Splitting a Match

Sudden Death

3.

[Time: 6:29pm]

[Location: IRS Building, Seattle, Pangaea]

[July 12, 2095]

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Clan!" Kendrick York's booming voice sounded over the building's intercom system. "Let me present to you this year's obstacle relay race winners! Lukas and Emmett Castor!"

Here goes. To roaring applause, Lukas and I made our way across the peeling laminate flooring and up the steps onto the little wooden stage. Turning around, I grinned broadly with Lukas and slung my arm over his shoulder. We stood there, waving and smiling until our faces hurt, until Kendrick-Mr. York-walked up to us and clapped a hand on our shoulders.

"You boys have done great. Nice work." His weathered, kind face gave us a sincere smile. From his pocket, he produced two shining bronze medals (nobody was rich enough to have that much gold), hanging by a ribbon. As we both lowered our heads, he first placed a medal on Lukas' neck, then stepped to the right and put one on mine. The medal was heavy and when he let go of the ribbon, its weight pulled down. It felt good. Pride welled up in my chest. We had really done it. On our first year of eligibility, we had beaten every other relay team in the Clan.

Standing side to side with Lukas, we performed our Clan's victory pose. I stuck my right arm out to the side, bicep horizontal, forearm vertical, fist clenched and facing forward. He did the same with his left. We smashed the sides of our forearms together, then shot them, still touching, to the sky. No words could describe that moment. Pure energy and joy seemed to pulse through the air. At that instant, a whooshing sound filled the room, and fire sprang up in a long metal trough that bordered the room. It started from the stage, then went out to the sides of the room, then traveled to the back of the room, where the two paths of fire hit large bonfire pits in the back corners of the room. There, the flames hit the fuel and roared up at the same time into two large chimneys above it, filling the somewhat dim room with light and revealing a long table piled with food. The crowd roared its approval. I looked to the side and found Lukas grinning hysterically at me.

"Nice job, man!" He said, and pulled me into a bro-hug.

"Yeah, you too, Cheetah," I said behind his shoulder. The crackling sound of the fire reached our ears, and we separated.

"Let's get something to eat, yeah?" Lukas asked with his eyebrows raised.

I grinned, my heart beating fast with exhilaration and excitement. "Oh, yeah. Beef. Nothing better."

While our Clan made its way toward the food table, Lukas and I stepped down from stage. We were mobbed by tons of smiling people who crowded the way in front of us and held out their hands or fists for a high-five or fist bump. We heard a lot of "Great job, guys!" and "Awesome run, you two!" and "Nice one, Castors!" My face was sore from smiling so much. When we got past our fan club, I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and shook my head side to side to loosen my muscles. Lukas laughed loudly.

My family stood in front of me. I first went to my Dad, Edmund, and he enveloped me in his muscular arms, slapping my back.

"Proud of you, Emmett," he said, a small grin tugging at his usually somber face.

"Thanks, Dad," I said, pride once again filling my chest.

While Lukas hugged Dad, I walked over to Krys, my oldest sibling, a tall and slim girl with thick brown hair in a braid that fell over one shoulder.

"Thanks for all your help," I said as I hugged her. Krys was the one who forced me to start training for the race five years ago. Of all my siblings, she was the one who made it all happen. My small thank you seemed incredibly inadequate, but I couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment.