Ash (7 page)

C
ameras snapped as I sailed down the purple carpet, arm linked in Bastin’s. We kept a tasteful amount of space between us as we made our way toward the private entrance leading to the Box.

Overhead, videos of tonight’s eight racers were being projected onto the arena walls. I recognized footage of Aldan from a race I’d attended last summer with Link. He and I might be history, but I still had a soft spot for his brother. Aldan’s enthusiasm could fill up a room. Or arena for that matter, I thought, as I looked around at the thousands of people who’d come to witness the Championship. Many wore his signature “1” somehow patched to their clothing. I loved how this kind of occasion could bring people together.

“Madden, look over here,” a voice called from the crowd. I turned and smiled, not breaking my stride.

“Madden, anything you’d like to say to the audience?”

Seconds later a hovercam reached me and I stopped, looking directly into the lens. My face was projected onto the walls, interrupting the racing footage, and I casually adjusted a strand of hair I could see was out of place. “Tonight’s race is about fulfilling a dream,” I began, my voice echoing. “A dream each of today’s athletes share. They’ve worked long and hard to be a part of this year’s Loop Championship, and I wish them all the very best.” I lowered my voice and let just a hint of mischief punctuate my words. “Though, to be clear—“

A hush fell over the arena as the crowd awaited my words.

“It’s still about winning.” I smiled brilliantly and yelled, “Go Aldan!” The crowd screamed and clapped, taking up the chant of “Go Aldan” as Bastin and I continued through the stadium and onto the lift. He pressed the top floor and within moments we exited into the Box.

As soon as we entered I could feel Brine Chandler looking me up and down, his eyes resting too long where they shouldn’t. It took every ounce of willpower to resist telling him off, but I didn’t need a scene. Brine was a member of the PAE and involved in all local security infractions. If there was a New City problem, you could count on Brine to be there. More importantly, he was also Bas’s closest friend. I considered asking him about the earlier incident, but I knew now wasn’t the time.

“Brine,” Bas shouted, giving his buddy a slap on the back. I gave a tightlipped smile, in case the cameras were still broadcasting me, and began to wander, leaving the guys to themselves.

I loved being up this high. It was better away from the crowds, and the panoramic view through the glass walls was endless. Not only did the Box have the best seats in the stadium to see every twist and turn of the giant loop coaster, but it also had cold drinks. A Yellow server held out a tray of berry spritzers, and I took a glass. A straw with two loops jutted from the liquid. It was a nice touch.

Beyond the Box seats was a tiny soundbooth. Inside stood one of my oldest friends. His mess of reddish-brown hair had been tamed for the night, and I was surprised to see that he was wearing a suit. It wasn’t often that Theron made an effort. It looked good on him.

At the moment, he was ruining the effect by cracking up with the Green sound technicians. No doubt in the middle of a joke. A moment later they all burst out laughing. That was Theron for you. He’d swap stories with anyone—even those he shouldn’t. He glanced up, almost as if he felt me watching, and his face broke into an even broader smile. He waved before heading my way.

“Hello, Theron,” I greeted him.

“Hey, Madden. You look ultra,” he said, taking a drink from the server’s tray as she passed again.

“Thank you. You ready for tonight?” I asked. Theron was the evening’s emcee.

“Of course,” he said, giving me an easy grin that rearranged the freckles across his cheeks. “I get to announce Aldan’s coast to victory. What could be better?”

Theron always tried to act upbeat, especially around me, but I could tell he was tense. While tonight’s race was a formality, the world would still be watching. And in Theron’s case, listening. That took some getting used to—even for someone who was always the center of attention. I knew that firsthand.

I raised my glass toward him. “To an action-packed race.”

“To not flubbing my lines,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.

“Well, I’m excited to hear what you have in store,” I told him and took a sip of my drink.

“It should get a few laughs,” he said. “Hopefully some from you.” He did a quick pan of the Box. “Where’s your leech?”

I gave him a disapproving sigh but nodded toward the entrance all the same.

“Ahh,” Theron laughed. “So you finally admit your boyfriend is a freeloader. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”

“Shhh.” I looked around to make sure no one heard what he was saying. Theron had a tendency to push too far when it came to Bas. I knew he was joking, but the right sound clip in the hands of the wrong reporter could be devastating. I threw my voice a little louder. “I said no such thing. Bastin is a remarkable man with a remarkable destiny.”

“Yeah. ‘To build.’ How much do you want to bet that if he wasn’t the grandson of a minister, he’d be on the crew building new air rails or containment units instead of in charge of it all? I can picture Mr. Manicure hauling beams around.”

“Keep your voice down,” I warned him. “You know very well a Destiny Specialist evaluated what Bas should be doing.” There was no way a Specialist would give special treatment—deciphering accurate callings at birth is what made our system work. So I just smiled and reminded Theron what he already knew. “They wouldn’t arbitrarily assign something, unless it was meant to be.”

“Lucky for you,” he replied, pointing at a stony-faced PAE officer across the room. “Can you imagine having to laugh at that guy’s jokes instead of mine?”

The officer glared back at Theron, and I swallowed back my laughter.

“See, I’m already doing my job. I heard you laugh,” Theron said.

“Try a grunt of annoyance,” Bas said as he joined us, draping his arm around my shoulder. “Is he bothering you?’

I was used to the bickering between Bas and Theron. They hated each other. And not just because of Theron’s destiny, but because Bas was a by-the-book type of guy and Theron, well, he liked to have fun.

