Barcode: Legend of Apollo (2 page)

My mom took the inch and created a two-mile show room. The hallways are what artists paint in elaborate pictures to display the lives of the wealthy. There are expensive armor displays and fashionable curtains that cover the bulletproof windows. Couches, chairs, plants, and mirrors wrap around the entire floor. With the memorabilia in the center of the walkway and weapon displays, our school resembles a museum.

Michelle and I walk past several blond heads in digital picture frames. These are images that change every hour. They illustrate my forefathers wearing some of the finest armor in history. In my opinion, it’s advertisement for Moreno.

Seeing a familiar blue couch, I make a swift right before following my directions. With Michelle still riding, I say, “Why aren’t you with Hannah?”

“She’s a little late today. I told your crush I’d keep an eye out for your trouble. Like me, everyone despises you, but you’re already socially awkward enough, and leaving you around people is dangerous.” I stop dead in my tracks. In another repulsively adorable voice that doesn’t fit her personality, she says, “By the way, do you really hate your birthday?” I don’t respond.

Everyone assumes that I despise my own life, which means I don’t need to expect any gifts from friends, significant others, or a parent. I don’t know where the rumor originated, but it began in elementary.

“Happy birthday anyway,” Michelle coaxes so sweetly I almost thank her. Then, she interrupts my temporary delusion by hitting me in the arm, counting from one to nineteen.

“There’s your Dennis,” Michelle says, pointing straight ahead.

Trusting her natural ability to attract misfortune, I turn around while keeping my face on the ground. She finishes the last four birthday punches as I walk away. Then, with a swift and gracious movement, Michelle swoops her head and bites my neck.

“What the hell was that for? You drew blood didn’t you? You’re a life sucking vampire and a leech. That hurt.”

Michelle rubs my neck and says, “Didn’t you see your Dennis telling me to stop you?”

“Just call him Dennis or my father. I hate the way you do that.”

“It’s just as annoying to hear you try so hard to call him Dennis, pig.”

At the end of the argument, 
my
 Dennis walks up with a gleaming smile.

“Happy birthday son!”

“Yeah.”

I’m pinned between the two people I hate the most. Even worse, there’s a strange sensation on my skin—Michelle’s breasts.

A dense Kevlar material protects my spine, so I can’t understand how I’m detecting the subtleties of her heartbeat. It’s almost as though I feel flesh connected to my data. Yes. That does sound perverted, but not a fraction of my physical or emotional desires even remotely craves to share an intimate moment with my nemesis.

After shaking her off, she pouts as though I were some horrifying criminal carelessly roaming the hallways of Colt Arena with the sole purpose of ruining her happiness.

Avoiding eye contact with Dennis, I notice an overgrown gremlin with glasses inching towards him while dragging a large steel briefcase. It’s one of the briefcases Dennis keeps in his office for clients that are carrying invaluable goods through campus. Many of them jump at the opportunity to use the case before realizing that it weighs a ton and the locks are garbage. The case could hold up against a nuke, but I could break the lock with my hand.

Dennis eventually notices my gaze upon the stranger. He welcomes the nerd into the dimension of undesirables clustered near me.

Nemesis.

Sperm donor.

Dork.

I’ve now assembled the team destined to take over the world, or at least someone’s backyard.

“Warriors unite,” I mumble while watching the nerd clean his glasses.

Dennis, profoundly acquainted with my sarcastic grumblings, ignores my comment and says, “Spencer, I want you to meet Leonardo.”

“Another Ape?”

A quick thump on my forehead causes me to suffer the effects of swallowing a gallon of ice cream. After the simulation brain freeze, I vow to behave in front of him while the barcodes on his right fingernails are within reach.

“Stop using that term. They’re mortal level students.” Dennis clears his throat, “Leonardo is a god level transfer with Zeus’ barcode.” That makes sense. Zeus’ ego prevents him from bonding well with humans. The fact that Leonardo can even walk makes him more advanced than many of The Olympian’s victims. Zeus normally injects so much power into his vessel’s barcode that they’re deformed or forced to navigate a wheelchair for all of their lives.

