“No trouble at all,” Wade said. “And we can see the field from our window. Amazing!”
Wade’s father smiled proudly. He loved his son’s childlike exuberance. Unlike his sister, who could be difficult, Wade wanted nothing more than to please his father.
“Remember,” Andre Quinn warned, “this has to be handled delicately. If you compete at too high a level, our plans will be harder to manage. Don’t draw undue attention.”
Clara hated this part of “the plan.” She knew she could win every single event without even trying. Having to pretend that she was lame like every other athlete on the field was going to be very tough. And the plan had been bothering her for a long time, primarily because she didn’t fully understand what it was.
“I don’t know why we have to throw these events,” Clara said. Arriving in the Western State and seeing the facility had turned up the volume on her competitive nature. “What’s the point of even doing this if you’re not going to let us compete?”
“There’s a job to do. Drawing attention to yourselves is the last thing we need,” Andre’s wife said. Her name was not Miss Newhouse and never had been. This was Gretchen Quinn, and she was always the bad cop when it came to dealing with Clara. “This is not about winning, Clara. At least not yet.”
Clara rolled her eyes. She couldn’t stand her stepmother and thought she was a power-hungry idiot. “Whatever you say, Mommy dearest.”
“That’s enough, Clara.” Andre was all too happy to let Gretchen deal with Clara’s behavior, but there was a line he would not let Clara cross. “We’re at the beginning of a long journey. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and it begins with small steps. These ridiculous Field Games are not going to mean anything by this time next year. And I promise you, by then you’ll have more power than you know what to do with. Trust me on this, Clara. I know what I’m doing.”
Clara did trust her father, even if his taste in women bordered on insane. But Clara had a plan of her own, one that had been swirling around in her head ever since Gretchen had come into the picture. Just you wait, Clara thought as she glared at her stepmother. I’m going to come for you; and when I do, you’ll wish you’d never been born.
“When you warm up, keep it normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Stay near the back of the pack during the decathlon, and do as we’ve instructed when the time comes. Remember, you’re not there to win games. You’re there to do a job.”
Wade felt a small pang in his chest as he thought about all the work he’d put in training for the games. It was nowhere near the amount a true Field Games athlete would invest, but still, there had been a lot of endless afternoons jumping over a bar or throwing a metal ball. There had been many moments of extreme boredom in which he’d asked himself why in the world anyone would dedicate himself to such useless endeavors. And yet, deep down inside, he wanted to win. It would take all his self-control not to position himself on the top podium when the opportunity arose.
“Always remember, this isn’t about us,” Gretchen said, her cold gaze alternating between each twin. “We have the power to change the world, to mold it into what it should be. We are not to waste such power. Am I understood?”
Clara and Wade nodded obediently, looking at their father for any additional guidance he might provide.
“You are now firmly entrenched in enemy territory. Don’t forget that. And don’t for a second let your emotions get away from you. Get the job done and come home.”
Wade was just about to sign off, but Clara stopped him.
“There’s a girl from Old Park Hill, a friend of mine. I’d like her to have a seat. A good one, close to the field.”
Gretchen saw this as a way to appease her unpredictable stepchild and immediately latched on to it. “I have someone on the inside, won’t be a problem. Tell me her name.”
Gretchen turned her attention to a Tablet at her side, where she scrolled through a list of seats she had access to through an associate in the State.
“Liz Brinn,” Clara said. Wade shot her a look of surprise, but Clara ignored him and went on. “She was a really close friend; this would mean a lot. And she’d want to bring another person, if that’s not asking too much.”
Gretchen didn’t like the idea of Clara having a close friend at Old Park Hill, but she let it slide. If this small gesture could build some much-needed goodwill between the two of them, so be it.
“I’ll have two tickets sent to her, both right on the field. A213 and A214, in case you want to say hello. Does that make you happy?”
“That’s perfect, thank you, Gretchen. It really means a lot.”
