Page 62 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Despite my annoyance with Lola, I really am working as fast as possible, following her orders as best I can. I’m not as invested in winning this competition as the rest of my teammates, but I don’t want to let anyone down.

I’m willing to do whatever I can to help.

Until Lola seizes me by the back of the shirt and yanks me over.

“Up you go,Cat,” she orders.

“Up where?” I say blankly.

“Get that fucking flag,” she says, jerking her head toward our spindly tower.

I stare up at the fluttering green flag, which looks impossibly distant, bobbing on the flimsy wire.

“But . . . I don’t think the tower is ready,” I say.

Our tower is little wider than a ladder at the top. Its angle resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and it seems to be swaying with the breeze almost as much as the flag itself.

“It’s a fucking race!” Lola barks. “You’re the smallest and the lightest. Get your ass up there and climb!”

Lola is correct that I’m the smallest student in the competition—including the Freshmen. But I still don’t think this rickety pile of kindling is going to support me.

On the other hand, I’m supposed to obey the Captain.

The rest of the team is staring at me expectantly, except for Rakel, who fixes me with narrowed eyes and gives a small shake of her head.

The other teams haven’t finished their towers—if I can make it up there and snatch the flag, we’ll win the first round.

“Can you at least have somebody hold the base steady?” I ask.

“Cameron, Belkie—stabilize the base,” Lola orders.

The two burly Enforcers rush to obey.

Their efforts help a little. I can still feel the entire structure swaying with my every movement as I begin to scale the side.

I’ve never been rock-climbing in my life. Haven’t even climbed a tree. I try to keep my gaze pointed upward at the enticing green banner overhead.

My fellow Sophomores shout up instructions and words of encouragement. I can barely hear them over the blood thundering in my ears. This tower feels more and more like a floppy, makeshift Mount Everest, and I can’t help wondering if Lola would prefer me to grab the flag and win, or break my neck falling down.

I don’t think karma’s on my side.

I sent Rocco off a ledge ten times this height.

Stuffing that thought down, I keep climbing steadily upward.

The tower sways like a tree in the wind. I pause, afraid to go any higher. I reach up as far as I can, trying to grasp the fluttering tip of the flag. It dances just out of reach. I feel the material tickling my thumb and index finger, but I can’t quite grip it. My arm isn’t long enough.

I’ll have to climb up just a little further.

I set my foot on the next log up.

Then I hear shouting below, and the tower beings to tip.

I lose my grip and plunge down into its center with all the logs collapsing on top of me.

11

DEAN

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