Page 34 of Validus Vale Academy 1
“What’s that all about?” whispers Willow. “What does that scary Elite want with you, Theo?”
Is it selfish to tell Willow my secrets? I don’t want to get her in trouble, but, Gods, it would be so great to have someone to talk to. “It’s a long and complicated story, my friend.”
She pats my hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but if you’re in trouble, I’m an excellent brainstormer.” Her face is serious. “I mean it, Theo, I am here for you if you need me.”
“Thanks, that means a lot.” I force a smile and change the subject. “With physical fitness as the first class of the day, I’m going to need all the support I can get.”
She smiles, knowing I’m avoiding a real answer. “You got it, bestie.”
15
The school handbook informed me that the twice-weekly physical fitness classes were designed to promote stamina, body awareness, and focused muscle control.
All things I could do with. Additionally, the classes were integrated, meaning students from all age grades and houses were mixed together. This, I wasn’t so sure about; what with being the bottom of the pile and all.
Outside the girls' locker room, Willow puts a hand on my arm. “However bad this is, it will only last ninety minutes. Let’s hold on to that.”
“We can do anything for ninety minutes,” I reply, not believing it for a second. Willow smiles brightly back at me. “Of course we can.”
A bunch of students are gathered in the center of the cavernous gymnasium; a mix of Elite and Ordinarii kids plus half a dozen remedials. Unlike me and Willow, the majority of the girls are dressed in cute leggings and crop tops that show acres of tanned and toned stomach. “This already sucks,” I hiss at my friend.
She doesn’t reply, just gives my hand a quick squeeze.
In the center of the group is a man wearing black sweatpants and a tee-shirt with torn-off sleeves. One arm is covered in terrible scars, all the way from wrist to shoulder. When he turns, Irecognise Professor Feniks. Our eyes meet for a second, then he brings a whistle to his lips. The chatter in the gym dies away.
“Alright, students. This is a new term of Integrated Physical Fitness—welcome and all that. As you know, Coach Oliver is still on sabbatical, so I will be standing in for him.”
A couple of the Ordinarii girls give a giggly cheer, but Professor Feniks shuts them up with a cold look, hissing a powerful, “Shut it.”
The girls focus, then he continues. “The way I structure these classes is going to be different from what you’re used to. Instead of working in your house or year groups, we’ll be mixing grades and levels. So first, I want the Freshman over here.” He points as his deep-accented voice echoes around the space. The Defectivum kids and a dozen or so Ordinarii head toward the professor.
“Now sophomores to my left.”
This continues year by year, until Professor Feniks begins mixing the new students with the older classes in groups of four. Willow is put in a group with the ginger-haired Defectivum girl, who we’ve learned is called Teresa. Teresa and Willow are paired with two Ordinarii Junior girls.
Professor Feniks narrows his eyes at me and frowns. “Wilson. Hmm, let’s put you with senior Elites, maybe that will pull something out of you.” He snaps his fingers, and three men step forward. They look like Olympic athletes with their polished muscles and intimidating frames.
“What do you want us to do with her, coach?” one smirks. Oh, shitballs. I suddenly recognize the seriously creepy guy from Cosmo’s suite—Manu. I’m going to be in a group with him? This will not be fun.
“It’s professor, not coach,” Feniks snaps, but Manu doesn’t notice; he’s staring at me. I work hard to close out theslimy thoughts seeping from his brain by boggling the word ‘professor’.
Rose, pose, poser, press, poof.
“Wilson! Are you paying attention?” Professor Feniks growls, snapping me back to the present.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” I mumble.
He shakes his head, muttering, “Give me strength,” then raises his voice to let it once again fill the room. “This may be a generalized fitness class, but today we are going to be working on Fateball fitness. The season is about to start, and obviously, you already know if you’ve made the team or not…”
Manu and the other two Elites in my group do some high-fiving. Professor Feniks ignores them.
“...but, the team has not been good enough recently; losing last year's inter-academy tournament was embarrassing.”
The Elites quickly drop their showboating, and I’m not the only student stifling a smirk. “And why did that happen?” the professor asks. “Some might say because you’re over-confident, vainglorious narcissists.”
The shock on the Elites’ faces is wonderful.
“I obviously can’t say that,” Feniks continues, “because I’m your professor, so instead I’m blaming Coach Oliver. He didn’t have a deep enough bench. Fateball gets players stretchered off faster than any other sport. It’s no good just having a dozen great players; a team needs at least twice that and more. Now I know that for you lot, Fateball is all tied up in family status, blah, blah, blah, but this year I’m going to be looking for talent outside the norm. This year, we are going to hone every single student into a potential Fateball player.”
