The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,23
his seat. I watch as he makes his way up to the stage, raking a hand through his auburn hair, the expression behind his glasses a mixture of pride and nerves.
“From Singapore, Suki Chuan.”
There’s a shuffling a few seats down from me as Suki slides out of our row. She walks up the steps with her head held high, a look of steely determination in her eyes—the picture of poise. I have a feeling I’ll look like a bumbling deer in headlights in comparison when my own name is called.
“Next, from the United States, Beckett Wolfe.”
Beckett strides up to the stage with a smirk, barely mustering eye contact with Asher and Suki while shaking their hands. I don’t envy those two getting lumped into his team.
“And, also from the United States, Naomi Ardalan.”
What? My head jerks up in surprise. Why would they put both American finalists on the same team? I can tell my counterpart is thinking the same thing, as his smile twists into something sour. The First Nephew clearly doesn’t appreciate having another American here to steal his thunder.
“Go on,” Callum whispers beside me, and I push out of my seat, forcing a deep breath as all eyes in the room momentarily focus on me. I climb up to the stage, even as I’m itching to run in the opposite direction, and take my place beside Beckett.
“Hey.” Asher leans over and offers me a handshake, while Suki gives me a tentative smile. I smile back at them, relieved to have a couple of friendlier faces on my team.
“Just two more to go for Team Lark,” Dr. Takumi continues, and I brace myself, wondering who will be joining us next.
“From Italy, Leonardo Danieli.”
Him. My spirits lift as the boy from the videoconference grins and makes his way toward us. Something tells me this team will be a little more bearable with him on it.
“Ciao,” he says, a charming dimple appearing in his cheek as he shakes my hand. “You can call me Leo.”
“Hi, Leo.”
I hold his gaze a second longer than I should, almost missing the announcement of our last team member: Katerina Fedorin from Russia, a former Olympic figure skater. As she joins us, Dr. Takumi nods in satisfaction at the sight of our completed team.
“The six of you may be excused. Lark, please show your finalists to their rooms and common areas.”
“All right, team.” Lark turns to face us. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
The grand tour begins on the fifth floor, which Lark refers to as “the Hab”—the place where we will sleep, eat, and spend all of our downtime between training. The elevator doors open onto a blue-carpeted corridor, and we follow Lark as she leads the way to the first stop, the cafeteria.
“We’ll meet here every morning for breakfast at seven a.m.,” she says as we step through the automatic glass doors. “Lunch is a quicker, on-the-go meal provided for you in between your training sessions, and then we’ll return here for dinner in the evenings at six thirty. You’ll find there’s one thing in particular you don’t have to worry about at Space Training Camp.” She winks. “Rationing.”
“What do you mean?” I blurt out. I don’t dare get my hopes up, but if she’s saying what I think she is—
“The government agreed to waive all ration restrictions for the Twenty-Four,” she replies. “Since, after all, anyone making the journey into space needs to be in peak condition. So you may get homesick, but you’ll never go hungry.”
I meet the eyes of my fellow finalists, nearly all of them looking as gleeful as I feel at the prospect of eating until our bellies are full. I know I can’t get used to this, that I’ll be back to living on canned soup and bread when my prayer is answered and I make it back home—but I can have my fill while I’m here. The thought has me practically light-headed with anticipation.
“We’ll eat meals as a team, right here,” Lark continues, tapping her knuckles on one of the long folding tables filling the center of the cafeteria. She points to the now-empty buffet counter, which snakes around the back of the room. “Each day’s menu alternates between the different cuisines of our represented countries. Tonight, you have a choice of both American and Chinese food.”
A choice? That’s almost as unbelievable as no rations. I catch Leo peering around the cafeteria wide-eyed, and my stomach growls in solidarity.