I patted Bas’s arm. “Give him a break. This is almost as big of a day for him as it is for Aldan. And you know he’ll do anything to make me smile.” He would, at that. Theron’s destiny was to make me laugh—or, if you wanted the specifics, to make the Minister of the Seven closest to his age laugh, which amounted to the same thing. As a result, we’d practically grown up together. And since there was no time stamp on his destiny, we would be bound for life.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Sound check or something?” Bas asked him coolly.

Theron raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I shirk my destiny? What would Granddaddy say?”

I felt Bas’s arm tighten around me as he went on the defensive. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, boys, enough.” I said. “Today isn’t about us. We’re here to watch the championship, and support Aldan’s Destiny Day while we’re at it. Not to fight with one another.”

Theron nodded and got a faraway look on his face. I could tell his mind had moved back to the race and his upcoming role.

“You’ll be great,” I assured him and nudged Bas.

“Yeah,” my boyfriend muttered.

“Besides,” I said, “It’s Aldan up there. It’s only right that you’re part of his big day.” The two were best friends. Theron had been there to see every record that Aldan had broken—which was all of them. “Remember how amazing he was at the track last summer?”

I almost hit myself for bringing it up. The last thing I wanted to think about was last summer, hand in hand with Link, sitting together at the practice track watching Aldan do impossible trick after trick. Back then we’d even talked about coming to the championship together. But that was before Link’s stubborn streak had ruined everything.

I pushed away the memories. “Anyway,” I said before Theron could respond. “I know you have to get ready, so we’ll let you go. Good luck tonight.”

As Theron headed back to the booth, my eyes scanned the others in the Box. There was no sign of Link yet, and I took a deep breath, willing the tight knot in my stomach to release. I wanted to sit before he and his parents showed up. Maybe I’d be able to avoid them that way. “Want to sit down?” I asked Bas.

“Sure,” he said, grabbing my hand again.

We walked through several rows of purple-clad spectators, many of whom I knew through various charities or fundraisers. I waved hello to a few acquaintances as Bas led me to the front of the Box. The Seven took up most of the front row seats, of course. All but Dr. Og, the inventor of the destiny system. He rarely made it out anymore. When he did, it was for meetings, and he was always accompanied by his caretaker.

Minister Edward Worthington, my boyfriend’s grandfather, stood as we approached. He wore a deep purple suit and matching pinstripe tie. A multicolored pin was attached to his lapel, representing the seven rings. His gray hair and matching beard were perfectly groomed, as always. Minister Worthington was tall and thin, where Bastin was broad and muscled. But he and Bastin shared the same cool, blue eyes. He turned them on me, nodding politely.

“Hi Granddad,” Bas greeted him. The two shook hands.

“A good day to you both,” he replied. He turned to me and pumped my hand as well. “I saw the broadcast of your speech to the Industry Employers over in AnaKurtz. Motivating yet firm,” he said, giving me an approving nod. “Well done.”

“Thank you, Minister,” I replied. I had spoken to three hundred employees in the manufacturing sector named for our former president. It took me two days to write and prepare my speech, and then I ended up scrapping it, instead speaking off the cuff. I received a standing ovation.

“And I’ve heard your inauguration date is set,” he continued. “Next summer, is it?”

“That’s my girl,” Bastin said, slinging an arm around me.

I smiled broadly at both of them. “I’m very much looking forward to it.”

Which was an understatement. There had been complications during my birth. My destiny had been extracted with no problems, but its time stamp was another story. Everyone knew how quickly details about one’s destiny faded after birth—the specifics were completely lost within the hour. In my case, immediately after my destiny was recorded, my mother had a seizure. She recovered just fine, but as a result, the Specialist wasn’t able to continue the extraction and my time stamp was lost. It had never really been a problem for me. It just meant the date of my rise to council was “to be determined.” Or had been until last week when the council announced I would be inducted next summer. I took it as a huge vote of confidence they felt I was almost ready.

Minister Worthington rubbed the hair on his chin thoughtfully. “You’ll be the youngest minister in history,” he said. He didn’t have to say the next part. It was implied. Being the youngest meant that everyone would be watching—closely.

“I won’t let you, or any of the other ministers down, sir,” I said. “And I’m honored.”

He chuckled as he turned back to Bas. “I’ll see you this Sunday for dinner?”

Bas nodded. “Looking forward to it. And maybe afterward I can show you the new schematics I’m working on for ring security.”

As Bas and his grandfather continued to talk I made my way down the line of the remaining Seven, stopping to shake each of their hands and exchange a few words. The only one who made me feel at ease was Minister Tagon Corbin. He was by far the youngest of the Seven, and a major loop enthusiast.

“Madden,” he greeted me.

I shook his hand and smiled. “Are you excited for the race, Minister?” I asked.

“Oh, absolutely.” He shook his head enthusiastically, and gestured toward the giant loop coaster rising in front of us. “I’ll be interested to see how the players will navigate this orientation.”

We both turned to appraise the course. From this vantage I could fully appreciate just how many modifications had been made for the championship. The track itself was built out of the same clear material used for the light rail, complete with the magnetic surface for the racers to hover over. But that’s where the similarities ended. There were eight loops to pass through before a player could reach the end, with some sections wider, and others narrower so that only one racer could get through at a time. Colored lights pulsed through the structure in quick bursts. I’d never seen anything like it.