Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I (10 page)

I rub my jaw. Her punch did hurt the other day.

I decide I might as well check out Benson for lack of anything better to do. My mind is still contemplating Ryder when I step out of the elevator.

“Hey, kid—watch it!” I hear when my chest smacks Willow in the face. She’s traded her flip-flops and jeans for steel-toe boots and cargo pants. I can only assume the lace on her black tank is suppose to make her feel girly.

“Sorry, lost in thought,” I mumble.

“You’re lost, all right.”

“Whatever.”

“I was just coming up to get you. Figured you could use a diversion,” she says.

I puff out a breath. “You’re not kidding.”

“Aw, this isn’t proving to be too much for poor little Grant?” she sings, as if I’m a three-year-old.

Tuning Willow out, I follow her into Benson and then to the back of the room. Leaving her standing at the green Jell-O, I cross to one of the meat tables and bump Rigby’s elbow.

“What’s up, man?”

“Getting some fuel. What’s up with you?” he asks.

“Same. Any luck with Clara?”

“Eh, can’t tell. She seems uninterested, but isn’t that what girls do? The whole playing-hard-to-get thing?”

“Beats the heck out of me.” I pause, thinking. “My girl, Tate, seemed that way at first. But, I’m sure her attitude wasn’t an act.”

Rigby chuckles at that. “You’re being cool about me and Clara. I mean, I’m not complaining, but how could you not want her? She’s frigging hot!”

I smirk. “She’s got nothing on Tate.”

“Your former girlfriend?”

My stomach clenches. “No,” I try to answer calmly. “My current fiancée.”

“You mean
previous
fiancée,” he corrects, making me flinch. “Wait—you still remember her?”

I look around to be sure no one is listening and nod. “Everything, man. But I’m terrified that my memories are going to dissolve any minute.”

I definitely have Rigby’s attention now. “How about other stuff? You remember your parents?”

I contemplate this for a minute. “My dad was an ass. Does that count?”

Rigby considers. “Is that all you’ve got on him?”

“No. I remember working with him.”

“What about your mom? What’s she like?”

“She’s a saint. I still remember her and the things we did together. My mom and I have always been much closer than my dad and me.”

“Well, if you do lose your memories—and from the way things sound around here, you will—you’ll adjust. Everyone else is all right. I mean, look at me,” he jokes. “I’ve still got my swag.”

I swallow, ignoring his wisecrack. The idea of forgetting my family—or even worse, Tate—is scary. I can’t imagine life without her.

“I hate this place,” I say quietly.

“It’ll get better. Give it some time,” Rigby assures me, but he’s wrong. No amount of time will make it better.

After we go through the food line, we join the others already sitting at one of the tables.

Liam glances at me. “About bloody time you showed up. We were just discussing your first day of training.”

Rigby coughs his laugh into a camouflage sleeve, and I give him a dark look before addressing Liam. “I can leave if you’d like to continue.”

“I told you.” Anna smirks to Liam. “He didn’t think it was so great.”

I playfully push on Anna’s shoulder. “You selling me out now? You’re supposed to be my girl.”

“
Your
girl?” Owen interjects.

“Chill, Owen. Not like that.” What I should have said is,
Heel, boy.
I strategically sit beside Willow so Rigby has to take the empty seat next to Clara.

“He’s still in denial about being blocked. I’m that good.” Willow winks at Clara.

“Don’t sweat it, Grant. I was chosen to be blocked in my first session, too.” Clara throws her white-blonde hair over her shoulder and moves her chair to put an extra inch between herself and Rigby.

“We weren’t chosen,” I sneer, noticing Rigby’s disappointment a second before he recovers.

“I volunteered.” Willow disguises her amusement behind the thumbnail she’s biting. Liam and Owen cackle like hyenas.

“I always knew you were off,” Owen says when he catches his breath.

“You should have seen his face. It was priceless.” Shane unbuttons a starched cuff and rolls it meticulously over his forearm. “Seriously, though, Willow—who
volunteers
for that?”

“I thought it would be a good learning exercise for the kid.”

“More like you thought you’d show off your brilliant moves,” Liam argues. “Better watch yourself, woman. The tables are going to be turning soon.”

Willow snickers. “I doubt that.”

“Yeah, probably not with you as his teacher,” Liam agrees.

“Watch it, Liam. You know I have mad skills.”

“That’s right, I almost forgot. Willow the Amazing, is it?” Liam asks.

“The Almighty,” I correct.

Owen joins in the fun, circling his ear with an index finger and then pointing at Willow.

