Page 37 of Validus Vale Academy 1
“I’ll try harder,” I tell him.
“Good,” he says. “We’ll start with you running laps every morning for the next month. 6am sharp. First, we’ll address your stamina, then move on to strength, alright, Wilson?”
“Laps every day?” My mind boggles at the thought. Professor Feniks glowers at me. “I mean, yes, Sir. Thank you.”
Six in the freaking morning? For a month? I’m not sure if this is a punishment or if he’s trying to help me.
“And double sanitize the puke patch,” he snaps, turning on his heel and stalking off, his footsteps echoing around the now empty space.
I look at the running track, and then at the Fateball hoop. I can’t do anything about my dud spark, but my dud body is no one's fault but mine. I’ll take Professor Feniks' offer and start training. If nothing else, I’ll be able to run away from trouble.
16
From my position by the fire exit, I watch the students leave the gymnasium.
Most are laughing, but some of the little ones are bleeding slightly. I ignore them and focus on my nymph. From the moment I laid eyes on her, she’s taken up nearly all the room in my mind. To anyone else, she should be far from enticing in this state,—sweat-stained and kneeling in vomit—but all I see is perfection, and the fact that she needs me.
I was made to protect her. The compulsion to do so throbs in every cell of my body.
And right now, the help I can give is comfortably within my wheelhouse. Will it frighten her if I approach? I scare a lot of people, especially the female students. And my face is full of injuries today, the bruises from the fight at Machete’s are in full bloom.
But my perfect nymph should not be on her knees cleaning.
She lets out a long sigh, and my feet are moving before I can contemplate the situation any longer. Nymph must sense my approach as she lifts her head and looks straight at me with those beautiful silver eyes.
I brace myself for her fear response, but it doesn’t come. “Hello again,” she says.
I like the sound of her voice; it’s a little husky. She smiles, and I drink in her face. I wish I could say hello back.
Wait. Could I smile back? It’s not something I often try, and my muscles are confused as I force the sides of my mouth into an upward curve. As soon as the almost-smile happens, I drop the expression, and I feel my natural frown reforming. Giving up on my face, I gesture for the rag.
“Oh no, I can do it, but thanks. It’s my puke after all.” She gives a slight grimace, then stands. “I’m Theo, by the way.” The Nymph puts out her hand, but instantly retracts it again. “Oh, shit, you don’t want to shake with me, I’m gross.”
I frown at that. She’ll never be gross.
“What’s your name?” she asks, giving me another beautiful smile. I don’t answer, I’m not sure if my voice still works. I haven’t used it since I left the circus, and even then, my vocal cords mainly produced screams. Tightness coils in my chest. Will she run away if I don’t speak?
But in her perfect way, she just waits, letting me formulate the answer for as long as I want. Eventually, I come up with a plan and push away the hair that hangs over my shoulder to reveal the name badge pinned to my coveralls.
“Ludo?” she says. My name on her lips sounds like music. “Ludo,” she repeats. “I like it. Huh. It’s a name that’s impossible to Boggle.”
I take hold of the mop handle and look at her, confused.
“I have a mental habit of anagramming words,” she tells me. “Or unscrambling them into separate words, like the game Boggle, you know?”
When I shake my head, she frowns. “For example, we could use the word clean. I try to find all the words it’s possible to make from C, L, E, A, and N.” I nod, and she continues. “There’s can, lane, lean, cane, lace, ace…um…”
There is a layer of dust on the side of the bucket. I lean down and write ‘CLAN’.
“Clan, nice one. So, going back to your name, Ludo. L U D O: I think it stands all alone as a word. It can’t be broken into pieces at all.”
Her words rock me, for I am a man who isonlybroken pieces.
She makes a humming noise in her throat, then smiles up at me. “Maybe I can get hold of an actual Boggle set, and we can play sometime?”
I stop squeezing the water from the spongy mop and try to deal with the rush of blood in my ears and the pounding of my temple. This beautiful creature wants to spend time with me?
I begin to clean the floor.
