Chapter 11 — The Rush

It only took two days. With my new personality on the forums, coupled with some gentle urging by Robin and Rana toward other members, I got my third duel lined up for Sunday. We would be meeting at a small, low-traffic bookstore. Rana had been there a few times, and volunteered to accompany me again. I appreciated it—after Friday, I was on edge for everything League-related.

The news didn't cover it much, to my relief. I didn't like thinking about it. Nobody would ever know my role in his death, but I knew. He'd probably stick in my head forever. Guilt, or maybe just morbid curiosity, drove me to look up the man in more detail. By the time his children appeared in the story, I threw my phone across the room onto my bed.

The duel was going to be mid-afternoon, before dinner time, so Rana was able to join me. We walked straight from school out to that part of the city. I'd offered to call Carolyn, but it was a nice day out and Rana was enjoying the fresh air. My paranoia about reporter ambushes notwithstanding, I found it pretty pleasant too.

My companion was no small part of that, for sure. Rana could tell I was feeling a bit troubled. She didn't push or pry, but knew exactly what to say and how to help me relax. I needed to chill and be at peace more than anything in that moment, with all the weighted stressors piling up in my skull. It was good to just lie myself down and forget about all my troubles for a minute.

Which, of course, is exactly what I did.

"Could just lay here forever," I mumbled.

"We'd starve," said Rana matter-of-factly. She sat up against a tree in the park, nestled quite comfortably amongst its roots. I was right on the grass, head in her lap, bathing in the sunlight. Rana had just finished her afternoon prayer, mat stowed in her bag and a gentle serenity in her expression.

"Worth it."

"I suppose I could always eat you," she added.

My eyes flew open, eyebrows shot straight up. I stared at her, mouth half-open.

Rana giggled. "You're very easy to set off, Noël."

"Thought you wanted to help me relax before my match," I muttered, heartbeat suddenly twice the normal rate.

"Where would be the fun in that?" Her eyes twinkled as she ran a finger across my cheek. "You'll do great, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." My heartbeat was coming back down again, as visions of Rana scattered in the face of my upcoming duel. "I'm only one-and-one."

"Everyone loses at least once early on," said Rana dismissively. "You've already got yours out of the way."

"You didn't," I pointed out.

Rana frowned. "...One anomaly isn't significant. That's not really my point, anyway. I think you've got a great skill at analyzing people."

"Really?" I shrugged, closing my eyes again and settling back into her lap.

"You've been forced to gain one by circumstance," she continued. "From what you've told me, you learned how to tell when a journalist was trying to aggravate you, right?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "Wasn't super hard."

"Is it fair to say you could also tell when they were being nice to you, and when they were just faking it?"

"...Yeah, I could."

Rana's hand stroked my face again. Her fingers were sun-warmed and soft, and sent a tingle through my skin at her touch. "That's a skill you earned. You learned how to read peoples' intentions long before you entered the League. I saw it in your eyes, the moment we met, and again when you dueled Jack."

"Saw what?" I asked, opening one eye and raising an eyebrow.

She smiled. "I felt you see right through me. You knew that I wanted you too, right?"

"I figured that was blind hope."

Rana laughed. "It worked out in the end. Still, my point stands. You've gotten better at this than most and you've barely begun. You're already better than me, I expect."

"But I lost to Robin."

"Not everyone is the same," said Rana with a shrug. "You learned to read adults as a child. Reading children as an adult is much different. Kids have different motivations and impulses, less learned caution and a greater willingness to throw strategy out the window."

"So how do you read that?" I asked.

"If I knew, I'd be willing to duel Robin," she said with another light laugh. "Most of the people you meet in the League will be adults, or at least high school age like us. You likely won't need it often."

"Good," I said. I opened my eyes and looked up at her, my smile gone. "I'm going to need everything I can get here. There's too much on the line."

Rana nodded. She leaned down and kissed me—not the passionate kisses of the day before, with wandering hands and caution to the winds, nor the light and friendly kisses of close friends. This was a warm, loving kiss of the person closest to you in the whole world. I kissed her back, and in that moment, every thought fled from my mind. There was nothing, just me and her, Rana and I. Together.