Clara could be charming when she needed to be, and all appeared to be in order when the call ended.
Andre and Gretchen had moved to a new location ten miles to the north of Old Park Hill, where they could watch the Games unfold in peace and quiet.
“They’re nearly seventeen. We shouldn’t have to treat them like children any longer,” Gretchen said.
“Well, it was a nice gesture all the same,” Andre responded. “You know how unpredictable she can be. Better safe than sorry.”
Gretchen looked at Andre without a shred of emotion. The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, she thought. And she was right. Andre had been calm for many months, but he could be as unpredictable as his daughter.
If things didn’t go as planned in the Western State, there was no telling what he would do.
“Charity case, happens every year.”
Wade heard one of the other athletes use those very words as he began warming up at the high jump pit in the training facility an hour later. There were four other jumpers, and they all seemed to agree: Wade was the one from the outside, a concession to help the needy feel better about themselves. It galled him to think about what total losers they all were, and to take his frustrations out, he made them look like amateurs on every single one of their warm-up jumps. Wade would watch them elevate, then when they were right over the bar, he would use his mind to move the jumper’s legs down and knock the bar off the stands. He did this to all the other jumpers, messing with their heads as they looked at the fallen bar and thought, What the hell? When the guy who’d made the lame comment stepped up for his first jump, Wade took special pleasure in making him trip on his approach and fall flat on his face. The guy didn’t even make it to the bar.
“You guys warming up at six-six? Really?” Wade asked. “Huh.”
On his first jump, Wade couldn’t help himself. He cleared it by a foot and a half, a dangerous sign of talent that hovered in the area of the world record. Then he walked past the group and over to the throwing area. “I guess once is enough.”
He continued the routine at each of the warm-up stations, relishing every jaw-dropping stare he got as he showed them all who they were dealing with. The complicated part of all this posturing was the fact that it was really messing with Wade’s head. Clara had already made her case as they walked to the practice field: they should do what they wanted to do, not what witchy Gretchen and their dad said.
“Who does she think she is?” Clara had said, adding, “There’s no reason for us to do what she says.”
Wade had tried to convince her that it was their duty to follow through with the plan.
“They’ve been training us for what, three years? It’s not our problem, Wade. It’s not our war; it’s theirs. I don’t see why we have to be pawns on someone’s chess board.”
But Wade always had to remember that Clara was incredibly persuasive. If she’d been arguing the other side of the case, that they should stick to the plan and do as they were told, she would have been every bit as convincing. And the problem with Clara, as he’d come to know over time, was that she was notorious for changing her mind.
Still, he had to admit, it felt good to trounce a bunch of talentless normals. What fun it would be to sweep the games, take every event in the decathlon, and break all the world records while he was at it.
By the time he an
d Clara were settled in for the night, awaiting the morning alarm that would send them onto the field, he still hadn’t decided which course of action he was going to take.
Liz Brinn couldn’t believe her luck. She’d only been in the Western State for a little while, and already she’d managed to secure two tickets to the Field Games. And not just any two tickets, field level tickets. She was the talk of her social circle. No one could believe she had them. A bidding war broke out to buy the second ticket that went as high as six thousand Coin, a huge amount of Tablet cash she could have used to buy a whole closet full of new clothes. But it never really crossed her mind to sell the extra ticket. She knew it was a fluke, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see the Field Games live and up close.
“Where’d they come from?” Noah had asked her when Liz video-called him. Noah lived twenty-one buildings over, and it took almost an hour to traverse the passageways in order to meet up, which they tried to do at least once a day. But she’d been so excited, she had called him straightaway.
“It says they’re a gift from the Field Games committee. I guess they do this sometimes for newbies like me.”
“What if it’s a hoax? Maybe they’re not even real, and we’re going to get turned away at the gate.”
“Come on, Noah. You know that’s not true. Just embrace it. We’re going to the Field Games!”
