A guy with stringy brown hair nudges his friend, and they both look at me, broad smiles on their faces. Of course they’re happy. The crowd loves to watch boarders land cool new tricks. They like it even better when we crash against the concrete.
But this is all part of the plan. After Dresden left, I decided my mom was right. As much as I hate the scientists, I need to talk to Tanner. I have to find out what infected me.
I catch a glimpse of Tanner now next to a girl in a white tank top. His lips rest against each other in a straight line, and he stares at me, his eyes dark and unfathomable. He’s got a hoverboard balanced against his hip. Like everyone else, he’s waiting for the show.
I swallow hard. Despite myself, little pinpricks of awareness sprout all over my body. It’s like my every nerve has come alive because of his presence—which is just ridiculous. I can’t stand the guy. I only want to pump him for information.
Exhaling slowly, I square my shoulders. I’ve already been standing here too long. Much longer than my allotted twenty seconds. I either need to put down my board or move aside.
That’s part of the plan, too—I need time for the crowd to gather. Time for Tanner to become interested in watching me.
I take one more breath and hop on my hoverboard, balancing on the balls of my left foot at the back end, the toes of my right foot just peeping over the front edge.
“Make sure you get enough air,” the girl in the white tank top shouts.
“Timing is everything,” the guy with the stringy hair says.
“I’ve already got the medics on the line.” His friend smirks.
And Tanner? He watches me with the same attention he gave the mouse’s severed leg and says nothing at all.
Go time. I slide my front foot forward, catching the edge with my heel and flipping the board. For an infinitesimal moment, I hang in the air. Don’t worry about the ramp. Just think about landing on the board.
That’s all I have to hit. That’s all I have to hit. That’s all I have to—
My feet catch the board in midair, and then the magnets below the concrete latch on. I bend my knees, and all of a sudden, I’m racing down the ramp. The wind rushes over my ears, and my eyes water with the speed.
I laugh, wild and reckless and free. I did it! I landed the trick, and now I’m flying. This is what I love best about extreme sports. The adrenaline pumps through my body; my senses jumble together; and for a single, untouchable moment, I feel like I can do anything at all.
Even the impossible.
I charge up the opposite ramp and jump off the hoverboard. Ryder gives me a high five, thinks better of it, and then sweeps me up in a hug. “You killed it! On your first try, too.”
He sets me down, but the hoverpark keeps moving, a kaleidoscope of colors and movement and people. “I had a good teacher.”
“Damn straight,” he says, grinning. “Too bad Rat Boy’s not impressed. He’s leaving.”
I whip my head around. Sure enough, Tanner’s setting his hoverboard on the edge of the coping.
“He can’t leave yet,” I blurt. “He’s supposed to congratulate me on a job well done.”
That was the whole point of the trick. I had to impress him, to give him a reason to approach. Because if he takes the initiative, then he won’t suspect me of pumping him for information. I have to stop him. But how?
Before I can come up with any bright ideas, Tanner puts his foot down and charges away, locking onto one of the racing circuits that circles the hoverpark. Great.
“Father of Time,” I moan. “Only, like, five people in this park could’ve landed that trick. What do I have to do to get him to notice me?”
Ugh. I gag just saying the words. It kills me that I’m even trying to get his attention. In any other situation, I’d rather pull out my nails, one by one, than talk to him. Prop open my eyelids with toothpicks and read the history of the pre-Boom era, over and over again.
And now, I’m stooping to tricks in hopes of getting a single word of congratulations? I think I’m going to throw up.
“Dude, Rat Boy doesn’t care about tricks. He’s the best wind sprinter we’ve got, but he won’t touch the vert walls.” Ryder adjusts the magnifying goggles on his head, the ones he wears everywhere in case he needs to examine the cellular structure of something. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back. He’s probably just nervous, and who can blame him? I’d be scared of me, too.”
I smirk, but he has a point. In spite of his techno-geekiness, Ryder looks like he could kill large animals with his bare hands.
Underneath the tough exterior, though, he’s not so scary. Once upon a time, when we were kids, I caught him lining a homemade coffin with acorns so that a squirrel would have something to eat in its afterlife. That was the moment I decided I wanted him as my best friend.
Good thing, too. A few seconds later, Tanner comes barreling back down the circuit, just as my best friend predicted. Ryder gives me a little shove. “Quick, do another one of your tricks.”
My mind whirls. “Which one?”
“Does it matter? Just go!”
Moving fast, I set my board on the coping. But when I push off, my balance is wrong. The board doesn’t feel glued to my feet. Instead, it slides right out from under me.
Keep loose! I hear Ryder’s voice in my head. Roll.
Ooommmpppphhhh.
I hit the concrete with my shoulder, keeping my elbows tucked in. I roll with the fall, spreading out the impact. I do everything right, but curse the Fates, it hurts. A lot.
“You okay?” a voice says from above me.
I squint against the sun, and my eyes travel up over a pair of baggy cargo pants. I hit the low-slung waist, and my breath—what little there is left of it—catches. Because the light gray thermal shirt hugs his abdomen, and I can see every line, every ridge of his six-pack. My gaze continues up, and I see a broad, well-defined chest and long, ropey muscles. I swallow hard. Whoever my rescuer is, he’s hot. Really hot.
Almost in a hurry now, I drag my eyes farther up. Surely his face will be as pretty as the rest of him. Surely he’ll have the kind of eyes that will pierce right through me. Surely—
I see a lean, chiseled jaw and soft, kissable lips. Tousled black hair brushing up against dark eyes framed with thick lashes. But the eyes don’t pierce right through me. Instead, they’re…laughing…at me.
Oh, good Fates. Was I actually checking out Tanner Callahan? What in Limbo is the matter with me?
He holds out a hand to help me up. “You know, the six-inch curbs are over by the entrance. Maybe you should master those before you attempt a real drop-in.”
My cheeks flame. “I’m not a beginner. I’ve been dropping in practically since I could walk.”
“Oh, really?” His eyebrows rise, so that they disappear under his fringe of hair. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I stare at him. This is not going the way I expected. Not at all. “Did you not see me land the heel-flip trick? That’s the sickest stunt of the day.”
“Guess I must’ve missed it.” He smirks. Did I think those lips were kissable? More like smackable. Of course he saw me land the trick. He was standing right there.
Ignoring his hand, I push myself to my feet, even though my elbow stings and my knee burns. What a condescending ass. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me. No wonder everyone says he thinks he’s Fate’s gift to the world. He’s just like every scientist I’ve ever met.
I glance up the ramp, and Ryder gives me a salute, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He’s watched me fall on my ass dozens of times. Maybe even hundreds. Now that he sees me on my feet, he’s not the slightest bit concerned.