Page 3 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Another student answers from the right this time. “Then the manifested vehicle could appear unstable, partially made, or even not appear at all. You have to be completely focused for the command to be successful.”

It’s hard to keep in my whimper then, and I wipe sweaty palms on the legs of my Avri suit, trying to calm myself by counting down from ten over and over in my head.

It does absolutely nothing to drown out the panic rising within me.

Toldem gives another dip of his head. “Exactly. A clear command and mental image is essential for your Avri to understand and obey your wishes. You cannot simply ask or suggest, you must command. Is that clear?” Scanning over our nodding heads, mine unsteady, he then asks, “And who can tell me the importance of the run-and-jump method?”

A man from the left side of the room. “Since the pads are on the bottom of our boots, we have to launch ourselves at least three feet into the air to ensure the Avri vehicle has room to form without the ground being an obstacle, so we need a good sprint leading up to the jump.”

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face.

“That’s right. Now, on to The Catalogue. Explain what this is.”

Another student. “The official list of Avri vehicles and Avri weapons.”

“And . . . ?”

“And we must have everything in The Catalogue memorised perfectly as we won’t be able to see it during a Bonding Game.”

“Good, good.” Toldem rounds to the front of his desk and leans back on it, crossing one ankle over the other as he roves his gaze over us. I sink low in my chair. “Give me the list of Avri vehicles and describe each one to me . . . hmm, let’s see . . . Alby!”

I let out a squeak as my spine snaps straight.

“U-uh, umm . . . t-there’s Avri cars,” I start in a mess, pausing to clear my throat. “And then there’s the jets, platforms, steps, and tribikes.”

The expectant look he gives me tells me I’m not getting off that easily.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Uh— I, umm . . . th-they’re . . . green . . . ?”

Toldem raises an unimpressed brow. “Are you telling me, or are you asking me?”

The class breaks out into snickers, and my face heats a thousand degrees hotter.

“Telling.” The word is hardly audible.

“Great—then tell me more.”

I clear my throat again, willing myself to speak, but nothing comes out my mouth when I open it. I can’t think when I’m put on the spot like this, and it’s one of the many reasons I’m not cut out for any of this; I can’t remember the list of Avri vehicles clearly whenever I need to because anxiety takes over and scrambles my brain. Years of training, and I’m the least talented Evot I’ve ever heard of.

Unless you count the eleven-year-old children having their first lessons in Evot Training School.

If my name is generated tomorrow, I’m royally screwed.

“You can’t even describe one Avri vehicle?”

Ducking my head, I plead with the universe for him to stop pushing me, especially in front of the entire class, whose stares I can feel digging into my skin without a care for my obvious embarrassment.

Toldem scrubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “You need to know this, Alby. At this point, you’d likely be dead in the first five seconds of Game 1.”

The previous snickering converts to straight-out laughter.

A warning glance which lacks any true reprimand is the only admonishment they get.

“Alright,” Toldem sighs heavily. “Just make sure you pay attention from now on, okay?”

As if I’m not the student here who tries the hardest yet still has the lightest green Avri cluster in EvTS 246.