The States were very hard on cybercriminal activity, even if it amounted to nothing more than a prank. If they caught you doing things like that, Coin would just disappear out of your account without warning. Your job assignment might go from entertainer to window cleaner. It happened. Liz and Noah were going, and they would be sitting close to the field itself. Still, it wasn’t until they were in the fourteenth row off the field that Noah finally gave in. They were holding hands, which Liz loved, and he leaned in for a long, warm kiss.
“I can see you like these tickets,” Liz said.
“I can’t believe this is real. It’s incredible. They’re going to run right past us.”
It was a perfect summer morning, warm and soft, with a blue sky overhead. They both pulled out their Tablets and reviewed the list of events. First would be a series of men’s decathlon finals, then the women would be throwing in the field in the finals of their decathlon. Liz shook her head, amazed at the turn of events.
“I didn’t expect to see Wade and Clara Quinn in the finals. I had no idea they were this talented.”
“They’re in all the news feeds right now. Everyone’s talking about the twins from the outside.” Noah was scanning through news on the Field Games as he talked. “How well did you know them? You think you could get an autograph?”
Liz didn’t have a clue how to even find Clara or Wade, and she definitely didn’t want anything to do with them. “Honestly, Noah, they’re both class-A jerks. I hope they lose today.”
“Really? Everyone is totally into them. They seem so cool.”
“Trust me on this one. I went to school with them, and they treated everyone else like nobodies. They don’t care about anyone but themselves.”
As they were talking, one of the athletes started jogging up the track in their direction. A roar of cheering rose along their route, and the athlete waved, smiling.
“Speak of the devil,” Noah said, standing up since everyone in front of them was doing the same thing as Clara Quinn approached. To Liz’s surprise, Clara turned at the stands and walked fourteen rows up to where she and Noah were standing. Their seats put Noah right on the edge of the walkway; and when Clara stood next to him, he was awestruck.
“You’re . . . wow, you’re—”
“Tall?” Clara said, but it was more than that. In the morning light and the fresh air, Clara Quinn looked vibrant and powerful. Her newly cut hair was shorter than she’d ever worn it before. Her arms were ripped, and her broad shoulders cast a shadow across Noah’s face. She was easily six inches taller than he was.
“You cut your hair off,” Liz said, suddenly starstruck herself as fans leaned in from every direction.
Clara messed up the blond froth of hair on top of her head and shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “It was getting in my way, so I figured, why not? New home, new look, right?”
“Sure, yeah,” Liz said, nodding nervously. Clara was bigger than life, much more intimidating to look at than she ever had been in the tiny world of Old Park Hill. On the world stage, Clara Quinn was more than holding her own. She was owning it.
“Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say I hope you enjoy the seats,” Clara said. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
Liz couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You sent me the tickets? But why? We weren’t even friends.”
“Really?” Clara said, crunching up her nose, which made everyone who could see her laugh. “I thought we were. My mistake, I guess.”
Before Liz could find a better response, Clara was walking down the steps, signing Tablets with her finger on screens being held out to her. Everyone kept asking Liz what she knew about the twins. Were they supercool? Were they like normal people? How did they get so good at these events outside the State?
Liz mostly ignored them until the first event was called and everyone sat down, focused on the men’s running finals that were about to take place. Before the first race began, the president of the Western State stood up, along with a group of dignitaries. He waved to the crowd from his box seat, which sat directly across from the seats Liz and Noah were in. Everyone stood, saluted, and began to sing.
“The president is sitting right there,” Noah whispered into Liz’s ear. “Like a hundred yards away. This is crazy cool.”
Liz was glad she’d made Noah so happy, and she was excited to be there; but her heart also ached for her best friend. If Faith had been inside the State, there was no doubt Liz would have asked her to attend, not Noah. Faith would have understood about Clara and Wade. They would have had a good time cutting them up behind their backs, talking about old times. They would have laughed a lot. Noah put an arm around Liz as the music concluded and pulled her in close.