“Don’t be haters just because I’ll be leaving behind a reputation you could only dream of.”

Clara laughs. “She’s got you there.”

“Catch up with me on the field, kid,” Willow orders, leaving behind a full tray of food minus the green Jell-O. She walks toward someone I don’t recognize.

“Who’s that?” I ask, aiming my stare at a modern-day Hercules with an eyebrow bar.

“That’s Reed,” Clara answers.

Willow and Reed whisper something and then disappear through one of the archways.

“Duty calls,” Owen says, touching his calimeter. He winks at Anna and vanishes.

“Smell you cats later,” Liam says, also disappearing.

“Let’s head out. I’d like to speak with Jonathan before training today,” Shane directs to Rigby.

Before leaving, Rigby flashes a Hollywood-worthy smile at Clara, even taking the toothpick out of his mouth to do so. Clara’s oblivious, though, because she’s staring at me. I’m beginning to notice she does this frequently. Apparently, by Rigby’s now sour expression, he notices, too.

Jordan and Anna follow Rigby and Shane out of Benson.

Clara sighs reluctantly when it’s just her and me left at the table. “I’d better head back, too.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Her crystal-blue eyes widen. “Sure, anything.”

“What’s up with Willow? I mean, I don’t doubt her skills, but what’s this talk about her reputation?”

“She hasn’t told you?”

I give her a blank look.

“I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. She talks big, but in reality she’s pretty modest.” Clara pauses. “She is amazing, you know?”

I hold back a laugh. “I’ve been hearing that a lot.”

“Because it’s true,” Clara retorts. “A few years back, Willow fell off the map. Three weeks without a single word from her, if you can imagine that.”

I wish!

“When she returned, we drilled her about it so incessantly that she began coming around less and less. One day, Owen overheard a conversation between her and Jonathan. Maybe ‘overheard’ is the wrong word. Anyway, Willow threw out the word Rebellion. You’ve heard of that, right? When Tragedies go bad?”

“Yeah.” I half laugh and bite into my bottom lip. “But why’s this Rebellion thing such a big deal?”

“Tragedies are so called because they’re teetering between the right and wrong paths. That’s why we’re needed. If they start heading in the wrong direction, they could alter many lives along the way, not just their own. Once a person becomes a Rebellion, the world around them has already begun to shift. Think of a Rebellion as a domino. Then push it over when there are thousands behind it, each representing another life. Get the picture?”

I lean back in my chair with my hands knitted behind my head. “Certainly one person’s actions can’t affect that many people.”

“Oh yes, they can. And once those dominos start falling, the task of standing them back up becomes harder and harder. In no time, that single line of dominos branches into two and then four paths, eventually stemming out like a starburst. At that point, the task becomes impossible.”

“All right, I think I get it. So what’s this have to do with Willow?”

“So, Owen—well, he can’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. I still don’t know how he keeps his own assignments under wraps. Anyway, he told anyone who’d listen what he’d overheard. Willow denied it, of course, but we all knew it was because she had to. After that, she disappeared again.”

“So you’re saying Willow was on a Rebellion assignment?”

Clara nods and pauses when a girl walks by. “A few days later, Jonathan called our group to a meeting on the field and admitted just that to us. He said there would be no details given and then basically told us to stop pestering her so she could start coming around again. He also added that if she stayed locked away much longer, she was going to lose her mind.” Clara frowns thoughtfully, staring down at the smooth tabletop. “I think he was kidding about that part.”

Interesting.
Maybe that explains why she’s such a head case.
“What happened then?”

“We kept our mouths shut about it, that’s what. When Jonathan talks, you listen,” she states matter-of-factly. “It’s been long enough that we can joke about it now. Willow hasn’t, and never will, spill the details about the assignment, but she likes to rub in how good she is to the guys. I can’t imagine the kind of toll a Rebellion assignment must take on a Satellite, both physically and mentally. You should consider yourself lucky. You’ve scored yourself a major Legacy.”

Clara looks down at her calimeter. “I need to get out of here.” Before she slings her blue canvas bag over her shoulder, she pulls a small tube from its front pocket and spreads shiny lip gloss over her lips. The scent hits me. Please tell me she’s not wearing…

“Peppermint?” I croak, and then I mentally slap myself for saying it out loud.

Her face brightens. “I’m impressed.” Then, her eyes narrow on me suspiciously. “Wait—are you gay?”

What?
“No! Why would you think that?”

“Most guys don’t know anything about makeup. Plus, you’ve got the whole good looks thing going on.”

