The Academy by Emmaline Andrews Page B

out. You step over the line, you’re out. If someone catches the ball you threw, you’re out. And body shots only—no head or face hits. Got it?”
     
    Everyone murmured assent, myself included, but I couldn’t help feeling the tension in the air. The boys around me were tight with anticipation, leaning toward the balls, ready to dash in and grab them and start pelting each other. I wished I could run the other direction but I knew that wouldn’t work. Grimly, I got ready to run along with the others.
     
    The shrill whistle blast echoed in the vast gym and then the air was filled with the sound of cadets shouting, squeaking athletic shoes, and loud, hollow thumps as those too slow to dodge were picked off one by one. Luckily, I wasn’t one of them. To my surprise, I had finally found a situation in which my petite size worked in my favor.
     
    I dodged in and out of the larger cadets, weaving and ducking as Broward and his team threw more and more balls in my direction. I caught several, sending the boys who had thrown them out of the game. In fact, I was doing so well, my own team finally started to take notice of me.
     
    “Lookit that!” A cadet with curly brown hair and glasses pointed at me. “The runt is fast .”
     
    My team captain, Jakes, gave me an approving nod. “Good going, little guy.”
     
    “Thanks.” I caught another ball—this one thrown by Nodes—and passed it to him. “Being small has its advantages sometimes.”
     
    “Not gonna be an advantage if Broward catches you after the game.” Jakes dodged a ball easily as he talked. His natural athleticism made it easy to see why Coach Janus had picked him as a captain. “You’d do better to steer clear of him.”
     
    “I’m trying.” I dodged another ball myself. “He’s not making it easy.”
     
    “Too bad for you, then.” Jakes gave me a pitying look and ran to catch a ball on the other side of the court.
     
    Across the black line, Broward was getting angrier and angrier. I could tell by the way his face got red, then purple. His team was passing him balls to throw at me but he missed every shot.
     
    I knew I should just let him hit me and be done with it. Maybe getting me out would take the edge off his anger. But my pride rose up and wouldn’t let me. I had always had a strong competitive streak in me and I refused to lose the game on purpose, no matter what the consequences.
     
    Before I knew it, Broward and I were the only ones left standing.
     
    “C’mon, freshie.” He beckoned me, two balls in each hand. “Come here and take your medicine.”
     
    “I don’t think so.” I dodged one of the balls easily. I could have caught it and sent him out, winning the game for my team but no matter how proud I was, I wasn’t stupid. Making Broward lose that much face in front of the other cadets was too dangerous. So I just kept dodging the balls as he threw them until finally Coach Janus blew his whistle and called the match a tie.
     
    I felt a sense of relief as I walked forward with the others to put the balls back in the cart. Some of my teammates seemed irritated that I hadn’t won them the game but on the whole, I got more admiring glances than angry ones. Jakes smiled at me and punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Good game, Jameson.” He nodded at the still glowering Broward. “And good call.”
     
    “Thanks.” I smiled back, glad that he understood why I hadn’t been able to win.
     
    “Very nice, ladies.” Coach Janus gave us a bored nod. “I’ll see you all tomorrow same time, same place.”
     
    He headed back to his office and I was about to start for the dressing room—bypassing the showers altogether—when I heard someone call my name. I turned just in time to see a large red object flying at my head. There was no time to duck—the ball hit me squarely in the nose and I fell to the ground, spikes of exquisitely sharp pain exploding outward across my face.
     
    I gasped and cupped my hand over