The Battle Begins (15 page)

31

V
INCE HAD COME THROUGH, JUST LIKE HE PROMISED.
With Vince vouching for them, Leesa and Antonio had breezed right through NuFormz security, and now they got to stand outside of the gym's fence, where they could see some of the animals training. Leesa peered between the machines and scanned the rafters for the shimmery glint of a web, but she knew this was the wrong place to be looking for Pookie. Only the active fighters would be training, and the Chihuahua-spider
was technically retired.

“Pretty sick, right?” Antonio asked, beaming.

Leesa watched a mutant bear smashing its skull against the back wall, over and over, in time with the mens' whistles. Just the sound of it was giving her a headache.

“Sick,” Leesa repeated, but to her, the word meant something totally different. She wanted to leave this room and check out the rest of the facility, but they had to wait for Antonio's brother. Leesa looked toward the glass door of the office, where Vince was meeting with the supervisor. Vince's arms were crossed over his chest, and he was shaking his head.

“I don't care what she wants,” he was saying. “He's not getting involved.” Vince didn't yell, but he had the kind of voice that carried. Leesa thought she heard her friend's name somewhere in there, and Antonio must've heard the same thing, because he snapped to attention. With the whistles and the grizzly's banging, it was tough to make out much more of the conversation, but the supervisor's face was getting redder and redder.

“I can't believe your brother is friends with that guy,” Leesa said.

“They're not like
buds
,” Antonio said defensively. “It's business.”

Leesa rolled her eyes. That man was one of the people
who took Pookie. Did it really matter what it was?

“You're the one who asked to come,” Antonio grumbled. “Or demanded.” Leesa could still hear the resentment in his voice. “I brought you to the island because I wanted to show you something cool, and you totally ruined it.”

Leesa was aghast. Antonio was supposed to be her best friend, and he, above all people, knew what Pookie meant to her!

She was eight when her Chihuahua had first disappeared. Her family still lived above ground level back then, but when Leesa couldn't find her dog anywhere, she'd snuck down into the Drain. Most of the kids laughed at the dumb sky girl looking for her lost pet, but Antonio hadn't laughed. Instead, he'd led her through the dim, winding pathways of the sewer city and up into the Dome, and he'd shown her a whole new world: the world of the Unnaturals.

Pookie had eight new legs and a new name. It broke Leesa's heart to see him that way, but it was better than not seeing him at all. When she wanted to see the Poisonous perform, it was Antonio who had taken her to her first match, and to every match after that, sitting beside her for support as Pookie was beaten down again and again.

“How can you be so selfish?” she asked. “After all these years, I finally have a chance to find Pookie, and you're mad I wouldn't come see some stupid bridge?”

“Seriously, Leesa?”

The way he said her name sounded loaded—like there were a hundred unspoken sentences crammed into those five letters. Leesa looked at Antonio questioningly, and he sighed.

“I mean, come on. How can you still think . . . ?”

He didn't say anything for several seconds, but Leesa could feel her hands getting sweaty and her anger building before he'd finished the sentence.

“What? How can I think what?” Leesa glowered at him, daring him to say it:
How can you still think he's alive?

She knew Antonio thought that if they hadn't seen Pookie in months, it was unlikely he'd survived. That there was no way Mega Media would keep an Unnatural around after he stopped fighting. That the idea of retirement or release was a joke in a place where they'd let the Invincible do what he'd done at the Mash-up.

Leesa knew Antonio thought she was irrational and naïve and stupid for having any hope. But she couldn't just give up, could she?

Finally, Antonio shrugged awkwardly, his hands
shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. “How can you think that what happens in those stories is real?” he said instead. He reached for the book that was sticking out of her messenger bag and started paging through it, shaking his head. “Do you actually believe that anything will work out for the best? That's not how the world works.”

That hurt more than anything Antonio could've said about Pookie. Leesa's eyes stung, threatening tears, but she blinked them away stubbornly. Leesa was not a crier, and she wasn't going to start now. Especially not in front of Antonio.

“I'm leaving,” Leesa said in a huff.

Antonio started to protest, but she snatched the book from him. “No, it's stupid. Pookie wouldn't be with the active fighters in the training area, anyway.”

She stuffed the book into her messenger bag, flung the strap over her shoulder and, flushed and furious, turned sharply on her heel, striding away from Antonio. . . .

And straight into someone else.

32

“O
OF!” HE SAID WHEN THEY COLLIDED, AND
L
EESA'S BAG
tumbled to the ground, sending her belongings scattering every which way.