Whoa, she can stop right there.
I put my hands up, palms out. “Trust me when I say I know nothing about makeup.” Peppermint, on the other hand, is something I’ve had lots of fine experiences with.

“Hey,” I mutter when Clara stands up, figuring that since I’m already feeling awkward, now is as good of a time as any to help a friend out.

She eagerly looks at me and presses her highly glossed lips together.

“What do you think about Rigby?”

He eyes fall to the tabletop.

“Don’t look so disappointed. The guy’s not
that
bad,” I tease.

She looks up, embarrassed. “Oh, I know. It’s just—he’s…there’s someone else who…never mind. I’ll see you later, OK?”

“Um…OK.”
Weird.
“Thanks for telling me about Willow.”

Her face brightens again. “No problem. I bet you’re the only one who didn’t know she had a Rebellion assignment.”

“That I doubt.”

“Seriously, ask around. If I’m right, you owe me dinner.”

I shake her tiny hand to accept her bet, hoping she’s wrong. Not only would Rigby disapprove of us spending time together, I’m getting the vibe that dinner means something entirely different to her than it does to me.

.

7. It’s like a jolt of electricity, but worse

Prepared for the landscape this time, I open the doors to the courtyard and try to keep my jaw hinged. I do wish the old man could see this. When I asked him three months ago if he believed in Heaven, he gave me the same answer he always did to every non-work-related question: “Shouldn’t you be talking to your mother about this?” Yep, that was my dad.

After walking down the stone path, I climb the bleachers to Anna and Rigby. “Did you know about Willow?” I whisper to Anna.

She knits her brows. “About Willow?” she repeats, thinking for a minute. “You mean the Rebellion assignment?”

“You
knew
?” I whisper harshly.

“You didn’t?” Thankfully, Anna’s volume doesn’t match her bugged-out eyes. Looking down, I shake my head.

“Seriously?” she says in disbelief.

I don’t reply.

“Wow, I can’t believe she never told you. It’s pretty major.”

Rigby leans over Anna and asks, “What’s major?”

“He didn’t know about Willow and the Rebellion assignment,” Anna whispers.

Rigby pulls the toothpick from his mouth and grins. “You’re kidding.”

It looks like I have a date for dinner. Super. Maybe Rigby can take my place.

The whole Willow-leaving-me-in-the-dark routine is getting old. Speaking of, here’s Miss Loon now. She stomps her boot between Anna and me and then sits behind us. “Hey, kids, whatcha talking about?” She ruffles my hair.

I swat her hand away and turn around to face her. “Is there something you think I should know?”

She purses her lips at me before responding. “Yes. Your hair looks terrible today.”

Rigby cracks up when my hand raises to smooth my hair.

“Come on, Willow. You know what I’m talking about. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Man, I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Rigby shakes his head.

“I’m sure she had her reasons for not telling you,” Anna whispers.

“Oh, I get it. This is about the Rebellion, right?” Willow asks.

“It’s a big deal!” I blurt out.

“How does it affect your training?” When I don’t answer, she says, “That’s exactly my point.”

“It would have been helpful to know,” I whisper angrily.

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I sigh dramatically. “Maybe because I seem to be the only person who
didn’t
know.” And because I now have a date with Clara, which Rigby is surely going to be ticked about. Maybe I should tell him and wipe the annoying smile off his face.

“And that’s a problem?”

“Yes, it’s a problem!” I yell.

Everyone within earshot stares in our direction.

“Look, kid, I have bigger things to worry about than your ego. Like your training, for example.” She looks over my head to the field. “Now pay attention, will you?”

Still angry, I turn around as Jonathan begins. “Welcome back. It’s wonderful to see you all again. Today you will be performing drills with your Legacies. The exercise will teach you the fundamentals of blocking. Remember, blocking requires great effort and skill. Practice and patience are key.” He pulls the clipboard out from under his arm and flips a paper over. “Legacies, please pair off with your Satellites and begin your training.”

The crowd disperses across the vast field. I follow Willow like a sulking brat, still loathing her for being so insanely maddening. She stops thirty yards away from the other pairs of Satellites.

“Ready to learn?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

She ignores my sarcasm. “Thanks to my volunteering us yesterday, you’re a step ahead of the others. You already know how it feels on the receiving end of a block.”

“Yeah. Bad.”

“You should work on your vocab, kid.”

I cross my arms. “Fine. It was
destabilizing
.”

Willow seems pleased. “Better. First things first. The most important element of blocking is timing. You have a very small window for a successful block. If you want to master this skill, the key is getting your timing right.”

