Knight Moves Read online

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I guess we proceed and see how it shakes out. We’ve got to go. We can talk about more later.”

  We split up, heading for our respective classes. My emotions were swirling when I walked into group session. Bo, Jax, and Mr. Kingston were already there. Bo sat silently, his hands folded on the table, while Jax sprawled in his chair, scowling. I took my place between them and swallowed hard.

  “Good morning, Ms. Sinclair,” Mr. Kingston said. “Today for our session, I’d like us to do something a little different. I want to hear your impressions of how the competition is going so far.”

  He looked between us, but no one said anything.

  Mr. Kingston raised an eyebrow. “No one has any comments?”

  “Fine,” Bo said, his voice so sharp I jumped. “You want me to comment? Okay, I’ll comment. You spend the past several weeks dissecting us, making us confess our darkest secrets, then forcing us into teamwork. Now that we’ve started to work together and build trust, you’re splitting us up, presumably to see how we’ll act now that there are only two slots available.”

  Mr. Kingston didn’t seem disturbed in the least at Bo’s accusations. “That’s an interesting assessment, Mr. Coleman. So, you didn’t see this as a competition from the beginning?”

  “No, I did not. I thought we were being judged on our individual capabilities.”

  I nodded in agreement. “I’m with Bo. I thought we all had an equal chance to make it.”

  “But you do all have an equal chance to make it,” Mr. Kingston said.

  “But you’re only selecting two of us,” I countered. “That changes things. If that was always going to be the case, why didn’t you say that at the beginning? Why all the secrecy?”

  “Because they’re manipulating us,” Jax offered. “They’re keeping us on our toes, mixing things up to gauge our emotional flexibility and adaptability.”

  “That’s a fascinating perspective, Mr. Drummond,” Mr. Kingston said, shifting in his seat to face Jax. “Do you think this will change anything in your behavior?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “I didn’t think so. What about you, Ms. Sinclair?”

  “Me? I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I need more time to think about it.”

  “Mr. Coleman, would you like to add anything?”

  Bo remained silent, but I could tell he was really upset. His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists on his lap. I was getting to know everyone’s moods a lot better the more time we spent together.

  Mr. Kingston threaded his fingers together, his elbows resting on the table. “I don’t typically do this, but let me venture a guess for you, Mr. Coleman. You feel as though you’re the de facto leader of this group. I think that’s a fair assumption given your performance on Friday’s trial. You helped your teammates succeed, but, at the same time, you couldn’t have succeeded without them. They chose you to take the extra points for your leadership. Now, if you take one of the two slots, you’ll leave six of your teammates behind. Is that what a true leader would do?”

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, Bo shoved his chair back from the table and left the room without a word.

  Jax laughed and started clapping. “Bravo. Test that boundary of honor. See how far it will stretch.”

  “Jax,” I hissed. “Knock it off.”

  Mr. Kingston seemed amused as he regarded Jax. “You think you have all the answers, don’t you, Mr. Drummond?”

  “Not all of them.” Jax shrugged, then smiled. “But trust me, I know enough.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  “Everything is so weird now,” Wally said as we headed down to the gym. “It’s like walking on eggshells with the other kids. Crazy strange.”

  I agreed. Jax had been right. They’d done something to shake us up, and now we weren’t sure how to act around each other. It changed everything. Even Frankie was unusually reserved, which freaked me out more than I cared to admit.

  Tonight, I’d finished my homework early, but I had a lot of nervous energy. Frankie didn’t want to go to the gym, Hala wanted to talk to her parents, and Kira was missing, probably already at the gym. I decided to swim to work off some of my restlessness. I talked Wally into coming with me—probably because he hoped Kira was there—so we headed into the gym together.

  Mike was on the rowing machine, his eyes closed, headphones in his ears. Kira was doing an impressive number of chin-ups, her blonde hair in a ponytail, her face scarlet from exertion. Jax was on a corner of a mat doing sit-ups.

  Wally went off to walk on the treadmill while I dived in the pool and swam lap after lap. When I finally got out, I toweled off and looked around. It was just Wally, Kira, and me left in the gym. Jax and Mike had left at some point.

  I went into the girls’ locker room to change, and while I was blow-drying my hair, Kira walked in.

  I ignored her, but she walked right up to me so I had to turn off the dryer and face her.

  “What do you want?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she said. “Please?”

  I was so surprised by the politeness of her request, I nearly dropped the dryer. “You want to talk to me?”

  “Yes. I’d appreciate it.” She pointed to the bench.

  After a moment, I put down the dryer and sat, wondering what she wanted. She joined me on the bench, twisting her pale hands together in her lap.

  “Look, this is hard for me to say, but I’m sorry for acting like such a jerk. To you, to Frankie, to everyone.”

  I stiffened. “I thought you made up with Frankie.”

  “I did. Didn’t she tell you what we talked about?”

  “No. Should she have?”

  “Well, I asked her not to tell anyone.”