“Watch it!” Leesa shouted. She knew it had been her fault, but her argument with Antonio still simmered just below the surface and made her bristle with new annoyance as she gathered up her things.

“Sorry,” the boy replied automatically. “I didn't see you there.”

His accent and his tone seemed too careful for the Drain, which made Leesa look up.

The kid looked about the same age as Leesa, and he was paler than anyone she'd ever seen. And though his white-blond hair was shaggy and hung in his eyes, his hoodie was brand name, and the skateboard he carried was all polished and expensive looking.

The boy saw her staring, and stared right back at her with bright, curious blue eyes. Leesa felt herself blushing, but before she could say anything, Antonio had sidled up beside her.

“Who's this clown?” he asked with a mocking laugh. “What are you doing here, sky boy?”

“I, um . . . am just here to get my arm looked at,” the kid answered.

He nodded toward his sling, and Leesa noticed he had scrapes on his other hand, too, and a gash on his face. Probably from the board.

“My brother's a medic here.”

“Well, my brother is Vince Romano.” Antonio jutted out his chin. He was doing his stupid aggro act—wide stance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay,” the kid said. He was smaller and looked a little wary, but he didn't shrink back from Antonio like some other kids did. “Good for him, I guess?”

It wasn't a challenge—the kid just seemed confused. Antonio, naturally, was not amused.

“It means he's the king of the Drain, sky boy, and if you knew anything about anything, you'd show a little respect.”

“Antonio, relax.” Leesa sighed. She was suddenly embarrassed and wanted to melt away. Antonio could be a ton of fun, but to most people, he must seem pretty intense.

The boy wasn't into comparing cred, though. He looked exhausted and preoccupied with something else. “Look, I'm not here to bug you, okay? I'm just waiting for my brother. You can go back to watching innocent animals get tortured or whatever,” he muttered.

“I'm not a Moniac,” Leesa snapped, offended at his accusation. “I'm just here looking for my lost dog. Let me know if you come across a giant mutant spider.”

“You mean the Poisonous?” the sky kid gasped. “As in the Australian funnel-web spider and long-coat Chihuahua mix who had a win/loss ratio of twenty-four to six, the third best in the league, ever?”

Leesa raised an eyebrow. This kid was really geeking out.

“Sorry,” he said with an awkward cough. “It's just that he was the only Unnatural to ever come close to
defeating the Invincible, which is a pretty big deal.”

“So
you're
a Moniac.” Leesa sneered at him disgustedly. “I bet you've never even seen them get hurt. Guys like you don't have the guts to sit through the real thing. You just warp in on fancy little screens.”

“Big screen,” the kid corrected. “But I don't anymore, now that I know what goes on.” He glanced into the training area, and Leesa thought she saw him wince a little each time the whistle blew, just like she had. “Now I'm trying to save them.”

Leesa could almost feel Antonio's disdain, but she couldn't help asking, “How?”

“I was trying to think of ideas . . .” Marcus kicked at the fence with his skate shoes, nervous to be put on the spot. “Like, I don't know, we could raise money to release some of them. Offer enough to buy their freedom.”

Antonio's laughter sounded as sharp as the trainer's whip. “Who's got money to spare? You? Go back to your cloud castle. That's not how the world works,” he repeated.

Leesa hadn't had an answer to that, but the sky kid did.

“Well, it should,” he said. “And maybe if we try to do something, then one day, it can change.”

“Nothing changes,” Antonio practically spat.

The sky kid shrugged. “Some things do.” Then he waved to his brother, who'd just come in the door, and dropped his skateboard. He turned to go, but first he gave Leesa a final, meaningful look and said, “I did.”

33

C
ASTOR WAS LEFT IN THE CARE CENTER FOR THE NIGHT TO
recuperate. The bed they gave him felt like a puffy cloud compared to the mat in his cell, and the medicine made his body so numb he nearly forgot his injuries. But though the pain from the fight was fading, the panic remained. Whenever Castor dared to close his eyes, he saw Deja's fangs, her head darting to strike, so long after the lights were shut off and the sound of human voices left the hallway, he lay wide-awake.

“How are you doing, pup?” a voice said in the darkness.

He hadn't even heard Pookie come in. There seemed to be nowhere in the facility that was off-limits to the old mutant.

“I've been better, to be honest,” he answered. “Now I understand why they named me the Underdog. I barely had a chance.”

“But you won the match!” Pookie said excitedly. “And you also won the loyalty of every fan in that stadium. As for your flying, it will get stronger.”

