The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,46

rest it today, and I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow.”

“I appreciate the spirit,” Lieutenant Barnes says with a nod. “That’s what we like to see here at ISTC. I’ll tell Lark to keep you off your feet today, but I’ll expect you back in fighting form tomorrow.”

“Absolutely.” Suki beams, and I have to admire her performance. Maybe that fall knocked the zombie-like symptoms out of her—she certainly seems more alert and eager now. Or . . . maybe that’s just how desperate she is to stay. The need trumps everything, even agonizing pain.

“Back to work!” Lieutenant Barnes calls out, gathering everyone toward him. “I have the final scores based on your times. Coming in last, with an incomplete, is Suki, preceded by Naomi in fifth, also with an incomplete.”

The two of us exchange a miserable glance, even though the results aren’t exactly a surprise. I hear Beckett stifle a snort, and I have a sudden urge to kick something.

“In fourth place, with a time of four minutes and thirty seconds, is Asher. Katerina takes third with four minutes even.”

The question is, why am I so frustrated? I wanted Suki to do well, not me. I’ve already gotten more attention here than I intended, considering my ultimate goal is to go home. But the defeat leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Is it possible . . . am I actually getting swept up in the competition of it all?

“And in second place, we have Beckett with a time of three minutes, forty seconds. That makes Leo our winner, coming in at just three minutes, thirty-eight seconds!”

Everyone applauds—except Beckett, of course. Leo smiles broadly. I smile back.

Suki seems to inch closer to normal as the day wears on—still a little too pale, and sweating even under the blast of the AC, but I can see the life coming back into her eyes. Still, when six thirty rolls around and it’s time to line up for our second shot of the RRB, I urge her yet again to tell the nurse about her symptoms. “I mean, doesn’t it seem a little . . . unwise to get another dose without telling them how you’ve been feeling since last night?”

Suki remains stubborn as ever.

“I told you—I have to make the Final Six. I can’t go back. And if I give them any reason to think I’m not as strong as the others here, then it’s over for me.”

And so I watch, holding my breath, as she gets another dose of the serum. Leo gives me a questioning look, but he doesn’t say anything either, both of us guarding her secret . . . for better or worse.

We proceed from the medical office to the cafeteria for dinner, and it’s as odd a segue as you could imagine, going from injections to the British menu of bangers and mash. Once we’re seated in front of full plates, Dr. Takumi makes a surprise announcement—the kind I’ve been waiting for since the moment I arrived.

“After the meal, team leaders will escort you to the library for your first weekly video-chat with your families. All of your next of kin have been notified and will be waiting by their computers at the designated time—”

The whoops and cheers from all four cafeteria tables nearly drown him out. The thought of finally getting to see and speak to Sam and my parents has me giddy, too overcome to eat another bite. Katerina and Asher beam as they launch into an animated conversation about who from their hometowns they expect to see in their video-chats, while Beckett joins in half-heartedly. I’m amazed he’s not taking the opportunity to gloat about webcamming with the White House, and I’m about to whisper as much to Leo when I notice his crushed expression. Suki pushes her full plate away, her eyes trained on the floor, and my heart twists for them both. There can’t be anything worse than knowing that the only people who matter won’t be there on the other side of the screen.

“I don’t have to go, do I?” Leo asks Lark under his breath.

“You want to stand up your date?” Lark raises an eyebrow at him, and Leo stares at her in confusion.

“I don’t have a next of kin,” he says. “So I figured . . .”

“That you wouldn’t have a video-chat? Not a chance,” Lark says with a grin. “We received a very impassioned letter from a certain Elena Vincenti asking for communication privileges with you. I couldn’t