I check the clock.
Then I clear my throat, loudly. When that doesn’t work, I get out of the bed and shake Dr. Cross.
“What is it?” he grumbles, coming to abruptly.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Cross. I just thought you wouldn’t want to sleep too long. It’s been fifteen minutes.”
A lie. Over an hour passed. I can only hope he wasn’t watching the time.
He glances at the clock, blearily.
“Yes, right,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t want to sleep too long. Is the challenge still going?”
“I have no idea,” I say
“How’s the arm feeling?”
“Good as new, almost,” I say, showing him the unmarked bandages.
“Good. Help me change these sheets, then,” he says, indicating the two despoiled beds.
“I’d be glad to.”
We strip the sheets, and Dr. Cross carries them to his laundry. While he’s gone, I hear an aggressive banging on the door. My heart leaps into my mouth. I run to the door, realizing I forgot to unlock it. I quickly turn the bolt, opening the door to see Dean Yenin’s angry, sweat-soaked face. He’s holding his left arm pinned against his body, the shoulder at an awful angle.
“Get the doctor!” he barks.
I run to oblige.
Dr. Cross hurries back into the room, assessing Dean at a glance.
“We’ll have to pop that back in,” he says. “Girl—what was your name?”
“Cat,” I stammer.
“Hold him steady.”
I do not want to touch Dean Yenin. But I jump to action, by long habits of obedience. Gingerly, I take hold of Dean’s good arm, the muscle iron-hard beneath the skin. He turns to look at me, eyes narrowed, a strange expression on his face.
“Bite on this,” the doctor says, stuffing a strip of leather in Dean’s mouth.
Dean bites down hard as Dr. Cross swings his injured arm upward. Dean lets out a strangled scream, his good hand clutching convulsively at my skirt. He grabs my thigh, and I don’t even feel the pressure of his hand, because I’m distracted by how vulnerable Dean looks when he’s in pain.
He lets go of me abruptly. I do the same.
Dr. Cross manipulates Dean’s arm gingerly, ensuring that his shoulder joint is back in the socket.
“Better?” he says.
“Yes,” Dean replies, his face still pale and sweating.
“I’d better go,” I say. “I’d like to catch the end of the Quartum Bellum. Is it still going on?”
“It is,” Dean says, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Well . . . thank you Dr. Cross,” I say, edging to the door.
“I’ll follow you out,” Dean says.
I don’t like that one bit, but I can’t exactly stop him.
As soon as we’re outside the infirmary, I say, “I’m going to run to catch the end!” and I sprint away from him, with the paranoid sense that I’ll hear his footsteps chasing after me.
He lets me go.
Still, I’m too unnerved to even look over my shoulder as I run through the gates to the makeshift bleachers, hiding myself in the crowd.
25
Zoe
After several grueling hours, when our palms are hamburger and it feels like all of us are about to have our arms pulled out of our sockets like Dean, the Sophomores finally manage to drag the line of flags into our end zone.
We’re too exhausted to even cheer.
The crowd of watching students and teachers is equally tired of sitting in the blazing sun, and can barely muster a response as Professor Howell hoists Leo’s arm in the air, declaring his team the winners of the Quartum Bellum for the second year in a row.
Leo, at least, retains a little enthusiasm. Sweat-soaked and reeling, he still flashes a bright grin, handing out fist bumps and backslaps to as many teammates as he can reach, while pulling Anna tight against his side with his free arm.
Miles passes me a bottle of miraculously cold water, retrieved from god knows where.
“Can we be friends again, now that we’re no longer mortal enemies?” he grins.
I gulp the water down and pour it over my face in blessed relief.
“I’ll be your best friend forever just for that water,” I promise him.
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Miles says, sweeping me up in his arms and kissing me, not giving a shit how filthy and sweaty we’ve both become.
I can’t get over the fact that he can kiss me on the field now, not caring who might see us.
His lips burn hot from the sun and exertion. I feel limp and weak in his arms, and not just because I’m exhausted.
“What do I have to do to get you away from all these people?” Miles growls, setting me down gently on the churned-up grass, but not letting go of me.
“I would love to sneak off together,” I tell him. “I should check on Cat, though. That was a nasty cut this morning, I don’t know why the knives are so goddamn sharp at this place—”
“I think she’s right over there,” Miles says, nodding his head toward the stands, where the students lethargically descend, joining the crowd heading back toward the castle.
I spot Cat walking with her roommate Rakel. Cat obviously visited Dr. Cross because her left forearm is wrapped in a fresh white bandage, but she still looks pale and shaky.
I jog over to join her, Miles following after me.
“Hey! How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Cat says, her voice wobbly. “How are you guys? Congratulations, by the way.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, brushing the hair back from Cat’s cheek to see her face more clearly. “You look a little—”
“I told you, I’m fine!” Cat cries, shaking me off.
It’s unlike her to snap at me, but after all, Cat’s grown up a lot this year. I shouldn’t baby her, especially not in front of her roommate. I know Cat wants Rakel to respect her.
And indeed, the two girls look quite friendly as we pass through the stone gates into the school grounds, Rakel saying, “I hope they have lunch ready. You gonna come eat with me, Cat, or will you wait for this lot to take a shower?”
“I need a shower,” Miles agrees, “and I better get in there before all the hot water runs out.”
“No! You should eat first,” Cat says, abruptly. “We should all stay together.”
“Sure, if you like,” Miles shrugs. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Did you see Dean at the infirmary?” I ask Cat. “Silas Gray almost pulled his arm off.”
“He came in right as I was leaving,” Cat nods. “He—”
“What’s the hold-up?” Miles says, annoyed with the crowd of students clogging the bottleneck between the Armory and the dining hall.
The students ahead appear to be looking up at something. Sure enough, as we push our way forward, I see a flock of noisy sea birds circling in the air above the north wall. The white birds wheel and caw, diving down to squabble on the rocks below.
“What are they doing?” Miles says.
“Why’s there so many of them?” Rakel asks.
Cat stares up at the birds, silent.