Page 61 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Lola pouts, clearly disappointed by that rule. Sometimes sabotageisallowed, and even encouraged.

“Gather with your team, and we’ll begin!” Professor Howell shouts, raising his pistol overhead.

I bunch up with the rest of the Sophomores, all dressed in identical olive-green t-shirts. Lola is hissing instructions to our team before Professor Howell can pull the trigger.

“The strategy is speed,” she says in an undertone, so the Freshmen and Juniors on either side of us won’t hear. “We need to build a tower as quickly as possible. August, Joss, Carter, take the biggest students and start hauling the wood over. Lyman, Sadie, you’re in charge of engineering—tell the others how to build.”

Much as I dislike Lola, I have to admit she seems to know exactly what to do. The other Sophomores ready themselves, motivated by her confidence.

Professor Howell fires into the clear blue sky.

We all take off running toward the stacks of lumber.

The pieces of wood are irregular in size, rough and untrimmed. Rakel and I grab a log between us, instantly filling our palms with splinters.

“Couldn’t give us any gloves, could they!” Rakel complains.

“At least it’s not raining,” I say.

The one and only challenge in which I competed last year was a morass of mud. Jogging over the springy turf on a sunny day is positively pleasant by contrast, even if I do have to carry this damn log.

By the time Rakel and I haul our burden over beneath the flag, August and Joss have already run to the woodpile and back three times.

“Move your ass!” Dixie David bellows at us on Lola’s behalf.

“I’d like to shove this log upherass,” Rakel mutters to me.

I snort, then wipe the smile off my face as Lola glares at us.

“You think it’s funny that the two of you are worse than worthless?” she snaps, tossing back her mane of shining caramel-colored hair.

“Sorry, Great Leader,” I reply, in a tone of utmost politeness. “I didn’t know barking orders required both your hands and your mouth. Why don’t you pick up a log and help us?”

Lola’s pretty face contorts with so much venom that she barely looks human.

“You’re a parasite,” she hisses at me. “A worm under my feet. You don’t belong here. And you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Rakel pulls me in the direction of the woodpile once more.

I’m quiet, thinking to myself how strange it is that whether Lola tells me I don’t belong at Kingmakers, or Dean tells me that I do, I feel offended either way.

Maybe it’s becauseIdon’t know who I am, so how can they?

I thought I knew.

Until I killed Rocco, shattering my own image of myself.

Now I’m trying to pick up the pieces and glue them back together, wondering what form they’ll take.

Thinking of Dean makes me search for him over in the horde of Juniors. I easily spot his white-blond head and the rigid muscles of his back straining against the fabric of his gray t-shirt. He’s working next to Leo and Ares, already building the base of their tower. The three boys move in unison like a clockwork machine, swiftly and expertly stacking the logs in a tower formation that reminds me of da Vinci’s self-supporting bridge.

The tower Lyman and Sadie are building looks a lot less stable. Driven on by Lola’s relentless demands for speed, they’re not matching the size of the logs with much care, and the tower is already starting to lean to the left.

Claire Turgenev’s tower is the tallest of the three and looks reasonably stable, until a half-rotted log snaps, sending her structure crashing down.

I can see the fury on her face, but she doesn’t give in to panic, swiftly re-organizing her workers to repair what fell.

Kade looks decidedly more stressed, but he’s holding up under the burden of leadership, building a tower that is wide and sturdy, though the smallest of the four.

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