Dentelle (10 page)

Ash and I said our good-nights to Dakota and
Luke and walked up to our rooms. Decorative and attractive, the recessed floor
lights were a nice touch, lighting our way without blinding our eyes. We walked
in silence and I skimmed over the antler art and horse paintings on the walls
without really seeing them. When we made it to our rooms, Ash said, “Get some
sleep and douse yourself with that Essence. We’ve got a big day ahead of us
tomorrow.”

Feeling grumpy, I said, “I know. I’ll try my
best, but don’t get mad at me if I screw up. I’m not as competitive as you
are.”

Walking quickly to me, he engulfed me in a big
hug. “Lexi, I could never be mad at you about something like that. Let’s just
have as much fun as we can. Okay?”

I stared into his amazingly iridescent green
eyes. “Okay.” I hesitated and said, “You know, Ash, you’re not so bad after
all. Thanks for playing your part. I love ya.”

A wide smile spread across his face and he
raised one brow. “Oh, really? Does that mean you’re gonna unlock the door
between our rooms tonight so I can come over and show you my cowboy hat?”

Tongue-tied, I gave him a playful shove. “I
shudder at the thought.” Stepping into my room, I turned and added, “FYI, the
door between our rooms will be double-bolted and booby trapped.”

He laughed. “Good to have the old Lexi back
again. Sleep tight.”

One shot! That’s all I needed. If I connected
with the bull’s-eye, Ash and I would be on our way to the archery finals. The
target was 100 meters away, 30 more than was standard in the Olympics. Then
again, we Guardians had exceptional strength and better than average accuracy,
so maybe shooting from this distance wasn’t saying much after all. I knew
Jason, Ash, and many of my friends were silently cheering me on. But I also
knew there were many curious eyes, several doubtful eyes, and a ton of eyes
with unrealistic expectations. Being a Dentelle didn’t make me flawless or
superhuman, but in passing comments I’d overheard while at the Ranch, people
seemed to think I would be perfect. I shook off any feelings of self-doubt and
situated myself accordingly.

Standing upright in a comfortable but firm
stance, I nocked the arrow and gripped the string in a Mediterranean draw –
index finger above the string with middle and ring fingers below. I raised the
slender bow, drew my elbow high, and anchored my trigger finger knuckle against
my cheekbone, just below my shooting eye. My dad always said, “Besides
practice, the key to hitting your target is a consistent anchor spot.” Inhaling
ever so slightly, I stared down the spine of the arrow with quiet concentration,
focusing only on the ten point gold center ring.

The tall amber grasses standing between me and
the target remained a hazy blur on the edge of my peripheral vision. The hot
mid-afternoon Montana sun beat down on the open prairie and was probably
responsible for triggering the strange blended scent of hay and Alyssum that
flourished around me. Despite wearing shorts and a tank top, the dry heat was
taking its toll. Sweat trickled down the small of my back, but I ignored the
tickle. So respectfully silent was the large crowd of Guardian spectators, that
for a moment I forgot I wasn’t alone.

Maintaining tension in my back muscles, I held
my draw with confidence and certainty. I could do this. I needed to do this.
Especially after my epic fail in the river kayaking competition. Unbelievably,
I’d lost my grip on the paddle and dropped it in the water about halfway
through our timed adventure. Although Ash was strong and skilled, he didn’t
have enough power to do the work of two – not when we faced steep Guardian
competition. Needless to say, our final time stunk and I felt horrible and
humiliated. Afterwards, I’d overheard several snide comments about what a
disappointment my skills were or how being a Dentelle wasn’t so special after
all. Ash must have caught the comments as well, because he’d suddenly jumped
into action and put on quite a show for everyone around us.

Having swept me up in his arms, he’d said
loudly, “No worries, babe. We all make mistakes. We’ll get ‘em next time
around.” Spinning me towards the crowd, he’d smiled and said, “I love this
lady. So glad she isn’t perfect
all
the time or I’d have a nasty inferiority complex by now.” He’d set me down,
kissed my nose and continued, “Besides, wait until you see her in the archery
competition…she’s badass.”

I didn’t know what it was about Ash, but people
loved him. Several Guardians came forward after his little spiel and commended
him on his good sportsmanship and reassured me that we all made mistakes. One
guy even told a similar story of how he’d managed to flip his kayak a couple
years before and come in dead last. Another girl talked about how she’d freaked
out in the rapids, closed her eyes, and forgotten to steer. By the time we went
to lunch, we’d made several new friends and sat with a group of college
students from the Denver Circle, who were big time whitewater rafters. Of
course, I was in seventh heaven, because I could finally talk Denver Bronco
football with people who really understood my passion and loyalty.

