Arena (27 page)

L
ife was in balance now. Literally.

With less than a week left before the championship match, I thought I'd feel any other way. Nervousness, excitement, anticipation. But inside the training room, as I sat cross-legged on a balance beam, the sounds of punching bags and bodies hitting mats echoing around me, I felt only one thing.

Peace.

The team was strong, stronger than I ever thought we would be. Every day we trained together. Every night we played games and studied. Spending every waking hour at each other's sides, we'd become like family. Life was good.

Footsteps padded along the mats toward me and stopped a few feet away. Eyes closed, I focused, trying to sense who it was. Breaths came from above, signaling height. My admirer took a few steps closer, light steps hinting low weight. Then I caught a whiff of coconut-scented shampoo.

Hannah.

“Kali!” she shouted.

I startled, and my eyes flew open, but I kept my balance.

“What?”

She gripped my arm and rocked my entire body, as if trying to capsize
me off the beam. I steadied myself, swaying with her like I was water in a storm. No resistance. I swatted her hand.

“Hannah, what the hell?”

She pulled again, hard, and when I merely bowed with her, she was the one who fell, landing on her butt on the mats.

I peered down at her from my spot on the beam.

“What is with you?”

She huffed and pushed herself up. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That.” She motioned at my body resting on the beam. “How are you so balanced?”

I smiled and patted the beam in front of me.

“Sit. I'll show you.”

She glanced between me and the beam a few times with a curled lip, as if I'd just told her to jump in ice water. Then she climbed on the beam with the same grace as a puppy trying to climb stairs. After some fumbling and a few choice swearwords, she managed to mirror my position. Legs folded, hands resting on her knees, she met my eyes.

“Now what?”

“You focus on your chi,” I told her.

She wobbled, and caught herself with her hand. “What's a chi?”

I frowned. “You took martial arts for years, and you never learned about your chi?”

She shook her head. Inwardly, I groaned.

“It's kind of like your life force,” I explained.

She scrunched her nose. “Is this a Chinese thing?”

Wobble, wobble.

“Yes,” I answered. “But think of it however you want. Your soul. Your essence. Your energy. Whatever. Just close your eyes and picture it inside you.”

She studied me again with that same unsure look, then eventually closed her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered a few times, like when someone dreams. After a minute, she drew a deep breath.

“Okay. I think I've got it.”

“You feel it?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In the middle of my chest, near my heart.”

“Push it down,” I instructed. “Below your belly button.”

“How?”

“Just picture it sinking slowly, like it's submerging below water.”

She adjusted her balance on the beam and took another deep breath. As the seconds passed, her spine straightened, and her wobbles subsided. Her chin tilted slightly up, as if looking toward the heavens. She was a yoga goddess.

For now.

Without a sound, I slipped off the beam and walked up beside her. After a few seconds, I grabbed her arm and pulled lightly. Her eyes flew open as she flailed and gripped the beam. She gasped for air, and I could practically hear her heart thumping against her chest.

She shot me a look. “That wasn't funny.”

“You're doing well,” I assured her. “Just focus. It takes time.”

She did, closing her eyes again. After a minute, I repeated the same action, with the same results.

“This isn't working,” she concluded, digging her nails into the sides of the beam.

“Can you still feel your chi?”

“Yes.”

“Picture it like a weight, holding you in place. But flexible at the same time.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

I sighed. “Like a buoy. Picture it like a buoy.”

She scrunched up her nose again and shook her head.

“Think of the wind,” I tried. “The wind is one of the strongest forces on Earth. It shapes mountains. It snaps trees in half. But it can also bow around anything, right?”

She thought about it. “Yeah, right.”

“So, it's strong, and it's flexible.”

“. . . I guess.”

She considered my words, then sighed and closed her eyes again. I waited a few minutes longer before shoving her. She wobbled, but didn't need to brace herself to find her balance again. A grin touched her lips.

