Nick James - Skyship Academy

I glare at him. He grins back.

“You gotta put some more spin on it, mate. Watch.” He crouches down and winds up his arm, tossing the ball in a curved pathway around the trunk. It spins up the tree, looping around three branches and back again before returning to his outstretched hand. “It’s all about the wind-up.”

I sit up. “Hey, that was-”

A soccer ball bashes into the side of my head, knocking me halfway onto the grass. Skandar’s first instinct is to laugh. Mine is to groan in pain.

The ball settles at the base of the tree. I rub my head, disoriented.

“Fisher!” A familiar voice cuts through the otherwise silent park. I turn to see August Bergmann jogging up the gentle slope to meet us. I don’t make eye contact, hoping that he’ll go away. It’s been the same since Year Seven. Just because he’s a year older than me and a Grade-A specimen of agentdom, he’s taken it upon himself to remind everyone exactly how much I pale in comparison to him.

“Fisher,” he repeats, closer now. “Hey Fisher, I’m talking to you!”

He stops a few feet away, panting. It’s not training time, but he’s still in full jock regalia. I think the outfit’s permanently affixed to his body. Sweat dampens his buzzed hair.

“So you gonna give me my ball back?” He crosses his chiseled arms, grinning.

Skandar grabs the soccer ball and holds it captive. “You mean the one you chucked into his head?”

He shrugs. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Sure.”

He watches me cradle the side of my head, barely containing his laughter. “Jameson’s got one hell of a power kick. I guess you guys shouldn’t be sitting here.”

“It’s a free park,” Skandar replies.

August smiles. “Hey, at least you didn’t faint this time, right Fisher?”

I keep my eyes fixed on the grass. Bergmann knows about my little training room disaster-just what I need.

He turns back to Skandar, hands on hips. “You gonna give me that ball or not?”

Skandar nudges me. I pull my head up, glancing at him. He tosses the antigravity ball into my lap. I fumble to catch it.

“It’s all in the wind-up,” he whispers, clutching the soccer ball close to his body.

August rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Five seconds, Harris, or I pry it from your fingers.”

Skandar shifts the ball to his left hand, taunting August. I realize what he wants me to do. Retaliation’s not really my thing.

But I can make exceptions.

Skandar throws the soccer ball high up into the air and I switch the settings on the side of the antigravity ball to “boomerang.” Then I hurl it into the field. It curves to the left, hangs in mid-air for a second, and reverses its path. August looks up to the sky, oblivious. A split-second later the antigravity ball plows into his back, right between the shoulder blades.

He swears. Loudly. It echoes along the transparent fiberglass dome protecting the park.

Skandar slaps my hand. “Payback!”

August lunges straight for me. Panicked, I try to stand up and get away. He’s too quick. Before I know it, he’s pinned me to the grass, fist held up in front of me ready to punch my face into the dirt. He smells mass disgusting. The soccer ball lands behind him, rolling down the hill.

“Stupid move, Fisher.” He glares at me. “You don’t throw the first punch if you’re not prepared to fight.”

I try to squirm away, but he’s too big. Too strong. I wanna point out that it was actually him who threw the first punch-or soccer ball-but I know it’ll only make him angrier.

“What?” He slaps my face, keeping me pinned down with the other hand. “You gonna fight back? You gonna whip me with those little noodle arms of yours?”

I kick at him, pressing my heel against his thigh, trying to push him off or flip him over or something. But it’s like trying to move a slab of concrete.

Skandar leaps from the ground, eager to join the fray, but a hand pushes him away. Then it grabs August’s right ear and twists. His face contorts and he forgets about me, yanking his ear free and flipping around to sit on the grass.

Eva stands before us, arms crossed. “Boys.” She frowns. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Jeez, Rodriguez.” August cradles his burning ear. “What are you, my freaking mother?”

“No,” she replies, “But I don’t think your mom would be happy to see you picking on a Year Nine.”

“Fisher’s not a Year Nine.” August glowers at me. “He’s like… a Year Two.”

Eva sighs. “Not funny, Bergmann.”

He sneers, rubbing his ear. “I was just asking for my ball back.” He picks himself off the ground and backs down the hill, mouthing threats in my direction.

I keep an eye on him until he’s out of sight, then turn to Eva. “You know, I can take care of myself.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Looked like it.”

“I can.” I brush the dirt from my hands, sitting up. “I was just about to push him down the hill.”

“Sure you were.”

Skandar grabs the antigravity ball, switches it off boomerang, and tosses it from hand to hand. “Where’d you even come from, Eva? I swear, you’ve got a sixth sense or something.”

She sighs. “In case you didn’t realize, August Bergmann isn’t the most subtle person in the world. They probably heard him cursing all the way down in the library.”

I pull myself up, rubbing the side of my head. “Maybe next time you should just stay where you are instead of rushing in to help me. I’m gonna go get some ice.”

She grabs my shoulder, stopping me. “Jesse.”

“What, Eva? What else do you wanna do to embarrass me?”

“It’s not to embarrass you.”

I turn around, meeting her face to face. “Then what is it? Because I don’t see you stepping in and saving any of the other guys.”

“You’re not any of the other guys,” she says.

“Yeah,” I reply, “because I’ve got my own personal babysitter. Look, you’re a girl. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re my teammate, Jesse.”

“August is never gonna let me live this down,” I mutter, ignoring her.

“We’re responsible for each other.”

I shake my head. “Saved by a girl. What a freaking wimp.”

She sighs. “You’re not a wimp.”

“Just… next time, please stay away.” I start off toward the field, but three steps in, something stops me. A tug at my consciousness. A sudden awareness.

“Guys,” Skandar points at the sky, squinting, “what’s that?”

Eva’s gaze follows the path of his finger. I raise my head to stare at the blanket of blue beyond our ship. It doesn’t take me long to notice it. Something bright above us, and not a star.

“A Pearl,” Eva says, a grim frown on her face. “It’s falling. Fast.”

We run down the hill to get a better look. I keep my eyes focused on the green dot, growing bigger and bigger with each second that it hurtles toward Earth. “Can you tell what direction it’s headed?”

Before anybody can answer, a dull alarm sounds around the park, followed by three clear warning chimes. Everybody in the Academy knows the drill. We practice it each semester.

“It’s heading right for the park,” Eva says. “It’ll smash through the dome as soon as it hits.” She takes off through the field, shouting back at us. “Emergency tunnels. Now!”

Skandar and I sprint behind her, heading to a darker patch of grass beside a plot of flowers. Eva digs between the blades, finding the handle of an invisible trapdoor. “Skandar, help me with this.”

Skandar moves to her side, grabbing hold of the handle and pulling. The alarms sound again, followed by three more chimes.

I spin around and stare up at the Pearl. It hurtles down at us like an out-of-control bowling ball. Two years ago, one came three feet away from smashing into the top of the Central Tower. This one’s headed straight for the dome, and there’s no changing a Pearl’s course once it gets started.