Chapter 81: A Crown Made Out of Spare Parts

Dante changed their formation with a pencil, three arrows, and considerably more confidence than the remaining preparation time deserved. Jett would watch the launch paddles from the front-right rope. Lucan would move the light screen across the carrier’s open top, using its loose hinge instead of treating it as a fixed wall. Dante would keep the bell level while the others protected it.

"We only need to be clever in the correct order," he told them.

"That sounded easier before you explained it," Jett said. Lucan tried the screen’s movement once more. It rose on his side, folded across the top, and dropped toward the other edge without touching the bell. The hinge held because the rope could bend where their original bracket would have stopped.

They had built that. Nobody had supplied a perfect answer wrapped in congratulations. Dante felt his nerves become something sharper and more useful. Their final began with the carrier resting on its marks. He took the permitted grip, checked the bank, and waited until Jett and Lucan stood clear of the first lift. The signal sounded. He raised the frame just high enough to clear the floor, holding its heavy side as he had held Honey’s uneven practice wood.

"Left coming," Jett called. Lucan brought the screen up. The padded ball struck its outer face and bounced into the gutter, rocking the carrier toward Dante’s right hand.

He moved the support toward that side before adding height. The rack steadied, and the bell swung close to its clapper without touching it. From the rail, someone shouted his name. He ignored it because a piece of brass had chosen this moment to become the most demanding audience he had ever entertained. Jett guided them toward the first gate. This time Dante watched the rear corner instead of imagining the front had already won.

"Clear," Jett said, and they turned together. The next paddle moved on the opposite side. Lucan folded the screen across the top and lowered it beyond the bell before the shot arrived. He could not block both directions at once, but Jett was giving him the time to choose the one that mattered.

Dante advanced through the gap. The charge reading dropped more slowly than it had during rehearsal because he was no longer lifting high enough to impress the back row. That restraint felt deeply unnatural. It also kept working. They reached the last gate as its bar began descending. Beyond it, the finishing stand waited with four painted pads beneath the bell’s feet.

"Shot from my side," Lucan warned. If he held the screen upright, it would hit the lowering gate. If he folded it away, the ball would have an open path to the bell.

Dante saw the rope hinge and remembered the cloth that had caught his wrist in the library. A surface did not need to face a thing directly to send it somewhere else.

"Roof," he said. "Flat across the top, front edge lower." Jett guided the rope inward while Lucan folded the screen over the bell. Its slope met the arriving ball, which glanced along the wood and dropped into the side gutter.

Dante lowered the whole carrier beneath the gate. The rear board cleared by inches, and he resisted the wild urge to raise it in celebration before they had actually finished. He took the final approach slowly enough to place all four feet on their marks. The bell settled without ringing. His hand opened, and the lifting line disappeared. For a moment, he could hear the padded balls being collected behind the nets. Then Jett shouted, Lucan caught Dante around the shoulders, and the spectator rail stopped being quiet. Their combined time appeared beside the alumni-backed team. It was the same.

Dante stared at the numbers, suddenly offended by the entire concept of equality. The remaining-charge readings arrived beneath them. Their lower lift and clean placements had left more in the bank. Their lane turned gold. Jett hit his shoulder hard enough to move him toward the gutter, and Dante caught the rope before his victory acquired a wet ending. Lucan laughed beside them, looking so openly pleased that treating him as an enemy required effort Dante temporarily lacked. When an event photographer asked for Dante alone, he pulled both men back beside him.

"The screen was his," he said, pointing at Lucan. "Jett called the shots. You can have a picture with all three people who won it."

Jett’s hand tightened briefly at the back of his coat. Lucan thanked him, which Dante accepted with the composure of a ruler surviving unexpected friendship. Posey waited at the rail. He found her first among the faces, and her smile became something she did not bother hiding. She caught the front of his jacket when he reached her. He thanked her for coming, bent to kiss her, and heard somebody behind him make a noise that deserved future investigation.

Posey blushed when they parted. "Did your victory plans include somewhere without an audience?"

"They were being improved immediately," he assured her, keeping her hand in his.

Honey showed him the charge reading on her phone. "You stopped paying for unnecessary height."

"I expected a more romantic description of my triumph."

"You listened," she said, and the way she said it turned out to be enough.

Rhae handed over the supplies she had kept by the rail. He thanked her before announcing that the new state’s wealth would be distributed sensibly.

She took the equipment-credit sheet from his hand. "Then start with three equal names."

He let her write them. The tools were real, the room was real, and there would be a place for the sessions they had been squeezing around other people’s schedules. Evan’s team passed with their carrier between them. Dante stopped long enough to tell the replacement that the qualifying turn had been clean. The student thanked him, and Evan gave a brief nod without turning the exchange into forgiveness for the night before. ℴ

Dante accepted the smaller answer and moved on. He could enjoy beating someone without needing their whole afternoon destroyed, and he wanted to remember that while the scoreboard still favored him. Jett walked beside him, shoulder touching his for a moment before the path widened. They walked toward the awards platform with their friends behind them. The connected canopy stood open above the lectern, its wooden ribs forming a broad crown along the rail. An operator tested it from the side grip. One movement brought the whole shape lower, ready to fold when the presentations ended.

The chairwoman stepped to the microphone and began thanking the donors who had made such opportunities possible. Dante looked from the crown to the place where she stood. He had won the right to be noticed, yet someone else was already explaining what his victory meant.