“I wonder if InvictUS trains like this.”

I laughed. “Probably not.”

I circled the beam and hit her other side a little harder. She had to brace herself but found balance quicker than before.

“Those hard-asses,” she began, still referring to InvictUS. “They'd probably only do something like this if they were twenty feet off the ground.”

“Twenty? Try thirty, without any tie-offs. No, make it forty.”

“Forget it.” Hannah waved a hand, wobbled, and steadied herself. “I don't know if it would ever be high enough for them.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not, but you never know. I mean, they have to be intimidated by something.”

“If they were, it would be one hell of a surprise.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a chuckle.

I gasped and went numb as the realization hit. The world around me turned to slow motion as I processed Hannah's words. Dust floated in the air. The sounds of punching bags and the coaches' commands echoed in the background. And none of it mattered to the thoughts racing through my mind.

A surprise. High in the beams.

“That's it,” I exclaimed.

Hannah opened her eyes. “What's it?”

I took her head between both hands and kissed her nose. She recoiled from shock.

“Uh, you okay?”

I grinned, not offering an answer. I turned away from her to find Lily standing a few feet away, giving me the raised eyebrow. I kissed her cheek, too, and went flying past.

“Kali, what the hell?” Hannah called out, as I raced across the training room to where Rooke sparred with Derek on the mats. The training
coaches lined the sides, pointing out errors and weakness. I shoved them aside, burst onto the mats, grabbed Rooke's arm, and pulled him to the side. He looked down at me, startled.

“Kali, what are you doing?”

I practically bounced up and down. “I know how to do it. I know how to get InvictUS.”

He grinned as he surveyed my boisterous attitude.

“How?”

“We surprise them.”

“What?”

“
The Art of War
. Chapter Twelve. Using fire to attack your enemy.”

Rooke raised an eyebrow. “We can't use fire in the arena. I don't think Chapter Twelve talks about breaking VGL regulations.”

I smacked his arm. “I don't mean actual fire. I mean using the element of surprise to throw your enemy into confusion. About using the environment of the battlefield against them.”

He shrugged. “Sure, but how does that apply to the virtual battlefield?”

I grinned. “I have an idea.”

—

With only days left before the championship, our training equipment morphed from punching bags to balance beams.

My teammates sat on the beams, one for each, mimicking the pose I'd taught Hannah. Backs straight, hands resting on knees, eyes closed, chins tilted toward the ceiling. I walked between each of them, testing their limits. I teetered up to Lily and waited a minute, before recoiling to punch her side. Eyes still closed, she sensed my movements, blocked my attack, and tangled my arm into a hold. I danced on my tiptoes as pain shot up my limb.

“Okay, Lil. Wow. You're good.”

She grinned and released my arm.

Next was Rooke. Of course, he rested perfectly on the beam. Strong but flexible. Focused and flowing. Balanced. As I passed him, he peered at me through one open eye. I held up my hands.

“Forget it. You're perfect.”

He chuckled. “About time you realized it.”

I punched him anyway. He teetered and stabilized without using his hands. Show-off.

Next was Derek. I gave him a quick jab in the ribs. He grunted but remained steady on the beam.

“Nice,” I told him. He nodded but kept his eyes closed.

Last was my toughest student. Hannah. She sat on the beam, balanced, not teetering. I gave her a solid shove. She yelped, tumbled off the beam, and hit the mat with a thud. She sighed and slapped the ground.

“I suck at this.”

I knelt beside her. “You're getting there.”

“We only have a few days.”

I held up a hand. “If that's all you think about, then you won't put your focus where it needs to be.”

Didn't the doc tell me that once? Guess psychology wasn't so bad after all.

Hannah pushed herself off the mats and climbed back on the beam again. After flicking her ponytail away from her shoulder, she rested her hands on her knees. She balanced, wobbled, and braced herself, and repeated the action several times afterwards.

“I keep telling you, Kali. I can't do this.”

