Someone scraped a line in the dirt with his boot, and Omega and I stood on it. What else could I do? I was shook up and barfy from the electric shock. I didn’t think being a conscientious objector would go over well at this point.
Omega seemed unruffled, cool, and not like he’d just popped his shoulder back into place.
“You can’t win,” he said calmly, not looking at me. “No human can run faster than I can.”
“Bite me,” I replied, and leaned over to get a good start. “Also, watch my dust!”
“Go!” the Director cried, and we were off.
Well. I must say, Omega was a speedy little sucker, I’ll give him that. He hit the opposite wall several seconds ahead of me, and I was dang fast, and taller than he was. By our third lap, he had about a quarter length on me. Neither one of us was breathing that hard—he was Superboy, and I was designed to be able to breathe in very thin air, way up high.
But he had no emotion—he wasn’t angry, didn’t seem determined to win at all costs, didn’t seem invested in beating me.
Which made three more differences between us.
Finally we were on the last lap. He had almost a three-quarter-length lead on me. The crowd was silent—no one dared cheer. The only sounds were our breathing and the pounding of our boots on the ground.
When Omega was about thirty yards away from whipping my butt, I suddenly dove forward, pulled out my wings, and went airborne. I thought I heard the crowd gasp.
Keeping very low to avoid the electrified net at the top of the castle walls, which Max II had warned us about, I streaked toward the finish, my wings working smoothly. I tilted as I passed Superboy, so I wouldn’t whap the back of his head with a wing—tempting though it was.
Then I shot across the finish line, ten feet ahead of him, and ran to a somewhat clumsy halt, trying not to careen into the gray sea of spectators.
I stood up, breathing hard, and punched my fist in the air. “Max, one!”
118
“Cheating disqualifies you!” The Director said, looking mad.
“I didn’t cheat! Did you say ‘no flying’? Did anyone say ‘no flying’? No.”
“It was a race on the ground!”
“Again, said who? Just because Wonderlad is stuck to the ground doesn’t mean I have to be. I’ve evolved past being stuck to the ground.”
Now the Director looked really mad. The sea of indistinct faces murmured; feet shifted on the ground. I folded my wings in, aware of dozens of eyes watching me.
“You are disqualified,” the Director said shortly. “Omega is the winner.”
“Whatever,” I said, pushing down my disgust. I shot Omega a sideways glance. “Does she tie your shoes for you too?”
His perfect eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t speak.
Nudge and Angel took my hands and stood close, and Ari came up behind me, as if to protect my back. I felt very comforted by their being there. I would have felt even better if I had seen Fang standing with me, ready to back me up.
“Next will be a contest of strength,” said the Director. “Omega’s muscles are approximately four hundred percent stronger and denser than a regular boy’s. Bring out the weights!”
I am weirdly, wickedly strong, and not just for a girl, not just for my age. I’m stronger than just about any grown-up, man or woman. We all are. But I didn’t have the bulk that Superboy did, and in general I was designed to be smart and fast, and to fly well. Not to be able to compete in a tractor pull.
It really was a tractor pull, in a way. Heavy weights were loaded onto a wooden platform. We were each given a thick chain. The idea was literally to pull the platform across the dirt. We were even until about five hundred pounds, then Superboy started to edge past me. I could barely budge six hundred and fifty pounds—he pulled it three feet.
They piled on more weight—eight hundred pounds. I couldn’t believe I was going to lose a strength contest to a boy. There was no way.
I gritted my teeth, cracked my knuckles, and put the chain over my already bruised shoulder. Omega and I looked at each other, side by side. When the Director blew sharply on her whistle, I put my head down, planted my feet in the dirt, and pulled with all my might. Sweat broke out on my forehead. It felt as though the chain were wearing a furrow in my shoulder. Breath hissed through my clenched teeth.
I made the platform tremble a little, moved it maybe a quarter of an inch.
Omega hauled it almost a foot.