Psion Alpha (44 page)

The idea that Byron’s
grade hinged on someone else’s performance drove him bonkers. He looked at the
current list of students ranked twenty-one to forty. All three of his friends
were in the group, but so were several students in Diego’s circle, including
Omar, who ranked fortieth in the class. If Byron got Omar, he figured he could
kiss his aviation skull goodbye. He had no doubt Omar would sabotage the exam
to help Diego.

With his assigned
partners, Byron flew almost three dozen simulations against other pairs,
winning most of them. All simulations began the same: both jets had vertical
takeoff, then flew five kilometers in opposite directions. At the computer’s
mark, they turned and flew toward each other, trying to lock onto the
opponent’s jet for four seconds. Byron’s mastery of tactics and maneuvers
proved to be his greatest asset. Over his eighteen months at the ETC, he’d
logged over a thousand hours of flying time.

Despite winning the
majority of his practice matches, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something
would go wrong during the exam. For that to happen, he’d have to be paired up
with one of two people: Omar or Emerald. It shamed him to feel that way about
Emerald, but he still couldn’t stand being around her. She had tried multiple
times to talk to him one-on-one, but he had brushed off all her attempts. And
while their relationship for the last six months had been cordial, it still
lacked the intimacy and depth they’d shared before she slept with Trapper.

When Friday came,
Professor Wright assigned them to another hour of simulations. “When class
dismisses, your partners will be displayed on the big screen,” he told them.
“Work hard over the weekend. The exams start … Monday.”

Byron couldn’t focus on
the lecture. If he aced his exam, he’d almost certainly win the golden skull.
His partner was
everything
. Diego ranked second in the class. Byron had no
doubt they’d face each other. It seemed poetic somehow. He also knew Wright
favored him over Diego, and would want to give Byron the chance to seal a
victory by beating Diego in a head-to-head match. When the bell rang to dismiss
class, dozens of students gathered around the screen. Byron pushed through
until he stood next to Trapper.

One by one the teams
appeared, starting with the lowest ranked students and continuing up to the
highest. Finally, at the end, Byron saw his name:

Diego Vulpes Newblood

with

Omar Muhammad Al-Rawi

vs.

Walter Tennyson Byron

with

Emily “Emerald”
Hayman

Byron snorted angrily
when he read the name.
Of course
.… Then he turned to Trapper with an
awkward, fake smile plastered to his face so Trapper wouldn’t detect his disappointment.
Emerald stood about three meters back, beaming like she’d won the lottery.

“When do we start
practicing?” she asked. He’d never seen her so excited about flying.

He tried to keep
smiling, but the longer he faked it, the worse it felt. “Uh … tonight, I guess.
Is that all right?”

“What time? Where?”

Byron gazed around the
room so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “Here. 2100.”

A mass exodus began as
the students headed from the simulation center toward the next class. Byron
joined them, suddenly feeling tired enough that he wanted to take a nap during
the next lecture. Otto and Trapper fell in step behind, talking about their
assigned partners and what the other might know about them.

Emerald touched Byron’s
arm. “I’m glad I got assigned to work with you. It’ll be like old times.”

“Right. Old times.” He
was glad she didn’t see him roll his eyes.

He avoided her the rest
of the day. It wasn’t easy; Team Oddball had more lectures that afternoon, then
dinner, and, following that, a two-hour study meeting. He tried not to notice
the furtive glances Trapper shot at him and Emerald through most of the study
session. It made him squirm in his chair.
You have nothing to worry about,
Trapper. I am not interested in her
. By the time 2100 rolled around, Byron
didn’t think he’d learned a thing.

Emerald got up first
and shoved her tablet and papers into her bag. “Sorry, guys. Byron and I need
to prep for the exam. Golden skull! Right, Byron?”

He mumbled his excuse
and left the room, ignoring Trapper’s deeply displeased frown. As they walked
through the study center toward the aviation area, Emerald groaned about how
tired she was of studying for exams. She paused several times, waiting for
Byron to respond, but he kept silent. All he could think about was how vastly
unfair the universe was to put him with her for the exam. A one in twenty
chance he got her, and, of course, it had happened.

There weren’t many
simulators that sat two operators, but they were lucky to grab one immediately
after another group finished. Byron, as the pilot, took the front seat and
loaded a program with an A.I.-controlled fighter jet as their competition. The
simulation should have been simple enough, but so far Byron wasn’t impressed
with Emerald. Twice she lost her target after he’d set her up for easy
opportunities to lock on.

“You missed again!” he
yelled at her. “Take the shot!”

“I am!”

Byron pulled hard on
the controls to set her up for a third, final attempt. “Now now now! Get him!”

“I’m trying!” she
looked over at the clock.

“FOCUS ON THE ENEMY!”

Emerald fired for the
final time, but missed. The computer simulation ended. Byron exhaled loudly in
frustration. “You took too long to lock on after I gave you good shots. Why did
you wait?”

“You kept barking
orders at me,” she responded. “That doesn’t help. Let me react to your
piloting, and I’ll hit the plane.”

“Fine. We’ll try that
and see how you do.”

He restarted the
program at the same difficulty level. Once they were in pursuit of the enemy aircraft,
he began to pay more attention to Emerald’s shooting than his own flying.
“Right there! Right—hit him!”

“Don’t yell at me!” she
snapped through gritted teeth. “Adjust your angle of attack or you’re going to
cut short my window.”

“I am not going to—”
Byron checked his controls and saw that she was correct. “Fixed it. Now nail
him.”

“Nailing,
sir
.”

