The Gift

Chapter 52

Wisty

MY FIRST CHOCO-OPP IS a contest taking place in the Dynasium-basically a gym for dynacompetents, which is what they call kids they think might have energy capabilities rather than admitting that we actually have magic.

There are weights to levitate, bottles of various liquids to transmogrify (yeah, I don't know what that means either), metal bars to bend, braziers of oil to set alight. And there are bunnies and rats in cages for I don't know what yet-maybe we'll just have to change the color of their fur?

Crossley, who's now pretending yesterday's weird episode never even happened, tells me the kids call these competitions "spelling bees," although that's strictly on the down-low. So is the slang term "M," for magic.

ERSA, like most New Order officials, has absolutely no sense of humor. So we're not in here casting spells, you see, we're here demonstrating "dynacompetent potentials" and transmitting "biokinetic energies."

ERSA's smooth-as-apple-butter voice fills the room. "Students, join your partners at the workstation identified on the assignment board and await further instruction. You will have sixty seconds to complete your assigned challenge."

I look up at the board and moan aloud. Whit got some cute girl named Cherry Lu whom he's been playing eye hockey with ever since we got here. And me?

Perfect.

I have Byron "Nonmagical Weasel Who Shouldn't Be in This Place to Begin with" Swain. "Informant" Swain. "Soon to Be a Half-light" Swain.

I take a deep breath so I'm better able to resist the urge to strangle him. Focus, Wisty. You must win the contest, I remind myself. Do it for the chocolate.

Byron and I head over to our station, a wooden bench with a series of lightbulbs and some big old metal drum attached to it. As we walk, I actually put my arm around his waist-but it's only because I've got a pencil in my hand that I'm knifing into his side as hard as I can.

He doesn't resist.

"I hate you forever," I say through gritted teeth. "Forever, you hear? You're a criminal. An informant on Freeland. You're probably the reason Whit and I ended up here."

Byron says nothing. He just looks… sad.

"On the count of three," says ERSA, "you will turn over the instruction card at your station. The first team to successfully complete the task it describes will win a trip to the BNW Reward Center… for chocolates. Get ready!"

I shove Byron out of the way and give him a threatening look so he knows not to interfere. "You're probably the reason Eric betrayed me," I continue.

"One…"

"And the reason that Margo died," I accuse him. "You're a murderer."

"Two…"

"So what do you have to say for yourself, you hideous, low-down louse?" I place my hands on either side of the laminated instruction card.

Byron looks me in the eye.

"Three!" ERSA announces.

"I promise you, Wisty," Byron whispers, "everything I'm doing is to protect you, not to hurt you. I swear to you over my dead body. And I will be dead, soon enough. I would even die for you."

I turn over the card and… No way.

Good afternoon, ma'am. Flame Girl reporting for duty!