Free I Am Alive by Cameron Jace Page A

tenfold for it. The owner of the deadly amusement park will have to mention that the price of the tickets don't cover death certificates and burial fees.
    Everyone for himself. Some people won’t make it until tomorrow morning. Sadly, Leo might be one of them.
    “Five,” Timmy announces. “S.E.C.O.N.D.S.”
    Suddenly, a boy falls from the sky, into the seat in front of me.
    “Four.”
    It is not Leo.
    “Three.”
    It’s the boy Leo shot. He is still alive, but in pain. Someone saved him and brought him along.
    “Two.”
    I look up, and to the side. Leo is flying in the air, landing down like a wrestler doing a five-finger frog splash.
    “One.”
    Leo is in the seat in front of me, next to the boy he shot, then saved.
    A feast of exploding Hoverboardz surrounds us like the worst fireworks you could think of. The rollercoaster runs closer to the point where it takes the slope upward again.
    “This Trickster is mean,” the girl with pink hair says.
    “No kidding,” I mock her.
    “I mean really,” she explains. “According to the rules, those of you who were in the Jeep should not have their Hoverboardz exploded. You changed vehicles with the same speed when you jumped from the Jeep to the Hoverboardz. To you, the board was a new vehicle, just like the rollercoaster.”
    “But it wasn’t just us on the Hoverboardz,” I say. “So it is a confusing situation. Not that you expect this loony Trickster to be fair.”
    “Thank you,” Timmy cheers. “For calling me loony and unfair. Me flattered.”
    The audience cheers too. The viewers love Timmy. They don’t call my name like last time. When the audience is entertained, they forget about you so fast. It’s always about what’s next. Their thirst is unquenchable.
    I see a boy screaming from the crowd that all these rules about the School Exploding Speed Bus game weren’t fair. The camera zooms in on him instantly, and Timmy announces that the boy is a Monster who has managed to forge his results.
    “Traitor,” The crowd screams, pointing the finger at the boy. “Monster!”
    Of course the boy isn’t a Monster. It’s the Summit’s way to play us all. If you object or question the rules, the easiest thing would be turning you into a Monster.
    Leo, panting in the seat in front of us, raises his iAm up high, showing us a message without turning his head back to us.
    The message says: SHUT UP, LADIES.
    The girl with pink hair laughs. My mouth is wide open.
    Leo scrolls down. IT’S BEEN A ROUGH DAY.
    “I never thought he had any sense of humor,” the girl with pink hair tells me. “I am Bellona, by the way.” She has to shout against the speed of the rollercoaster.
    “I am Decca,” I say.
    “I thought you were Pixie three minutes ago,” she muses.
    “No. I am Decca.” I insist.
    “The rules, people!” Timmy shouts in the microphone. “Or me will blow me up some Monsters.”
    The rollercoaster reaches the slope upward, and Leo manipulates it from his iAm and speeds it up more.
    We are rolling high, with blood rushing from my face and the sun shining straight into my eyes. We push the red button and scream:
    “I AM ALIVE.”
    I guess Leo doesn’t have to say it anymore. The audience pardoned him, thinking of him as mute or something. Will I ever know why he never utters a word?
    I let out a big scream and repeat the phrase, since it makes me feel much better:
    “I AM ALIVE, WOO.”
    The question is… for how long?

14
    Most of us want to talk about what just happened, and compliment each other for staying alive. But Leo pulls me, as usual, away from the crowd. He has just operated on the boy he shot, pulling out the bullet. Now he writes on his iAm, telling them that he and I have things to take care of. I don’t want anyone to think there is something going on between us.
    I am also curious about Bellona and her fellow skaters. We count sixty-six survivors, so we decide to separate and meet up when the Summit notifies us about the next round