26 #2
‘Unfortunately, bound by existing regulations stating that all competitors must successfully trigger the entire field of racing beacons to be said to complete a race, the board has been forced to recognize only four teams as finishers of the 194th Silverscale Grand Prix. After disqualifying the first-place finisher, Natalia Bruce riding Vulture has been declared the winner of the race.’ Flávia seemed to choke on Nat’s name as she said it.
Asta leaned toward the TV as Flávia named the two other teams that Asta had accidentally triggered after the canyon, awarding them second and third place. Asta was confused. She had skipped Felix, but his armband had been triggered in the canyon. He should have been named in second place.
Flávia pushed on, her eyes glancing down at the piece of paper in her hand. Cameras flashed as she spoke.
‘The board has decided that two honorary titles will be awarded, although these awards will not appear in official record-keeping and confer no privilege for next year’s competitive season.
That said, the board would like to present Basma Bohra, riding Stryke, and Adam Soroko, riding Magnolia, with an award for excellence in competition and naming them honorary Silverscale finalists. ’
Asta couldn’t understand it. ‘That’s not right.’ Again, Flávia had left Felix off the list. Beacon or no, Felix, not Soroko, had finished after Nat. It was her, Basma, Nat, Felix. Had they figured out who made the cord for her? Did they think he was complicit? But who would have told them?
None of this was right. None of it was fair.
And it was Asta’s fault. She had screwed with Silverscale, and for that she was being punished.
For that, she would be loathed for all time.
And maybe she had earned that fate. Certainly Basma had every right to hate her.
Asta had played a mean trick on a good woman. Basma deserved better.
I owe you a win, Asta thought to her through the television screen. If she ever had the chance, she would make it right.
But right now, Asta’s worried thoughts returned to the fact that Flávia had not even mentioned Felix’s name. What did it mean?
As if reading her mind, a reporter from the crowd called out to Flávia. ‘What about Felix Seraphin? The standings show that he finished the race.’
Deep lines appeared around Flávia’s mouth as she frowned, choosing her words.
She lifted a hand and briefly fiddled with her earring.
‘The Seraphin team has retroactively withdrawn from competition in this year’s Silverscale Grand Prix.
’ A murmur of amazement ran through the gathered reports.
Questions were shouted to Flávia, but she put up a hand to stop them.
‘The Seraphins will release a statement later today addressing this matter.’
Asta looked at Gem. ‘What does that mean? What happened?’
He shook his head, bewildered. Asta’s mother prodded Gem, and he spoke again.
‘Asta. You heard what they said, didn’t you? You’re permanently disqualified. Banned. You won’t be able to race anymore.’
Asta just stared at him, trying not to hear his words.
‘I’m so sorry, sweetie,’ her mother said, and pulled her into her arms again. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
For a moment, Asta told herself that this show of support, though sweet, was entirely unnecessary.
For a moment, she tried to convince herself that the only feeling sweeping through her, starting at her feet and rushing up her legs, through her stomach and chest, and over her head, was pure relief.
She had done it, after all. She had kept the Bruces at bay, given them what they wanted, and no one had gotten hurt.
Whoever was mad at her today would eventually forget.
Leia had taught her that. They would all forget her name eventually.
But as her mother held her, sobs rose in her throat and continued until they shook her whole body. Maeve rocked Asta lightly and let her cry.
‘It’s all I ever wanted.’ Her voice was fractured by her weeping. ‘I screwed everything up.’ She had come so close. Silverscale. Felix. For one wonderful moment, she’d had it all. And now she was falling back down to earth, and there was no one who could catch her.
‘You were amazing out there,’ her father said. His voice, too, was trembling with tears. ‘I couldn’t believe it was you. I’m so proud to be your papa.’
Asta couldn’t answer him through her crying.
Gem turned off the TV.
Almost immediately, a knock came at the door.
‘Oh my god,’ Gem said, checking the peephole. He swung the door open.
Tess Curie’s tiny figure stood backlit in the doorway. She wore a thick fuzzy coat that nearly enveloped her, and in one hand, she carried a cloth bag.
‘Why’s it so damn dark in here?’ Tess squinted. ‘I can’t see for shit.’
Asta tumbled out of bed, wiping her eyes. ‘Ms. Curie.’
‘Oh, there you are. Huh,’ she mused, looking Asta up and down in the light falling from the open door.
Asta’s hair was uncombed, her clothes rumpled.
