into the open air. It passed as the raft fell away. Our wooden transport plunged down to the huge pool below, and we fell in its wake.

  Check threw something out into the air, some piece of equipment we wouldn't need, and spread her coat wide. The arms rippled out with wings, sending us into a rapid spiral. She aimed to land on the raft as it crashed down into the pond, taking on yet more water before bobbing back up to the surface. We came down hard, stumbling across the wood, but it was nothing compared to Cynthia and Reylon.

  Below us as we spiraled, they dropped like rocks straight into the pond. A huge splash of water from the raft engulfed them an instant before they struck the surface. For a few seconds, I feared they were dead. There was no surfacing, no gasping for air from my competitor, only a horrible silence as I imagined their bodies crushed by the impact.

  Check and I rushed to the edge of the raft. To my relief, Cynthia emerged, shortly followed by Reylon. The two made a quick beeline back to us, climbing ropes attached to the gunwales. As they stumbled over, soaked and choking but alive, we went back to the table.

  Perfectly intact, as usual, with all the cards right where we left them.

  I shook my head, incredulous. Something about the sheer immutability of the game terrified me. Despite how impossible the world around me was, it at least followed rules. The game ignored all rules, all laws of nature in every dimension we visited. It persisted against everything.

  Reylon stumbled back to his seat and laid down a card, still spitting up water. I allowed him a few minutes to recover. Maybe it was foolish, not trying to press on when I had a clear upper hand thanks to my duelist, but I didn't want to hate myself for winning.

  I was going to win though. Reylon was playing blind at this point, and he'd drop back to his instincts. He'd blocked, for sure. I played another charge as soon as I felt he was up to continuing.

  Check stepped forward, as the dazed and windswept Cynthia—silks completely ruined—stumbled about trying to react. Her rapier managed to deflect the katana, but Check threw her weight into it. It ran straight into Cynthia's chest. She yelped with pain, desperately dancing away on weakened legs.

  I would win on the next bout.

  "Please," whispered Reylon. I flashed back instantly to Bradley, in the same voice, begging Dash not to do it. Not to land the final blow. "Don't do it."

  I stared down at my cards. As long as I didn't try to strike and give up an easy dodge counter, I could guarantee enough damage to take the match. I had a Charge and a Net Trap, plus a few utility cards. My Blitz was still available too. There were any number of paths I could take to win.

  "Don't win… get out of this place," said Reylon, still struggling for breath a bit. "I'm begging you… don't finish it."

  What was this about? Reylon sounded genuinely scared. Was it about penalties? Did he know something I didn't?

  "What am I supposed to do?" I asked quietly. "If we don't finish, we can't leave."

  The raft was drifting toward the opening of the river, where the rapids would kick back up again. Far above, the soldiers were trying to find ways to descend. I had no doubt as soon as we started playing again, they'd suddenly discover a pathway down. I glanced around pointedly, at a world that wasn't ours with deadly threats right above our heads.

  "Let me win. I'll do… the penalty for you."

  I might have laughed aloud, if Reylon didn't sound so broken, and if we weren't locked in a life-or-death duel here. Cynthia was watching me carefully, as was Check, both thoroughly beat up. After all of this, I was just supposed to let him win?

  No way. I shook my head. "Like I said. I've got a reason to be here too."

  "You'll get there… eventually," said Reylon. He put down a card. "It's a charge. You play a… prepare, I win the round. This is… for her. Best for everyone. You two can… be together."

  For a second, I might have believed him. He was Rana's best friend after all. Reylon had done her a huge favor, protecting her by providing her a fake relationship. He'd never questioned it, never gone out with anyone else to make sure Rana stayed respectable for her parents. There was something really selfless in him… except for all the other things.

  Everything Reylon had done to me flew back into my head. Trashing Kyla's space, harassing me for months, trying to intimidate me into giving up. Mocking me, trying to keep me out of the League. Physically threatening me today, turning the school into a sudden nightmare where I was more vulnerable than I'd ever been in my whole life. I wanted to beat him. I wanted to win, as someone who'd won so little in her life. This was my moment.

  I put down my card. Reylon took a long, deep breath.

  We flipped.

  Check pulled out her pistol and fired two shots. Twin holes appeared in Cynthia's chest. She collapsed, her own gun halfway up to Check, but never to fire.

  The rush surged in my chest.