Leonardo sputters, “Hey Spencer, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And you still want to meet me?” Addressing Dennis, I say, “Strange guy.”

“I need you to show him the campus this week. He comes from a
very
prestigious family, and I want him well taken care of.”

“Dennis, listen to what you’re saying. You want a five star student to receive complimentary service, but you’re setting him up with me. You’re losing your wits old man.” I lean away to avoid another thump. His index finger causes my body to suffer all the effects of a grenade exploding a few feet away, ringing ears and blurred vision included.

“I know, but you can’t expect to skip out on your responsibilities at this institution. You will show him around, and do a good job at it. Plus, Leonardo’s quite persistent and difficult to not like, even for you.”

Such words are analogous to a challenge for me. Dennis may later regret putting my stubbornness on the line. I rarely pass the opportunity to display exactly how much I enjoy disproving his theories.

Dennis pretends to straighten his cufflink while glancing at his watch. “Anyway, it’s almost time for the opening ceremony. We can all walk to the battlefield together.”

“I pass.”

“That’s the real reason I’m here. You’re graduating this year, and you need to get used to showing your face in front of the people.”

I’ve found myself on the losing end of countless arguments with Dennis. Whether the bickering lasts minutes or hours, I eventually relinquish my position because the disputes are more troublesome than the tasks.

The backyard heroes silently follow me. I sense Dennis’ cereal box smile gleaming over my shoulder.

I hate pleasing him.

Two

We exit through another set of double doors—the Colt family doesn’t believe that one suffices—and step into the stadium. There are a lot of things I despise about my life, but walking onto the battleground is not one of them. The rich smell of the dirt, the gusts of wind that rush from the top of the structure, and the grandiose feeling that makes me larger than life are all breath taking.

The long stretch of land before me has a history that reaches deeper than Colt or Griffith Park. There’s ancient data under my feet. The surrounding fifteen-foot walls tell monumental stories between their bruises and slashes. Love, pleasure, death, and pain haven’t skipped a beat in this history. In spite of the embarrassment I suffered on this very field, a warm embrace always surrounds me. I’ve never admitted this to anyone, but I imagine my mother’s hug would feel this magnificent.

I see Hannah and Kyle in the center of the field. Hannah still manages to command attention from my eyes, as always. There are no roses on her fair cheeks and her eyes aren’t the sun, but I still manage to stare at them as though they were a part of nature.

The first time we met, the skirt dancing around her long legs is what caught my attention. After her undeniable sexiness hooked me, Hannah’s gentle personality reeled me in. The sweet goddess belongs in Greek Mythology more than any of the contemporary gods wielding the power of the Olympians.

Oddly, most people assume we’re siblings. It doesn’t help that we’re both blondes. Though it makes her laugh, it only digs me deeper into the “just friends” realm that I’ve found myself stuck in for three years.

Michelle nearly tackles Hannah with a hug. There’s a clear difference between the two. Though Michelle’s curves are feminine, she’s rough around the edges. Her muscles are larger, and her armor’s very adventurous.

Kyle and I, on the other hand, are nothing alike. That is, besides our penchant for picking on other students when we’re bored. Once he met Leonardo, Kyle gave the nerd a thorough bashing. I laughed freely the entire time.

Despite our camaraderie on campus, Kyle and I don’t often interact. He transferred to Colt Arena from East Los Angeles in his second year. Both his parents are demigods, but by some miracle they managed to have a god level son. Once Kyle graduates next year, he’ll make more than enough money to move his parents into a more affluent neighborhood.

Leonardo sits on his case while everyone waits for the speeches to begin. During our down time, I scrutinize the nerd’s armor. Strangely enough, it’s better than mine—and I’ve got the top Moreno gear at the school. The only military manufacturer that makes gear with higher quality than Moreno belongs to an evil dictator named Helios. Contrary to the norm, he was named after the god hosted in his data.

Opening ceremonies generally consist of the top instructors welcoming students to their first day, and explaining the different levels and rooms in the building. Classes are held on the first floor, the hospital is between the third and sixth floors, and there’s a prison on the seventh floor.

