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  “I know I can.”

  “And you’ll stick with my method if you fail?”

  “Absolutely, but I won’t fail.”

  Joaquín lets out a laugh, then heads for the elevator.

  No one speaks to me at first. Then Edwin offers to practice tossing with me while we wait. Of course I say yes. He gently helps me put on my protective pads, then guides me through the basics—how to stand, where to put my hands and elbows on the opponent’s body. I do everything he tells me. I’m acing every single command, too. This is much easier than yesterday. Or maybe I’m just better at listening today. Either way, I’m going to kill it on the mountain.

  When Edwin finally tries to get me to toss him, Joaquín returns. He’s carrying an ivory bag with an IBF logo stamped on it. “This is yours,” he tells me.

  I snatch the bag at once, pulling out the gray object within. The Iron Scale. It’s not a real dragon scale. It’s a finely cut triangle with a smattering of gray dust all over it. There’s a small round hole on the top left corner, which is where the carabiner loops through. A Runner’s belt is supposed to hold the carabiner in place. The same belt Joaquín is handing over to Génesis, who starts strapping it around me. Of all the things I’m required to do as Runner, none have felt more powerful than this. This object is my responsibility. It’s the reason why I matter in the game. I needed fire, so Joaquín brought me fire. And, in a way, so did Victoria and President Turner.

  Now all I have to do is burn.

  I hook the Iron Scale to the carabiner. At first, I’m a bit out of sorts, thanks to the shift in weight on my left hip. The Iron Scale forces me to lean to the side.

  “Use your core muscles to steady yourself,” Joaquín says. “It’ll be harder to keep your momentum once you run up the mountain. Most Blockers land in front of the Runner, but sometimes a Blocker will land behind them. They’ll come directly for the Iron Scale. Those are often the most dangerous Blockers.”

  True. During the last Cup’s semifinals, while Andrew sped through that first Block Zone, one of the Blockers from Sweden dropped inches away from his back. Andrew had whirled around just in time to kick him down, but the Blocker did manage to snap the Iron Scale away from the belt. He and the Blocker fought for a while, with the latter eventually failing to stop the former from exiting the Block Zone, but I still remember how hard I screamed at my laptop. I won’t be able to scream my way through this now, though.

  Joaquín says, “We’ll play a normal match. Lana, you’ll enter all three Block Zones. You still don’t have your suit, so the dragons won’t be firing at you. The Blockers, however, will attack you without mercy. Got it?”

  I nod. “Loud and clear, coach.”

  “Good. Everyone, please call your steeds in here so we can get started.”

  My teammates close their eyes. Héctor and Luis both press a finger to their temples, too.

  The Sol de Noche dragons Fade into the room ten seconds later. Their bodies are outlines of their whole selves once again, filling up with their natural dark color in slow bursts. Smoke coils all around them, but it’s gone by the time their bodies are back to normal. Now they’re six gorgeous marvels spreading their giant wings and wagging their flame-tipped tails.

  Daga squeals gleefully as soon as she sees me. I pat her nose twice, which makes her wiggle her butt. Everyone laughs. The other dragons settle into their positions like the rest of us, totally focused on the fake match. They’re as determined as their riders to get the job done.

  But none are as determined as I am.

  Joaquín blows his whistle.

  The first half of the match begins. Luis and Gabriela escort Victoria to the goalpost. Luis flanks her left; Gabriela takes the right. Joaquín activates the blasters, which shoot never-ending fireballs from below. Luis steers Daga into whipping some fireballs away with her tail. Gabriela, on the other hand, is guiding Puya closer to Esperanza and acting as her shield. The male dragon takes most of the blows, without breaking formation. It helps Esperanza get to the goalpost unscathed. Victoria tosses the Rock Flame, but Héctor kicks it back to her. Victoria is relentless, though. After six different tries, she gets the Rock Flame to fly through the goal.

  Joaquín whistles again.

  I race up the mountain.

  Fantasma is on me within seconds. I pretend he’s shooting fireballs. It fuels me to sail across the mountain faster. My breathing is under control, so the path upward is a breeze.

  When I reach the first Block Zone, Edwin jumps down in front of me.

  I swerve around him and wait for him to grab me.

