I smell rain before emerging onto the stone court of the ōllamaliztli stadium. To my relief, when I finally see the sky, it’s mostly blue. The rainy season is at hand, but it appears today’s competitions could remain dry.
Cadets spill across the court while remaining in dorm group clumps. To our right, the Worker City stands have already begun to fill. Those who’ve been dismissed from work for the entire day battle each other in effort to reserve seating for family and friends who are putting in half days.
I scan the stadium to my left. The Immortal City side of the stands are almost empty. I picture the rows of stasis pods beneath the academy, but refuse to accept Turon’s explanation for the absent immortals. Once I become ometeotl, I can’t image being interested in game day either. Whatever immortals spend their days doing, it has to be more interesting than this.
“Serpents! Line up!” Yetic calls out over the cacophony.
Grateful not to be in charge, I follow his order along with the rest of Serpent barracks. We start off with kinesthetics and progress toward telekinetics. Since game days are the only chance we have to practice ōllamaliztli, we’re allowed to spend the morning running drills.
Our game against Jaguar will commence at noon and last two and a half hours. An hour intermission will be followed by a contest between Eagle and Coyotl. I can’t wait to spend that time mindlessly enjoying the fresh air.
Yetic leads the entire Serpent barracks through drills and then a scrimmage. The morning passes without event. An hour before noon we dismiss for refreshments and a chance to rest before the game. As the others stream off the court and toward the cadet level snack bars, Yetic wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You up for being my manager?”
I eye him coyly, “Oh? What sort of game do you have in mind?”
“Nothing kinky, if that’s what your’ve getting at.”
I nod, “Sure, I’ll take the dugout duties for you. As long as there’s no kinks.”
“I need you to get rid of the kinks,” Yetic winks.
“Of course. I think I can manage that. What were you thinking? Fast and furious?”
Yetic shakes his head and smiles. “Defensive.”
I raise a brow. “Really? I suppose there’s a first for everything.”
“Well, maybe I should call it aggressively defensive.” He steers us toward the food.
“That sounds more like the Yetic I know.”
“Let’s grab a bite and talk strategy with the others.”
“Try and stop me.” I remove his arm from my shoulder and lace my fingers in his.
For concessions, the stadium snack bar offers grilled snake—a foreboding omen—along with fried rice and dried dates. We snag some of everything and sit in the court level stands on the southern end. Some of the cadets sit near the top in hopes of being able to shout a conversation with family. Most of us have already erased our lives in Worker City from our memories.
For Olin and I, it’s easy. We didn’t leave anything of importance behind, so there’s no reason to look back.
“Strategy wise, I was thinking of making a push during the middle of the first period,” Yetic beckons me, T’zan, Cera, and Tenoch closer.
I swallow the last of my rice and lean in.
“T’zan, do you think you can handle the hotspot as guardian?” Yetic asks.
T’zan nods, a pleased look on his face.
“Good. I’ll take the two spot as handler.”
I raise a brow, “You’re not going to be striker?”
Yetic grins, “I want to keep the striker fresh while we stun as many Jags as possible.”
“That sounds fun,” Cera elbows me.
“I’ve already asked Calli to be dugout manager,” Yetic continues, “so she’ll control the rotations and keep an eye on matchups. Cera, I want you to take the three spot as another handler.” Cera nods. Yetic finishes, “Tenoch, I want you as handler in the four spot.”
“Three handlers and a guardian,” I shake my head. “That should keep Ami guessing.”
“Actually, I want to do somewhere in the neighborhood of seven handlers before we send in the striker.”
“What?” I ask.
Yetic ignores my incredulity. “If you feel like the matchup would be advantageous a spot earlier, go for it.”
I squeeze his hand. “You realize we can’t score until we send in a striker, right?”
Yetic continues undeterred, “I want all our strongest maulers sent in early. I’m hoping to churn through a third of their 49 before the twelve spot is filled. Then we see who does all the scoring.”
“And the striker?” I ask.
Yetic takes a break to finish his last dried date. After a moment he shrugs. “Send in the most eager flyer from Serpent 2. Someone who’ll put it all on the line.”
“That pretty much describes all of Serpent 2,” Cera says as she places her hands behind her head and reclines on the plasteel stands.
Yetic follows suit. Soon we’re all lying back and soaking up as much sun as we can. A short moment later, I sit up and scan the milling cadets for Olin. I spot him sitting several rows above me. Hunched over and furtive, he’s talking to Y’etl. I don’t want him to catch me staring, so I lie back and gaze into the sky.
It’s not surprising he would seek out someone like Y’etl. The little I know about the captain of the Butterfly Barracks indicates he and Olin probably think alike. Still, I’m curious what they could be discussing and why my brother has worked so hard to avoid me since the strange events of last night.
If Olin really did pass through the door marked No admittance, something happened to him on the other side—something he has no desire to share with his sister. Without Zorrah or Neca to talk to, he’s turned to a near stranger in Y’etl. I want to feel offended, but I shake it off. Getting upset now would be punishing myself for nothing.
If Olin were in trouble, he’d come to me. There’ll be time to ask him about it after our game. During the matchup between Eagle and Coyotl I’ll find him and offer a truce.
Yetic sits up. “Anyone want to push a pelota around? I’ve got too much nervous energy to stay still any longer.”
I breathe deeply and shake my head. “I feel like I could take a nap.”
“Just make sure you’re awake in fifteen.” Yetic stretches.
Cera jumps up. “I’ll join you.”
“Xoxoctic.” Yetic strides down the stands, two benches at a time, while calling over his shoulder, “See the rest of you in the dugout!”
“Mmmhuh.” I focus on the sun spreading across my skin and relish the feeling of an uncrowded mind. “Wake me up when you need me,” I mumble the words as my jaw falls open and my muscles slack.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read this scene of Boundaries, Season 2 of The Green Ones. I’ll be publishing FREE daily scenes from The Green Ones until…I die…or something terrible happens. Seriously, I’ve got over 100 scenes written so far, and I’ll be writing more until the story reaches its natural ending. You are totally welcome to read the entire story for FREE! If at any point you decide you would rather finish the story in ebook or print format, just click the buttons below and you can do that as well. If you enjoy reading the serial releases, BUT you would also like to support me as a writer (my kids need wine!) please subscribe to my premium content for bonus scenes, exclusives, and insider access to my process. And of course, I’d be grateful if you would share this post with any of your reader friends who you think would enjoy The Green Ones. Happy reading!