Page 28 of Misfit Monsters
Here I am, back in the role of jailer.
That’s what I signed up for. That’s the one thing I can do for the school that no one else can.
So I force a smile. “Let me take a quick shower, and I’ll meet the retrieval team at the car.”
10
Periwinkle
As we walk down the hall toward the gym, I cock my head, trying to wrap my mind around the rules Fen just explained to me. “So there are five hoops, but you only throw the ball in them when they’re lit up. And you’re supposed to use your powers to move the ball.”
Fen nods. “If you can. Obviously not everyone has powers that would work. The most important rule is that you canonlyaffect the ball, no tripping up the other players. And if you break the ball, that’s not good either. It’s another way to practice our control.”
Control that I’m still feeling pretty shaky about, especially now that the school administration is watching me extra closely. And this game sounds like it requires a chalkboard full of equations.
I rub my forehead. “Andeveryonehas to play morphball?”
Fen shoots me a sympathetic smile. “It’s kind of the mainpastime around here, at least for beings who are into sporty stuff. If you can hold a top five position for a month, you get special rewards. Coach Brandish mostly lets the enthusiastic students play and swaps out a few of the rest of us from class to class so we get a little practice. But she always wants to see what the new students can do, so she’ll definitely put you on.”
I give myself a little shake. It’s just a game—a game specifically designed for shadowkind. It could be a lot of fun!
Even if I’m not very good at it. I laugh. “I don’t think making my hair glow is going to help propel the ball.”
“That’s okay. The best I can ever do is push a splash of water at it, and mostly I miss.” Fen ducks her head with obvious embarrassment. “I’ll cheer you on from the bleachers!”
I guess that’s what I’ll end up doing during most future morphball gym days too. No problem. I definitely know how to cheer.
I’ve been in the smaller workout rooms before, but not the full gymnasium. As we step through the door, my eyes widen taking in the immense space.
The walls must reach up the full two stories of the building. The white ceiling is crisscrossed with metal girders and lighting fixtures high above us, like a giant was practicing weaving with steel. The bleachers on either side have room to seat at least a hundred students.
On the other two walls, five hoops protrude from panes that I’ve gathered will beam light at random intervals. The panes form the approximate shape of a cross, three in a vertical column and one on either side of it, but the side ones can apparently travel up and down as well as glow. Because the rules weren’t complicated enough already.
A large screen mounted near the stands shows a list of five students with their photos—the current morphballrankings. Most of them I recognize only vaguely, but Hail’s coolly handsome face gazes out from the second spot.
That must be one more reason our fellow students fawn over him.
A stout woman with slim tusks protruding from her jaw marches over to us. Fen’s voice squeaks. “Hi, Coach Brandish.”
From what I’ve heard, the main gym instructor is a troll. Big, strong, and fierce. I draw myself up to my not particularly impressive full height and offer her a determined smile. “Hi!”
She looks me over. “So you’re the new one. You play on the red side today. Fen, you can stick to the bleachers.”
“Thank you, Coach Brandish!” My friend gives my arm an encouraging squeeze and darts off.
The coach ushers me to the far end of the court where four other players are waiting, wearing varying shades of red. She runs through the rules Fen already told me. I can already tell my main job will be avoiding getting in anyone else’s way.
“You’ll want to change that outfit,” she adds.
I glance down at my typical flowered dress and track jacket. Not standard gym attire.
Closing my eyes, I blink in and out of the shadows, re-emerging in terry cloth shorts and a crimson tee to match my team.
They don’t look particularly happy to have me joining them. One of them, a friend of Gloss’s I think, wrinkles her nose.
The other side of the court doesn’t look any friendlier. It appears we’re going up against Hail along with the player ranked number four.
The chilly, elegant man watches the teams coming together with an air of bored assurance, but Number Fourprowls across the polished floor, flexing his bulging muscles. “We’re going to destroy all of you!”
