“No,” Ruby said quickly. “We’re a great team just as we are. Right, Sketch?”
Adrian blinked, his fingers stalling on the illustration of a small gong. “Absolutely,” he said. “We’re a great team just as we are. But … who knows? Maybe someone will surprise us.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“NAME?”
“Nova McLain.”
The man seated at the registration table entered something on his tablet. Without looking up again, he held out his hand.
Nova stared down at it. Was he asking for money? Did you have to pay to become a Renegade? She didn’t recall seeing anything about that. She didn’t have any money. Would they really exclude a prodigy just because—
The man glanced up. “Application?” he said slowly.
Nova flushed and cleared her throat. “Right,” she stammered, pulling the application from her bag and slapping it onto his open palm.
The corner of the man’s mouth drooped as he laid the papers down on the desk and smoothed out the wrinkles.
“Your alias will be announced when you’re called onto the field,” he said. “Are you sure you’re happy with…” He scanned the document. “‘Insomnia’？ It can be hard to change after the fact.”
Nova tipped forward, scanning the application upside down, though she knew it all by heart. Was he trying to tell her she should change it? Was Insomnia a poor choice? She liked it, actually, but now she was having doubts. It wasn’t Nightmare, but it wasn’t bad, either. Was it?
“Um … yes?”
The man, expression indifferent, entered the alias into the register.
“Right hand,” he said, setting down the pen and picking a cotton ball from a canister. He dipped it into a shallow bowl half filled with clear liquid, then looked again at Nova, who had not moved. “Right hand,” he said again.
She swallowed and gave him her hand. He rubbed the tip of each finger with the cotton ball and the distinct scent of rubbing alcohol wafted toward her. The cotton ball was cold and his hands were thick and clammy and Nova’s skin crawled the whole time. Though it only took a moment, she couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when he finished.
The man tapped the top of a small machine. A screen showed a diagram of a hand, the precise spaces where she should place her fingertips indicated with blue ovals.
“Go ahead,” he said. “You’ll have to press and hold for a few seconds.”
Bracing herself, Nova pressed her fingers against the screen. Her hand was trembling, but she did her best to hold steady as a ticker at the top of the screen indicated its progress through scanning her prints.
By the time it finished and Nova eagerly folded her arms again, the man was frowning. He met her gaze again, newly suspicious.
The prints on the screen were obviously mutilated—entire patches of the whorls in her skin cut through with flat, empty planes.
“I burned them when I was a kid,” she said, the rehearsed lie tumbling out of her before he could ask. “You’ll see on my application that I’m really into science—chemistry and engineering, and … um. Anyway, I was doing an experiment. With acid. And … that happened.” She gestured to the screen.
The man’s lips pursed. “Well,” he said, glancing at a second monitor, “they’re not pulling up any matches in our system. So.” He jerked his thumb over a shoulder. “Head on back through those doors and wait to be called.”
Her body stilled. “Really?”
“Really, what?”
“Really, I can just … I can try out?”
“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” He peered around her. “Next?”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
Nova ducked away from the table and scurried through the swinging double doors.
The room he sent her to must have been a locker room at one point—dank, cold, full of concrete and poor lighting, with the faint aroma of old sweat permeating the walls. The actual lockers had been removed, leaving faded impressions on the walls where they had been, and an alcove in the corner still had drains in the tile floor, though only holes where plumbing and shower heads had once been installed.
Now the room was full of uncomfortable benches and a lot of nervous prodigies giving themselves quiet pep talks. A tinted picture window on one side looked out onto the field, where they could watch the ongoing trials. A current Renegade hopeful was making his way out into the center ring. Tables hosting the teams were set all around the field, and a giant paper banner had been strung between two pillars over the middle: DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?