5 #2
“It’s okay.” My throat bobs with a swallow. “I know. It’s . . .” Furtively, I flick my eyes about the room, glancing over my shoulder as if Aider might be standing right behind me.
He isn’t. But he’s not too far off either.
My neck twists so fast I’m surprised I don’t hear a fatal snap as I race my gaze back to the brothers before he or Troy can catch me staring.
But Scotty and Tiger definitely did.
“That guy again?! Come on, Scotty! Let’s go teach Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum a lesson!”
Scotty stops Tiger from rising all the way from the bench with a hard yank. “No—we didn’t even hear what Alby had to say. Has he done something to cause this?” He directs the question at me with a stern finger pointed at my smoothie.
A wince screws my features up. “Uh . . . no.”
“The other one?”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I stay silent.
That’s all the answer he needs.
“I loathe bullying, Alby,” he says seriously. “I won’t let him do anything else to you. And we’re here if you need to talk about anything. We know first-hand what an asshole Troy is, so if his friend is anything like him, I know you must’ve been through some shit.”
My nose tingles.
Fuck, I can’t start tearing up in front of them again. If they see how much of a big crybaby I am, they might rethink their decision to befriend me.
Ignoring my spasming chest, I ask, “You knew Troy before this?”
“Yeah,” Tiger answers around a mouthful of eggs, avocado, and toast. My stomach grumbles in response, and I slurp the disgusting greenery of my own breakfast up my straw in attempt to satisfy it.
“In first school. He was a little shit—always mocking me for my ADHD.” He shoves more food down his throat.
“He even cut some girl’s hair off. Quite a big chunk, too.
I must’ve been seven or eight at the time, Scotty ten.
Troy was the same age as me. Evil giant,” he mutters the last part before gulping down whatever’s in his cup.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.
“Don’t be. If anything, we should be apologising to you for not strangling the prick when we had the chance. Me and Scotty never had to see him again after first school until now. I’m guessing he went straight to your second school, right?”
I nod my head. “Yeah. But it’s . . .” I hesitate, wondering how bad my punishment will be if word gets around that I’ve been talking shit.
But then I decide it doesn’t really matter when Game 1 is on the horizon.
“It’s actually Aider—that’s the leaner brunette Troy’s with—who’s done the most damage.
In first school, he was my closest friend.
We did everything together and shared everything with each other, too.
He . . . It was like the moment I got a low Score in our first tests at second school, he turned on me.
Spread nasty shit about me and employed Troy as his executioner.
” Ashamed, I look down at the glinting onyx floor, blinking away the moisture building in my eyes.
“It’s been an ongoing thing ever since.”
It’s quiet for so long, I’m afraid I’ve scared the brothers away. But when I look back up, I’m met with two matching solemn expressions, and Tiger has no sparkles dancing about in his cerulean eyes.
“And how old are you?” Scotty asks seriously.
“Nineteen.”
His brows lower, expression like thunder. “He’s been bullying you for eight fucking years?”
“We should kill him. In Game 1.”
I blink at Tiger in surprise. I don’t know why I didn’t expect that from him. Maybe it’s the graveness of his normally chipper tone that’s thrown me off.
“He’s an Evot,” Scotty points out.
“So? There’re no rules saying you can’t kill someone who’s the same social classification as you in Game 1—it happens sometimes when two Evots are fighting over the same Exot.”
Scotty’s head tilts. “Fair. But we should reserve that for Game 2 and onwards, and only when necessary. Even though I can admit that I strongly dislike people like Troy and Aider, wanting to kill someone and actually doing it are two very different things.” He seems to momentarily forget he has a helmet on, and his hand rubs over the sleek black surface rather than his head before he carries on, “We should focus on bonding in the first Game. We can’t be distracted when it’s our lives on the line.
An Evot can’t be an Unbonded—not unless we lose our Bonded later in the Games.
And if that happens, we’ll be right back here in a year’s time. ”
That’s right: it’s the Evots who have to do the bonding, while the Exots are hell-bent on killing us to avoid becoming a Bonded at all costs.
Like every other aspect of The Bonding Games, it’s completely unfair.
While Exots can pass Game 1 unbonded, Evots who haven’t claimed anyone are taken from the arena to be executed for “refusal to play the Game”.
As if Evots don’t do everything possible to bond and live to see another day.
Because of this, Unbonded Evots are incredibly rare.
There’s not been one in years, in fact. When there is one, whichever school they came from will only have to generate nine names for as long as that Player is alive and without a Bond, and so on, but that’s the only selfish perk I can possibly think of.
It’s not even like it’s much better for Exots, since if an Evot doesn’t manage to bond them and they survive, they’ll have to repeat the Games again and again every year until they’re either claimed, killed, or they age out.
Sometimes, I’m not sure why they fight so hard against becoming a Bonded—it’s not like it’s actually the rules.
Though I guess there’s so little of them that it’s fully open to interpretation, and this is just the way things worked out.
And when I remember that a good chunk of our opponents are bloodthirsty animals in the Games, as if they’re in their natural habitat, it’s not exactly difficult to understand why.
“Sure,” Tiger agrees readily. Then perks up like a puppy.
“We’ll all pick one together, right?” His eyes flick over to mine, the usual twinkle back in them.
“Me and Scotty have always said we’d bond the same Exot if we were generated together, whether we’d be platonic or romantic with them.
It’ll be easier to bond and stay alive that way, and we also decided we don’t mind sharing our Bonded if it is romantic. ”
My jaw drops down, then snaps back up. Then drops again.
It’s one thing to ask me to be their friend so readily, but to ask me to share a Bonded with them . . .
I gulp.
That’s for life. They’d practically become my family. And forever, too, if we all made it through the Games.
And I realise then, that for the first time, I actually considered the possibility that I might be able to live through this nightmare. With them by my side, it doesn’t seem so utterly implausible.
“I’m okay with that,” Scotty says after a moment. “I like you, Alby. We’ve only just met, but I can tell you have a pure heart—you’re a good person. And there doesn’t seem to be many of those around these days.”
My eyes gloss over, and for once, I don’t try to hide it. “Wow . . .” I breathe, voice trembling. “Thank you . . . I-I mean, of course. That—that means so much to me.”
“Of course! This is so exciting!” Tiger’s volume attracts half of the room.
And I hardly even curl in on myself.
***
After finishing up in the dining hall, we head to the Training Centre.
Tiger yaps the entire way.