I answer with “OK,” but only because she’s obviously waiting for a reply.

“Now, to the action itself. You need to focus on the outcome you want. For example, when I blocked you, I focused on you sitting instead of catching me. Following so far?”

“I was, until you brought up the part that I apparently don’t remember.”

Unamused, she says, “Just keep up, kid. So you focus on the outcome you want after centering your energy around your thoughts.”

“Centering my
what
?”

“I knew this part was going to be tough for you to grasp.” She looks at the ground, taps her finger on her chin, and then looks back at me. “It’s like this: you possess an energy that’s in constant motion throughout your body. You need to focus this energy, because you will be transferring your thoughts to your Tragedy through it.”

Clearly she’s mental. “OK, go on,” I say, humoring her.

“At first, it can be helpful to bring your hands into a position like this.” She poses like she’s praying. “Once your energy is tightened, give the order ‘haze.’ This will produce the necessary filter that clouds your Tragedy’s mind. It’s then that you focus on the desired outcome. Your thoughts will transfer to your Tragedy through the haze. Still following?”

No
. “Yeah.”

“You’ll feel the moment your Tragedy accepts your thoughts.”

“Feel?”

“Yeah. It’s like a jolt of electricity, but worse.”

“That sounds…uncomfortable.”

“Quite, actually. Now, following that jolt, you will need to break the connection by giving the order ‘block.’ This is important, because it will clear the haze and complete the process.”

“And what if it’s done incorrectly?”

“Well,” she rolls her eyes, “that’s why we’re here. One more thing—all of this needs to happen within a few seconds. You can only maintain the haze for a short time. If the haze evaporates before your thoughts are transferred, the opportunity is lost.”

“Which equals a fail.”

“Ding, ding, ding! And I guess that now you know what too many failures leads to.”

“I’ve just recently been told,” I say, feeling crabby again.

“Get over it.” She looks around the field. “Whitfield’s about to give it a shot. Wanna watch her before you try?”

Whatever will buy me some time.
“Sure.”

We pass by groups of working Satellites to get to them. Shyla’s telling Whitfield she’s going to walk left, and Whitfield needs to make her go right instead.

“Go,” Shyla instructs, unbuttoning the sleeves of her shirt before swinging her arms loosely at her sides.

After Whitfield tucks her flaming-red hair behind her ears, she takes a stance like she’s praying and shouts, “Haze!” A light blur surrounds the girls.

“Block!” Whitfield yells, but it sounds more like a question than an order.

Unaffected by Whitfield’s attempts at persuasion, Shyla walks to the left. “You’re not quite there yet, but that was a decent first shot,” Shyla adds with encouragement. “With enough practice, you’ll own this.”

“Ready to take a stab at it?” Willow asks.

“I guess so,” I mumble, realizing there’s no delaying the inevitable.

We move back to a free area on the lawn.

“Since you refused to hit me,” she mocks, “I guess I’ll offer you the same courtesy. Let’s duplicate Shyla and Whitfield’s block. I’m going left. Make me go right. Got it?”

I nod and close my eyes, looking for my so-called energy. I open my eyes before a grin slips out. “You’re going to have to give me a little more guidance concerning this whole energy thing.”

“You’re so high maintenance.” She looks up to the sky. “OK, this is how it was explained to me. Try to be open minded.” She lowers her glare to me, waiting for a response.

“OK!” I say to pacify her.

Unhumored, she keeps going. “My energy is a color. I visualize it and form it into a tight ball.”

I crack up.

“Shut up! I’m trying to help you here. Now go, already.”

I close my eyes, but I only laugh harder.

“Come on!”

“Fine. But just one question,” I say evenly.

“What?” she snaps.

“What color?”

“Forget it. Let’s go.”

“Please.” My expression is controlled. “I think it would help.”

“Purple.” She pushes a braid out of her face and exhales deeply. “Now, do you think you can at least act like an adult?”

“This coming from a woman with purple energy?”

“Shut it, kid. Let’s go.” She turns her face away from me.

“Is that a smile?”

“Just concentrate, will you?” she says, but her composure is breaking, too.

Finally, we both can keep a straight face. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Good. Same drill.”

With my eyes closed, I search for this energy: a color—any color—as Willow suggested. At first there’s nothing. Then, slowly, a very faint blue forms behind my eyelids. When it darkens, I open my eyes. Everything around me is covered in this sapphire filter. I concentrate on pulling the color in. It retracts slowly at first, but then pulls in faster, eventually forming a small translucent ball. Forgetting to bring my palms together, I shout the order: “Haze!”

