‘Right, so up until this point in the race, doves have just been illusions that mark the stationary beacons on the course, but when the dove replicates here,’ she pointed to the beacon atop the scramble, ‘the copies of the dove illusions get superimposed onto drones that are carrying mobile beacons. That’s what the teams are chasing.’ Asta spoke fast, excited to reveal what she had learned in her research. ‘Apparently, there is no rule that says a beacon has to remain stationary. So these beacons are flying around. Once a team catches their dove and triggers the beacon, they can move on to the next—’
‘Asta, I’m going to interrupt you for a second,’ the teacher said.
‘Finally!’ Pikki huffed. Parsons shot her a warning look.
‘What you have here is. . .’ Parsons began, a dazed smile on their face, ‘the most imaginative design I think I’ve ever seen.’
Some of the other students voiced their warm agreement. A tightness in Asta’s chest loosened.
‘But,’ Parsons continued, ‘I’m concerned about practicality.’
The tightness was back, along with a wave of nausea. Asta glanced at Pikki’s face. It was radiant.
Parsons stood from their desk and came over to the model. ‘This randomized pattern for the buoys, each team chasing a different dove– it sounds, shall we say, a little chaotic. It might pose some safety challenges.’
Pikki laughed out loud at this.
‘Ms. Lowell, do you have something to add?’ This was meant as censure, but Pikki’s eyes flashed. Parsons realized their mistake too late.
‘It’s just so confusing,’ Pikki sneered. ‘It seems like the whole point of this racecourse is to make sure no one finishes.’ Pikki looked at her friend, who dutifully laughed and nodded. ‘It looks like someone ate the textbook for this class and puked it back up again.’
‘Pikki, that’s enough.’ Parsons smiled sympathetically at Asta. ‘I look forward to reading your report, Asta. What you have here is– well, I don’t even know what to say. I’m quite intrigued. It does provide a segue into the things we’ll be talking about in Design 201– in particular, the role that tradition plays in design.’
Asta took her seat again as Mx. Parsons launched into their lecture, but she didn’t hear a word. Her face was burning, and she could feel her whole body starting to shake. She knew her design didn’t look like a cookie-cutter copy of all the other racecourses out there. She hadn’t wanted it to.
There was one right way to do things here: the Pillar way.The students at Pillar were obsessed with perfecting the skills that Mr. Carle drilled them in, day after day. Asta missed those afternoons on the Seraphin Estate when she and Felix and Essie and Carmine would go out into the fields and make up challenges for themselves. They were way harder than anything taught at Pillar.
Some of their more daring moves even had them making contact in the air. In the Double Decker, as they called it, they flew their dragons in parallel, one right on top of the other, letting the upper dragon actually fold its wings and ride the back haunches of the lower dragon for a second. Then they would separate and land with the dragons running side by side, sometimes throwing in a synchronized Running Corkscrew for good measure.
Then there was the Ricochet. The Dead Drop. The Escalator. Always something new.
It wasn’t like that here. How many times had she sung along to the school anthem about ‘courage, honor, and integrity’? It was all crap. All they wanted was conformity.
The moment class was over, Asta grabbed her model and wrestled it through the classroom door.
‘Asta,’ a voice called to her. It was Pikki. Two of her cronies lingered behind her like hungry carrion birds following a lion.
Asta debated walking away and pretending she didn’t hear.
‘Sorry if I came off a little strong in there,’ Pikki said, smiling sweetly and shifting her chestnut hair over her shoulder.
Asta could feel her hackles rising. She hated how Pikki could turn her niceness on and off. It was so fake.
‘I just think it’s important that we’re honest with ourselves.’ Pikki waved with her fingers at one of her friends coming out of Dr. Hu’s classroom down the hallway. ‘This place isn’tforeveryone, you know what I mean?’
And there went the niceness, right out the window. Two could play at that game.
Asta cocked her head at Pikki. ‘Are you thinking of dropping out? That’s too bad, Pikki. But I’m sure you’ll be great at making fries.’ It was uncalled for, taking a crack at Pikki’s family like that. But Asta was angry, and she was pleased to see that her words had hit their mark. One of Pikki’s friends let a giggle out before clamping her hand over her mouth.
Pikki’s face turned contemptuous. ‘Stop before you embarrass yourself, Asta. You know you don’t belong here.’
‘That’s not what the rankings say,’ Asta shot back. Other students had stopped in the hallway now and were listening in, whispering to each other.
Pikki rolled her eyes. ‘As big as your ego is, I’m honestly surprised you even accepted your seat at Pillar, given how you got it.’
The model was starting to become cumbersome in Asta’s arms. She repositioned it so that it rested against her hip. The little milkmaid figurine, who had been standing in the terrain section, wobbled and fell over.
‘Screw you. I earned my seat, just like everyone else.’
