Chapter Nineteen #2
“Put it this way: when I find myself walking in a parade where all the flags are red, I don’t think there’s much else to think through besides getting off the route.”
“Thank god,” Ivan says. “Let’s ditch this and just go. Mr. Juno?” He turns to Brian. “I’m dropping out of the academy, effective now.”
“Sure, sure.” Brian swats his hand in Ivan’s direction. One hundred percent of his attention is focused on me now. “Ms. Lyon, do you really want to do the same?”
“I really d—”
“Funny how history repeats itself. A Lyon, the chance of a lifetime, and one bad choice that takes it all away. May as well wave a white flag on your dreams.”
Ivan catches what must be shock on my face and speaks up. “Do you see who he is now? He’ll say anything to get what he wants.”
“SO DID YOU!” I scream, pause, and swallow.
My entire throat feels coated in ceiling plaster and sawdust. That moment of paying attention to my body again brings with it a wave of other sensations I simply stopped noticing when I followed Ivan up here this morning.
My ears click as I swallow thickly past a jaw I now realize is far too clenched.
My neck feels tight and high, my shoulders achy, and my hands are balled in fists so tight the tips of my knuckles are lighter than the rest of my hands.
Everything is tense, everything hurts. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, turn my face to the ceiling, and try to relax everything.
I suck in a breath that feels almost too big for my compressed lungs and let it silently whoosh out from between my lips as I bring my head back down, and open my eyes again.
This time I don’t bother to look at Ivan.
He wants me to quit, to give up on my dream just because I’ll have to get a little dirty to do it.
I can’t believe how wrong he was about me.
By the time I’m done, he’ll definitely believe it.
“Fine. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s do this,” I say. “But that mentorship is mine.”
I’d rather wave a red flag than a white one.
When I send an all-caps EMERGENCY MEETING text to the party—well, what’s left of the party—they know I’m being serious.
Within seconds of sending out my proverbial bat signal, I can hear Kavi’s and Trieu’s footsteps racing down the hall to my dorm room.
I whisk them in quickly, locking the door behind me like I’m pulling them into a speakeasy.
“What’s going on?” Kavi asks while I press my ear to the door to confirm that no one is lingering in the hallway. I’ve learned the hard way just how easy it is to eavesdrop through a closed door.
Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I turn to face my captive audience.
And my mind goes completely blank.
“I …” All I can do is stand there with my mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. I’m not sure where to begin. How to package all of the hurt and anger and betrayal rushing through me into an easily digestible anecdote.
“Ivan lied,” is all I’m able to come up with, the words coming out quiet and meek and so unlike me it makes me want to scream.
I hate how much it hurts. How deeply Ivan had managed to sink beneath my skin.
I’d let him in—I’d thought he was different.
One of the few people to like me for me.
But I was just another pawn in his manipulation game.
“What?” Kavi and Trieu ask at almost the exact same time, but I can’t find it in me to respond to them yet.
My shoulders tremble as I cross my arms and duck my chin to my chest, urging myself not to cry. Not in front of them. “All of them lied,” I say once I’m sure my voice won’t crack. “Him. Brian. Everything about this place is a lie.”
Trieu takes a hesitant step toward me. “Zora, what do you mean?”
“You remember how I beat Ivan at the qualifier? How he shouldn’t even be here?” I look up in time to see the two of them nod. “Brian brought him because he wanted him here to watch us. To trick the rest of us into playing into his game.”
“Brian?” Kavi asks with a wrinkled brow. “As in Brian Juno?”
I nod stiffly, gritting my teeth so hard I’m sure they’d crack and chip if I wasn’t so committed to my flossing routine. “None of this is real. There’s no academy—not really. No algorithm, or at least not one Brian can’t just change if he wants.”
“So, all of these matches we’ve been doing were for nothing?” Trieu asks.
“What about the streams? All of our new subscribers?” Kavi follows up immediately after.
I shake my head, clenched fists trembling. “None of it mattered.”