After the boring introduction, they explain the importance of god level classes, and how higher ranking students are never allowed to fight those on a lower level. Students generally resist this type of ideology. In fact, no other arena in the world separates students into leagues.

When Dennis takes the stage, he shouts to display the amphitheater’s microphone effect, which causes his voice to boom across the entire stadium. Students cheer passionately. He delivers a formal welcome before mentioning his “prized possession”—me.

In the end, Dennis builds up the students’ excitement by announcing the return of my uncle, Vincent Colt.

Vincent ventured to New Orleans a few years ago to mend ties after the civil war. Originally, he was scheduled to leave for only five weeks. After staying in the area for some time, he discovered a way to reunite America.

Within a year, he married the most influential and prominent goddess in the area. My cousin crawled out of the womb one year later. Her birth symbolized an end to America’s war, and a new beginning for our country. In her state, my cousin is considered a queen.

As Dennis speaks, his second best Marine One forest green helicopter approaches the school. The ninety-foot long, three-thousand pound beast containing my uncle and cousin, extinguishes the sound of applause from the field. Three engines and a seventy-foot rotor can do that.

Excited to see my family for the first time in seven years, I shift in my seat, and await their landing. The helicopter hovers over the field longer than it should. Alarmingly, the engines rumble as the sound of the propellers becomes more reserved.

I see something, or someone, falling but a loud explosion erupts, blinding me. Instead of seeing a flash of light, my entire world goes black. As color returns, followed by a surreal sensation of reentering reality, the chopper descends drastically out of control. Faculty members rush to clear nearly five hundred students from the field.

The helicopter thunderously crashes in front of our seats. Though I want to move, fear strikes me immobile. Concern for my potentially dead family is the only thing that terrifies me.

Dennis and Casey lead a group of professors to the crash site. The two are screaming frantically. Both father and son wrestle tirelessly with the door, but with the helicopter’s nose faced into the ground, they struggle to find the proper footing to pull it open. The door jammed shut at impact.

My grandad yells to the passengers as a clanking sound booms from inside. Professor Gardezi pulls Casey from the door seconds before it flies into the stands, nearly a quarter mile away.

Two boys jump out of the helicopter carrying people on their shoulders. Seeing live bodies encourages me to finally approach the aircraft. The suspense provokes blood to race ferociously to my heart.

When I’m finally standing next to Dennis, I see blood in puddles all over the battlefield’s sand. A boy with coded tattoos stretching from his neck through his armor and down to his wrist has mild injuries. He’s doing well enough to carry my extremely large uncle. The boy’s miniature Afro looks wild and has a lot of debris stuck in it. He’s out of breath and his entire face is covered in blood. Though his chest plate likely cost thousands of dollars, there’s hardly anything left of it.

Another guy, the same height as the first, but wearing a black mask, leans my unconscious cousin against a wall. Though I’m curious to examine the strange material covering his face, I build enough courage to look at my beautiful cousin. Her caramel skin and flawless face bring tears to my eyes. Even my rough uncle seems more handsome than usual.

I sincerely hoped they’d respond to the sound of me clearing my throat, but with the havoc storming on the battlefield, there’s no way an additional sound would change anything. Satisfyingly, my mind eases as I sense a bit of life in them. Yet, I know something’s wrong. Both have blood leaking from their ears and noses.

Of all the wounded, the dreadlocks guy with the mask that carried my cousin suffered the most damage. His armor is torn to shreds and his body has several large open wounds. Not to mention, there’s a long steel pipe stuck in his leg.

Gardezi continues asking him, “Are you okay? Are you sure?” The guy doesn’t verbally respond, but nods his head, seemingly annoyed with the professor. Gardezi inspects his injuries a few feet away from me. I watch his every movement, and strangely enough, he’s watching mine.

Three

Dennis allowed me to stay at the arena hospital all night. Because of the nineteen transfer students injured from the crash and seven killed, he will spend most of his time contacting parents.

Once all of the commotion settled, Casey informed me that we might not see Dennis for some time. He’s responsible for everyone on the chopper, and now has to explain to parents all over America why their children are wounded or deceased. I imagine that he’ll do it in person because military personnel often deliver such information face-to-face.