even using protective eyewear).
“The teacher was assessing all the winners,” Felix continued, his large brow wrinkled with concern. “They’re sorting for talent. Or in this case, for aggression.”
“But why?” Madison turned her sharp eyes to Paul for answers.
Paul didn’t meet her gaze. “Don’t ask me,” he said. “I got out of this place before they singled me out for ‘bad behavior.’ Look, forget about what they’re doing here and let’s do some ‘selecting’ of our own and get a few kids back to base.”
Ethan was dying to know exactly how Paul escaped this place the first time.
An even better question was
why
did Paul leave? He had an attitude problem, he was a bully, and he had a total disregard for authority. He was a perfect fit for Sterling.
Maybe there was more to Paul Hicks’s story than simply walking away. Ethan bet there was also more to Paul
coming back
than to rescue a few kids for the Resistance.
“What are you suggesting?” Ethan asked.
“We need to get to a computer,” Paul whispered. “Then we can access the student records. We can sort through the ones that … I don’t know … the ones that even the Ch’zar think are too much trouble.”
There was more. Ethan could feel it. Paul was holding back something big.
“That’s a good plan,” Felix said. “We’ll do it after classes, before they let everyone loose into Fiesta City tonight.”
“Wait,” Paul said. “It’s Tuesday, right? That’s a P.E. day.” His head snapped up. “We can’t wait. We’ve got to get out. Right
now
. Steal some bathroom passes or—”
The classroom bell trilled.
“That’s it!” the chem teacher shouted, and moved to get a fire extinguisher. “
Don’t
clean up. Leave your experiments. Move on to your next class.”
Against their will, they got herded into the hallway and then outside.
Five guards in athletic suits marched alongside them, escorting them to the grassy physical education field.
“Great,” Madison said. “So we play a little soccer or baseball.” She cracked her knuckles. “We’ll wipe the ground with these punks.”
Teachers handed out sticks.
Ethan took one. It was five feet long and lightly padded. Field hockey? He hefted it. They were too heavy for that.
The Sterling kids warmed up, twirling the sticks so fast they whistled through the air.
More kids poured onto the field, spreading out so they were evenly spaced across the entire playground.
“Keep close,” Paul whispered to them, deadly serious.
“What’s going on?” Ethan asked, suddenly feeling something was very wrong.
He got his answer as a P.E. coach shouted, “Okay, kids, ready, set”—he blew a whistle—“FIGHT!”
16
BATTLE CLASS
EVERY KID ON THE FIELD SCREAMED AND attacked one another.
They jabbed sticks into faces, groins, and stomachs.
It was like the battles Ethan had just seen in Tactics 101. Only instead of miniature soldiers on a table with gridlines and rules, there were a hundred crazed students swinging sticks—totally insane!
Half the kids went down within seconds. Dozens of students lay crumpled, groaning and crying.
Ethan felt the air move by his head. He ducked. A stick narrowly missed cracking his skull.
He turned. It was a boy almost as big as Felix, theleader of the gang who had wanted to beat the Resisters up last night in Fiesta City.
Ethan had fought lots of times in an I.C.E. battle suit, in matches during Resister boot camp, but never with his bare fists or with a stick.
Everything that had been drilled and beaten into him in boot camp came flooding back: breathe, get a good stance, and … well, forget that last part about trying to fight one person at a time.
He sidestepped as three kids crashed between Ethan and the gang leader. The three fell in a heap and wrestled on the grass.
Ethan, meanwhile, used that distraction.
He swung high at his opponent.
The other boy blocked, flipped his stick around, and smashed it at
“The teacher was assessing all the winners,” Felix continued, his large brow wrinkled with concern. “They’re sorting for talent. Or in this case, for aggression.”
“But why?” Madison turned her sharp eyes to Paul for answers.
Paul didn’t meet her gaze. “Don’t ask me,” he said. “I got out of this place before they singled me out for ‘bad behavior.’ Look, forget about what they’re doing here and let’s do some ‘selecting’ of our own and get a few kids back to base.”
Ethan was dying to know exactly how Paul escaped this place the first time.
An even better question was
why
did Paul leave? He had an attitude problem, he was a bully, and he had a total disregard for authority. He was a perfect fit for Sterling.
Maybe there was more to Paul Hicks’s story than simply walking away. Ethan bet there was also more to Paul
coming back
than to rescue a few kids for the Resistance.
“What are you suggesting?” Ethan asked.
“We need to get to a computer,” Paul whispered. “Then we can access the student records. We can sort through the ones that … I don’t know … the ones that even the Ch’zar think are too much trouble.”
There was more. Ethan could feel it. Paul was holding back something big.
“That’s a good plan,” Felix said. “We’ll do it after classes, before they let everyone loose into Fiesta City tonight.”
“Wait,” Paul said. “It’s Tuesday, right? That’s a P.E. day.” His head snapped up. “We can’t wait. We’ve got to get out. Right
now
. Steal some bathroom passes or—”
The classroom bell trilled.
“That’s it!” the chem teacher shouted, and moved to get a fire extinguisher. “
Don’t
clean up. Leave your experiments. Move on to your next class.”
Against their will, they got herded into the hallway and then outside.
Five guards in athletic suits marched alongside them, escorting them to the grassy physical education field.
“Great,” Madison said. “So we play a little soccer or baseball.” She cracked her knuckles. “We’ll wipe the ground with these punks.”
Teachers handed out sticks.
Ethan took one. It was five feet long and lightly padded. Field hockey? He hefted it. They were too heavy for that.
The Sterling kids warmed up, twirling the sticks so fast they whistled through the air.
More kids poured onto the field, spreading out so they were evenly spaced across the entire playground.
“Keep close,” Paul whispered to them, deadly serious.
“What’s going on?” Ethan asked, suddenly feeling something was very wrong.
He got his answer as a P.E. coach shouted, “Okay, kids, ready, set”—he blew a whistle—“FIGHT!”
16
BATTLE CLASS
EVERY KID ON THE FIELD SCREAMED AND attacked one another.
They jabbed sticks into faces, groins, and stomachs.
It was like the battles Ethan had just seen in Tactics 101. Only instead of miniature soldiers on a table with gridlines and rules, there were a hundred crazed students swinging sticks—totally insane!
Half the kids went down within seconds. Dozens of students lay crumpled, groaning and crying.
Ethan felt the air move by his head. He ducked. A stick narrowly missed cracking his skull.
He turned. It was a boy almost as big as Felix, theleader of the gang who had wanted to beat the Resisters up last night in Fiesta City.
Ethan had fought lots of times in an I.C.E. battle suit, in matches during Resister boot camp, but never with his bare fists or with a stick.
Everything that had been drilled and beaten into him in boot camp came flooding back: breathe, get a good stance, and … well, forget that last part about trying to fight one person at a time.
He sidestepped as three kids crashed between Ethan and the gang leader. The three fell in a heap and wrestled on the grass.
Ethan, meanwhile, used that distraction.
He swung high at his opponent.
The other boy blocked, flipped his stick around, and smashed it at
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