“Let’s get this party started!” he said, all smiles and good cheer.
The first few races blew by in heats of seven runners. Liz and Noah were positioned straight across from the finish line, where the runners were at maximum speed. These were superathletes of the highest caliber, people who had dedicated every ounce of their existence to training for the Field Games. The rules allowed for a maximum of ten competitions, and the year a competitor began was the starting gun. It didn’t matter if they took four or five years off for injuries or whatever; ten years after their first games, competitors were no longer eligible. It was rare to see an athlete over thirty, because most athletes started competing in their late teens.
When Wade entered the starting blocks for his heat of the 100, he waved once to the crowd. He was wearing a black skullcap that covered his entire head, with matching running shorts and a skintight top. The crowd went wild with enthusiasm, a reaction that surprised Liz. She’d been on the outside not that long ago, and she’d always felt like everyone inside the State thought outsiders were nobodies. There were so few people left outside, but the general idea was that being out there meant you weren’t part of the club. She was starting to realize that living in the States was like being chosen—not them choosing you, but you choosing them. When Wade and Clara Quinn stepped into the Western State for the first time, they chose these people. Nothing else mattered. The fact that they’d come from such humble beginnings and found themselves competing in the finals made them superstars. It didn’t hurt that Wade and Clara were both good-looking Amazons. Wade had started the games with a head of long, blond hair held back with a wide black bandanna. Liz thought it made him look like a girl, but she was definitely in the minority. Girls in the State ate it up, gossiping endlessly about the hot young star who had magically appeared from the outside.
Wade went through the motions of warming up, peeling off the skullcap and sett
ing it behind his starting block. He’d shaved his hair into an athletic cut, which produced a gasp from girls around the stadium until the cameras zoomed in and images of Wade appeared on jumbo screens. He flashed a Hollywood smile, and everyone could see that he was even better looking without the long locks that had totally entranced them. Tablets lit up with the Wade hair debate, a ridiculous spectacle that threatened to overshadow the Field Games themselves.
Liz had to admit, the Quinns were a PR machine. They knew how to lather up a crowd. She shook her head with some dismay at the idea of the Quinns looming large over her existence in the State. She could imagine their faces plastered all over the passageways and the Tablets and inside the high-speed trains. They’d probably leave sports behind, become actors and musicians, and lodge into Liz’s life like a cancer she’d never be able to hide from.
“Gross,” she said under her breath as the runners settled into their starting blocks.
“You okay?” Noah asked. Liz nodded and smiled. What did it matter? Soon enough Faith would show up, and the two of them could make fun of the twins all they wanted for the rest of their lives.
The starting gun went off, and everyone in the stands bolted to their feet for a better view. The world record for the 100-yard dash was under seven seconds, so everyone knew it would be over almost before it began. All of Wade’s competitors were like machines, uncanny in their speed and strength, as if some sort of magic had turned them into more than just humans. But this would be a race that no one would forget for another reason. It would be played and replayed, slowed down and put in reverse, forever after. Whole Tablet sites would be dedicated to what would quickly come to be known as “the Race.”
Wade Quinn, the mysterious kid from the outside who had shown up so unexpectedly with his confident smile and good looks, pulled out in front when the gun went off. By the time the rest of the field had gone two steps out of the blocks, Wade was halfway to the finish line. It happened in a flash, like he hadn’t run there at all but had somehow been transported there. But later viewings in slow motion would prove that his legs had indeed carried him to the halfway point in under two seconds. Had he kept up that pace, Wade Quinn would have smashed the 100-meter record, cutting it nearly in half. But later evidence of his facial expressions in slow motion would show that he had seemed to force himself to slow down. He’d slowed so much that all the other runners not only caught up, they passed him, which knocked Wade out of the competition for good without a medal. Still, everyone would say from that day on that no one had ever run a 50-meter dash in double the time Wade Quinn had done it. And there was endless speculation that one day he would return and crush the world record for good.