She broke away. The world faded back in. It was a gentle, smooth transition, nothing harsh or painful. I nodded, as if to reassure myself it had really just happened.

"You'll bring them back," said Rana firmly. "And I'll help you do it, however I can."

***

The bookstore was almost silent as we walked in. Street noise vanished when the door closed. The owner glanced up at us, but went back to her book seconds later, thoroughly disinterested. There wasn't a single other patron, just rows on rows of bookshelves. I glanced through the nearest, and saw most of the books were beat up, old, or simply esoteric. No wonder the place felt abandoned. And yet… it was exactly the kind of place that belonged in my city. I loved it all the same.

We headed into the back. As expected, my opponent was already seated in a comfy chair next to a table, cards out and ready to go. I sat down across, while Rana went in search of another chair.

"Find it okay?" the guy asked. He sounded nervous.

I shrugged. "My phone did."

He spouted an anxious laugh. "Well, nice to meet you."

"Sure," I said. My own thoughts were very different. I didn't want to meet him. Hell, I didn't have a clue what his name was—I'd blocked all the names on the forum with a simple script and replaced them with color-coded gibberish. Easy to tell apart, but virtually impossible to identify.

I didn't want to learn his name. Or anyone's. Nothing I would later recognize in a headline.

Rana returned with a chair and joined me. I placed down Check, and the guy revealed his own duelist. His commitment was the Raven of Westhalm, a wizard driven mad who could turn into a huge scarred version of his namesake, true name lost to history. As the cards hit the table, they flashed with light—this would be a League duel.

We'd be playing a single game yet again, rather than the full three game match. I'd considered it, but so far, my strength seemed to lay in the short-term high-speed match. I was a quick study of my opponents, and so far, I'd never given them much time to learn my own strategies. Even Kyla tended to start winning against me over long drawn-out matches of five or six games, as I got frustrated or impatient. In and out in a single game was my forte.

Six grounds, three of them Dangerous: The Battle of Ravenhead, Westhalm, and the Battle of the Belt. Both myself and my opponent took turns banning those straight-off, to my relief—two of his strikes wasted, while I only had to spend one. With his second strike done, we were left with three options: Blue City, the Corpodome, or the Lair of the Hunger. Two good for me, one bad. Easy strike on my side to take out the Hunger's lair.

My opponent took out Blue City to finish off, denying Check's urban bonuses. We were headed to the Corpodome. Rana murmured her customary prayer, hand in mine under the table, as we transitioned into the dueling ground.

Bright lights assaulted my eyes from every direction. Check materialized next to us as the swirling hues drifted away, though honestly it felt like they hadn't. So many different colors from arrays of spotlights in every direction, blasting the huge metal arena with a pervasive glare. The crowd roared, so loud the rumble shuddered through the legs of my chair as if it might shatter entirely. As they stomped in unison, the entire arena shook and swayed, skyscrapers all around us sliding in and out of focus.

We'd arrived in the Corpodome.

A huge open-air arena surrounded us, suspended from hovering airships right in the heart of cyberpunk Seattle. Smog was thick in the skies, spewed out by the industry churning beneath our feet, choking my throat. I could just barely see streets through the aluminum chain flooring around the edges of the arena, over a thousand feet below. The chain mesh was brittle, too—if one were thrown into it, they'd certainly plummet through to their death, to the satisfied cheers of bloodthirsty fans.

Mass bloodsport spectacle, tolerated for the stability it created, so craved by their corporate overlords. Bread and circuses to keep the economy humming and happy.

Check was right at home here. In fact, she'd fought in this very arena, though it was involuntary. I glanced at her, and saw sweat beading on her forehead. She hated being forced back here yet again. I whispered an apology to her without thinking about it. No response expected, but Check surprised me.

She threw me a faint smile, before returning her focus to the brown-cloaked man across from us.

My opponent had already laid down his first card. He was nervous. Would he be playing cautious, or overcompensate for his anxiety by going aggressive? What was I reading off him? More importantly, how was he reading me in return?

To me, the first bout was key. Start off on the right foot and the rest plays itself. If you could win the initial strike, start your strategy from turn one, it could easily snowball to victory. There were counters and comebacks, but why put yourself in that position? Why risk it, when the opponent is telling you how to win with his body language alone?

