The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,43
my insides constricting at her tearstained face. “It’s okay. I understand—and you can count on me.”
Morning dawns and Suki is still pale and feverish, with a fiery red rash running down her arm. I bite my nails with worry as I stare at her.
“This looks serious, Suki. Please, just let me take you to the medical office.”
“No. I can’t let the judges find out and decide I’m too weak for the draft,” she argues. “Especially now that we only have a couple weeks to prove ourselves before the first eliminations. I just have to get through today without it being obvious there’s anything wrong with me, and then hopefully this—this flu will go away.”
So she hasn’t suspected that it’s more than just the flu. Either that, or she’s in denial. I wonder if I should tell her my opinion, if maybe that will convince her to see the nurse, but I keep my mouth shut, afraid to stress her further. Instead I help Suki apply concealer to her puffy eyes and lend her a long-sleeved tee to wear under her ISTC shirt, before giving her my arm to lean on as we walk to the cafeteria. She stumbles on our way down the hall, and I stop to steady her.
“Are you feeling dizzy?” I ask.
She hesitates before nodding.
“Suki, please let me—”
“No way.” She cuts me off. “You know why I can’t risk getting cut. I can’t go home.”
I rub my face with my hands, torn. “Okay, fine. Just stay close to me all day.”
She squeezes my arm. “Thank you.”
I link my arm with hers as we step into the cafeteria, and when it’s time to hit the buffet line, I order for her, grabbing every high-protein item on offer. Back at the table, our teammates are busy quizzing Lark about her astronaut years, and I think Suki and I are doing a reasonably good job of pulling off our act—until Leo leans in across from me.
“What’s wrong with her?” he whispers.
“Um . . .” I glance around me. Leo and I are at the far end of the table, and the others are still absorbed in their conversation, paying little attention to us. I could tell him without them overhearing, and it would be a relief . . . but am I certain I can trust him?
I turn to Suki, who’s now dragging her spoon through a bowl of oatmeal as if it requires colossal effort. She’s right beside me, and at the same time, she seems to be somewhere else.
“Naomi.” Leo looks at me knowingly. “I know something’s up. You don’t have to tell me, but just let me know if I can help.”
I close my eyes. God, I would love some help. I lean across the table until our faces are so close I can feel his breath against my cheek. And I whisper, “I think she’s having a reaction to the RRB. But you can’t tell anyone.” I pull back in time to see the alarm register on Leo’s face.
“But if she’s sick, shouldn’t we get her some help?”
“Believe me, I said the same thing. But for now at least, we have to do as she asked and not say a word. I don’t want to be the one to blow her chances of making the Final Six.”
It hits me how ironic my words are. If my brother were here, he would tell me I’d be doing Suki a favor by risking her spot in the draft and keeping her here on Earth. But now, knowing what she’s been through, what so many of my fellow finalists have suffered on our planet . . . I feel my conviction starting to waver.
Today’s first training period takes us to the third-floor Altitude Chamber: a cavernous space made almost entirely out of ice. It looks like an empty indoor igloo, with nothing but scattered orange cones and piled blocks of ice filling the space. Lark passes out thick puffer jackets before dropping us off, and I feel a sprig of hope that maybe this cold is just what Suki needs—maybe it can break her fever.
“What’s up with her?” Beckett asks loudly, watching as Suki holds on to my arm, leaning most of her body weight against me. I feel my shoulders stiffen in defense.
“She didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”
Lieutenant Barnes, our instructor from the diving tank, is waiting for us inside, this time dressed in snow-weather gear. And he’s not alone. Dot is with him, the robot’s