  He pushes me to the ground instead.

  I fall on my chest but push myself up in a heartbeat. Edwin flips me over his shoulder, sending me down again and grabbing the Iron Scale. I latch onto his wrist. With another swivel, I drive my knee into his stomach. Edwin doubles over with a yelp. I squeeze his wrist tighter and crash my back onto his chest. Then I put everything I have into tossing him over my shoulder.

  Edwin flips onto the sand on his back.

  A gasp bursts out of me. Holy freaking crap! Edwin Santiago is flat on his back, and I put him there. He’s not holding the Iron Scale anymore. It’s still safely hooked to my belt.

  I bolt out of the first Block Zone.

  It’s a tighter race for that second stretch of mountain. Génesis and Rayo stalk me on the way up. Luckily, the second Block Zone is shorter than the first. I enter seconds before Génesis smashes her elbow into my ribs. I wince but dodge her constant blows. Then she tries to clock me with an uppercut. I grab her arm and flip her over my shoulder. She’s down just like Edwin. I catch her groaning as I cross the line that divides the Block Zone from my freedom.

  Keep going, keep going, keep going.

  The race continues for the third and final stretch of mountain. The last Block Zone is the shortest one. Once I cross the line, Edwin swoops in from the left. We dance our usual dance until he seizes my wrist. Before he can flip me over, I do the same thing Génesis did to me and elbow his ribs really hard. He’s caught off guard long enough for me to flip him instead. Once again, down and out. I rush off before he tries to lunge at the Iron Scale.

  The last patch of land is an uphill sprint unlike the rest of the mountain. My whole body seizes and throbs and begs me to stop, but I push through the pain. I run out of the last curve, then lunge toward the stone dais right in the middle of the mountaintop. The circular base has the exact outline of the Iron Scale carved into its center, a mold fit to hold the artifact in place.

  I slam the Iron Scale onto the stone dais’s center.

  Fire shoots out from the Iron Scale, right toward the ceiling. The flame is harmless. The only thing hurting me is the swelling in my chest, the soreness in my ankles worsening because I can’t stop jumping up and down. My throat burns from all the screaming, too. The crap I’d endured this morning is still flowing in my veins, but this winner’s rush is more powerful.

  I beat Edwin and Génesis. I made it to the top of the mountain.

  I’m the Runner my country deserves.

  “And Puerto Rico wins the game!” Joaquín laughs into his loudspeaker. He’s clapping and cheering wildly along with my teammates.

  Including Victoria.

  I CAN’T SLEEP.

  Despite leaving it all on the mountain, I’m more energized than ever. I’d made it to the top every time Victoria scored. How am I not supposed to be fired up about my first taste of victory?

  The other girls are passed out in our bedroom. Even with their mouths slightly open and a few snores here and there, they look like Disney princesses. It’s almost midnight, and they’re taking our early wake-up call to heart. Tomorrow’s our official team photo shoot. It’ll be a long day split between snapping pics and sweating it out during practice.

  Not that I mind. I finally get to wear my uniform.

  The anticipation for tomorrow coupled with today’s success? My whole body’s vibrating so hard, I’m about to fall off t
he bed. Usually, I watch music videos when I can’t sleep. I grab my headphones and head to the living room. Wouldn’t want to start World War III because of my loud singing. Once I’m downstairs, I sink into the couch and search YouTube. The longer I scroll endless thumbnails, the more I crave to stick with Blazewrath content. So I open up BlazeReel, a website that features all sorts of Blazewrath-related videos. Most of the suggestions on my homepage are past matches. There’s a handful of press-conference footage, along with fan-made compilations of funny moments with the players.

  Then there’s the Takeshi and Andrew interview.

  It’s an appearance they made in 2015 on The Jeffrey Hines Show, a famous talk show in England. The taping occurred two weeks before the last Cup.

  I press Play. It starts with bleached-blond Jeffrey Hines doing his usual stand-up opener, flaunting a flamingo-pink suit, and then it dives into Takeshi at the ten-minute mark. He’s in olive Dockers and a white pressed shirt, waving and smiling at the audience. He even stops to take selfies with fans while Jeffrey pretends to throw a jealous fit. Eventually, Takeshi sits down with Jeffrey on the ruby-red couch. They clink their coffee mugs together and compliment each other’s outfits. They bond over their mutual love of French bulldogs and chocolate truffles.

