Page 681 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Only two schools left, a much lower chance of ours getting generated now. There’s still 187 third Evot Training Schools to choose fro—

BZZZZZT!

246.

I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat.

Dizziness has my head feeling light, everything all fuzzy.

The numbers are scrolling again, but no one’s paying attention as chaos rises in the room, hushed whispers rising to pleading cries, angry exclamations, words of disbelief . . . but even some noisy excitement. Through it all, I vaguely note the buzzer going off once more, Evot Training School 359 claiming the last space.

Headmistress Soya’s voice attempts to find an ounce of acknowledgement, but not even her amplifier can beat down the uproar.

I tighten my fists on my thighs, trying to breathe through the panic, reminding myself there’s a thousand other Evots in this room and only ten of them will be generated. There’s only a 0.1 percent chance I’ll be one of them. It’ll be fine. It has to be.

Because if my name appears on that screen, I’ll be dead in a week’s time.

“SILENCE!”

Shoulders jumping up to my ears, my widened eyes lock on the man from The Council, who’s now centre stage and holding two voice amplifiers to his lips.

Ouch.

The mayhem that had taken over the assembly room comes to a screeching halt.

The older Evot gives us a stern look before walking back to the side of the stage. And that’s that. There’s no words needed when ‘202’ appears back on the screen.

Then it’s flicked away, this time by a list of names speeding by.

BZZZZZT!

Mira Flint.

BZZZZZT!

Elijah Tenner.

BZZZZZT!

Thompson Dune.

BZZZZZT!

Tate Callow.

Another buzz, another name, until Evot Training School 202 has ten Evots generated.

Moving on to the next school.

Ten buzzers . . . ten more names.

We all watch without a sound, anticipation thrumming in the air.

And then it’s our turn.

That air thickens, the tension tripling.

My breathing gets shakier, and my eyes stay glued to the screen with the impossible focus needed to fire a missile from an Avri jet. I almost expect my jittery limbs to have the ground rumbling.