end, his face contemplative. After a moment his determined brows lowered in remembered anger, and he
turned toward the centre of the city, but they were too low and too far for the
Spire to be visible. "Go all out,
" he added. "And try to keep
the punch flat, scoring the surface rather than digging into the sand."
He strode back up the beach while Madeleine hooked off her
sandals and hitched up that day's maxi-dress. The damp sand felt incredible against her velvet skin, and she shivered
when the water rushed up to caress her feet. The last trace of mist had already burned off, and the blues of sky and
water were shifting, deepening. There
were no seagulls, no voices, no cars; just the soughing of the waves.
Madeleine glanced back. They were all clustered together at the bottom of the tower stairs, more
than fifty metres away, Nash and Shaun holding cameras at ready. The question of angles preoccupied her, and
she eventually knelt, and cupped her hands before her knees, focused down the
long, slightly curving line of surf, and poured everything inside her down through
her arms, her palms, out.
THOOOOMMMMMM!!!
The noise shocked her, and she jerked. Since she'd angled a little low, gouging
underground, this lifted the punch, sand exploding up for the whole of perhaps
a hundred metres. The leading edge of
water poured and foamed into the instant trench, and Madeleine took a deep,
shuddering breath, wondering at the sudden rush of exultation.
"Damn, Maddie , I am never going to piss you off!"
Pan had run down, Noi and Shaun close behind. He was lit high with excitement, but paused
to help her back to her feet and then pushed a brightly coloured stick into the
ground a few metres to her right before trotting down the line of the trench
with another.
"No pins and needles? Urge to imitate statues?"
"I'm fine." Breathing deeply, Madeleine took the sandals Noi held out, trying to
reconcile the rush of excitement with a sick feeling in her stomach. "Like I'd run up a lot of stairs. Just...trying not to picture what would
happen to any people in the way."
"If they were Blues, we think they'd auto-protect,"
Gavin said, coming up with the others.
"Auto-protect?" Noi repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Tap me with a finger-punch and I'll show you."
"Seriously?"
He gave her a mock-sultry look. "I know you'll be gentle with me
Noi."
"I'm immune to your lash-batting," Noi told
him. "Okay, you asked for it."
Waiting till Nick and Fisher had moved out of the way, she
pointed at his shoulder. Madeleine
couldn't see the punch, but she realised she was beginning to feel it
happen. And she could just barely make
out a visible ripple around Gavin's shoulder as he stood, unmoved.
"Now do it again, a good solid palm-shot."
Frowning, Noi obeyed, and this time the shield was obvious,
making the air around Gavin shimmer.
"It doesn't work if you bean him with a cricket
ball," Pan said, jogging up. "Not automatically anyway, though if you see one coming you can try
to shield in time."
"While we just get punched," Nick said, pulling his
shirt down so they could see a round, red mark above a patch of green. "Seriously cheated in the special
abilities department."
"Could be we just haven't figured it out yet,"
Shaun put in, looking up as he tied the end of a colourful ball of wool to the
first stick. "You Blueberries can
be brute force, and Greens will be the brains."
He trailed off down the beach, unreeling the ball of wool,
which switched colours at regular intervals, and Pan followed him, pushing a
stick into the sand at each colour change.
Madeleine's punch had reached over one hundred and fifty
metres. Her nearest rival was Gavin,
managing fifty. Then Noi, Emily, Fisher
and Pan, mildly indignant at measuring lowest. Madeleine spent her time on the lifeguard tower's steps, sketching,
snacking, and watching Nash, not surprised when he kept to his role as
cameraman and did not test.
Pan dealt with any disappointment by playing
turned toward the centre of the city, but they were too low and too far for the
Spire to be visible. "Go all out,
" he added. "And try to keep
the punch flat, scoring the surface rather than digging into the sand."
He strode back up the beach while Madeleine hooked off her
sandals and hitched up that day's maxi-dress. The damp sand felt incredible against her velvet skin, and she shivered
when the water rushed up to caress her feet. The last trace of mist had already burned off, and the blues of sky and
water were shifting, deepening. There
were no seagulls, no voices, no cars; just the soughing of the waves.
Madeleine glanced back. They were all clustered together at the bottom of the tower stairs, more
than fifty metres away, Nash and Shaun holding cameras at ready. The question of angles preoccupied her, and
she eventually knelt, and cupped her hands before her knees, focused down the
long, slightly curving line of surf, and poured everything inside her down through
her arms, her palms, out.
THOOOOMMMMMM!!!
The noise shocked her, and she jerked. Since she'd angled a little low, gouging
underground, this lifted the punch, sand exploding up for the whole of perhaps
a hundred metres. The leading edge of
water poured and foamed into the instant trench, and Madeleine took a deep,
shuddering breath, wondering at the sudden rush of exultation.
"Damn, Maddie , I am never going to piss you off!"
Pan had run down, Noi and Shaun close behind. He was lit high with excitement, but paused
to help her back to her feet and then pushed a brightly coloured stick into the
ground a few metres to her right before trotting down the line of the trench
with another.
"No pins and needles? Urge to imitate statues?"
"I'm fine." Breathing deeply, Madeleine took the sandals Noi held out, trying to
reconcile the rush of excitement with a sick feeling in her stomach. "Like I'd run up a lot of stairs. Just...trying not to picture what would
happen to any people in the way."
"If they were Blues, we think they'd auto-protect,"
Gavin said, coming up with the others.
"Auto-protect?" Noi repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Tap me with a finger-punch and I'll show you."
"Seriously?"
He gave her a mock-sultry look. "I know you'll be gentle with me
Noi."
"I'm immune to your lash-batting," Noi told
him. "Okay, you asked for it."
Waiting till Nick and Fisher had moved out of the way, she
pointed at his shoulder. Madeleine
couldn't see the punch, but she realised she was beginning to feel it
happen. And she could just barely make
out a visible ripple around Gavin's shoulder as he stood, unmoved.
"Now do it again, a good solid palm-shot."
Frowning, Noi obeyed, and this time the shield was obvious,
making the air around Gavin shimmer.
"It doesn't work if you bean him with a cricket
ball," Pan said, jogging up. "Not automatically anyway, though if you see one coming you can try
to shield in time."
"While we just get punched," Nick said, pulling his
shirt down so they could see a round, red mark above a patch of green. "Seriously cheated in the special
abilities department."
"Could be we just haven't figured it out yet,"
Shaun put in, looking up as he tied the end of a colourful ball of wool to the
first stick. "You Blueberries can
be brute force, and Greens will be the brains."
He trailed off down the beach, unreeling the ball of wool,
which switched colours at regular intervals, and Pan followed him, pushing a
stick into the sand at each colour change.
Madeleine's punch had reached over one hundred and fifty
metres. Her nearest rival was Gavin,
managing fifty. Then Noi, Emily, Fisher
and Pan, mildly indignant at measuring lowest. Madeleine spent her time on the lifeguard tower's steps, sketching,
snacking, and watching Nash, not surprised when he kept to his role as
cameraman and did not test.
Pan dealt with any disappointment by playing
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