He was glancing at my cards as much as his own. The guy was trying to read me. I was projecting calm confidence, and not entirely faked with my girlfriend and my duelist at either side. He'd assume I was going aggressive, open with a risky move for a quick advantage—charge or prepare. Either way, he'd be attacking to counter it.

I played a Block. Safe, easy advantage, and not a move you'd play in a confident position. As our cards flipped, his revealed a Charge. Zero chip damage too—the Raven of Westhalm didn't get anything extra on a blocked attack. I had him, and I had my early advantage to boot with my free basic. The snowball was starting down the hill.

I'd make this quick, for Check's sake.

***

CHECK HAS WON THE DUEL.

Panting, Check gave a sardonic wave to the dome. The Raven was face-planted on the ground, utterly spent after Check's final barrage of bullets. Magic was no match for her skill with a pistol, or her sword. The crowd roared its approval, bloodsport addiction sated by the dead wizard sprawled on the metal frame of the Corpodome. Meanwhile, Check was leaving with barely a few scratches. A near-perfect duel.

As the world of future Seattle faded away, I gave Check a tiny nod. She returned it, and her smile shifted from sardonic to sincere. My duelist appreciated the overwhelming victory, keeping her safe and keeping us strong. We made a good team.

You're getting way too into this, Noël. Still not a real person.

We landed back in the bookstore. My opponent looked winded and practically beat-up himself. He sat back in a daze. After the roar of the Corpodome, the utter silence created by the rows of books and thick carpeting felt oppressive. My ears were still pounding, but my own head was clear. This was my moment, my place to make an impression and the kind of player I'd want to be.

I stood up, gave my opponent a respectful nod, and walked away. Not a word.

As we emerged into the sunlight, Rana at my side, I looked out into the blue sky and felt a sweet satisfaction pouring through my body. The rush of victory was no less strong the second time around. With it came the satisfaction that I was moving toward my goal. My parents weren't here yet, but they would be. All I needed was to win enough.

It dominated my thoughts, as the days went by. With no penalty on my shoulders and a growing confidence in my reading skills, I went all-out on the forum. Any thread, any challenger was up for grabs. Over the next few weeks, I snapped up a half-dozen duels against a fresh stack of opponents, again all unknowns. When those ran out, I scoped out Drizzle, or other game stores where I knew Riposte was sold, watching for the telltale glow of a commitment. Most of the time, Rana accompanied me, but others I attended alone.

The duels alone were the ones where I felt most nervous. Despite the assurances from the Moderator, how could I really be sure nothing would happen? I couldn't bring any of my other friends like Kyla, or even Carolyn, as I couldn't reveal the League. For a sixteen-year-old girl to be running solo all around the city, deliberately going places where nobody could find me?

My mission could be over in one false step, a single fatal mistake.

I did my best to compensate. Any time I went out on my own, Rana knew precisely where I'd be and what I was doing there. An app on my phone let her send a request to find me, and I'd set Carolyn up with the same functionality. She never questioned it, to my relief, but I did wonder what she thought of my odd requests day in and day out.

In the duels, I continued to play it safe as well. Every single time a Dangerous ground came up, I made sure it didn't reach the match. For one, I was there with Rana—neither of us wanted to deal with unnecessary danger—but beyond that, I didn't get any real advantage from them. I was a scrawny kid who just took a regular morning run. Many of my opponents were in proper shape, or at least they looked like they were. An endurance match against the elements weighed in their favor above mine.

I'd asked Rana about her choice to go for a Dangerous ground against Bradley. She admitted it was a gamble, but that was Rana in a nutshell—quiet and timid at first glance, but there was a reckless fighter under the surface. An advantage taken at a risk was more appealing to her, if anything. I didn't get it, but I respected the hell out of it. After all, she was undefeated.

There was no downtime. When I wasn't dueling or in class, I was practicing with Kyla, or researching some part of the League. I had a few different private message threads open, speculating in my cheery online persona about the rules, penalties, who ran the show, how much was enough. No one else seemed to have a clue. It reassured me—my lack of experience didn't feel like a drawback. If it were, I'd work around it.

