All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [143]
Had Mr. Ma colluded in this scheme? Or had he just looked the other way? She’d probably never know.
One thing she was sure, though: Mr. Ma wouldn’t have shed any tears if Team Scarab had lost.
It was strange looking at them. Mr. Ma was so dark and Jezebel so pale. He was old and wise . . . while Jezebel would likely be forever young and, just as likely, forever irresponsible.
She was a total mess, her chest and arms bandaged. Fiona didn’t know why she hadn’t been carried off in the ambulances with the other seriously injured players.
At least, to Fiona’s relief, there’d been no casualities during this mismatch.
Mr. Ma helped Jezebel sit upright and whispered to her. She nodded while Mr. Ma shook his head. He then helped her stand, which she shakily managed, and then he escorted her to stand with the rest of Team Scarab.
“Bloody glorious work back there,” Jeremy said to her.
“Yeah,” Robert added, “uh, very nice.”
Jezebel nodded to them, apparently too hurt even to come up with her normal condescending replies. She locked eyes with Eliot, but neither of them said a word to each other. Jezebel limped away from Eliot and stood next to Amanda.
Behind them was the jungle gym . . . well, what was left of it. The area had been cordoned off with yellow HAZARD tape. Half had been demolished in the match. Parts were on fire. A dozen workers in hard hats chainsawed and bulldozed over the rest because it had been declared unsafe by Mr. Ma.
She thought this ironic, since it’d been engineered to be “unsafe” in the first place.
At the far end of the field, Miss Westin spoke to Harlan Dells. The Headmistress had her back turned to the students. Mr. Dells faced them, however, his eagle eyes on every student. From his narrowed glare, it was clear how displeased he was.
Miss Westin turned and strode toward them.
Fiona tensed and felt like she might be sick.
The other students being treated for minor cuts, burns, and broken bones also got to their feet and quickly shuffled toward their teams.
Teams Dragon and Wolf stood facing Team Scarab.
Green Dragon was down two members. They stood stoic with eyes fixed straight ahead.
Team Wolf was down three members, and Donald van Wyck’s head hung low.
“Breaking rules at Paxington is never tolerated,” Miss Westin said as she walked between the teams. Her words were like stones dropped from a great height; each felt like it thudded into Fiona’s stomach.
Miss Westin glanced at the carnage behind them, and then turned to scrutinize them, taking her time, allowing her silence to smother their thoughts. She inhaled a deep breath, seeming to decide something, and let out a great sigh.
This struck Fiona as odd because she’d never seen Miss Westin sighing . . . and now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her breathing.
“But before we talk of rules . . . and punishment,” Miss Westin continued, and nodded to Mr. Ma as he joined her, “Mr. Ma and I have discussed this so-called midterm match and have come to a decision.”
Fiona stood taller, proud that Team Scarab had not only survived two-to-one odds, but won.
“I declare this match invalid,” Mr. Ma said.
“What? . . .” Fiona whispered, her high spirits deflating.
“No supervisors,” Miss Westin said. “An inappropriate match.” She cast a haughty glance at Jezebel. “Illegal metamorphosis.”
Jezebel tilted her head in defiance.
“But,” Fiona countered, “. . . that’s not fair.”
Miss Westin wheeled toward her. “Fair? Life is not fair, Miss Post. Ever. Not for mortals or young goddesses. Be thankful you learn this lesson when the stakes were merely your team’s rank and their lives.”
This sounded like something Audrey would say. Merely our lives at stake? What more could be at stake?
Fiona wanted to shrink back, but she fought the impulse and remained standing tall. What she really wanted to do was give Miss Westin a piece of her mind. And yet Fiona sensed something important in