  Two minutes later, Jeffrey tells Takeshi he has a special surprise for him.

  Andrew walks out with a basket of chocolate-truffle boxes and a wicked grin.

  While the audience bursts into applause, Takeshi holds the sides of his face in an adorable display of shock. Andrew rushes over to the couch. He has Converse sneakers on, faded denim jeans, a Queen T-shirt, and a black blazer. He kneels in front of Takeshi, handing him the basket like a peasant offering his month’s earnings to his king. Takeshi puts the basket on the couch, then sweeps his best friend into a hug. Jeffrey joins the audience in wild applause. When all three sit down, I’m smiling so hard my cheeks are starting to get sore.

  I force a cough. No more smiling for me.

  “Glasgow’s own Andrew Galloway, everybody!” Jeffrey proudly announces.

  Once the applause dies down, Jeffrey jokes about Takeshi and Andrew’s vacation challenge, which is what they call the trips they take each other’s moms on. Jeffrey pulls up a photo of Andrew and Mrs. Endo posing in front of the Magic Kingdom. Then the screen shows Takeshi and Lucy Galloway standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. Ms. Galloway is the spitting image of Andrew, except for her light-brown skin. Whether it’s Andrew and Mrs. Endo flying over Mykonos in a helicopter, or Takeshi and Ms. Galloway eating at a restaurant in Barcelona, toasting with mason jars labeled ANDREW’S TEARS, the crowd breaks into joyous squeals.

  Jeffrey says, “How do a Runner from Glasgow and a Striker from Sapporo become BFFs?”

  “We met two years ago during the previous Cup,” Takeshi says. “It was at the welcome party. I was speaking with my teammates, and in comes this guy asking if we wanted his autograph. He said it would be worth millions because of the countless shampoo commercials he’d end up booking.” He can’t resist a giggle. “Andrew and I bonded over our mutual love of the sport and dragons. Then we realized we had more in common than we thought.”

  Andrew chimes in. “We’re both only children. Single mothers raised us. Different circumstances, of course. Takeshi’s father stayed optimistic throughout his fight with cancer. That’s a strong man if I’ve ever heard of one. Mine isn’t worth a damn.”

  “You never met your father, did you?” a solemn Jeffrey asks Andrew.

  “No. All he gave me was the inability to tan. I’m just red all over.”

  “Has he tried to look for you now that you’re famous?”

  “No. We’re not in each other’s lives. Never will be.” I’ve heard him speak of this a million times. His Silver Wand mother raised him alone, living off a music teacher’s salary and as many piano lessons as she could book. Since Andrew’s a Regular, his dad must be a Regular, too, but that’s all we know about him. Andrew taps Takeshi. “This man’s father? Hero.”

  Takeshi bows his head. “I’m very proud of him. I only hope he’s half as proud of me.”

  “Oh, he most certainly is!” says Jeffrey. “How long has it been since he passed?”

  “Twelve years. He died when I was five.”

  “His funeral made headlines because of Hikaru, correct?”

  Takeshi nods. “The day we buried my father was the same day Hikaru found me. Everyone from the factory where my father worked as a custodian attended the funeral. The whole neighborhood was there, too. But when a dragon swoops in uninvited, you’re bound to raise a few eyebrows.” His half smile breaks me and mends me at the same time.

  Andrew taps his fist on Takeshi’s thigh. “The youngest dragon rider to have Bonded with his steed right here.”

  “Yes, I do believe that is the record to beat,” says an astonished Jeffrey. “Five years old!”

  A blushing Takeshi says, “Hikaru saved my life. That last year was difficult for my family, but my father kept telling his silly jokes and reading me sci-fi novels. His cancer spread from his brain to his chest and lungs, and all he wanted to do was make me laugh.” He crosses one leg over the other, squeezing his knee with both hands. There’s an unfamiliar slowness to the way he moves. “My goal is to leave a legacy of helping others believe in themselves. No matter what you do, there’s always the opportunity to find happiness somewhere. My father taught me that.”