My life didn't make it easier on me. School was getting more difficult every day, as classes moved past the first couple weeks of easy material and into the real work. On top of that, I had reporters still dogging my every move, and the usual whispers as another controversy sprung up in the news. A couple days, I ended up skipping rather than endure it, wandering the city or the parks, or just spending time at the game stores.

Worst of all, I had Reylon Young.

I couldn't explain it. At least every few days, the guy would say something, do something to make my life a bit more miserable. I had to credit the huge football star with one thing—his insults were creative and biting. Each one felt like a spear aimed straight at my emotions, and he threw hard.

Reylon didn't limit himself to verbal jabs, either. My things would disappear occasionally. It was never anything personal, nothing that couldn't be replaced. The allowance from Lloyd was enough I could pay for new ones without needing to ask. Reylon's goal wasn't financial pain though—it was humiliation. I couldn't go buy new supplies in the middle of school, so I was forced to borrow, to ask for handouts. I, the richest girl in school, had to beg.

Rana didn't know why he was doing it either. She'd debated telling him about our relationship, but I decided against it. If the only reason he was treating me well was because I was dating his best friend, I didn't want it. I'd endure his antics rather than get a false mask of friendship. There were bigger things on my mind.

Every few days, I tried to reach Dash. He was the only winner I knew of, besides Howard Liebowicz, and Howard had already vanished off the map. I'd managed to get one message back, a polite but firm declination to speak. Dash was my best hope of figuring out my long-term strategy and my timeline. Problem was, he seemed impossible to reach.

None of us understood why. We knew exactly where he was—working his EMT shifts, spending time with Wendy as she steadily regained full motor function, and being the hero he always was. Yet… nobody could find him. I asked the group about him at the next meeting in the Question, and nobody had heard a word.

Dash was done with us.

You'll lose them all, the moment you succeed. Better make it count.

It seemed out of character for him, and I vowed it wouldn't happen to me. I knew without a doubt, I'd never abandon Rana like that. As the weeks passed, we grew closer every minute we stole together. My nightmares had turned to excited dreams, thoughts of Rana and my family united, a happy home.

"You think they'll like me?" asked Rana hesitantly, as I recounted one such dream at the rear of an empty bus. We were on our way to my next duel, ten stories up in a hotel room downtown. "Even though I'm a girl?"

I hesitated. More than anything I wanted to say yes, but… "I never came out to them," I murmured, leaning on her shoulder. She would have pushed me away, but with the empty bus, we had enough privacy. "I'd like to think they'd be accepting, but… what if, you know?"

"You can never be sure. I know," said Rana. She put an arm around my shoulders and hugged me tight. "I have the same thoughts every day."

"It's not something I can just not be," I said. "I am who I am."

Rana leaned in and kissed me. "And I love who you are."

My heart fluttered. It was the first time she said it. I couldn't bring myself to match her yet, but now I was even more determined to succeed.

We stepped off the bus three stops later, rode the elevators up, and were soon deep in the Olympic Forest. Check faced off against the terrifying Ogham the Ravenous, goblin general, and his scores of archers lobbing arrows at us from every treetop.

It didn't matter—Check dodged every last one of them. As the sun dipped behind the battlements of the castle above the canopy, her sword sliced through Ogham's neck. He fell to the dirt, and I savored yet another victory.

It wasn't always so easy. Some of the duels were hard-fought. I dropped plenty of rounds, and came desperately close to losing on a few. Penalties were always there, lurking just out of reach, but I never landed another one. Every time it came down to the wire, I had a rock to fall back on.

It started in the first duel I held without Rana. Just myself and Check, standing on the terrace of the Castle of the Cloud Giants, facing off against another Clawing Hunger player. As the clouds rushed by underneath us, masking the land of Midgard thousands of feet below, Check was bleeding all over the stone. The Hunger had taken a few vicious swipes, and escaped my desperate Blitz with one of his own.

The monster split into four pieces, scuttling horrors under its cloak coming to light. Each one struck at Check, too fast and varied for her to dodge aside. We were on the ropes, already down a round, and backed right up to the edge without a railing to catch on. If I took just two steps back, I'd be falling for a long, long time.