  “And she didn’t.” I let out a breath of exasperation. “Frankie is good like that. Keeping confidences, I mean. Honestly, I don’t care what you told her. Your business is your business. You made it clear you weren’t interested in getting to know any of us.” The frustration and anger I’d been feeling towards her slipped out.

  “It’s not that simple, Angel. This opportunity is important to me. I really want to make it.”

  “We all want to make it, Kira.” It came out a lot more irritable than I intended, but I didn’t know what the heck she wanted from me. Maybe this was just a ploy on her part now that the competition had started stacking up.

  “No, it’s not like that. You see, my father was a spy for the US during the Cold War. He was recruited by the KGB and became a double agent for America. He was very successful. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, he was brought here to US. He met my mother, several years his junior, in California. She is Ukrainian American, but she’s never lived in the Ukraine. My father’s dream was for his son, my twin brother, Anatoly, to go to UTOP.” It had all come out in a fast rush, but now she paused to let the words sink in, or perhaps to gather the courage to continue. “But, you see, I wanted it, too. Badly. Anatoly is smart and capable, but his ability comes easy. I worked harder, so when the time came for the invitation, I asked for a chance to be included, too. My father agreed, I think, because he never believed a female would make it. And even if I did, he didn’t believe I would pose a threat to my perfect brother. But when the invitation came, it was for me. Not Anatoly.”

  She fell silent. The entire time she’d been talking, she’d been looking at the ground. But now she looked directly at me, her expression miserable, obviously waiting for a response.

  I had no idea what she expected me to say. “Well, good for you, Kira. You earned your slot here.” It sounded harsher than I intended, but subtly in conversation was not my forte.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said quietly. “Still, I needed to prove myself, to my family, but especially to my father, that I deserved to be here. But now…it’s clear I don’t have what it takes. My father was right all along about me.” She looked
at the ground again.

  What was she trying to say—that she was giving up? My pent-up anger started to melt, and I started feeling guilty she was even confessing this to me.

  “Why do you think your father was right, Kira? You’ve done great in the trials so far. You’re in amazing physical shape. You didn’t need help on a single obstacle except for the wall, and we all needed help on that. You were an excellent diplomat in our role-playing game, which means you’re clearly intelligent and capable. If I’m honest, you’re also probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen outside of Hollywood. None of the guys can keep their eyes off you, especially Wally. You’ve got everything going for you.” I stopped myself, not sure why I’d said any of that. Why had I brought Wally into this? Why was I playing therapist? But more importantly, had I just been nice to her?

  She twisted her hands together. “I screwed everything up. This is all my fault. I wanted to put distance between everyone and me, especially the girls, because I was afraid if I liked you, I would hesitate to do what it took to beat you. I could not afford to risk that. But then I fell to Frankie. She saved me, even when I was terrible to her. She’s impossible to resist.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed grudgingly. “She did the same to me, and I still don’t know how.”

  Kira gave a wry smile. “As the competition went on, I realized that while I was competent and able, I don’t stand out like the rest of you. I’m smart, but I struggle with advanced math concepts. It’s my weakness. Jax has been really good about helping me. He’s tutoring me in calculus.”

  So that’s why they were always missing together. “That’s really nice of him,” I admitted.

  “It is, but regardless, it’s clear I’m not going to be one of the two people selected for UTOP. Anatoly would have had a better shot at it, but I took that from him, too.”

  I fell silent for a moment and then asked, “What’s your special class, Kira? You know, the one you take alone with no one else.”

  She pushed back the hair on her shoulders. “Biology. I wanted to be a doctor before the UTOP training. I thought maybe I could be both, but perhaps it was foolish to think there’d be a place for a doctor who is also an operative.”

  I stared at her. “Are you kidding me? You want to be a medical doctor? That would be an incredibly useful skill to have as an operative.”

  She looked at me hesitantly. “You think so?”

  “I think so. I really do.”

  Color crossed her cheeks. “They’re also testing me for fluency in Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Polish, Serbian, Croatian, Czech, and French. I hope maybe that will help my scores some.”

  “You hope? You speak all of those languages?” I suddenly felt very outclassed. What did I even do with my time?

  “Mostly. French and Czech are my weakest, but I’m completely conversational in all of them.”

  “What, no Spanish?” I joked weakly.

  “Oh, no, Mike has that covered,” she answered. “What’s your special class, Angel?”

  I hated even answering, given that she’d just majorly shown me up. “Cryptology.”

  She sighed. “You’re very smart in math and computers.”

  “Well, I certainly can’t speak ten languages and cut someone open on the operating table. The sight of blood makes me gag.”

  “It’s only nine languages, counting English, and I could help you with the gagging thing.”

  That made me smile. It was a little smile, but nonetheless, there’d been a connection. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that because now everything seemed more complicated. Why did she want to have this talk with me in the first place? Were we supposed to be friends, frenemies, or polite acquaintances? How the heck was I supposed to know?

