Bounders (25 page)

“Sorry,” Lucy says, although her tone doesn't sound too apologetic. “I would have tapped you on the shoulder, but I have my hands full.” She lifts her fists, which hold the grip controls. “I'm done picking up after you, Jasper. Get down there and straighten out your own mess.” She tips her head to the corner of the Ezone where Mira sits.

Yeah, I've been ignoring that issue. I figured if I flew fast enough, I could outrun the truth about how mean I'd been.

Mira hugs her knees and rocks. Every few seconds she shudders. She isn't in much better shape than the day we found her with Regis in the sensory gym. Guilt grips me. I never meant to do that. Lucy is right. I need to clean up my mess.

I lower myself to the ground next to Mira. I have no idea what to say. I was a jerk—how do I come back from that? I take off my pack and sit down.

“I'm sorry, Mira,” I say. “I know that sounds lame. This place is just getting to me, you know? And I took it out on you. I'm sorry.”

Mira doesn't respond. She bows her head to her knees and keeps rocking. It's going to be rough. I'm not very good at the whole girls and emotions thing. Addy would say that's an understatement.

“It's just . . . I'm jealous of you, okay? The way you are with the gloves. Like they're part of you. I feel that way sometimes, but for you it looks as natural as breathing. And it's not just that. . . .” My mind flips in circles. My feelings for Mira are all over the place; the last thing I want to do is match them up with words. “I'm mad at you, too. I'm mad at you because I need you so much.”

There. I said it. And once I've said it, I know it's true.

Mira peeks above her crossed arms and stops rocking.

I keep talking. “I have no idea how you do it. I mean, you don't even speak, but you seem to understand me better than anyone else here. And sometimes—I know this is going to sound crazy—but I hear you inside my brain. Yeah, I know, I must be losing it. How can I know someone's voice when I've never even heard her talk?”

Mira unfolds her long limbs and stretches her gloved hands out in front. The chair she lifted lies on the ground a few meters from where we sit. One of the legs is askew from the force with which it hit the wall. Mira's gaze latches on to the chair, and she points at it with her right hand.

“The chair. I know, I was a B-Wa— A jerk,” I say. “I'm sorry.”

Mira doesn't react to my words. She keeps her finger pointed at the chair.

“What? I know saying sorry is lame, but what else can I do?”

Then her voice fills my mind.
Lift.

Oh geez. That's the last thing I want to do. Have Mira show me up again. Oh well, payback stinks.

I point my gloves at the chair and feel the connection. I focus on the chair and will it to lift. The metal legs wobble on the ground for a few seconds, and then the chair slowly lifts until it hovers a few centimeters above the ground.

Mira places her hands on my shoulders. At first that's all there is—the physical connection. It makes me feel weird, like I did in the ball pit when our legs touched or in the suction chute when we were all tied up in each other's space. Then something happens. Slow at first. A slow infusion of energy into my neural stream. My gloves' power increases, and the chair begins to lift.

She feeds it to me gradually so I'm not overwhelmed. But soon the chair hovers near the ceiling, and an immense power unlike anything I've ever known radiates from my fingertips. She linked with me. And together our power is amplified.

Without warning, Mira takes her hands off my shoulders. I lose focus, and the chair falls to the floor.

I flip around to face her. “That was amazing!” We were more forceful together than I could ever be alone. “How did you do that?”

Mira pushes herself up, retrieves her blast pack, and waltzes over to Gedney to collect her new straps.

I CAN'T WAIT TO RACE REGIS
with the new blast pack straps. I won't shut up about it. I talk about it straight through dinner. I talk about it on the way back to the dormitory. And I want to talk about it some more before curfew, but I can't find Cole or Marco anywhere.

Eventually, I spy them crouched together on Marco's bunk.

“What are you guys doing?” I ask.

“We're working out the plan,” Cole says. He sounds peeved, like I'm interrupting him or something.

“For tomorrow's Mobility class?” I ask.

“No, Ace,” Marco says. “Can't you give that a rest? Home leave starts in five days, which means we only have three days left to break into the cellblock and find the alien.” Marco flashes something silver at me. He's stolen a classified tablet again.

Cole grabs the tablet and glides his fingers across its face. “I'm more convinced than ever that the alien has something to do with the Incident at Bounding Base 51. Have you noticed the security around here has practically doubled?”

Cole's words jar my memory. I've been so distracted with my blast pack problems and the rumors about me and Mira, I completely forgot to fill Cole and Marco in on Waters's conversation with Admiral Eames.

“They've raised the security level to orange,” I say. “Waters wanted it raised to red.” I tell them about the night I was caught with Mira, leaving out the music room.

“You've known about this for almost a week and didn't tell us?” Cole says.

I shrug. “Sorry.” I've been saying that a lot lately.

“Yeah, you suck, Jasper,” Marco says. “But now I get where the rumors about you and Queenie got started. You do look awfully cute together.”

I punch Marco in the shoulder. He pins me in a headlock before I can even get my fists back up to defend myself.

“Call it.” Marco's forearm presses against my windpipe.

“I give up,” I grunt. “You win, dude.”

Marco releases me. I rub my throat. Marco's reflexes are out of this world. It sure wasn't the first time he had to fight someone off. I wonder if his older brother used to beat him up. When Marco talked about him in pod session, his brother sounded like a bully. It's probably best not to mention it.

I nod at the tablet. “Cole, get back to work. We've got to get into that cellblock.”

We spend the next twenty minutes hammering out the plan.

“I think the best option is to use my lens signature,” Cole says.

“Great option if you want to get caught,” I say. “They'd know it was you!”

“Yeah, not your best, Brainiac,” Marco says.