As I tried to pick my next move, a motion caught the corner of my eye. Check was reaching out to me, arm outstretched. Her hand clasped my shoulder.

I froze. Nothing like that ever happened, did it? I'd seen some forms of connection, even affection between duelist and player before, but always as a reaction. The player did something first. Check had moved of her own accord. Had I done something subconsciously to prompt it?

Her hand squeezed. I could feel her heart racing through her fingertips, so hard did it beat. She leaned close. Husky breaths brushed my cheek, and a scent of exhaustion permeated the air. I heard a voice from far away, barely a whisper, something I could have imagined if it weren't for her hand on my shoulder.

"Focus."

She stood back up, and in a moment, Check was back at her spot. My opponent's face mirrored my own surprise and confusion. I was quicker to react, laying down my action before he could recover. It was a gamble, a Charge out of the blue despite our plight, and it worked. We barely won the round. A mere five minutes later, we'd demolished the Hunger in the final round, and I chalked up another victory.

Past that duel, whenever I fought alone, Check would occasionally act. Sometimes, it was a gesture behind her back, others a smile and a nod. She never again approached me like she had. I wondered if there were rules for the duelists just like for ourselves, unspoken barriers that could never be breached.

It was a curiosity though at best. I had more important things on my mind. If Check wanted to help me in my duels, all the better. Too much time spent trying to explain the impossible would drive me insane. I had to accept the impossible was real, or my parents were forever lost to me.

There were days where I took it too far. Four weeks into my rush of duels, I'd begun to dry up on opponents. When I'd begun seeking them openly, I'd decided to never duel the same person twice. My advantage was reading people quick and early. If we dueled again, I might lose my edge. Longer duels favored my opponents. The downside, of course, was a rapidly dwindling pool of opponents.

I accepted a challenge in the middle of school. It was the Friday before Halloween, October 29th. The school was packed with people in costumes, since the day itself fell on a Sunday that year. I'd be able to sneak out without anyone recognizing me. A little bit of flexibility from my opponent allowed me to schedule it right in the middle of CS.

"You need what?" Kyla murmured, as we hunched over a keyboard together.

Rana was one seat down, working away at the coding problem set. She leaned in as well, pretending to help with Kyla's screen—despite the fact that Kyla was actually far ahead of us both. She'd shown a remarkable amount of growth in programming skill ever since Rana's comment about working below her level to get paired with us. Kyla was smart, she'd just never been challenged like that before.

"Just cover for me," I said, pulling on my costume. "I gotta go do something. It'll be over before class ends, don't worry."

"What am I supposed to say?" asked Kyla, raising an eyebrow. "You took sick? Or you're sneaking off with your girlfriend for some alone-time away from the press?"

Rana's face reddened, but to my relief, Kyla was still staring at me and didn't notice. "What can we do?" she asked from behind Kyla, mouthing 'League?' as soon as I glanced over.

I nodded. "Just say I got called away for something. Play up my history if you have to."

"Ooh," said Kyla, her eyes flashing. "You got it. I'll have Mr. Muskat sobbing over your terrible day."

"Not too much, please." I rolled my eyes. As I did, an opening appeared—the teacher was working with another student, facing away from the door.

"You better be making out!" hissed Kyla as I took off.

Our classes were eighty-six minutes long. We'd been in class for five. I had a good hour once I got away from the school. My opponent was waiting on the roof of a building several blocks away. It was a real good thing I hadn't let my morning run routine slip between all the dueling. I reached the place and climbed up the ladder bolted to the side just in time.

She looked like someone straight out of a biker gang—studded leather jacket and fingerless gloves, boots and sunglasses. I felt like she was aiming to intimidate, but I wasn't going to let it shake me. There was already a card table and cheap folding chairs set up in the gravel, and I took my seat at the exact same time she did. My breath was controlled enough that I wouldn't seem rushed, even as the clock in my head ticked down.

Sixty minutes until class ended.

I dealt out the grounds. To my dismay, it was all bad. I wasn't getting an advantage here, as my one good option was immediately banned by my opponent. As we narrowed it down, I realized another painful shock—she wasn't following the pattern. This girl wanted to go Dangerous, and she was forcing my hand.

