Tib turns to Blane. “I’d bet a load of cash that you win.”
“It’s pretty incredible, all the genetic decoding you did,” Van admits.
“Our resident bodyguard brain,” boasts Radius, clapping Blane on the back.
“Wait! Here they come again,” Bea exclaims. It’s true; the judges are marching back in, ominous determination on their faces. George Axiom yanks down his suit jacket as he scowls at Stazzi. What’s going on?
Stazzi, not George gets up and proceeds to the center podium. Her long skirt rolls in waves behind her. “This was a very hard decision,” she starts, a theatrical smile spreading across her face. “We were not unanimous. But we did reach a clear decision.”
Is it my imagination that George Axiom has just rolled his eyes at Stazzi? I scan the room. No one else seems to have caught it. But I did, I’m certain.
Stazzi continues. “The grand winner, from Baronland South, is … Mr. Alex Dean!”
The audience erupts in loud objections. Seems like everyone is arguing now.
“What the heck!” yells Tib, “a rich kid from Baronland South? What a sick joke.”
“Doesn’t seem right that someone should win for a military weapon,” I say.
Blane, who’s been holding it together, bursts out, red-faced, “This contest was rigged. Everyone knows that my project was better than that military brat’s.”
“Much better,” Haddy agrees.
“By far,” I chime in.
Van growls, “Those Baronland South snobs shouldn’t even be in the competition. They don’t need the frying money.”
Apparently lots of kids feel this way, because heated variations on this theme explode all around us. Amidst the clamor Alex Dean marches up to the podium in his official looking navy suit and collects his prize money, in a bulging white envelope Stazzi hands him.
I’m starting to feel sick, and dizzy. Is it the cake I ate? Dr. Varik warned me not to eat sweet desserts. I should’ve stuck to the liquid vitamins he gave me. Was it that chocolate cake, or is it from the sudden, distressed humming in my head?
Danger, danger, danger! It hisses. He’s lost, he’s lost. Lost!
The humming turns to abrasive static and I lose my footing.
Trip into darkness.
“Wake up, Ruby!” Cold, wet sprinkles hit my face. “Ruby, it’s me, Blane. You okay?”
I shake my head and raise my lids, gaze into Blane’s anxious face. He’s got my head cradled on his lap. One of his hands is stroking my hair, and the other is holding a cup. When he sees me looking up at him he puts down the cup and bends over, kisses me on the forehead. “You scared me, Ruby. What happened?”
In silent answer, the noise in my head swells once again. It relays no clear message the way it normally does, more like a dozen messages colliding in discordant and tangled tumbleweeds. “My head’s hurting,” is all I can say to describe it. “We need to get home. Something’s wrong. Maybe it’s Thorn. I just don’t know.”
“Can you stand?”
“I’ll try.” Blane helps me to my feet. Other people are gaping at me. I remember we’re in the grand ballroom at the Axiom contest celebration. How embarrassing to have fallen in the middle of the activity. I brush off my crumpled dress. Haddy and Bea wear pale faces as they help Blane guide me to the exit.
“We need to find the chaperone and get out of here.” Bea scans the clusters of people. I see the Vegas High teachers, and the Spokane group in their woodsy-inspired twine gear. The Baronland South contingent in their navy and grays are speaking to Stazzi over by the long table.
Finally, Bea locates our guide. We gather our gear and he delivers us to the lot outside. George’s minions load us into a white glider and give the driver instructions to ferry us back to The Greening. The Axiom folks seem eager to be rid of us now that we’ve not been declared the winners. Fine by me. I need to get back, make sure all is okay with Thorn and Armonk. A bitter taste lingers, and it’s not from that chocolate cake.
Armonk’s text pings on Blane’s holo tablet when we’re about an hour from The Greening. This is a highly unusual event, as they’re not exactly friends and he’s never sent Blane a text before. I reason that it’s because I forgot my holo pad.
Reds going crazy. Thorn unwell. Won’t talk. He wants Ruby. Return soon? Armonk
There’s no more making out in the back of the glider. No more fun word games or flirting, no more gossip about the spoiled, entitled kids from Baronland South or theories why they’d grant Alex Dean the prize. I just want to get home, and fast.
“Oh, why did I go off and leave Thorn?” I wail. “What if Stiles came for him?”
Bea shakes her head. “Armonk mentioned nothing about Stiles. Calm down, Ruby, you need to keep your wits about you.”
“How can I keep my wits about me when my head is splitting from the worst headache ever?” I press my palms into my temples and groan. If this is what the stromanet sounds like I don’t want any part of it! Has it mixed signals with some other entity?