  CHECK HAS WON THE DUEL.

  Pure, perfect satisfaction. I got up and walked over to my duelist. She wore a grim smile, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders for support. Check always weighed more than I expected, but I was happy to carry it. We'd won. In the end, after one of the hardest fought rounds of our career, we'd made it out alive. Check nudged me slightly, a gesture of friendship.

  Was it crazy to think we were friends? Hell if I knew, or cared. In that moment, I was content.

  Together, we began to turn away. I wanted to look at the waterfall one last time before it faded away, enjoy the sight as the soldiers fell back and the forest became peaceful once again. The world was already spinning away, but the spray still coated us—crisp freshwater, washing the blood from Check's face, giving us both a much-needed cleanse. Everything faded, and I began to feel the weight of Check's arm lift off my shoulders. Gone, again, to be reunited with at my next duel.

  Cynthia's arm moved.

  The uzi swung up to point at Reylon.

  A gunshot rang out.

  I twisted around, but the world had already disappeared. Nothing to see anywhere, just the rainbow kaleidoscope. I was spinning through the colorful void, headed back to the parking garage. Adrenaline spiked through my entire body. I was lightheaded from the rush, coupled with the thrill of victory still coursing through my veins. What had just happened?

  Did Cynthia… kill him?

  The basement of the garage returned. I was a few feet away from the card table, where our cards still lay. There wasn't anybody in sight. All I saw was the dimly lit expanse of neglect. Cynthia's card, twisted to the side from Reylon's blitz, wasn't glowing anymore. Reylon wasn't there to pick her up.

  I lifted her card. It felt like any other—nothing like the thicker stock of a proper commitment. Check's card sat on my side, still faintly glowing, reassuring me of my wish. I gathered up the two duelists and packed them into my bag. The rest of his cards didn't matter to me—I had my own set—but it seemed wrong to leave Cynthia there alone.

  As I headed upstairs, texting Carolyn to come meet me at Drizzle, my mind was racing. Where was Reylon? Did he leave somehow before I even noticed? Or was he dead? Maybe that was just a really dramatic way to show he had been removed from the League? Was he removed from the League? Three penalties, three strikes you're out?

  Since I beat him, if he was dead… did that make me a murderer?

  Bile rose up my throat. Too many questions fighting for my brain. I choked. My eyes were spinning, the world blurred around me.

  It was a long, quiet ride back to Lloyd's mansion, and an utterly sleepless night. I didn't want to text anyone, call anyone, do anything. If Reylon was gone, and I said a word on a phone or in a message, it'd be recorded. I could be tracked down. My only hope was that nobody saw us go into the basement together, with only one coming back out.

  I messaged Kyla banal things, stupid memes and bad jokes mostly. Anything simple to get my mind off what had happened. Tomorrow, as soon as I met up with Rana in class, we'd find a space to talk. I didn't care where—Kyla could watch out while we hid in the bathroom, if we had to—as long as I could bring her up to speed. We needed to know what happened.

  My ride to school was equally quiet and mundane. The protests seemed so trivial and weak, compared to the armed pursuits and deadly battles I'd been thrust into. A row of people shouting with signs wasn't threatening in the slightest, compared to supersoldiers or sea monsters or battles in deep space.

  No time to waste for me, straight into first period math. Our teacher took roll like usual, and almost pronounced my name right yet again. I was half-asleep from exhaustion, and I knew my eyes had slid closed more than once watching the front door. Rana would notice though. She'd know something was wrong, that we needed to talk ASAP. I could trust her to pick up on the blatant clues I was projecting.

  "El-Yassin…? Absent."

  What?

  I twisted around. Sure enough, no Rana, and an equally empty desk right next to it.

  "Young…? Absent too."

  A murmur swept through the crowd, particularly the other girls. A few tittered about the lovebirds skipping out together. Our teacher suppressed a smile as she hushed the class, before getting started with the math lesson. Nobody seemed concerned they were gone. Nobody except me.

  Rana would have told me if she wasn't going to be at school today. She'd built up enough with her parents to know I was a friend and someone she talked to. There would have been some kind of message. Reylon's absence wasn't exactly a surprise, but it only added to the chill, the dread in my blood. Something had happened, something I'd only caught a glimpse of back in my duel, too focused on Check and the waterfall.

  Rana and Reylon were missing.