Free Death's Academy by Michael Bast

Academy. Of course the main color is black, but it does have dark purple stripes along the collar, the cuffs of the sleeves, and down the side of the shorts. A stark white skull patch is over the left breast.
    I throw on my bone-plated knee and shin guards and slide my rolling gloves over my hands. I glance at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath.
    “Here goes,” I whisper and head out of the locker room.
    I trot down the long concrete corridor that leads to the playing field. The opening at the end lets in a blast of bright sunshine. I take the last few strides and step out onto the playing field. With a quick look around, I can tell that it’s going to be a packed house. The stands are already almost full. Half the seats are blacked out with hoodies, and the other half glimmer with halos. The scent of orange blossoms and sea spray head butt me in the nose. I wince.
    “Ugh. Too many halos,” I say under my breath.
    The grass is pristine and meets the regulation length of one and a quarter inch. A glint of the sun’s rays reflects off the three newly minted gold scoring rings. I trot toward the outfield where my teammates are warming up.
    “About time, Smith. I was going to start warming up to be the roller today,” Dred says in his slow, monotone voice.
    “You wouldn’t know which direction to roll it,” I say, brushing past him.
    Dred has always thought that he is a better roller than I am, but he also still thinks baby hoodies come from the vulture. No way am I having that conversation with him. He’s good at what he does, though. He’s our plower, and when he smacks into one of the other team, they don’t see straight for a week.
    “I didn’t think you were gonna show up. I’ve never seen someone run so fast,” Mal says as she strolls over to me tossing a skull in her hand. “Don’t get me wrong. She did look pretty vicious with that long blonde hair and lollipop face.”
    “Oh, shut up, Mal,” I grunt.
    She turns on the spot and chucks the skull through one of the golden scoring hoops.
    “Not bad,” I say.
    “Yeah, but it won’t matter. I won’t get enough chances if your new roll doesn’t work,” she answers.
    “Shh!” I hiss and look around to see if anyone else heard her. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
    She folds her arms, raises an eyebrow, and shakes her head.
    “No.”
    I let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” A skull rolls to my feet, and I pick it up and start tossing it back and forth in my hands.
    “Did you see him?” she asks.
    “Did I see who?” I say distractedly.
    “The coach from Death’s Academy.”
    I catch hold of the skull and spin on the spot. My eyes dart from one side of the stands to the other. “Where is he?”
    “In the Regent’s box, up near the announcers,” she responds.
    I find the box, and, sure enough, I can see a man with long, slicked-back hair sitting next to the Regent. I gulp.
    “Well you’d better start warming up. Game starts in five,” Mal says and heads over to the other scampers.
    I nod and stretch my arms. My other teammates know that I don’t like to talk too much before a match, so they keep their distance. I get in my stance and visualize my new roll. I’m not going to actually practice it right now; I don’t want the halos to know what they’re in for.
    I guess now would probably be a good time to explain to you shorties how you play skull ball. If you are at all familiar with your games like soccer, baseball, football, or kickball, you’ll notice some similarities. Don’t get any smart ideas. We didn’t copy it from you shorties. We’ve been playing it for over a thousand years.
    First, let me explain what the field looks like. If you were looking at the field from the sky, you would immediately notice that it is shaped like a cone, very much like your baseball field. At the tip of the cone there’s a rectangular box three feet wide by six feet long. It is painted half white and half black. It iscalled the