Taking a deep breath, and having held the bow
solidly on target for several seconds, I was ready to prove to the onlookers I
was as good of an archer as I knew myself to be. I relaxed all three fingers at
the same time and released.

“Thwish.”

After the arrow was away, I remained still –
intent on maintaining the position of the bow until the arrow hit its mark.
Patience…patience…

“Thunk.”

As the arrow hit the gold mark, the crowd went
wild. I expelled a huge breath as relief washed over me, and a monstrous smile
took possession of my face. As I lowered the bow, Ash was suddenly beside me,
sweeping me into his arms for the second time that day.

“That was beautiful!” he exclaimed.

“That was nerve-racking,” I said as he put me
down and our friends crowded around. Jessica and Izzy engulfed me in big hugs,
and everyone else offered words of praise. I caught Jason’s eye, and he winked.
I nodded, smiled shyly, and winked back. I hadn’t really exchanged any private
words with him since we’d been on the airplane, and that tugged at my heart. I
mouthed the words, “Miss you.”

And he mouthed back, “Me, too.”

The individual event for shapeshifters was
coming up, so our Bellingham Circle ambled that direction. The archery finals
weren’t set to take place until Thursday afternoon – right after the dreaded
Senior Council meeting. What horrible timing! Everyone talked at once – wanting
to share their stories or perspectives on the games so far. Shelby and Trevon
were walking next to me, so I heard all about their day. Sounded like Trevon
and Michael had both placed somewhere in the middle of the standings during
their teleportation competition where they’d had to travel swiftly between 20
different locations as well as complete a strength challenge at each point.

Shelby was super animated though, because she’d
just taken third place in the Pyro event. Her eyes shimmered behind her bright
orange glasses and her red hair bounced madly around her shoulders as she spoke
with her hands. Sporting cowboy boots, a paisley sundress, and a leather
headband with a big blue peony, she looked her usual hippie self but with a
dash of western thrown in. She’d had to set a series of fires at different
stations, but the tricky part had come in managing the size of the flames. Sometimes
the goal was to burn through ropes which were placed at varying heights, while
other times the flames needed to get close as possible to an object without
leaving any burn marks. I cracked up as she told about all the epic fails at
the most challenging station.

“The trickiest one of all,” she explained, “was
having to light a series of ten candles while maintaining the barest of flames.
See, there was a thin string stretched across the tops that was dangerously
close to the wicks. If a flame even licked the thread, it would immediately
burn through. Once that happened a lever was released – which would in turn
dump water all over one of the judges. They took turns sitting in the drop
box.” Smacking her hands together, she laughed loudly. “You wouldn’t believe
how many times a judge went down. It was hilarious.”

Just as she finished her story, we arrived at a
series of portable bleachers. They’d been set up right in the middle of a
meadow. Huge awnings covered the bleachers, providing us with shade on this
squelching hot day. Seats were filling up quickly, so after wishing Jason and
Max luck, the rest of us crammed in next to each other in the top two rows. I
sat between Jessica and Ash so someone wouldn’t bump into me and inadvertently
burn themselves. Hoots, hollers, and shouts of encouragement rang out around
us.

“Everyone seems pretty pumped up,” I said
loudly. Even though Jessica was right next to me, the stands were vibrating and
the noise level was similar to that of a sold-out football stadium.

She turned quickly, and one of her braids
smacked me on the cheek. “Oops sorry!” She covered her mouth and giggled.
“Yeah, this event is pretty popular. There’s a lot of shapeshifters, so a ton
of different Circles will be represented. The battle to win this one gets
pretty fierce.” She motioned to a couple guys who were shoving each other
around a couple rows below. “It even gets wild in the stands,” she added.

“Miami brings the heat. Miami brings the heat,”
a group of Guardians started chanting.

In response, I heard, “Chicago can’t be beat.
Chicago can’t be beat.”

Glancing around, I noticed our immediate view
was of a long, open stretch of willowy green grasses. Off a ways in the
distance, the competitors gathered together where the grassy fields met up with
the Ponderosa Pine forest. They were too far away for me to make out
individuals, but I knew Jason was in that crowd, and my heart swelled with
excitement for him. Since Jason was an Imitator and was allowed to copy the
Flair of any of the Guardians during a specific event, he could participate in
just about any competition of his choice. Being around Max, he shapeshifted
often, so he’d told me he felt this was his best chance for medaling during the
games. The funny thing was, we’d never gotten a chance to talk further about
it, and I had no idea what to expect, which was why all the hoopla over this
one event had me so baffled.

