Pulse

journey. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and it begins with small steps. These ridiculous Field Games are not going to mean anything by this time next year. And I promise you, by then you’ll have more power than you know what to do with. Trust me on this, Clara. I know what I’m doing.”
    Clara did trust her father, even if his taste in women bordered on insane. But Clara had a plan of her own, one that had been swirling around in her head ever since Gretchen had come into the picture. Just you wait, Clara thought as she glared at her stepmother. I’m going to come for you; and when I do, you’ll wish you’d never been born.
    “When you warm up, keep it normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Stay near the back of the pack during the decathlon, and do as we’ve instructed when the time comes. Remember, you’re not there to win games. You’re there to do a job.”
    Wade felt a small pang in his chest as he thought about all the work he’d put in training for the games. It was nowhere near the amount a true Field Games athlete would invest, but still, there had been a lot of endless afternoons jumping over a bar or throwing a metal ball. There had been many moments of extreme boredom in which he’d asked himself why in the world anyone would dedicate himself to such useless endeavors. And yet, deep down inside, he wanted to win. It would take all his self-control not to position himself on the top podium when the opportunity arose.
    “Always remember, this isn’t about us,” Gretchen said, her cold gaze alternating between each twin. “We have the power to change the world, to mold it into what it should be. We are not to waste such power. Am I understood?”
    Clara and Wade nodded obediently, looking at their father for any additional guidance he might provide.
    “You are now firmly entrenched in enemy territory. Don’t forget that. And don’t for a second let your emotions get away from you. Get the job done and come home.”
    Wade was just about to sign off, but Clara stopped him.
    “There’s a girl from Old Park Hill, a friend of mine. I’d like her to have a seat. A good one, close to the field.”
    Gretchen saw this as a way to appease her unpredictable stepchild and immediately latched on to it. “I have someone on the inside, won’t be a problem. Tell me her name.”
    Gretchen turned her attention to a Tablet at her side, where she scrolled through a list of seats she had access to through an associate in the State.
    “Liz Brinn,” Clara said. Wade shot her a look of surprise, but Clara ignored him and went on. “She was a really close friend; this would mean a lot. And she’d want to bring another person, if that’s not asking too much.”
    Gretchen didn’t like the idea of Clara having a close friend at Old Park Hill, but she let it slide. If this small gesture could build some much-needed goodwill between the two of them, so be it.
    “I’ll have two tickets sent to her, both right on the field. A213 and A214, in case you want to say hello. Does that make you happy?”
    “That’s perfect, thank you, Gretchen. It really means a lot.”
    Clara could be charming when she needed to be, and all appeared to be in order when the call ended.
     
    Andre and Gretchen had moved to a new location ten miles to the north of Old Park Hill, where they could watch the Games unfold in peace and quiet.
    “They’re nearly seventeen. We shouldn’t have to treat them like children any longer,” Gretchen said.
    “Well, it was a nice gesture all the same,” Andre responded. “You know how unpredictable she can be. Better safe than sorry.”
    Gretchen looked at Andre without a shred of emotion. The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, she thought. And she was right. Andre had been calm for many months, but he could be as unpredictable as his daughter.
    If things didn’t go as planned in the Western State, there was no telling what he would do.
     
    “Charity case, happens every year.”
    Wade heard one of the other athletes use those very words as he began warming up at the high jump pit in the training facility an hour later. There were four other jumpers, and they all seemed to agree: Wade was the one from the outside, a concession to help the needy feel better about themselves. It galled him to think about what total losers they all were, and to take his frustrations out, he made them look like amateurs on every single one of their warm-up jumps. Wade would watch them elevate, then