  I sighed. “I guess the bottom line is that none of us know who they’re going to pick or how they’ll decide. It could be any one of us. Don’t give up now. You’ve got a good a shot at this. In fact, after hearing what you just said, maybe a better shot than most of us. We have one more trial coming up this week. So, get out there and do your best.” It was cheesy, but I said it anyway. “Show them girls can kick butt, too.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Fair enough. Only if you do the same.” She held out a hand. “Truce?”

  I took her hand and shook it. “Truce. Now, go and make your dad proud.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  The rest of the week continued as usual but with the extra layer of mind games we were playing among ourselves. More classes, more psychological testing, and more anxiety as we got ready to face our final trial.

  On Tuesday evening when I was reading in the library, Mike came in and asked if I wanted to play chess. We set up the board and played seven straight games. He crushed me in all seven.

  “Wow, you’re really good,” I said, pushing back from the table. “I thought I was a decent player, but you killed it. That’s pretty impressive.”

  He smiled and thumped his chest. “Captain of the chess team.”

  “I can see why. I’m going to have to up my game before playing you again. By the way, I hear you speak Spanish.”

  “Yep. My mom’s from Mexico. Tienes bonitos ojos azules.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You can google it later,” he said, chuckling. He punched me lightly on the arm before packing up the board.

  As I walked back to my room, I realized I could be friends with him…with everyone at the trials. It was a startling thought for someone like me, who had made her first two friends just over a month ago. Somewhere along the line, I had started to know and like the other candidates, and now we were going to be torn apart.

  It totally sucked.

  I had a huge math test on Wednesday, which I was pretty sure I aced even though I barely studied. Psychological testing was the strangest. As soon as I came into the room, Mrs. Thompson told me this would be a short session.

  “Okay,” I said, cheering up. Any shortening of a class I despised was a plus in my book. “What are we doing?”

  “I have just one question to ask you and, unlike our previous sessions, you have permission to think about your answer. I request only that you answer from the heart. Don’t say what you think I want you to say. I want to hear the truth. Then you’re free to go for the rest of the session.”

  “Really? One question.” How hard could that be?

  Ms. Thompson placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I want to know why you want to become an operative. It’s a dangerous, complicated job that requires a lot of work and secrecy. It’s difficult and, at times, terrifying. Why do you want to do this kind of work instead of something else?”

  It was an intriguing question. Had she asked me this at the beginning of the trials, I might have had a different answer. So, why had I accepted the nomination? Was it because my friends were here? Or had I been enticed by the free education and promise of a steady job after graduation? Maybe it was the lure of excitement and adventure—the challenge it presented.

  Or perhaps was it something else entirely.

  Given my skills behind the keyboard, the future was mine to command. I could work almost anywhere I wanted, request a salary that would leave me quite comfortable in life, and do all the things I loved to do. So, why was I stressing out about a government job that probably wouldn’t pay half of what I’d be worth in the commercial sector and be dangerous to boot?

  I considered my thoughts, and when I had my answer ready, I spoke from the heart. “It’s pretty simple, Ms. Thompson. I want my work to matter to the world, even if no one else knows what I’m doing. That’s a really powerful thing.”

  She smiled and stood. “It is, indeed. Thank you, Angel. You’re free to go.”

  By Thursday night, my anxiety was sky-high. I went to the gaming room to blow off some steam. It was empty, thankfully, as I felt like being alone for a bit. I loaded up a game, cleared my head, and started playing. I’d been at it for
about an hour when the door opened and Jax strolled in.

  “Hey, Angel. Mind if I join you?”

  My mood had improved, so I didn’t mind. “Sure.”

  “What are you playing?” He plopped down on the couch next to me, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

  “Black Salt Kingdom. It’s a fantasy role-playing game not unlike the one we played for the trial. I’m playing the computer.”

  “You need some help?”

  I glanced sideways at him, my fingers still moving rapidly. “You’ve played this before?”

  “Not this game, but close enough.”

  Remembering his performance when Mike, Wally, and I had all played Quaver, I looked back at the game and tried to think of something he could do that wouldn’t ruin my score too badly. Then I saw him reviewing the general’s actions and sighed inwardly.

  “Want to be my general?” There it was—my kind act for the day.

  His eyes lit up. “I’d love to.”

  We were immersed for another hour and a half when Jax starting killing it with a bunch of brilliant military maneuvers. After we handily won the kingdom, I put the controller down and leaned back on the cushions.

  “You’re good,” I said. “Really good.”

  “I can rise to the occasion when required.” He gave me a high five. “Way to go, Your Majesty.”

  I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy. “You downplayed your ability when you played with me before. Why?”

  “I wasn’t playing with just you.” He tossed his controller on the table and didn’t offer any more of an explanation.

  It took me a second to process that. “So, why do you do that? Keep so much about yourself hidden?”

  “Do I?”

  “You do.”

  “I’m not hiding the fact I like you.” He scooted closer and wound a strand of my hair around his finger. When he let go, he pulled a small piece of wrapped chocolate from the strands and presented it to me.

  I took it and shook my head in disbelief. “How do you do that? I was looking at you the whole time and I didn’t see you reaching into your pocket.”