On the other side of the room, Nine has grabbed one of the stuffed Mogadorian training dummies and dumped it on the ground. He stands over it, looking at us.

“Okay, here’s the game. We’re going to pretend this dummy is—I don’t know—Number Four. He gets hurt all the time, right? So, he’s wounded and, Marina, you need to get to him and work your magic. Eight, you’re going to help her.”

“And what are you going to be doing?” I ask.

“I’m going to be the surprisingly good-looking Mogadorian that’s standing in your way.”

Eight and I exchange a look. “Two on one?” he says. “Sounds easy.”

“Cool,” says Nine, extending his pipe staff and twirling it menacingly over his head. “Let’s see what you got.”

Eight puts his arm around me, pulling me into a quick huddle. “He expects us to go right at him,” he whispers.

I nod, catching on to the plan quickly. “You should just teleport the body back to me.”

Eight holds his hand up to me for a quick high five, then spins back to face Nine. “Ready?”

“Bring it on.”

Eight starts forward and Nine stalks out to meet him in the center of the room. As soon as he’s drawn Nine a few yards away from the dummy, Eight disappears, reappearing over the dummy. It’s not that Nine doesn’t notice what Eight’s up to—he just doesn’t care. He bounds a few steps forward, coming straight for me. Caught off guard and more than a little nervous with Nine charging me, I backpedal. Nine is far too quick for me.

When Eight reappears with the dummy, Nine is standing with the tip of his staff pressed against the side of my neck.

“Good job,” he says to Eight. “Now you’ve got a wounded friend and a dead healer.”

I’ve never trained like this before, so Nine coming right at me felt really intimidating. I have to get over that feeling. I know Six wouldn’t have just let Nine put that staff up to her throat. I need to prove to these boys that even though I don’t have the offensive firepower they do, I can still fight back.

With Nine distracted by Eight, I slap the point of his staff away from my neck.

“Not dead yet,” I say, as I lunge forward and punch him in the mouth. Immediately, a flare of pain courses through my hand and wrist.

Nine staggers back a step as Eight whoops with happy surprise. Nine whips his head back around to look at me, blood lining his teeth as he grins.

“Good!” he shouts, delighted. “You’re getting it!”

“I think I broke my thumb,” I reply, looking down at my swollen knuckles.

“Next time, keep your thumb outside your fingers when you punch,” Eight says, balling up his fist to demonstrate.