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CHAPTER EIGHT The Long Haul
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SURPRISING, WHEN CECELIA met up with the Academic Decathlon team by the school bus early the next morning, she was buzzing with energy. She should have been exhausted—she'd barely gotten four hours of sleep last night, studying until her brain turned to mush—but anticipation for the upcoming competition sent adrenaline surging through her veins. This seemed to be true for the rest of the team, as well—although there were a few stray yawns and eye rubs, everyone was on their feet. Liz and Abe chatted quietly. Sally, Charlie and Cindy went through a series of flashcards, answering questions at rapid-fire speed. Michelle had her head buried in a book, ignoring Flash's efforts to start a conversation. Ned and Christine, the latter sipping a coffee to keep her awake, stood awkwardly next to each other.
"Hey, guys!" Liz called as Cecelia and Alex approached. She'd rolled the sleeves of her ugly yellow blazer to her elbows, impossibly managing to pull off the look. "I'm glad you're here! We're just waiting on Mr. Harrington to clear some things up. Should only be a few minutes."
"Hi, Liz," Alex said, pulling his suitcase behind him as he walked. "Glad to be here."
They'd gone to school together today, just like they'd gone home together yesterday. Although Alex wasn't as frigid with Cecelia as he was before, there was still a chill between them. Probably because they both knew a conversation was long-overdue but were reluctant to be the ones to begin it. Mom had told them they needed to figure it out soon, as they couldn't let their family feuds impede upon their performance at Nationals, but they hadn't, yet. Cecelia was determined not to be the first one to crack.
Even though yesterday's signal had located the Chitauri core in Midtown Tech's workshop, it hadn't been found there. Though Schultz and Vale had emerged disappointed, they would have to take a temporary break on the search. Although most of their missions stayed within the Big Apple, the one they were leaving for tonight would take them across the country. Because Cecelia wouldn't be joining them, she only knew the barest of details—something about trucks of confiscated technology. If she was being honest, she didn't particularly care.
"Cee!" Christine called, now waving Cecelia over. She was radiant this morning, her hair sitting in loose curls that tumbled over her shoulders. "How are you, girl?"
Cecelia pulled her suitcase along, wincing when its wheels caught a particularly large stone and jolted. She'd probably brought too much with her for a two-day trip, but foster care had taught her to never leave anything behind. Once, she'd been kicked out with nothing but her schoolbag and had to make her way to the nearest emergency shelter with only a packet of fruit snacks to keep her sustained. Even after five years as an Olivier, she still kept a tube of toothpaste in her pocket at all times.
"Fine," she answered, leaning against the bus. Her own blazer itched uncomfortably at the collar, and she wormed two fingers underneath the fabric in an attempt to alleviate it. "I feel like I'm going to throw up, and I'm convinced that I haven't been studying enough—"