I climbed up on the beam, mirrored her pose, and pressed my hand against her stomach, just below her navel.

“Focus on my hand.”

Hannah took a breath and closed her eyes. Her stomach expanded in and out against my hand as her breathing slowed. Her muscles softened under my touch. I focused with her, as if I were channeling energy through my hand. I breathed in rhythm with her. We were one.

After watching us for a minute, Rooke stepped down from his beam and stood beside Hannah.

“Focus, focus,” I reminded her, eyeing Rooke. I nodded at him. He shoved her shoulder. She nearly toppled over before grabbing the beam to save herself.

“No.” I pushed my hand harder into her stomach. “Think right here and only here.”

“I am,” she argued. “One hundred percent.”

“Then give it one hundred and ten.”

She grumbled something inaudible and nodded. “Aye, aye, captain.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled. Her breathing steadied. Her chin tilted up slightly. I held my spare hand up to Rooke, signaling him to wait.

“Think about my hand. Forget about everything else,” I told her. “Let yourself go numb, except your core.”

She nodded, and her breathing slowed even more. The training room filled with the soft whispers of her breaths. I signaled Rooke. He pushed her shoulder, gentler than before. Hannah bowed with the force and swayed back. I nodded at her, even though her eyes were still closed. “Better. Keep breathing. Slowly.”

Rooke hit her again. She swayed but remained on the beam, and didn't need to use her hands to steady herself. I kept my own hand pressed against her stomach. Rooke circled around the beam to hit her from the other side.

Soon Lily and Derek joined us. I stayed with Hannah as the trio began shoving her from all sides.

Hannah frowned as she felt multiple hands attacking her. “I'm not sure if you guys are helping or just using the opportunity to beat me up.”

As my teammates continued the shoving fest, I felt Hannah's body change under my touch. Her muscles relaxed. Her shoulders dropped. She melted from rigid to soft to complete jelly.

During the onslaught, Derek snuck a quick jab in Lily's ribs. She grinned and punched him back. He grimaced.

After several minutes, I motioned for my teammates to step away. Then I slammed both palms into Hannah's shoulders. She bent all the way back and bounced back up like a Weeble doll. No wobble. No arm flailing. Balanced. Perfect.

Her eyes popped open, followed by her mouth. Then she screamed. She tackled me off the beam and we landed in a pile on the mats, taking
Lily down with us in the process. The three of us rolled onto our backs as the laughter rolled off our tongues. The training room filled with the sounds of our giggles.

The boys appeared over us, peering down at us on the mat, shaking their heads at our shenanigans. Derek nudged Rooke. “This could get interesting.”

Rooke said nothing but didn't disagree either. And honestly, I couldn't care less. I felt a sense of peace fill me again. I smiled.

In less than two weeks, we'd racked up over a hundred hours with the staffs and balance beams. In a few days, we'd face off against the invincible InvictUS. My stomach didn't turn. My chest failed to tighten. Win or lose, we'd trained and pushed ourselves as hard as we could. There was nothing more we could do.

We were ready.

—

That night, the cameras clicked and flashed all around us though we weren't on any red carpet. The five of us sat inside the press-conference room, the only media event we were participating in before the match. It was a frenzy. No one had seen us in the days leading up to the championship match. Reporters jammed the room from wall to wall, some spilling out into the hallways. Everyone shouted and shoved each other. Borderline mayhem.

Perfect.

Security struggled to keep the press back. In fact, they had to call in other staff members of the facility to assist. A few people got punched. Much more, and we'd need to call the cops.

The emcee stood behind his podium, though the terrified expression on his face told me he wished it were a device to teleport him out of the room. He shouted and made a calming motion for everyone to step back and quiet down. After a few futile attempts with some homemade sign language, he gave up and motioned toward one of the reporters, trying to get the conference under way. The reporter shot to his feet.

“In three days, you're heading into the championship match. What have you been doing to prepare?”