Fitting enough, this was my thirteenth duel. Normally I'm not a superstitious person, but… come on.

Two choices: Canary's Fall or Talvela's Grief. I couldn't let her see me hesitate. Any clue at my apprehension or fear, and she'd gain insight into my moves. Cool, calm and collected, that was the name of the game. I struck Canary's Fall—after all, I knew how that one ended, with the airship down in flames and crashing to the earth after an ambush by sky pirates. After my close call on the flying castle, I wasn't feeling like taking to the wild blue yonder again so soon.

The world swirled away once more, colors shimmering and the Portland skyline vanishing in a psychedelic weave. As we were pulled through, the scent of brine and harsh sea winds buffeted us. I flinched, but to my relief, so did my opponent.

We crashed onto the wooden deck of a huge age-of-sail ship, unnamed in the story and forever doomed to the depths of the ocean. After a nod to Check, I gazed out across the rigging into the ocean waves. Our ship was already caught in the trap, a massive whirlpool from which there was no escape. Crewmembers swarmed all around us, desperate to swing it out of the turn, but the ship was already listing into the pull.

In the midst of it all, we dueled. She was fast, faster than anyone I had ever dueled. I was struggling to keep up. Our cards were dropped, read, and shoved to the side so quickly, Check and her opponent (The Nightblade himself, invisible sword and everything) never paused to take a break. I caught glimpses of her as she retreated from blow after blow, and took relief in the confidence on my duelist's face.

Of course, with the speed we were dueling, the effects of our arena came fast too. Our ship was beset by huge sea serpents bursting out of the whirlpool. They slammed scales against the creaking wooden hull. Cannon blasts rumbled through the planks and made my ears ring as the ship fought back. The gunnery chief was shouting orders, while the crew rushed about with gunpowder and munitions.

A serpent roared up nearby, throwing its body against the rigging. Sea spray mixed with splinters of wood showered us. One cannon blast fired so close, I was deafened for a minute. A direct hit, the cannonball burst through the serpent's scales. Blood sprayed as it fell back into the ocean, coating all four of us.

"Damn," gasped my opponent, caught up in the excitement. I took advantage of her distraction to lay down my next card without scrutiny. The cards remained totally dry and clean, unlike ourselves.

Our duel continued, even as the ship began to tilt dangerously askew. We were headed deeper into the whirlpool, as the doomed crew desperately tried to keep the ship afloat. Serpents and other monsters of the deep continued to attack, yet all I could think about was the clock.

ROUND ONE: CHECK.

Forty minutes, Noël...

I kept the momentum going, and my opponent matched me. Six bouts into the next round, a huge tentacle slammed port-side. Everyone on the deck stumbled toward the whirlpool.

Men and women screamed as they went overboard. The lucky ones were gobbled up immediately. Others were cursed to drown in a whirlpool of nightmares. Our ship was at a forty-five degree angle, the ocean practically a wall in front of us. The Nightblade slammed his sword into the decking and held fast, while my opponent and I grabbed tight to the table.

A gasp from my side. Check was knocked off-balance. She'd been hurled toward the railing.

Heedless of the danger, I threw myself after her. Check's body slammed into the elegant wood rail. The timber splintered. She was about to go overboard.

In a blind rush, I managed to grab onto the anchor chain. My other hand flung out into empty air, grabbing desperately, praying for contact.

I caught her by the forearm.

My shoulder screamed with pain, but I held on tight. As the crew fought off the kraken, our ship began to roll upright again. The ship might still be deep in the whirlpool, but at least we could stand up again. Breathless, I helped Check to her feet.

We were both soaked, but alive.

Check leaned forward and plucked something out of my shoulder. Another sharp pain forced a harsh growl through my teeth. My eyes screwed up. It felt like a dozen needles were stabbing through my skin. My shoulder was bleeding, bad. A chunk of wood had impaled me on its way overboard. I shivered, and it wasn't just from the ocean cold.

Blood was all over the deck at my feet. Some of it was mine.

My opponent watched us wide-eyed. Check reached down onto her belt and pulled something out—a medical gauze laced with flesh-repairing nanites, very out of place on this ship. She pressed it to my shoulder, and in moments, the wound was stitched over. It wasn't gone, and there was still a terrifying amount of blood soaking my shirt, but I was going to survive.

