Page 36 of Validus Vale Academy 1
He increases our speed. “And we would have taken the championship last year if Donovan Hart hadn’t ducked out.” Johnny tightens the grip on my arm and sets an even faster pace. “And that was down to you. Thanks very much.” I’m running flat out now, as fast as I can. “So let's see if I can get you fit enough to take his place,” he says, breathing easily. “We’ll have to run like this for hours, though. Dono had amazing stamina.”
I can’t reply, my chest heaves, and my throat burns like fire.
“Do you want me to slow down, little dud…”
Somehow, I manage to puff out the word, “Please”.
“Well, I will...if you do me a favor.” Johnny’s tight hold on my arm doesn’t let up. “I want my power-forward back. I don’t know what Donovan’s deal is these days, but it’s now your job to get him back to Validus Vale. I want my team to return to its peak line-up.”
That’s an absurd request. “B-b-but…” I pant. “C-c-can’t…”
“Oh, really? Then I guess we’ll just have to keep running until you’re fit enough to replace them.” Johnny pushes his pace even faster, and my lungs scream. I’ve never run so fast for such a long time. My chest is exploding, and I’m barely able to suck in any air. When I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out any second, a whistle sounds.
“Change drills,” Fenik yells. Johnny finally lets me go, and I fall to my knees. My body is wracked with cramps, and I roll over onto my side, staring blankly at Fateball nets hovering above me. Am I going to have a heart attack?
“Come on, dud,” Manu says, poking me with his foot. “We’ve got more games to play.”
I truly don’t think I can move. “Stand your pathetic ass up,” he snaps. I don’t respond, all my limbs tremble, and blood roars in my ears.
The next second, a hand grabs my hair and starts to haul me upright. It’s too much, a rush of saliva fills my mouth, and the next thing I know, I’m puking all over the gymnasium floor—and Manu’s sneakers.
“What the fuck? Fucking gross. You little bitch…”
I moan, clutch my stomach, and wish I were a million miles away.
The next voice I hear belongs to Professor Feniks. “What the fuck happened to her?” he bellows. “I told you to go easy.” His deep voice is furious. Even in my ruined state, I take a moment to feel warmed by the grumpy Professor getting fired up on my behalf. Opening my eyes, I’m greeted by the sight of him glowering at the three Elites. Professor Feniks’s jaw is clenched tight, and a pulse throbs in his temple.
“She’s not injured, just weak,” Troy scoffs. “Can’t even go for a jog.”
Feniks growls, then takes a deep breath. “Then use some common sense, you were supposed to help the weaker kids. I’m disappointed, especially with you, DeVille. We want to build the students up, not destroy them. And more importantly, I don’t want to have to do the fucking paperwork if she has an injury.”
“Our parents pay your wages,” Troy snaps back. “We shouldn’t have to waste time on duds, that’s your job.”
Professor Feniks looks like he’s barely holding himself back from slapping the shit out of Troy; something I’d love to see. “It’s my job to decide the Fateball squad,” he hisses, his accent getting thicker. “And you don’t look like much of a team player to me. This is an official warning. Piss me off again, and you’re benched.”
Troy and Manu both bristle, but Johnny DeVille cuts them off. “We understand, sir,” he says in an icy tone. “Your warning has been noted.”
—He’ll get his…gonna fuck him up—
I’m not sure which brain that echoes from.
Professor Feniks squats next to me. “What do you need, Wilson? Water? Wheelchair?” He gives me a brief and unexpected smile.
“I’m OK, Sir,” I say, my vocal cords hoarse. That’s not at all true. I feel like I’ve been put through a blender.
“Good.” The professor straightens up again. “Get a drink, then clear up your mess, you’re stinking up the place. Cleaning equipment behind the bleachers.”
I haul myself to my knees and stumble over to the giant coolers, stocked with various electrolyte drinks. Within a few minutes, my head has stopped spinning, though I still feel awful. I don’t think anything but time will change that, so I just have to get on with things.
In the janitor's closet, I find rags and an old metal mop and bucket, so I drag them over to the puke pile and slowly start cleaning. The class continues until Feniks blows a whistle, and I realize that the torture session must be over. “Get out of here,” he roars. “This session was just embarrassing. I want double, no triple, the effort next time.”
Some of the Elite witches look like they’ve barely broken a sweat, but in comparison, all of Defectivum house look destroyed. As they file out to the locker rooms, Professor Feniks comes over, looking at me critically. “You need to be a lot fitter to survive here, Wilson,” he says.
“I know, sir. I wish I weren’t so weak,” I reply, looking up at him from my kneeling position.
“Wish? That’s what people say when they can’t be bothered to put in the work. You want something to happen? Thenyoumake it happen, Wilson, no wishes involved.”
I am not really in the mood for a pep talk, but I know he’s right. I’ll only get stronger if I put in the effort. To cast strong magic, you need a strong body. If my spark ever decides to ignite, I’m going to be limited to low-level spells unless I do something about it.
