The Pyramid Chronicles: Tyche Point (#1)

Chapter Two: Everybody's Looking For Something, Part Two

This was the worst. Absolutely the worst. Adam adjusted his suit jacket, trying to focus on whatever his younger brother was saying and not the pit of anxiety in his stomach.

"We want to start training this week," Eric said as the two of them walked through the rapidly emptying school hallway. "So, I'm gonna need all those drills you do at football practice."

This was surprising, considering that the last time Eric had tried to use his powers, he'd nearly set his bedroom on fire. Trying to control them might actually be a good idea. As long as he and his friends didn't practice inside the house.

Adam wasn't sure he saw the correlation between superpowers and football drills, though.

"Uh, sure thing," Adam said. "But first I have to try not to embarrass myself in front of the judges."

"You'd better win, after making us listen to you play six hours a day for months."

Adam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't six hours—oh no." He froze. "This is bad."

"What?" Eric asked, stopping next to him.

The girl stood next to the auditorium entrance. The near-white hair that she usually kept pulled up hung free, the longest layers reaching halfway down her back. Her pale blue eyes were fixed on the tablet she held in one hand, and she held a cup of coffee in the other. Adam shouldn't have been surprised that she was competing for the scholarship. If anyone was the definition of Tyche Point's Top Achiever, it was her.

Adam lowered his voice. "Willow West. She's won a dozen engineering and coding competitions. And she's president of the tech club."

Eric lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, stalker."

"I don't stalk her!" Adam insisted. "She likes to brag, and I have three classes with her."

"Sure, whatever you say."

"I don't—"

"Wait," Eric cut Adam off. "Doesn't tech stuff put her in a different category than you?"

Adam shook his head. "They don't do that anymore. Budget cuts, I guess. Only one person gets a scholarship."

"How are they going to compare something like engineering to playing the piano?" Eric asked.

"I guess it's about how much work you put into it," Adam said. "Passion, or something."

"Well, I'll just upload that video of you tripping over the piano bench at your last recital. Maybe it'll go viral and make you enough money to pay for school."

"Please don't," Adam muttered. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. "They'll be calling me any minute now."

"You'll do great!" Eric called as he walked away.

It wasn't enough to do great. Adam had to do better than everyone else competing for the high school's annual scholarship. Including Willow.

Adam moved to a spot a few feet away from Willow and leaned against the wall. It took a moment to find a place that wasn't covered in posters. There were colorful advertisements for everything from AP test prep classes, sign-ups to volunteer at the town's 2018 Alien Fest, auditions for the spring musical Dragonworld—whatever the hell that was—reminders to buy yearbooks...

...and a poster for the very scholarship Adam and Willow were competing for.

After watching Willow tap at her tablet screen for a few moments, Adam said, "I thought you'd build a robot or something."

Willow glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I thought the judges might be more interested in my work on 3D printing software that hospitals are using to make better casts." A sly smile touched her mouth. "What are you here to do, throw a football around?"

Adam didn't bother hiding his annoyance at the comment. "I've been playing piano since I was six." He folded his arms. "Why do you need this scholarship, anyway? Isn't your dad rich or something?"

Willow's expression turned cold. "You don't know anything about my family."

Okay, touchy subject. Fair enough. "Right, sorry," Adam said, his voice softening.

The door to the auditorium opened. "Adam Ackerman!" a woman called.

Adam threw one last glance at Willow as he entered the auditorium. She'd gone back to sipping her coffee and working on her tablet.

And then she was gone. The door clicked shut. Adam turned his attention to the piano in the center of the stage, and the three judges sitting in the front row. Well, here goes nothing.

~

Willow downed the last of her coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash. With both hands free, getting into the auditorium's camera feed was easy. It helped that she'd done it before. The camera was supposed to be for livestreaming assemblies and performances, but Willow had found it useful for spying on other meetings that took place there on occasion.

"All right, Ackerman," she murmured. "Let's see how good you really are."

The video and audio weren't exactly high quality, but they were good enough for Willow to assess her competition. She watched Adam cross the stage and take a seat at the piano. His athletic build, dark auburn hair with sides shaved in an undercut, deep brown eyes...she'd seen it all a million times before. They'd had classes together for years, and she'd never given him much more than a passing glance.

He'd never been a threat before.

"Whenever you're ready," one of the judges said.

Adam started his song. Notes drifted through the auditorium, just loud enough to get picked up by the nearest microphone. Not bad, Willow supposed. His fingers danced up the keys and back down.

He paused.

And then he went into something more complicated, his hands moving faster. The piece was ridiculously elaborate. Willow couldn't stop her eyes from widening slightly as he picked up speed.

Show off, she thought.

But she had to admit she was nervous.

~

Adam rose from the piano bench and walked to the edge of the stage, where he bowed. "Thank you."

The judge in the middle smiled. "Thank you, Adam. We'll contact you at the end of the week to let you know if you'll move on to the last round of interviews." She turned to the man at her left, who held a clipboard. "Could you make a quick note for me?"

Adam frowned when he noticed the reason she couldn't make the note herself: a white cast encasing her right forearm.

He left the stage and threw open the door to the hallway. A few more competitors had arrived to wait their turn, spaced out along the hallway. Adam didn't give them a second glance. He walked until he was standing directly in front of Willow. She didn't look up from her screen.

"No one was supposed to know the identity of the judges ahead of time," Adam said. "Let alone details about their personal life. Or injuries."

Willow's eyes darted up to meet his gaze. "Sounds like you're accusing me of something." That hint of a smile crept back onto her lips. "Something you can't prove."

"How did you know one of the judges had a broken arm?" Adam demanded. "I mean, that's why you went with the 3D printing cast thing, right?"

Willow's smug expression stayed a few more seconds before fading. "You really shouldn't give information up so easily."

"What?"

The auditorium door opened again. "Willow West, you're up," the judge said.

"What's that saying people use? Keep your cards close to your chest?" Willow stepped away from the wall. "Nice performance, by the way," she said as she strolled past Adam. "I think you've got a pretty good shot."

Adam turned around so he could watch her walk to the door. "How—?"

His gaze moved to the tablet in her hand, and in the moments before she disappeared, he glimpsed the grainy image of the auditorium on her screen.