It was Check's turn to help me, half-carrying me back to the table. Her arms were strong and sure. I sat down in my chair and picked up my hand. My head was scrambled, trying to remember where the game was, what my moves and my reads had been.

"You win," said my opponent. She flipped her commitment over. Likewise, the Nightblade sheathed his sword and gave a bow.

"What?" I asked stupidly. I wasn't winning yet, even if I was confident I could turn it around.

"Hell if I'm gonna watch you kill yourself," she replied, as another crash of sea spray flew across the bow behind her. "You earned it. Now get out of here."

I was about to protest further when Check's hand fell on my shoulder again. She shook her head.

Of course, she was right. A win was a win. Anything to get us home. I was down to just twenty minutes before class ended. As the ship faded away, I mouthed a thank you to Check—a sentiment she echoed back to me.

I didn't stick around to talk after the duel. Gravel flew like the ocean spray as I sprinted across the rooftop and back to the ladder. The entire world seemed to be swaying as I ran. My feet were unsteady, and pain wracked my shoulder. I threw my costume back on and darted through the back of the school, slowing as I headed into the early lunch crowd.

It only took a few minutes for me to navigate my way through the school. I sent Kyla a text, and waited until I saw the teacher's back turn yet again. The door squeaked as I snuck inside, and while a couple kids glanced my way, nobody said a word.

"...Did you jump in a swamp or something?" asked Kyla as I sat down.

My costume stayed on, lest they see the pool of serpent's blood mixed with my own blood and sweat, plus the waters of an imaginary ocean, soaking my shirt. Under the Halloween layer, I was a mess. It was a wonder I wasn't dripping everywhere.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Not gonna ask, but seriously Noël… you're gonna need a shower, ASAP."

"Thanks for the tip," I muttered, turning back to my computer. The screen wouldn't stay in focus. Everything was shifting, swaying, like I was still on the ship. I couldn't type. I felt like I could barely breathe.

Rana was watching me very carefully across Kyla's shoulders. My best friend was already muttering about something to do with the project—usually complaining about the style guidelines—but my girlfriend was seriously concerned. I slowly shook my head and mouthed 'later', doing my best to convey some kind of comforting emotion.

It didn't work. As soon as the class bell rang, Rana gestured for me to follow. In minutes, we'd disappeared out the nearest side door of the school and ducked into a row of bushes.

"I'm fine," I said again, though even I knew it sounded weak and hollow.

"Show me your shoulder," she said quietly.

"What?"

"You had both hands on the keyboard, but you only typed with your right." Rana gestured again at my torso. "Show me."

I glanced around, just to be extra sure nobody was watching. This particular set of bushes wasn't visible from any windows, but it wasn't like someone couldn't walk up on us. Worse, I couldn't just pull out my collar. If I was going to show her, I'd have to take my whole shirt off. A breeze rustled the bushes as I took off my costume, shaking the trees and fluttering Rana's hijab.

First time Rana will see me without a top on, came an incongruous thought as I began to peel it away. My shirt was still soaked, but thankfully not dripping. As Rana saw the massive red stains, her hands jumped to her mouth.

"Astaghferullaha rabbi min kulle zumbin wa atoobo ileh," she murmured. Her hand reached out and traced the wound on my shoulder, drifting across my skin and around the edges of my bra.

"All good," I muttered back. "Check fixed it."

Rana nodded. "I see that… this is stitched so well it's almost invisible." She glanced around. "You should dress again."

"What did you say?" I asked, as I pulled my shirt back on. "That was a lot longer than your usual prayer."

"There are many prayers," said Rana, looking away as I dressed, or maybe just to act as lookout. "When we enter an arena, I pray for safe travel, and when I win, I thank Allah for blessing my victory."

"And that?"

Rana turned back, and without warning threw her arms around me. She hugged tight, heedless of the school around us, anyone who might walk by and see. "I was asking for forgiveness for my sins. It's my fault you were hurt."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, and hugged her back. "I got hurt by a kraken, not you."

"I brought you into this insanity," said Rana, her face buried in my hair. "I was so selfish."