Byron smirked despite
himself. The expression died quickly when Emerald missed the target. “What are
you doing back there?”

“I said stop yelling at
me.”

“THEN HIT THE FREAKING
PLANE!”

“Computer terminate
program,” Emerald ordered in cold, furious tone. The screens around them shut
off and the lights overhead turned on, allowing Byron to see the expression on
her face as she glared down at him. “What is your deal?”

“My deal is that you
are not doing your job.”

“No, that isn’t your
deal. That’s your excuse to yell at me. What has been your deal for the last
seven months?”

“I have no idea what
you mean. Now can we please—”

“No.”

“This test is
important—”

“To me, too.”

“Stop interrupting me,
Emerald.”

“Stop acting like an
idiot, Walter.”

“You know what? I knew
this would not work.” Byron smacked the arm of the pilot’s chair each time his
voice crested in volume. “We are never going to make a good team, which is exactly
why I did not want to be paired with you.”

Emerald’s eyes
glistened, making them sparkle from the lights above them. She rubbed her nose
very quickly as though she could hide her tears from him if she did it fast
enough.

“What a sweet thing to
say. Can we turn on the machine and get our next session over with? I’m
suddenly eager to leave.”

Byron slammed his fist
into the simulator’s power button, instantly regretting it. Pain coursed from
his knuckle to his shoulder. He gripped his hand and bared his teeth, seething.
“Ow! Ow ow ow!”

“You okay?”

“Yes.” He grabbed the
controls and more pain crackled in his hand. “Ow! No!”

For a moment, the only
sound in the simulator was Emerald sighing. “You need to go to the infirmary
and have your hand examined.”

“My hand is fine.”

Emerald threw her arms
up. “Even better. Let’s get moving. Start us up.”

Byron tried again to
grasp the controls in front of him. He ignored the throbbing for almost a
minute before accepting that he’d definitely injured himself. For a few seconds,
it was all too much: the stress of the test, the knife hiding in his room, the
idea of having to work with Emerald, the stupid bolts of electricity shooting
up his arm. He wanted to cry, but ended up laughing at himself. Everything was
just so dumb. Behind him, he heard Emerald snickering, too. He wanted to hug
her and uppercut her at the same time.

“Sooner your hand gets
looked at, sooner we can figure out what to do.”

Grumbling, Byron walked
with her to the infirmary. The nurse on staff told them to wait as the doctor
was treating someone else. After x-raying his hand, she put them in an
examination room and closed the door on her way out.

“What are you going to
do if it’s broken?” Emerald asked.

“Cry, I guess.” Byron
looked at his hand. A nasty blue and purple spot had swollen on his knuckle. It
looked broken.

Emerald observed him
with a sad expression. She reached out and touched the injured spot. Then she
raised his knuckle to her lips and kissed it. Byron thought this an odd thing
to do, but felt a rush through his chest to his stomach at the same time.

“I don’t think it’s
broken.”

“Are you a doctor now?”

She set his hand down.
“Why are you so intent on hurting me? What did I do?”

“Is this because I
yelled at you in the sims?”

Emerald didn’t answer.
Sadness filled her eyes as she stared at him. It made him ashamed of his
behavior. For months she had tried to be his friend, and he had rejected her
because of his shallowness—because he couldn’t get over one decision she’d made
that didn’t even affect him. He put his hand back on hers.

“I suck,” he admitted.
“Yeah, I feel a lot of stress, but there is no excuse for yelling at you. Sorry
for being rude.”

“Last summer I applied
to an art school in Los Angeles and got accepted to start in January this year.”
Emerald smiled proudly, but he also saw disappointment in her expression.
“Tattoo art is one of my dreams. Instead, I chose to come back so I could be
with my best friend.”

“Trapper was thrilled
when you came back. I have never seen him so worried.”

“Byron.… ” She put a
hand to her forehead. “I am
not
talking about Trapper!”

“Then who?”

“You know how close I
was to not coming back for my second year? Finding out about Xian’s murder
pushed me over the edge. I wasn’t coming back. Not until
you
called me.”

“Me? Why did that make
any difference?”

Emerald jumped out of
her seat and kissed him. Byron was so stunned that he didn’t stop her. When she
finished, she sat back down and put her head on his shoulder. “Can we please go
back to the way we were before our fight?”

Byron touched his lips.
The skin was hot on his fingertips.

She lifted his chin and
held it. “I spent my entire break studying how to do my hair and makeup
properly. I wanted to look prettier—like a lady. I used to think that people who
saw me needed to know the pain I felt inside. So I ate junk, dyed my hair,
pierced my face, tattooed my body. It wasn’t only that I liked how much it
hurt, but I thought people would know to leave me alone. I used to think I
would hurt forever. I was wrong.”

“What made you realize
that?”

“A friend who told me
I’ve read too many tragedies.”

“If you consider me
your friend, why do you lie to me?”

They both knew the lie
to which Byron referred.

“My dad was my hero.” A
haunted look entered Emerald’s eyes—a look he’d seen before. As she spoke, she
stared at the poster above the examination table of a skeleton with its many
bones labeled. “He wasn’t a poetry teacher or a pilot. He was just so …
great
.
He had this way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world when
we were together. I don’t mean to say he was perfect, but even when I got
older, I could go to him with stuff. My mom was jealous of that. They fought a
lot, not about me—well, maybe that was part of it. So when it got bad, my dad
would leave the house. He told me it was so he wouldn’t do something he
regretted. I guess he learned the hard way that you shouldn’t drive angry. He
went out in bad weather one night, his car slid, and a wooden pole impaled him
when his car rolled. Everything kind of came apart after that.”