“How does this work?” I asked.

Before Jessica could respond, Madison, who was
sitting one rung below us, whipped around. Her green eyes were amplified –
riveted with excitement. Blinking rapidly, she said in a friendly voice, “Oh,
this one is intense. It takes a keen mind and speed. Both of which Max and
Jason possess, as you know.” Ash leaned forward to listen in, and Madison actually
smiled at him. In a classy, colorful summer dress, that did nothing better than
accentuate her curves, she looked exotic and elegant. How she managed
perfection while the rest of us looked like we suffered from heat exhaustion –
all sweaty, with hair sticking to our necks and make-up running – I had no
idea. “Okay, so all the competitors follow the same course, which is basically
divided into five different terrains all over the ranch: a forest; a bouldered
area with burrows and caves; an area of mudflats; a steep, rocky mountain; and
finally, the open plains you see before us.” She swept an arm out in front of
her.

Trevon interjected, “Yeah, and since we can’t
actually see the action firsthand, with the exception of what happens in the
final stretch here in front of us, the rest is live via video feed.” He pointed
at the screens positioned in the upper corners of the awning. “When it begins a
huge screen unfolds up front as well.”

“So they have cameras scattered throughout the
course, allowing us to follow their every move,” I mused.

“You got it,” Jessica said. Crinkling her nose,
she added, “Cameras in the trees, in the tunnels, in the air, and even out on
the rock cliffs. And they’re always moving, allowing close-ups of the
competitors. It’s awesome!”

Madison pulled her long hair behind her
shoulder. “So the contestants get a map of the terrain five minutes before it’s
their turn to go. Oh, and they run the eight mile course one at a time, with
the clock ticking. There’s three simple rules: first, they must shapeshift five
times at the designated shifting areas; second, they cannot choose the same
animal twice; and third, they must shift into a bird and fly for one leg of the
race.”

“Wow!” Ash said. “So, the real skill comes with
the initial planning – deciding which animal will travel the fastest and most
efficiently over the different terrains?”

Madison pulled the designer sunglasses off her
head and put them on. Offering Ash a rare, award-winning smile. “You just might
be smarter then I give you credit for.”

“Funny. I was just thinking you might be more
beautiful than I give you credit for.” The sunglasses flew off her face and
hovered like she was seriously considering launching them right at him. He put
his hands up defensively. “Hey, wait. I mean that in the nicest of ways. You’re
beautiful when you smile. I think you should do it more often. Mix that with a
little more friendliness and you’d be the perfect catch.”

“Humph.” Squinting, with a furrowed brow, her
shoulders relaxed, and the sunglasses returned to her face. Suddenly she smiled
and said, “Well, that’s too bad for you then, isn’t it?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t plan on changing, and I’m a
bigger catch than you’ll ever land,” she said smugly, tuning her back on us.

“Sorry man,” Trevon said quietly, his hand next
to his mouth, directing his voice. “Nothing like getting burned when you’re
trying to be nice.”

“You asked
for it,”
I said disgustedly.
“When
are you ever gonna learn?”

“She’s secretly
infatuated with me. She just hasn’t admitted it to herself yet.”

I laughed aloud and Jessica looked at me
strangely. I shrugged and said to Ash,
“You
are so delusional.”

“I think
she wants my cowboy hat.”

Elbowing him in the ribs, I said,
“We are so done with this conversation.”

Not long after that, the crowd erupted in
applause and the competition began. The first guy was a Guardian from the
Boston Circle who raced through the sun-streaked timber as a coyote, slipped in
and out of the tunnels and crevices as a jackal, but got stuck a few times in
the mudflats as a cougar. After scaling the mountain as an ibex, he finally
flew across the finish line as a falcon.

The crowd cheered in support, the Boston Circle
went wild, and the lady announcer said, “The time to beat is seven minutes and
twenty-four seconds.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked Jessica.

“It’s okay. I think something in the six minute
range usually wins it.”

As the contenders made their way through the
second leg of the race, I gripped the metal bleachers and squeezed my eyes shut
at times. Some of the tunnels were no bigger than a rabbit hole, and besides
being tight, they were dark, dank, and muddy. I thanked my lucky stars my Flair
was not shapeshifting; there seemed to be an unspoken expectation that all
shapeshifters would participate in this event. And there was no way, not even
as a small, swift animal, that I would have scurried through those small
cavities inside the earth. Not happening. Not ever.