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“Kenzo could be good,” Leo agrees. “He’s smart and fast, and I’ve seen him take some hard hits without going down.”
Dean nods. Then he seems to remember who he’s talking to, and his face stiffens once more, the chill returning to his voice. “It won’t matter who else you pick. I’m gonna win the whole thing.”
“I hope you do,” Leo says evenly. “It would send us to the final round.”
He and Dean part ways without further conversation.
I can hear Anna’s relieved exhale as Leo rejoins her.
“He’ll do it?”
“Sounds like it,” Leo says.
Ares has a textbook propped up against his milk glass and he’s reading as he eats, oblivious to the drama going on around him.
“He had some other suggestions for who he thinks should fight,” Leo says.
“Oh yeah, who?” Anna says.
“Ares,” Leo replies, looking over at his friend.
Ares glances up, eyebrows raised. “Does he know we won’t be fighting each other? ‘Cause it sounds like he wants a re-match.”
“You rung his bell.” Leo grins. “Knocked a little sense into him.”
“Maybe if I punch him fifty more times he might turn halfway decent,” Ares says, returning to his textbook.
“You want to do it?” Leo asks.
“Punch Dean? Of course.”
“No. Do you want to compete?”
Ares pauses, eyes still fixed on the page. Without looking up he says, “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
A muscle jumps at the corner of his jaw. “You know I don’t like that shit. I wanna help the team, but there’s better fighters than me.”
Leo doesn’t argue. Everyone knows Ares hates attention. Even I know it, and I’m barely an acquaintance.
“What about you, Hedeon?” Leo calls down the table.
Hedeon is a pretty good fighter—the fact that he can hold his own with Silas is proof of that, even if he only wins one out of four fights.
“Fuck that,” Hedeon snarls, shoving away his tray. “Not interested.”
He might be offended that Leo didn’t ask him earlier. It came off like he was the fourth choice, after Dean and Ares and maybe Kenzo Tanaka.
Or he’s just having one of his days. I don’t know what his problem is, but Hedeon seems to suffer from a particular brand of bipolar that vacillates between mildly grouchy and full-out homicidal.
We accept Hedeon’s outbursts like we accept Ares’ modesty. It’s a part of them and not likely to change.
The morningof the second challenge dawns bright and clear with a light breeze. Perfect weather for sitting outdoors.
As I leave the Undercroft, Rakel says to me, “Don’t forget to index the source materials for our History paper.”
I agreed to do the indexing if Rakel proofread my paper.
