"Nice to know you could, though. If you had to." Kate beamed at her, as proud as if she had the power herself. Her smile was clear, brilliant. Honest.
"Why are you helping me?" Ana said abruptly, and regretted it. She didn't want to sound ungrateful, not for Kate's help. Not for her friendship.
Kate shrugged, looking briefly confused, like she really didn't understand the question. Like she hadn't considered. "Because I want to help."
"But you see how it is," Ana said, nodding toward the lighted windows of the house. "They—the judges and them—all talk about teamwork, how we're supposed to work together. But we're all competing against each other. In the end, we have to turn against each other. We have to vote each other off. It doesn't help you at all if I—I—" She stumbled a moment, at first uncertain what to say. "If I'm stronger."
Again, for just a moment, Kate seemed young—a kid in a ponytail getting ready for softball tryouts. "If we win the next challenge, then nobody gets kicked off. That's the way I want it. The more you can do, the better chance we have of winning. It only makes sense." Her smile brightened again, and turned sly. "Besides, when it's the two of us in the finals, it'll be one bitchin' catfight."
The two of them fighting each other? No, it wouldn't be like that. The only word Ana could think to describe it was . . . fun. Her and Kate in the finals? That would be the best thing in the world. Alight now with possibilities, her power tingled in her hands, limitless. Her imagination built castles of earth, dug moats, moved mountains, continents.
She wasn't sure she'd ever want to change the world that much, though. It was enough to have control over her little corner of it.
And so, feeling strong, feeling mischievous, she moved the little square of earth Kate sat on. Tipped it back like a lever.
Letting loose a shriek, Kate fell back, rolling head over heels. She landed hard on her backside, and for a regretful moment Ana was afraid she'd been hurt—a broken bone or twisted joint—and it would be Ana's fault.
Kate blinked and gained her new bearings. The lawn where she'd been sitting looked lumpy—that was the only sign anything had happened. It was enough of a sign.
"Oh, you bitch!" But she was laughing when she said it. Then her hand closed on a nearby clod of dirt.
Ana knew exactly what was coming next. She reacted before the clod left Kate's hand. Hand on the ground, she whispered a quick prayer—and up rose a wall of earth, a protective swell like a soldier's quickly-dug foxhole. Ana put it between her and Kate and nestled down to hide. Not that it helped, because Kate's thrown projectile—glowing yellow-hot and throwing off sparks—flew over the barrier and came zipping straight into Ana's hiding place. She squealed and rolled out of the way as the clod dropped hard to the ground just short of where she'd been sitting. Kate hadn't been aiming for her. Still, the missile kicked up a spray of dirt that pelted Ana.
Kate ran, dodging around Ana's foxhole, and her hand held another missile. Ana waited for her; Kate took aim, wild laughter glinting in her eye.
"You surrender?" she said.
Ana tried something new—that's what this was all about, after all—and once again felt for the ground under Kate's feet, but instead of rocking it, or digging it, she made it climb. She was getting better at making these mounds, these towers. She made the soil flow and creep over Kate's shoes, up her ankles—then held it.
"What the—" Kate jerked her feet, kicking them free. The earth wasn't hard and didn't hold her long, but it gave Ana time to scramble to the other side of her shelter. Imagine what I could do with more, she thought. If she could build the earth up around someone's whole body, bury them up to their necks so they couldn't move at all . . .
Now Kate had marbles in both hands. "That's it. No more Miss Nice Guy."
Suddenly Ana was in a war zone, dodging bullets that pounded into the ground all around her, zooming in from all sides. They weren't very big, and none of them came right at her—this was, after all, a game. But they kept her from fleeing, locking her into a small space on the lawn, and she was laughing at the dirt flying everywhere, at Kate's wild expression, and the increasingly chaotic state of the lawn.
They both turned to the sound of the back door opening. DB and Hardhat emerged, rushing to the porch railing to look over the lawn. Ana tried to catch her breath. Kate, also breathing hard, her hair matted with sweat, joined her.
Hardhat frowned at them with a look of bafflement. "Christ, what the fuck are you two doing?"
Ana and Kate looked at each other. Ana, a gleam in her eyes, said, "Demolitions and excavations?"
Kate burst out laughing, Ana joined in, and the two of them fell against each other, hysterical.
DB shook his head, and Hardhat said, "You're damn lucky we don't have a fucking damage deposit on the line for this place."
The guys seemed just as taken with Ana's newfound ability. As they trailed inside, Hardhat mapped out great plans for their future exploits. "I can totally fucking see it—you dig this big motherfucking ditch, like a moat, see? Like if we had to protect something—then I'll build a bridge, or a tower, or—"
Kate laughed. "She can build a bridge! She can build us a tower and no one could touch us!"
DB nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. It's pretty cool." As usual, his six hands were tapping to an unheard rhythm. Sort of. The rhythm seemed a bit off tonight, as if he was distracted. He kept watching Kate.
"Just wait," Ana said. "The next challenge will be at the top floor of a skyscraper. No dirt."
"Well, aren't you Mary fucking Sunshine," Hardhat said.
Kate was now staring back at DB. The drummer's patter faltered. "Michael, is something wrong?" Kate said.
"Uh—no. I was just—"
"I'm talking about the drumming. You're all out of synch. I just wondered if something was wrong."
DB froze. Too late, he started again, tapping a pair of hands on his knees, but it looked more like nerves than his usual accompaniment. Kate was right—the beats were off. There wasn't a rhythm, just noise.
Kate picked a throw pillow off the arm of the sofa.
"Oh no, no—" DB said, holding out all six arms in defense.
Kate hurled the pillow at him. It hit his shoulder with a thump, and DB glimmered, then disappeared, leaving Wild Fox curled up on the sofa. The illusion had been destroyed. "Geez, Curveball! No fair! You totally suck in a pillow fight!"
She stood over him, a second pillow in her hands. "You're covering for him. What's he up to?"
"I'm not covering. I just wanted to see if you could spot it. And . . . you can. So there."
Wild Fox was not a very good liar.
Kate said, "I wouldn't put it past you, but you're way too nervous to be just pulling a prank. What's the deal?"
Glowering, Wild Fox crossed his arms. "He said he wouldn't vote me off next time if I covered for him."
"So what's he doing?" She wouldn't let up.
"I don't know, I didn't ask!"
The phone by the kitchen bar rang. Wild Fox jumped for it, but Kate cut him off and beat him to the handset.
"Hello? Why, hello Cleo. No, Wild Fox isn't here." Kate was looking right at him. "I'd have thought you'd want to talk to DB. He seems more your . . . speed. Oh, you do want to talk to him? Yeah, he's here." Wearing a catty grin, Kate handed the set to Wild Fox.
Sullen now, Wild Fox shook his tail, and the illusion shimmered back into place. It was almost like a heat mirage, or a mist in the air. He rippled, then he was DB, all six arms and deep voice.
"Yeah?" he said at the phone and glared at Kate. After a moment of listening, he replied, "Yeah. Okay." Then hung up.
"So he's with Pop Tart."
"I don't know, I just said I'd cover for him. I'm supposed to say I'm going for a walk and then come back in five minutes with Wild Fox. I mean me."
"Then you'd better get going," she said. That catty smile was starting to turn vicious.