And it’s already decorated for the game—interspersed among the regular Katmere Academy flags are pennants from each of the individual teams competing today.
When Macy first mentioned having flags for our team, I thought she was just being my fun-loving, colorful cousin. But as I spot our banners in all their brightly colored glory mingling around the stadium with the darker, more boring ones of the other teams, I can’t help being impressed with just how on top of things she really is.
If it had been left up to the rest of us, I don’t think we’d even have one flag in the arena, and Macy has ensured that we have hundreds. And while it’s probably ridiculous, seeing them all over the place does exactly what it’s designed to do—it gets me excited and makes me even prouder to be playing on my team.
It also makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, we really will win.
Determined to get down to the giant oval field so I can warm up and practice a little, I make my way back through the passageways until I come to the entrance closest to Flint. He’s still stretching, so maybe we can warm up together.
I’m planning to sneak up on him, but I barely get within ten feet before he turns with a grin and says, “Hey, you.”
“No sneaking up on a dragon, huh?”
“There’s a reason ‘ears like a dragon’ is a saying,” he tells me.
“But it’s not a saying,” I answer, confused.
“No? Well, then it should be.” He offers a halfhearted grin and grabs a stainless-steel tumbler off the nearest bench and guzzles from it. “So what are you doing here so early?” he asks.
“Probably the same thing you are.”
He lifts a brow. “Exorcising demons?”
I laugh. “No, silly. Getting in some extra practice.”
I expect him to laugh with me, but when he doesn’t, I realize there was nothing joking about his last statement. “Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” But this time, his patented Flint grin doesn’t reach his eyes. When I keep looking at him, concerned, he shrugs.
“What’s going on?” I drop my bag on the field and then take a seat on the bench, gesture for him to do the same. “Are you nervous about the game?” I don’t even know how to process a nervous Flint. He’s the epitome of optimism.
Oh no. If Flint is having doubts… I almost choke on my next words. “If you’re anxious…that must mean you think we’re all going to die gruesome deaths today, don’t you?” I can feel the bubbles of panic start to rise in my stomach. “What was I thinking, that I could help us win? I’ve been a gargoyle all of six seconds. I’m like a weight around the team’s necks.” Sheer panic has me firing questions at Flint like a machine gun. “Can I quit the team? Will you get penalized if I throw myself down the stairs and break a leg? Is there someone available who can replace me on short notice?”
He reaches for my shoulders, but I barely notice. “Grace—”
“If the team only has seven, will they adjust the magical restraints? Can Jaxon use more of his strength without me?”
“Grace—”
“What if I develop a sudden shellfish allerg—”
“Grace!” Flint’s voice finally seizes my attention, and I stop talking and blink up at him. “I’ve met someone.”
Of all the things he was going to say, that is definitely not even top-twenty material. I swallow. “So you’re not nervous I’m an anchor, destined to drag the team down?”
He chuckles. “Not remotely.”
Okay. Then why the doom-and-gloom version of Flint? “Um, that’s great that you met someone, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He looks away, pulling his hands back into his lap.
“What’s her name?” I ask, trying to encourage him to talk. It’s clear he has something he needs to get off his chest, but I have no idea what it is. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want—”
I break off when he laughs, because it’s a low and painful sound. “I’m gay, Grace. I thought you’d figured that out by now.”
“Oh!” Now that he says it out loud, I feel like a horrible friend. All the times I’d seen girls coming on to him—even Macy, God bless her—and he’d never shown any interest. Was I really so caught up in my own life that Flint and I had never stopped to talk about him?