to me you have no extraordinary abilities. There is no need to resort to extreme measures. Now you see how empty the Ringmaster's promises are." She gives me a plastic smile. "Not everyone can be a star. I regret that he has raised such false hopes, but it is better to learn the truth now, while you can still return to some sort of reasonable life."
I am
not
settling for some secondhand clunker of a life when I can get the newest, snazziest model. "Hang on a minute. Why isn't the Ringmaster here? Maybe he ought to judge for himself what I can do. He's the one who asked me to stay."
"The Ringmaster is a busy man and does not have time for trivialities."
"This is my future we're talking about. It's not trivial to
me.
" I flick my know-it-all. "Hey, Britannica, get the Ringmaster on the line, will you? Tell him Beatrix is getting fed up with these stupid tests."
"So sorry, dear, the Ringmaster is unavailable right now. Would you like to hear his away message? It's
so
amusing. Though not as amusing as what Dalana says when the space pirate Zendalos surprises her inâ"
I grit my teeth and switch it off. Miss Three raises her brow in an arch so perfect it looks like it was drawn with a protractor.
I turn to Nola. "You said there are more tests."
"Yes, but Trix, they're dangerous! Maybe we should waitâ"
"I want to get this over with. Got that?" I say to Miss Three.
"If you are willing to risk so much in this foolish quest, then by all means, proceed."
"Do it."
Nola nods and lays her silver hand against the wall. In the middle of the room, the Arena springs to life with a wheeze of grinding metal. The dial on the panel is gone, replaced by a single flashing purple word: OVERRIDE.
"What do I have to do?"
"Step inside," says Miss Three. "And survive."
I strip off my jacket, feeling the heavy lump of the meteorite in one pocket. What if Nyl was telling the truth? Maybe I'm not really Tinker-touched, just a normal Earth girl jazzed up by a space rock. Miss Three seems to think I'm nothing special.
With my back to the others, I close my eyes for a moment. No. My parents promised. And I got through that door. That must count for something. Come on, Tinkers. You must have given me more than pink hair. I'll take anything. Gravity, fire. Okay, maybe not a snail shell. But let me stay here. Let me be something more.
I step into the Arena. The ground disappears. I fall, twisting aside in time to avoid being skewered by spikes lining the pit.
If I thought last night was bad, this is a million times worse. I dive and jump, my legs and arms already weak from all the other tests. I'm too slow. I'm not going to make it. Miss Three is right. I'm an idiot.
Faint bluish light haloes the mallets and spikes and every other instrument of death racing to take me out. I'm shaking; it's not only fear and complete exhaustion. Energy jolts my bones. The whole Arena hums with power. My hair's in my eyes. I try to brush it back, but it sticks to my fingers, crackling with static. A jolt of pure agony spills me onto the floor. I scream. My hands feel like I've dunked them in acid. Nola's voice echoes dimly through a fog of pain.
"Miss Three, we've got to stop it!"
"You heard Miss Ling, Nola. She asked for this."
I open my lips to scream, but nothing comes out. All I have is pain.
It stops. For a brief and glorious moment I think it's me, that I've found some Tinker-power to switch off the light show. Then I open my eyes and see him.
"Ringmaster. I didn't ... I was trying..." The words choke me. I don't want it to be real. I've failed. One day, and I've already trashed the biggest dream of my entire life. I don't belong here.
"I understand," he says, holding out a hand to help me up off the floor. "But I think that's quite enough for now."
"Ringmaster," says Miss Three, "you should know that this was all at her own request. She understood the consequences and insisted that we proceed. It is unfortunate that such extreme measures
I am
not
settling for some secondhand clunker of a life when I can get the newest, snazziest model. "Hang on a minute. Why isn't the Ringmaster here? Maybe he ought to judge for himself what I can do. He's the one who asked me to stay."
"The Ringmaster is a busy man and does not have time for trivialities."
"This is my future we're talking about. It's not trivial to
me.
" I flick my know-it-all. "Hey, Britannica, get the Ringmaster on the line, will you? Tell him Beatrix is getting fed up with these stupid tests."
"So sorry, dear, the Ringmaster is unavailable right now. Would you like to hear his away message? It's
so
amusing. Though not as amusing as what Dalana says when the space pirate Zendalos surprises her inâ"
I grit my teeth and switch it off. Miss Three raises her brow in an arch so perfect it looks like it was drawn with a protractor.
I turn to Nola. "You said there are more tests."
"Yes, but Trix, they're dangerous! Maybe we should waitâ"
"I want to get this over with. Got that?" I say to Miss Three.
"If you are willing to risk so much in this foolish quest, then by all means, proceed."
"Do it."
Nola nods and lays her silver hand against the wall. In the middle of the room, the Arena springs to life with a wheeze of grinding metal. The dial on the panel is gone, replaced by a single flashing purple word: OVERRIDE.
"What do I have to do?"
"Step inside," says Miss Three. "And survive."
I strip off my jacket, feeling the heavy lump of the meteorite in one pocket. What if Nyl was telling the truth? Maybe I'm not really Tinker-touched, just a normal Earth girl jazzed up by a space rock. Miss Three seems to think I'm nothing special.
With my back to the others, I close my eyes for a moment. No. My parents promised. And I got through that door. That must count for something. Come on, Tinkers. You must have given me more than pink hair. I'll take anything. Gravity, fire. Okay, maybe not a snail shell. But let me stay here. Let me be something more.
I step into the Arena. The ground disappears. I fall, twisting aside in time to avoid being skewered by spikes lining the pit.
If I thought last night was bad, this is a million times worse. I dive and jump, my legs and arms already weak from all the other tests. I'm too slow. I'm not going to make it. Miss Three is right. I'm an idiot.
Faint bluish light haloes the mallets and spikes and every other instrument of death racing to take me out. I'm shaking; it's not only fear and complete exhaustion. Energy jolts my bones. The whole Arena hums with power. My hair's in my eyes. I try to brush it back, but it sticks to my fingers, crackling with static. A jolt of pure agony spills me onto the floor. I scream. My hands feel like I've dunked them in acid. Nola's voice echoes dimly through a fog of pain.
"Miss Three, we've got to stop it!"
"You heard Miss Ling, Nola. She asked for this."
I open my lips to scream, but nothing comes out. All I have is pain.
It stops. For a brief and glorious moment I think it's me, that I've found some Tinker-power to switch off the light show. Then I open my eyes and see him.
"Ringmaster. I didn't ... I was trying..." The words choke me. I don't want it to be real. I've failed. One day, and I've already trashed the biggest dream of my entire life. I don't belong here.
"I understand," he says, holding out a hand to help me up off the floor. "But I think that's quite enough for now."
"Ringmaster," says Miss Three, "you should know that this was all at her own request. She understood the consequences and insisted that we proceed. It is unfortunate that such extreme measures
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