The bandage holding the ice pack to her leg extended out from under her shorts.
‘It was better when I couldn’t see. Well, I never liked you for your looks in the first place. ’
‘Who’s this?’ Asta’s mother asked, a thin veneer of politeness on her words.
‘Mama, Papa, this is Tess Curie. She’s a Silverscale champion. She’s . . . my hero.’ Asta went to her bedside table and picked up the postcard with Tess’s picture on it. ‘See?’
Tess tromped over and snatched the picture out of Asta’s hand. ‘Ha!’ she barked, and threw the picture on the bed. ‘I remember her. She didn’t know her head from a hole in the ground, but she was fast, eh?’
‘Yeah,’ Asta said, smiling. ‘She was really fast.’
‘I don’t know what the hell you were doing out there, girl. I thought you were dead for sure about twelve different times yesterday. I always said she was a dummy,’ she said to the others.
Asta blushed.
Tess’s eyes slid from Asta to her parents to Gem and back to Asta. She lowered her voice. ‘Didn’t leave you much choice, did he?’
Asta met her eyes and found them kind and gentle.
Tess breathed hard out of her nose in disgust. ‘That’s what I thought.
It ain’t right what that man gets away with, but it ain’t your job to fix it.
Might be, some time, you get a chance to stick it to him.
If you do, take it. In the meantime, I got something for you.
’ She reached into the cloth bag that she had been clutching and wrestled something out of it.
It was a silver chalice with a sweep of dragon scales arcing down the side of it.
Dark tarnish filled the little cracks and crevices between the scales, but the smooth surfaces gleamed bright, almost white, in the light from the open door. Tess handed it to Asta.
Asta read the inscription on the face of the chalice. ‘This is your trophy!’ She stared at it in awe, turning it in her hands. ‘This is your Silverscale trophy.’
Tess looked quite pleased with herself. ‘I want you to have it. Never seen riding like that before. You had me going.’ She made her way back toward the door of the suite but paused on the threshold, door half open and the cold air coming in around her.
‘It’s too bad what they did to you.’ Asta wondered if she meant the Bruces or the NFDRA board.
‘But I’ll hear your name again, Asta Ekenberg. That, I know.’
‘Wait,’ Asta called, and limped after Tess. The cold outdoor air shocked her bare skin, and she danced haltingly on the frigid sidewalk to keep her feet from freezing.
Tess turned back.
‘What happened with Felix?’ Asta asked.
Tess squinted at her in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Felix Seraphin. At the press conference, Flávia Gameiro said he had withdrawn. What happened?’
Tess scratched her neck through the fluff of her coat. ‘Well, you know old Peter and Sofia. They’d be damned if they would let her say it outright.’
‘Say what?’
‘He helped you, didn’t he? Gave you that magical contraption.’
Asta tiptoed closer to Tess. ‘Who told you that?’ Had Karol guessed? Had Nat? Who had turned him in?
Tess gave her another quizzical look. ‘He did. This morning. He told us himself.’
She left Asta, stunned, on the sidewalk. Without thinking, Asta started hobbling, as fast as her leg would allow, toward Housing Unit 1.
When Felix opened the door of his suite, Asta was standing, breathless, before him. The cold autumn morning had woken up her body, and she could feel that her cheeks were flushed.
‘You told them,’ Asta gasped. ‘You told them it was you.’
Without a word, Felix left the doorframe and padded into his suite on socked feet.
He was wearing track pants and an oversized black Seraphin T-shirt.
Asta followed, closing the door behind her.
She was in her ratty old sweatshirt and the shorts she had slept in, no shoes at all.
Between the two of them they barely had one complete outfit.
Felix pulled out the flat little pedestal that used to display his miniature racing illusion before he had turned it off. He handed it to Asta, who turned it, examining it, not at all sure what she was supposed to glean from it.
‘You didn’t tell me what you were going to do with the cord,’ Felix said, as if this offered some sort of interpretation.
Asta looked from the base to Felix’s face.
Felix shook his head. ‘But you didn’t tell me much of anything, did you?’
Asta took a quick step toward Felix. ‘I didn’t tell anyone. It was my problem to solve, Felix. I didn’t want you to get hurt.’
Felix reached for the illusion base, and Asta handed it back to him.
He murmured his spell and set it on the countertop.
It jumped to life, the image turning slowly, but instead of him and Essie running mid race, it repeated an endless cycle of Asta rappelling down the canyon walls, stealing the beacon, and going back up.