Lovers of Babel (11 page)

“Class, the chameleon is a member of the reptile species. You will learn about the animal kingdom later on in your schooling. Go on Sage,” Mrs.
Mertle said.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Then I felt something drop on my head. It was wiggling around and burrowing itself in my hair. The class erupted in a fit of laughter. The chameleon was making its way down my face when I grabbed it. I was so proud of my creation that I raised it to the ceiling in triumph, but the chameleon was so slick and small that it bu
rst through my tiny firsts and flew across the room onto one of the student’s desks. The class was in a riot jumping around trying to get a better look at the lizard. When a student would try to grab him he would dodge them and plop onto another desk. Mrs. Mertle was trying to control the chaos that was happening, but when she started to yell at us, the chameleon made a grand leap through the air and into her mouth. She clawed at her mouth doubled over trying to get the lizard out. The students were in hysterics. Mrs. Mertle looked at me wide eyed, mouth full, and inaudibly demanded that I, “oo omething!” I hadn’t a clue what to do with my creation. The only thing I could think of was to demand it to come out of her mouth.

“Hey, get out of there!” I yelled at the chameleon and it immediately shot through her mouth and back into my hair.

Mrs. Mertle propped her frail body up on her podium trying to catch her breath.

“That
thing
is out of control! You will need to work very hard to tame that creature!” she exclaimed breathlessly. I placed the collar around his neck and walked back to my desk.

That night I gave my
reptile friend the name Ralph. Throughout my elementary years Ralph was the most entertaining part of living in a boarding school. My friends and I would play with him all day getting him to camouflage into whatever environment we put him in. When I lost Ralph a few weeks after my tenth birthday I thought that nothing would ever come close to what Ralph did for my life. I was wrong.

In sixth grade we were introduced to the Power Games. The purpose of the games was to showcase our abilities and compete with our classmates in different challenging competitions. By the time students could compete in the games, they were well trained in their power grade and had developed a style of their own. The tournaments were held in a glass dome called the Tourney that was located on the west side of campus next to the classrooms. The inside of the Tourney was less extravagant than the rest of the school’s interior décor. There was no flooring, just a well-manicured lawn that was painted in the middle with the symbols of each power. The audience was seated on wooden bleachers that circled the entire dome. They were separated by power grade.

When I was first allowed to enter the Tourney
, I immediately understood why the elementary students were forbidden to participate in the Power Games. The audience was fierce and rowdy. Some audience members used noisy medieval instruments and objects to clash together forming a chaotic raucous that nearly shattered the glass dome. The Tourney was similar to the way the original Olympic Games looked, where the crowd cheered in anticipation for bloodshed.

Some people painted symbols on their faces that represented their particular power grade:

First was the symbol for creators; Earth.

Next was the symbol for teleporters; air.

And last was the symbol for transformers; water.

The
competitors stood on the lawn in front of the audience wearing white one-piece lycra suits with their symbol stitched over their hearts. Since this was our first time in the Tourney, we were allowed only to observe the competition from a section reserved for junior high students. The tournaments went on only twice a year with the first semester reserved for junior high competitors and the second semester for high school competitors. Once we sat in on our first two tournaments, we could begin our training for the Tourney. The competitors were chosen at random, so they say, and it was always a privilege to compete in front of the entire school.

             
On my first day at the Tourney, the bleachers were filled with hundreds of students and teachers. There were six players in all, two from each power grade, and they stood paired in teams on separate sides of the dome. The teams were chosen by age and each member possessed a different power. The games were different for each power grade, but all would observe the competitions and wait for their turn. The games were as follows:

             
Mimicry was for transformers. The nature of the game was simple: kids would compete with each other to see who could transform the fastest into whatever person or animal announced by the Herald.

             
The game of hexes was for creators. Gamers would try to invoke whatever the Herald called out to see who could create the object the fastest and most accurately.

             
Quicktrek was for teleporters. Competitors would have to teleport to different areas in the school to find a hidden object that the Herald called out. Whichever contestant could find the object the fastest and teleport back to the Tourney in time would win.