The praise from his eight-legged mentor was a rare gift, and Castor couldn't help feeling a swell of pride. Still, he was wary.

“I don't think I'm up for training, if that's why you're here.”

“Not tonight,” Pookie told him. His mentor's voice was softer than usual, sympathetic. “I brought you something for comfort.”

Castor heard a click as Pookie flipped a switch, and the overhead lamp snapped on, filling the room with greenish light. When Castor's eyes adjusted to the brightness, he saw that Pookie was holding out a strange, rectangular object. He set it on the bed in front of Castor's nose.

“What is it?” Castor asked, studying the picture on the front. It was surprisingly simple and antiquated, with no 3D imaging or interactive features.

“It has stories inside,” Pookie said vaguely.

“About the ancestors?” Castor had never heard of stories being written down. Wasn't that what elders were for, to tell you about the past?

“Not just about the ancestors,” Pookie said. “About make-believe things, too, I think. And about places you've never been.”

Like the Greenplains.

As tired as he was, this was a subject Castor was definitely interested in. “Where did you find this?” he asked, adjusting his body so he could look up at his mentor.

Pookie's eyes were bright. “Leesa brought it,” he said breathlessly.

“Leesa?”

“My human.” Pookie sighed. “She was here today, watching your team in the training center. This fell from her bag.”

His human? Castor couldn't fathom choosing to spend time with a human, knowing what they were capable of, but there was something about the wistful look on Pookie's face that made Castor want to know more about his past.

“You lived with her in the Sky Towers?” That was where most of the minis had started out—tiny dogs for tiny spaces.

Pookie nodded. “We were the best of friends from the time she was a little girl.”

Man's best friend. That's what the Gray Whiskers had called the bond between humans and dogs. It was hard not to scoff. Some friend this human must've been for Pookie to end up here. She'd probably abandoned him on the street like so many others had when automopooches became popular.

But Pookie's pointed grin was wider than ever as he swayed slowly on his feet, remembering his time with Leesa.

“We did everything together. I sat by her side when she studied and lay in her bed while she slept. She's the one who taught me to do tricks.”

“You learned all those flips and twists from a human?” Castor asked in disbelief.

“Not quite,” Pookie said with a chuckle. “Back then we worked on simple things like ‘roll over' and ‘sit pretty.'”

Castor raised a furry brow and cocked his head. “‘Sit pretty'?”

Pookie crouched on some of his back legs and picked up two of his front ones, holding them bent close to his
chest. His expression was eager, and his tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. He lifted his chin and held the pose. “Sit pretty!”

To Castor it looked like a ridiculous version of begging, but if that's what humans thought was “pretty,” he'd keep that in mind.

“You miss her?” he asked, watching Pookie from the medical bed. “That human girl?”

Pookie dropped his legs back down, and the action seemed heavy, though his delicate feet made no more than a whisper against the floor.

“I miss Leesa very much.” The old dog smiled, but his voice sounded unbearably sad. “In truth, it's the only reason I still wear this old thing.” He tugged at the collar around his scrawny neck. “Because it reminds me of her.”

Castor was about to interrupt here—how he longed for the choice
not
to wear a collar!—but Pookie continued talking about the girl, his eyes wistful.

“I miss Leesa's voice and her scratches under my chin and the way she used to call me with a whistle.” When Castor wrinkled his nose, Pookie explained, “Not like the Whistlers' whistle. It was a bright, happy sound she made with her mouth—a secret code between us. Sometimes I'd hear it in the stands during my matches and know she was watching. Leesa was the reason I tried to
win—I didn't want her to see me get hurt.”

That made Castor think of Runt. He wouldn't want his little brother to see him in bad shape, either. Still, with his swollen nose and bruised leg, Castor looked worse than he ever had, and if his brother had been here, in the NuFormz prison, he would've run straight toward him, howling a hello. It also strangely made him think of the young human boy.

“Why didn't you go to her today, when you had the chance? Maybe she could've taken you home!”

Pookie shook his head. “I am no longer just her dog. It's better for her to forget me. This is my home now.” His beady eyes drifted to the white walls, the waxed floors, the light that hung from the low ceiling, casting eerie shadows each time it flickered.

“I don't want to think of home right now, though. I want to think of somewhere else.” His gaze snapped back to the book lying in front of Castor. “I never learned to interpret the humans' strange symbols, but there's a rumor that you might know how?”

Castor had felt so ignorant and useless in this place, but for the first time, he felt important. Pookie needed him now, and Castor was eager to help. He nosed the cover open, pointed his claw under the first line to mark his place, and began to read.