  I’m crying.

  I’m crying just like I did the first, second, millionth times I watched this video. Takeshi Endo had once been a boy and the whole sun at the same time, shining too bright for the rest of us. It took a British talk show for me to see him as a human being instead of that untouchable figment. It took an attempt on a Fire Drake’s life for me to see him as an untouchable figment again, but this time, the dreamer who conjured him spun a boy from the darkest nightmares. Revisiting this video helps me see what Andrew still thinks is there: a hero.

  Samira had been right. This is going to take Andrew a long time. There are too many memories, too many good things about the boy who no longer shines for anyone or anything. Even though he needed to hear every word I said, I could’ve been kinder to him at the welcome party. We’re still fighting for the same thing. We just have different methods.

  What if he can help me figure out the truth about President Turner?

  I launch the BlazeReel Live app, which allows users to broadcast from wherever they are. Andrew uses the app to either give terrible life advice to his fans or to provide ridiculous reviews of what’s on his plate. That little green dot appears next to his avatar. He’s still online. Chances are he won’t see my private message for a while, since he’s probably swamped with DMs. This is still less awkward than speaking to him in person or even calling him at the house.

  I reread my message before hitting Send:

  Hey, Andrew. Just wanted to apologize if I offended you last night. That wasn’t my intention. Regardless of how I feel about your offer, I really do admire you.

  Also, I’ve been thinking about what you said regarding President Turner. Something’s definitely off. He even sent me a cake to apologize for not coming to the party. As if I’m the reason he needed to go in the first place. I know you told me he’s using me for publicity, but I can’t stop wondering if there’s more behind his actions, especially considering his past with the Sire. What do you think about teaming up so we can crack his code?

  Ten seconds after sending it, two green checkmarks appear at the bottom of the message.

  Which means Andrew’s read it. I tap my foot over and over as the “Andrew is typing” notification appears. His message pops up on-screen:

  water under the bridge, Lana. thanks for reaching out. means more than you’ll ever know. now let’s go find out what the president is really up to. what’s your plan?

  With a relieved sigh, I type my response:

  I don’t have one yet. Any ideas?

  none. i’ve been watching
an American reality tv show all night. my brain is fried.

  Oh, you poor thing! JK I’m seeing him tomorrow at the photo shoot. What if I ask him about the Sire and how close they were? He might lie his ass off, but his face won’t.

  very true. text me later tomorrow with your findings. it’ll help us form an actual plan.

  I definitely will. Have a good night, Andrew. And thank you.

  I’m smiling as I stretch my back. All signs point to an understanding between opposites. Maybe even a friendship. It’s too soon to tell, but it feels good to be on the same page.

  Jeffrey Hines 3@The_Jeffrey_Hines

  Fire is one of the main reasons why humans fear dragons. Whether you wield magic or not, you can’t help but be transfixed at the sight of a stream of flames emanating from a dragon’s mouth. This is why all eyes are on the Sol de Noche dragons for this year’s Cup. 2:41 AM · May 23, 2017 · Twitter for iPhone

  Jeffrey Hines 3@The_Jeffrey_Hines

  Not only will this be their first time competing, it’ll also be the first time the world will witness fire in a different way. Will they eject flames like every other dragon? Or will they rely more on their ability to cover their whole bodies?

  2:41 AM · May 23, 2017 · Twitter for iPhone

  Jeffrey Hines 3@ The_Jeffrey_Hines

  So many questions, folks, but at least we know this: Team Puerto Rico’s Runner, whoever they are, will definitely be the least-talked-about player. 2:42 AM · May 23, 2017 · Twitter for iPhone

  —Transcript from a thread on Jeffrey Hines’s Twitter account (@The_Jeffrey_Hines)

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE NEXT DAY, THE DRAGONS’ HABITAT IS TURNED INTO PHOTO-Shoot Central.

  I haven’t been up there yet, but Joaquín says there are huge blinding lamps, reflective panels that could shield us from alien attacks, and lots of monitors surrounding a single laptop. Ambassador Haddad is expected to arrive at 8:00 a.m. with our photographer and team stylist. President Turner is supposed to be here, too, but Manny isn’t giving us much hope.