             
Each of these games would get more challenging as the children grew up. The senior students had to compete in the most dangerous competitions, which is why the second semester games were the most popular to attend.

             
There were anthems being played by a band before the tournaments started. As I sat in silent anticipation for the games to begin, I looked at each competitor to see who would be harder to defeat. To the right stood a short red-headed boy with a water symbol on his chest who looked to be about fifteen. He was fidgeting with his hands. He didn’t appear to have any hope in winning. A few hundred feet away from him on the far side of the dome I noticed a tall blonde boy who looked to be thirteen. Later I found out his name was Chad.

             
Although Chad was quite thin and lanky, he stood full of confidence and I concluded that he would be fun to watch. The last pair of competitors looked to be about fifteen which meant that they had plenty of practice and a couple more years of experience competing in the Tourney. Therefore, they were cocky and not in the least bit nervous. The pair included a guy with an air symbol who looked to be no more than six feet tall with muscles that didn’t belong on a fifteen year old and a girl with an earth symbol and big hair like brown cotton who had the meanest look on her face.

             
The competition always started with Hexes. The mean cotton-haired girl would be up against another girl who was Chad’s partner and whose glasses took up most of her face. It appeared to be an unfair pairing, but this was the nature of the Tourney. No matter the strength and stature of an opponent, it was the strength of one’s particular power that made all the difference.

             
The Herald, the Tourney’s eccentric announcer, was adorned in a large top hat with a blue feather and an ancient faded tailcoat. He was ridiculously outrageous; the ultimate symbol of what went on inside the Tourney . He pulled out a large horn and began his blaring announcement from his metal throne overlooking the entire glass arena.

             
“Ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls welcome to the sixteenth semi-annual Tourney competition! As the Tourney’s Herald, it is my pleasure to introduce this semester’s competitors in order from eldest to youngest. To my left we have Esmeralda Torres, a transformer, who is of the ripe age of thirteen. Her partner, Chad Pilgrim is the same age, but older by just a few months. Chad will be the youngest teleporter to ever compete for the Power Society!”

             
The crowd cheered at that stunning revelation.

             
“Next, we have Raven Sissero, a creator, who is fourteen, but don’t let her geeky appearance fool you. I hear she is a fierce creator. Her partner is Alex Walker, a transformer, who I suspect will give Esmeralda a run for her money. After all, he is a year older than she with much more experience.”

             
Boo’s permeated throughout the crowd. The audience liked to root for the underdog.

             
“But, we’ve seen miracles happen here before, let’s not forget. Last, but not least, we have our eldest competitors. George Costello, a teleporter, will be up against Chad in a nail-biting game of Quicktrek. Emily Francis, a creator, will start the games with Hexing and judging from her performance last year this shall be an entertaining tournament!”

             
The crowd obviously loved Emily, despite her intimidating death stare.

             
“George and Emily are fifteen and have had several years to perfect their powers. Those of you who are unlucky enough to compete against them will go down in Tourney history if you win.”

             
The Herald nodded at Chad and Raven who didn’t appear to be phased by their experienced competitors.

             
“Everyone should remember that this is just a game. Although, if you win, your face will go on the Wall of Champions in our dining hall and you will get to sit on the thrown during meal time for an entire year.”

             
The crowd clapped and howled in the anticipation of seeing their new champion. The reason why most audience members were so invested in the games was because of betting. Even though gambling was strictly forbidden in power school, there were secret betting stations in certain dormitories where students and teachers alike could place their bets for who might win. This is what made the Tourney so exciting and yet, so barbaric.

             
“Let us not forget to mention the privileges and responsibilities that come with being a champion. The power council may choose the winners for their most important quests, giving the champions an opportunity to use their powers to help the Power Society and to become heroes! Now, there will be three winners in all, one for each power grade, and if a complete pair happens to win, their entire grade gets to sit front row at the next Tourney and will be upgraded to heads of the school. Their classmates will be very proud.” The Herald stood up and placed his horn to his puckered lips.

             
“Please be vigilant contestants. This is the Tourney, the most important event in all of the power schools and we take it very seriously. Give us a show, but most of all enjoy yourselves,” he said with a hint of sarcasm and plopped back down in his seat.