A rippled glasslike filter forms around me before extending out to Willow, and my hearing is muffled like I’m underwater. My senses fight against the claustrophobia while my brain screams the directions:
Go right. Go right. Go right. Go right. Go—

Ahhhhhhhhggg!

Every nerve in my body is assaulted and paralyzed by pain. I can’t think; I can’t concentrate. My jaw clenches against the electric current, and the torture radiates through my teeth so intensely I’d swear they were about to fall out. How do I make this stop? Think, think, think!

“Block!” I yell.

The pain evaporates with the filter. I gasp in relief as my muscles twitch. I look to Willow for an explanation. She turns to her right, and thunderous applause breaks out around us.

“Grant, that was killer! I’ve never seen someone block that well on their first shot,” Shane calls to me.

Willow is frozen.

“Willow?” I manage to say, even though my muscles still hate her.

She stares back at me. For once, she is speechless.

“Willow?” I ask again, starting to get a little worried.

Only her eyes move. “What happened?” she demands of Jordan.

“You should have seen him—he’s a natural!”

I can’t help but gloat when Willow stares at me in disbelief. Blocking her was downright torturous, but now I’m thinking it may have been worth it. “Huh. It’s funny when the tables turn—”

She cuts me off. “Again!”

“What?”

“Again! Let’s go. I’m coming at you. You should probably make me turn and walk away,” she orders.

My eyes all but jump from their sockets when she gets into position. She’s not kidding—she’s going to attack me.

My energy comes faster this time, despite my trembling muscles. I look at Willow through the blue mask and tighten the filter as fast as I can. “Haze!”

The muffled hum doesn’t throw me off as it did before.

Turn around. Turn around. Turn—holy mother!

The agonizing current swallows me. I try to remember what I’m doing while the jolt suffocates me. Think already!

“Block!” The paralysis stops, but this time I stumble forward. My knee catches me before I face-plant into the grass.

Willow turns and walks the other way, but this time my audience’s response is more subdued.

“Did he block me?” Willow demands of the silent crowd.
“Did he block me!”
she yells.

A voice I don’t recognize answers. “Yes, but—”

“Again.”

“Willow, he needs a break,” Jordan interjects.

“Again!” Her glare blazes through me. “I’m going to punch you. Come up with whatever you want.”

I somehow right myself, knowing if I don’t she’s going to hit me—hard. My muscles scream in protest when I close my eyes and try to find my energy. Its color is very faint, but I’m able to center it. “Haze,” I mumble.

Under the waterfall, Willow comes at me too fast, like a cat after its kill. Her eyes are wild and her white knuckles grow bigger and bigger…

Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit!

The pain crushes me. She moves in slow motion while I’m held hostage by a jolt that’s ripping my muscles apart. I welcome her fist—anything that will make the current stop.

I force out the words, “Block!” and crumble to the ground. My flaming muscles seize uncontrollably.

When I can finally focus my eyes, Shane and Jordan are at my side, and Willow is sitting on the ground a foot in front of us. She doesn’t ask this time. My beaten body must be proof to her that I performed another successful block.

When she pushes herself up, the look in her eyes is terrifying. “Again!” she yells.

“Enough!” a commanding voice shouts from behind me.

Willow stares over my head, considering her challenger. Then, she marches off toward the building. I try to relax my shaking muscles. She’s lost her mind!

“That was brutal,” Shane says.

I push off the ground, but my legs buckle under me. Jordan grabs my waist and hoists me up. As much as I hate to, I lean on him for support. “Was that normal?”

“No. I’ve never seen a new Satellite block so easily. That was sick, man.”

“It wasn’t easy,” I manage to tell Jordan, but don’t have the strength to clarify what I meant by “normal.”

Anna looks like she’s about to cry. “Why can’t he stand on his own?”

“He’ll be fine. He just needs to rest,” says a voice behind me. “Jordan, I can take him from here.”

I’m passed off to Jonathan and left wishing that I could walk on my own. No dice, though, since my legs are the consistency of wet noodles.

“That was quite a show out there,” Jonathan compliments, which makes me defensive.

“I didn’t mean for it to be.”

“Oh, I’m not coming down on you. Quite the contrary. Your blocking skills are impressive. I have no doubt great things are in your future.”

My lack of energy makes the rest of our journey to the apartment a quiet one. By the time we reach the elevator, I am relying on him less than before. Still, I’ve never been more ecstatic to see the dreadful sofa.