"Selfish?" I asked stupidly. "But you—"

It hit me. Rana had always seemed like she'd been hiding something, and I'd just figured out what. It wasn't that she was a lesbian—Rana held zero shame about her sexuality, and hid it purely for her parents' sakes. This was an actual lie. I didn't release the hug, but there was suddenly a lot less warmth between us, a barrier shoved in the way of the perfect relationship I'd built up in my head.

"You have lost," I murmured.

Rana nodded without a word, still grasping tight to me as if drowning.

"I was your way out of a penalty."

A tear dropped onto my neck. "I lied to you," she whispered.

I wanted to step away, wanted to run. Another person close to me lying through their smiles, playing friend for their own gains. Rana was in this game for herself, same as the rest of us. I was a convenient exit for a penalty, a safe bet of someone desperate enough to grasp at the vague promise of a wish.

She'd used me.

And yet… she'd still given me that chance. My parents could live again, thanks to Rana's invitation. More than that, she'd given me so many beautiful afternoons together over the last month, and a bond like nothing I'd ever known before. I did love her, even if I couldn't voice it yet.

I let go, and stepped away.

Rana stood before me, wrapped up tight, her own clothes having picked up some of the blood and ocean water, though so faint you could mistake it for the colors of the fabric. She seemed so alone in that moment. I looked her in the eyes, those beautiful fields of starlight I'd fallen for. Strength returned, and with it, my feelings were clear.

"I love you," I said.

More tears appeared, drifting down her cheeks and glittering in the sunlight like meteorites. "Noël, I—"

"This isn't goodbye." I resisted the urge to rush over and hug her, to reassure her everything was all right, that I was still with her. "I just… I need some time."

"I love you too," she whispered.

I smiled, as best I could under the circumstances. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded. Without another word, I headed back inside the school. It only took me a few minutes before I broke down. I bolted for the nearest bathroom, threw myself into the first stall, and locked the door. There, I finally let the tears flow free. I sobbed like I hadn't in years.

These were the same tears as when the paramedics walked across the asphalt to tell me my parents were gone, even as I escaped with barely a scratch. The same tears as when my best friend laughed in my face with an onlooking crowd, turning my whole world against me. The same tears I let free in the dead of night, alone in my room with no one around, a grief I'd thought long-lost to me.

"Noël?"

Kyla's voice floated over the wall. I managed to force out a "yeah", but I couldn't cut off the release entirely. I didn't want to, either. If nothing else, it felt good to finally cry again.

"I'm coming in," she added, and before I could reply, she had already unlocked the door and swung it wide.

Despite everything, I glanced at the door, visibly surprised. The bathroom locks weren't exactly strong, but they were locks.

Kyla shrugged. "My dad taught me how to pick almost anything before he got arrested. Family business, y'know?"

I choked a laugh between the tears. She grinned.

"You're seriously screwed up right now, huh?" said Kyla, taking a seat next to me. The stall was seriously crowded, but in a way, it made it nicer as I could lean on her for support. The world had really only just stopped swaying for me.

"I might have just made a huge mistake," I murmured, trying to stay upright. My shoulder pinged with pain again, but I resisted wincing.

"End-of-the-world mistake?"

"No, but—"

Kyla shook her head, hair flying into my face as she did. "No buts, girlfriend, 'cept the sexy ones we're sitting on. If it's not end-of-the-world, you'll figure out what to do about it. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met, and you never give up. No way in hell are you starting now."

I hesitated. The bell rang, signalling the next class had begun. Kyla and I were both late now, but she didn't show any signs of moving off the toilet. She threw her arm around my shoulders.

"You're late for class," I said quietly.

"So are you, grasshopper," she said, nodding toward the door. "I'm not moving til you do."

Slowly but surely, I picked myself up. Kyla walked me to the sink and helped splash some water on my face. Together, we exited the bathroom and started heading for our classes, mercifully on the same side of the building. I needed the support—physical and emotional—in that moment.

But only for that moment. Halfway there, I was off Kyla's shoulder, and walking with my head high once more. Kyla had put me back on track. I was going to duel as many times as it took, and bring my parents back, and Rana and I would be together.

The sweet, satisfying rush of victory beckoned.