Pulse

Can’t miss that.”
    “I’m in charge of music,” Hawk said. “DJing is my new thing. I think you’ll find I’m pretty good at it.”
    Clara completely ignored Hawk and bore down on Faith with her piercing eyes. Faith took a step forward, glaring at Clara’s face, and asked her to please step aside.
    “You and Dylan seem to be getting along fine,” Clara said.
    “Why do you care about anything around here anyway? You’re in the Field Games. After today we’ll never see you again. Just leave .”
    “Whoa, Faith, take ’er down a notch.” Hawk pulled gently on her shirtsleeve, but she jerked free.
    “I think I’ll stand over here,” Hawk responded, backing away. “By these lockers. In case I’m needed.”
    As usual, Amy showed up just in time—she could see a fight about to start and, loving the idea of Faith getting clobbered, hung back to watch.
    “Amy,” Clara said. “Get the hell out of here. Now. You, too, squirt.”
    Hawk was about to toss off a retort, but he thought finding Dylan might be a better idea. He and Amy double-timed it down the hall as Clara took half a step toward Faith.
    “I’m only going to say this once,” Clara fumed. Her voice was quiet but oh-so-confident, like a girl who could knock out a gorilla with one punch. “I’ve had my eye on Dylan Gilmore since we showed up at this godforsaken shit hole. Stay away from him. ’Cause I’m coming back, and when I do, I’ll be wearing some new gold around my neck. I think that’s going to impress him a little more than your clever banter.”
    “I have a better idea,” Faith said, and then she lost it. She knew it was wrong. She knew it would make Dylan mad and might get her kicked out of the Nordstrom Rooftop Club for good, but she’d had enough of Amazon Woman. Faith imagined throwing Clara Quinn into a wall of lockers, then throwing her to the other side of the hall, where she’d hit more lockers. A flash of a memory appeared in her mind, of seeing Drifters doing the same thing, and then it was gone. When she shook her head clear of the memory, Clara Quinn was slumped on the floor to her right. Faith’s first thought was to run, but she was seized by a sharp pain in her neck that nearly doubled her over. She looked to her right, expecting to see Clara, but the space she’d occupied was empty. Somehow Clara had gotten up and moved in the flash of an instant. She was standing behind Faith, whispering in her ear with a menacing voice.
    “I see we have a player,” she seethed. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
    Faith’s throat started to tighten like someone was wrapping a pair of cold hands around her neck and slowly adding pressure.
    “Can you take it as good as you dish it out?” Clara asked. Her voice was soft in Faith’s ear. All at once Faith felt herself being thrown against the wall of lockers. Her shoulder hit first, then her head jerked sideways and slammed into metal. Faith blinked her eyes hard, trying to clear the ringing in her ears. Clara’s voice was back.
    “Let’s keep this our little secret, okay? You’re a freak, just like me. Only I see you’re just half the package.”
    Faith felt a quick jolt to her side and thought she’d been kicked, but when she looked up, doubled over in pain, Clara was halfway down the hall calling back, “Stay away from him. I mean it.”
    Faith flew across the floor, slammed into the lockers she’d just thrown Clara into, and slid to the floor. She stayed there for only a few seconds, regaining her strength and standing as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She thought of three things then; nothing else mattered.
    First, Dylan couldn’t know what had happened. He’d never forgive her.
    Second, and this was huge: Clara Quinn had a pulse. She could move things with her mind.
    And third, she had to find a second pulse so she could kill Clara Quinn if she ever came back.

Chapter 16
Hammer Throw
    Everyone, including the few remaining souls on the outside, watched the games. They were a slimmed-down summer Olympics, streamlined to include only the individual events. The games were all about the one man or the one woman who was better than all the rest. There was no traveling from State to State, not domestically nor internationally; but world records were still set and broken at just about every game. All the States across the globe held the games during the same seven-day period, with twenty-four-hour live coverage on dozens of Tablet channels.
    There