Didn’t I already know that? Isn’t that why we were doing all of this in the first place? To get ahead—because we knew we’d never win if we played the game fairly?
“But you asked him to fake date—how was that part of the plan?” Kavi rubs her temples. I can’t blame her—this is the kind of situation that would give me a Level 10 headache if I wasn’t so focused on taking Ivan down.
“He went along with it to rehab his image, and because Brian saw that it was boosting our popularity.” I inhale sharply before continuing, lower lip quivering slightly, “And as soon as he saw a dip in the ratings, he held a meeting where he told Ivan to dump me.”
Trieu guides me to the edge of my bed when I start to tremble, sitting down beside me and waiting until I’ve sniffled my way through yet another almost tear attack to ask, “How did you find out?”
“I listened in on their conversation like a creep; how do you think?” Just the thought of it slices at me like a knife. “He wanted Ivan to break up with me so we could be the final match. A battle of the exes.”
Kavi’s eyes go wide as saucers. “Wait, so you’re going to be in the final two? Officially?”
I scoff. “If Ivan actually shows up.” While I doubt he’d pass up a chance at a moment of glory, I don’t technically know if he’ll hold up his end of the bargain and come to the battle. Stranger things have happened—like me falling for him. “Ivan said no.”
“But you said yes?” Kavi asks, looking pointedly at Trieu before turning back to me. “You didn’t try to fight back against this idea?”
“Why should I?” I practically spit back, so bitter and pissed I don’t even bother to soften my voice.
“They were always going to pick whoever they wanted. We’ve known since the minute we got here that none of this was about merit.
If it wasn’t going to be me, it was just going to be the next best option.
None of this is fair, so I might as well get a win out of it. ”
“Zora, calm—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shout at Trieu, and instantly regret it.
They’re not the ones to blame here. Brian and Ivan are the real villains—the only people deserving of my rage.
But in that moment of blinding anger, all I could do was let the rage out.
There was no time to think about who it was aimed at—how hurt they might be by me lashing out.
“We’re just trying to help you!” Kavi shouts back loud enough that I wince.
Both from the volume rattling my eardrums, and because I know I deserve it.
“That’s all we’ve done this summer—try to help you!
” She gestures to herself and Trieu—whose cheeks are as pink as the sunset sky beyond my window.
“And I guess that was for nothing too then? Since you’re so willing to take the top slot without even standing up for the rest of us? ”
“Kavi, I—”
“Forget this.” She throws her hands into the air before I can apologize, shaking her head before turning on her heel and going toward the door.
I go to protest—to throw as many pleas for forgiveness as I can at her—but the door slams before I can.
I slump back onto my bed like I’m deadweight, head hung so low it makes my neck ache.
Trieu is unmoving on the bed beside me. I close my eyes and wait for them to leave too.
To be the last member of the party left standing. Everyone gone, all because of me.
But there’s no creaking of the floor or squeak of the stiff-as-a-board mattress springs. Just the warmth of Trieu shifting in closer to me. To his arm wrapping around my shoulders.
“I know how it feels,” Trieu says, making me look up from the ground so quickly I give myself whiplash. The tears clouding my vision begin to fade as I straighten up, eager to hear what he means. “I know what guys like Ivan can be.”
There’s a sadness in his tone that makes my heart break.
How could anyone possibly break someone as pure and good as Trieu’s heart?
All of my own sadness is replaced by a fierce need to get out of here, hunt down whoever hurt Trieu, and kick their ass into the next century.
Trieu must sense my righteous anger, laughing quietly and pulling back just enough to take out his phone.
“But you can’t trust Brian.”
“I know,” I sniffle miserably. “But what choice do I have now?”
“Oh, none, girl. You’re fucked.” Trieu pulls out his phone. “But there’s someone you need to talk to. Like, now.”
My brow furrows as I watch him scroll through his contacts, my breath hitching as a familiar name and face fill the screen once he hits Call.