The Oneiro Rangers: First Night Read Free Page B

conversation with
some other students, Roland hopped back onto his feet. “... Skip a few, one
hundred. All right, let’s get crackin’.”
    Errol tried to pull him back down onto the ground. “Whoa, are you
crazy?! He’s going to go off on you for sure.”
    Roland waved a hand at it. “Ahh, screw the push-ups. I’ll do the
rest on my own time as an I.O.U.” He slapped Errol’s abs; like hitting a brick
wall. “Now’s the time for me to show you what I got.”
    Errol followed him to a spot, trying to hold back his laughter.
“Okay, this I gotta see.”
    As the students dispersed to their sparing zones, Sova searched
around for a partner. Options dwindled, the fighters leaving the line in pairs.
Everyone he was about to ask to spar with walked right past him or ran off to
someone else before he could open his mouth. Once he was left standing there,
alone, he dipped his head down. Walking in the opposite direction of the
fighting mats, he was stopped by a massive hand gripping his shoulder.
    Coach Dirga didn’t look happy. “And just where do you think you’re
going?”
    Sova turned around right away, dreading the chance of getting in
trouble. He spoke softly, yet clear enough to be heard from afar. “There is
nobody else to spar with, sir.”
    The coach saw his ghastly white skin, black lips, and black
eyelids. The sight automatically switched Dirga’s face into a disgusted frown.
“Oh, you’re a Gothnian.”
    Sova was confused by his words. “Does that account to anything?”
    With a sigh, the coach waved someone over from far away. “It does
to some.”
    A blonde teenager jogged up to them, his broad chest nearly
tearing his undershirt in half. Standing next to Dirga, he looked like a
professional wrestler, even going so far as to wearing the one-shoulder
leotard. “You find someone for me, coach?”
    “I sure did, Wolfgang. Meet...” Dirga held a hand out, trailing
off.
    “Sova.”
    “Yeah, whatever.” The coach gave Wolfgang a firm slap on the back.
“Don’t break too many bones.”
    Sova held a hand out, trying his best to keep a straight smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I hope we have fun today, agreed?”
    Wolfgang returned the handshake, nearly squeezing Sova’s fingers
out of place. “You’re going to have to eat through a straw once I’m done with
you.” He leaned close, gritting his teeth. “ Kelvoton .”
    Laughing, Wolfgang tossed Sova’s hand back at him, nearly spinning
the Gothnian around. Stretching his fingers out and rubbing the soreness away,
Sova followed him to a mat, wanting to walk back inside instead. That racial
slur told him that Wolfgang wasn’t going to go easy on him. Seeing the two
passing by, Errol and Roland stopped testing their moves to watch Wolfgang
guide his next victim to the mat.
    “Hold on,” Errol insisted, “I don’t want to miss a second of this.
That Gothnian is going to get creamed.”
    “Never doubt those darkies,” Roland retorted. “They’re chock-full
of surprises.”
    Without saying a word, Sova and Wolfgang aligned themselves
face-to-face. Putting his fist up, Wolfgang stretched his shoulders out,
punching the air to test his speed. Sova stood there with his head forward and
one arm over his chest like he was preparing to bow. Wolfgang almost let his
guard down, letting out a deep chuckle.
    “You can’t be serious,” he stated in disbelief. “That’s not your
stance, is it?”
    Sova didn’t budge except for ticking his head to the side. “I’m
ready when you are.”
    Starting with a straight jab, Wolfgang’s fist was knocked to the
side by Sova’s spin kick. The way Sova’s arms were placed allowed him to
instantly build the momentum needed to complete the spin, his leg now hanging
high at the ready. Standing on one leg, Sova waited for his opponent’s next
move.
    “What kind of crazy fighting style is that?” Wolfgang cried
angrily, shaking his knuckles awake.
    “One that’s hard to follow,”