“Don't insult my intelligence,” Cole says. “They use a right-eye lens signature here. I'll scan my left eye. And, either way, I'll program it as a temporary file to delete after a one-time use.”

“Fine. Whatever works,” I say. “Just do it.”

Marco stands lookout while Cole leans close to the tablet and scans in his left lens signature. I hold my breath as the system uploads the data, but Cole doesn't seem too worried.

When Ridders yells lights out, Marco slips the classified tablet back into his pack.

“So it's settled,” he says. “The day after tomorrow we'll break into the cellblock after curfew.”

We clasp hands in a three-way shake to seal the deal.

As Cole and I head for the front bunks, Marco whispers after us. “Hey, J-Bird, don't get so jacked about the pack that you wind up back in the med room. We're counting on you.”

“Let's go.” Lucy gathers her trash from lunch and lifts her tray. “Time for Mobility.”

I kick my feet up on an empty chair. “Why rush?”

Lucy fixes me with her evil glare. “What's the deal, Jasper? I thought you were counting the minutes until you could show off your new moves.”

“No need to be hasty,” I say. “We might as well let Regis and his gang wait it out.”

“Oh, I get it,” she says. “You want to come in late so he'll think you're scared and then surprise him with the new grips. Am I right?”

I shrug. Leave it to Lucy to figure it all out.

“Jasper, you're exhausting. Get your tray and let's go.”

Me? Exhausting? Coming from Miss Chatterbox?

The others rise and follow Lucy out the door of the mess hall.

Who cares what they think? This is my moment. I slurp down what's left of my milk and chew on an apple.

I take the long route to the hangar. When I arrive, Regis and his pod mates are already in the air, hovering near the seal gates. As soon as I walk in, they burst out laughing.

Today the joke's on you, Regis.

I convinced the others to give me the last leg in the relay. Regis always closes for his pod, so we'll go head-to-head.

Marco leads off, and he pulls out in front.

I'm so focused on the race, I don't notice Regis step up beside me. “Are we in for a show today, Jasper? How 'bout you get stuck in the rafters again? Make your buddy come get you.”

“Shut up, Regis. I'm flying the last leg today.”

“Ha!” Regis cracks up and slaps me on the back. “Priceless. See you in the air. Or not.”

I bite down on my lip to stop from going off. Cool it, Jasper. Don't ruin the surprise.

Marco makes it back to the start, and Lucy and Mira push to hold the lead. If anyone notices they're wearing their gloves or using new handgrips, they don't say anything.

Lucy tags Cole, and he takes off. He zigzags across the hangar. Regis's pod mate passes him early in the lap.

“I should have guessed Cole wouldn't be nearly as good with the new grips,” I say to Lucy.

“Quiet,” she says. “Unless you want everyone to hear. Isn't your whole plan based on stealth?”

Cole makes the turn, soars over the beams, circles the barrels (nearly knocking one of them down with his foot), and ducks beneath the launch platform. Three pods pass him before he tags me. Regis is already a quarter of the way to the seal door.

I shoot from the hangar floor. My intentions are laser sharp. Rise. Fly. Fast. I'm focused on the course. I'm focused on Regis.

I pass him on the turn. As I zip forward, I call over my shoulder. “See you at the finish line. Or not.”

Okay, so I shouldn't have been cocky. I should have let a victory speak for itself. Because when I gloat, I let my focus slip, and I slow just enough to bring Regis in range. He grabs my ankles, and we tumble for the floor.

I kick wildly, trying to slow our descent. “Get off me! Let go, B-wad!”

Regis swings his legs forward and nails me in the stomach. We drop. Half-a-meter from the floor, I regain control and fly for the ceiling.

Regis clings to my ankles. “You think you're something special, don't you?” he hollers.

“A heck of a lot more special than you!” I crisscross the hangar, dragging Regis behind me. Voices rise from below, but I can't make out what they're saying. I'm too focused on flying. And I'm too angry at Regis.

The beam I got stuck on during one of our early pack lessons is straight ahead. As I race for it, I have an idea. It's risky, but it could work. Since Regis has me by the ankles, he probably isn't holding his straps.

I fly directly for the beam. Regis hangs below me, his fingers digging into my skin. When we're nearly there, Regis's scream confirms my hunch. He has two choices. Let go and drop thirty meters to the floor—or slam into the beam. My part's tricky. I have to avoid getting hung up with Regis on the beam.

I cut low over the beam. Regis collides with the metal in a loud thud. At the exact moment of impact, I point my toes.

I slip right out of my shoes and soar off, leaving Regis bent over the beam, one of my shoes in each of his hands.

Priceless.

I lower myself to the hangar floor, laughing out loud. Take that, Regis. I can't wait to watch Hakim and Randall try to get him off that beam.

When I land, an unexpected guest is waiting. Waters is in the hangar, and he doesn't look amused.

This is not going to be good.

In five long strides, Waters crosses to where I stand. “What's going on, Jasper?”

My mouth hinges open, but no words come out. I have zero idea what to say.

“This is the second time I've caught you violating rules,” Waters continues. “And both times I find you in a dispute with this boy, Regis.”

Bad Breath pipes in. “Jasper's been disruptive in class since the beginning.”

Disruptive? If you call being unable to fly disruptive, then fine. But that's not the same thing as violating rules.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “It won't happen again.”

“I'm sure it won't,” Waters says, “or we'll be talking permanent consequences. And that will affect your entire pod. Understood?”

My pod mates stand behind Waters, close enough to hear what he said. Lucy's face is scrunched up, and her arms are crossed tightly against her chest.

“Understood,” I say, and drop my head.

Waters must follow my gaze, because he spots the new straps. “I see I need to have a word with Gedney as well.”