Page 502 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

But now all those feelings are gone, along with a good portion of the confidence that came with them. I’m still the same old nervous wreck.

“Come on, Alby!”

Scotty’s harsh voice makes me flinch, and I swipe at my sweaty forehead with an unsteady gloved hand before raising my Avri axe again. Bringing my arm back, I throw the weapon at the target with all my might.

It connects with the corner before bouncing back.

Racing straight for my unprotected head.

Shit!

Letting out a petrified scream, I duck just in time to avoid my face being split down the middle.

The axe lands somewhere behind me with a thunk!

“This is why you fucking wear protection!” Scotty’s agitated hand tugs at his sandy hair, almost tearing the strands out at the roots.

Shame colours my cheeks while Tiger jumps to my defence. “Stop being a total knuckle-head, brother! We get you’re stressed, but so are we!” He looks at me, concerned with a hint of alarm in his usually sparkling eyes. “But yeah, please do wear your alien head, Bestie! Despite my many talents, I do not know how to sew brains back together, and I don’t think Avri does either!”

“Sorry,” I whisper, going to get my helmet from where I’d stupidly left it on the nearby bench with my shoulders curved inwards. We’re all so out of it I don’t think anyone even thought about it until then. I certainly didn’t, and I’m not one to be so reckless.

“I am as well, Alby. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Scotty exhales weightily, looking at me with a sincere apology in his eyes.

“It’s okay.” The smile I give him is hardly anything more than hopeless sadness. None of us should have to go through this, and with two members of our Bonded group still nowhere to be found, we’re all out of sorts for reasons we can’t entirely explain.

“Gonna go get some lunch. Meet you later,” Cooper mutters, the first words he’s said in a while, before leaving the room without another, demanifesting his own Avri axe as he goes.

Something needs to change here.

Before our Bonded group is decimated before it can even fully form.

***

“Twig!”

No.

It feels like so long ago now that I’d last heard that name, but in reality, it’s not even been two weeks.

It’s Friday now, exactly one week before Game 2, and things are no better with our Bonded group. But I’d got comfortable, at least, with the lack of bullying. I even thought I might have gained some confidence—just a little, but confidence nonetheless.

But the feelings that crash over me when Aider Cole and Tory Hurst corner me before I can make it back to Cooper, Tiger, and Scotty in the private training room we’ve been using today tell me that was all make-believe as I’m dragged straight back to the trauma of Evot Training School.

Stiff as a board, my vision blurs. I train my eyes on my boots, hands balling at my sides.

“Not even gonna grace us with a response?” Troy sneers mockingly, grabbing me by the front of my neck in a meaty, gloved grip so I’m forced to look at him. “Too high and mighty for that now?”

Pathetically, I whimper, and I’m so ashamed of myself and my weakness that it worsens the tears pricking at my eyes, even as my lids flutter rapidly to keep them at bay.

A slow, vile smirk creeps over Aider’s face. “Don’t be afraid to let them out, Twig. You know I love to see you cry.” His voice is smoother than Troy’s, elegant even, and it’s all the worse for it.

Somehow, I stay strong.

Something flickers in his dark eyes—annoyance trying to show its face through that composed mask of his?—before his features smooth over again.

“You know . . . I saw Ezla last night.”

Everything stops.