Day 8 — Day 1/2

The group walked in a ragged line, lost in conversation or private thoughts, as the abstract designs of the stone walkway relaxed into a wooden boardwalk. Claire stopped at the end of the path before the lake came fully into view.

“All right,” she said. “This is ridiculous.”

The lakefront had been rearranged again. Gone were the shopfronts and carnivals. In its place, pale sand curved around clear blue water, warm beneath the late-morning sun. The lake itself stayed several shades darker, small waves folding against the shore with enough chill in them to make the heat pleasant instead of oppressive. A long wooden dock reached toward a boathouse farther down the beach. Small boats and narrow paddlecraft rested in racks nearby, while bright flotation toys had been piled beneath a shaded awning.

Closer to the boardwalk, rows of loungers sat beneath adjustable cloth shades. A volleyball net had already been stretched across a level patch of sand. Changing booths stood in a neat line beside outdoor showers, and beyond them a broad barbecue pavilion occupied a stone terrace overlooking the water.

Everyone had been provided a small bag for personal items. They had found them folded neatly atop their beds after breakfast, in quiet anticipation of Verena’s plans. The bags accumulated beside the loungers as the group spread out enough to take in the place.

Van had started wondering whether the Hotel was capable of arranging an afternoon without ruining it when Cassie stopped beside him.

“Oh, come on.”

One of Alpha’s Van-Droids was arranging trays beside the largest grill. It was identical in every way, right down to his height, build, hair, and irritatingly accurate face.

Someone had tied a white apron around him. Across the front, a cartoon Alpha held a hot dog close to her open mouth beneath pink block letters.

YOU’LL LOVE HIS MEAT IN YOUR BUNS!

Van winced at his duplicate and the vulgar joke.

Before he could turn to address the problem, Katherine arrived beside him and followed his stare. “Subtle.”

Mara covered her mouth with one hand. It did very little to hide the laugh. “I’m sorry.”

Van looked at her. “You aren’t.”

“No,” Mara admitted. “But I am sorry you hate it.” Her laughter eased some of his tension.

The Van-droid lifted a crate from beneath one of the preparation tables, and the apron pulled tight across his torso. The robot set the crate on the counter, turned to retrieve another, and Van and Fiona received the answer at the same time.

There was no shirt beneath the apron. There was barely anything beneath the apron. The bright-blue swim brief Alpha had put on the aquatic rescue droid was still there, wrapped tightly around the synthetic version of Van’s hips and leaving the rest of him completely uncovered.

Van closed his eyes. “No.”

Mara shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s just find a seat and we’ll just ignore the thing.”

Van opened his eyes again. The droid had gone back to unpacking supplies, apparently unaware that a nearly naked copy of him preparing hamburger buns had become the center of the beach.

“Thanks, Mara.” Van rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “I don’t know if Alpha is watching, but I’m not letting her score some kind of victory here.”

“I doubt Alpha is keeping score at the moment,” Katherine said.

Van exhaled and turned his back on the pavilion. “I’m going to ignore it.”

“That seems reasonable,” Mara said.

Fiona, who was standing at the back with Cassie, had not moved. Her attention stayed on the robot for another few seconds before shifting to Van, then to Cassie. “Come here.”

Cassie looked around. “Why?”

Fiona caught her by the elbow and pulled her several paces down the boardwalk. “That thing,” she said quietly. “Did he have something to do with it?”

Cassie stared at her. “With Alpha putting his body on display like that? No. I was there.”

Fiona glanced toward Van again. “He wasn't?”

“She brought him out while you two were running. Van wasn't even in the building when Alpha rolled out Captain Banana Hammock.”

Fiona's attention snapped back. Cassie held up both hands. “Fine. Bad name. Point is, Van wasn't there. I think Alpha dressed the robot that way because she has some kind of robot crush.exe on Van.”

Cassie studied Fiona, then hooked two fingers into the neckline of her own gray tank and pulled it away from her chest. Cover Girl had deepened the plunge since breakfast. It immediately returned to the same position when she released it.

“Do you think I woke up this morning and decided I wanted to look like I ran away from a halfway house for recovering hookers?”

Fiona's gaze flicked down before she could stop it. “That isn't the same thing.”

“Isn't it?”

“The robot isn't actually Van.”

“It looks exactly like Van. It’s his body on display just like if Alpha published a photo of you without permission.” Cassie pulled at the neckline again. “Is this my fault?”

“No.”

“Then maybe Alpha putting Fake Van in a Speedo isn't Van's fault either.”

Fiona scowled toward the pavilion.

Cassie grinned. “This is showing real growth.”

“Fuck off.”

“Seriously. I'm proud of you.”

“I will throw you in the lake.”

Cassie's grin only widened. Then she glanced toward Van. “If you actually mean it, you should probably tell him instead of telling me.”

Fiona gave her a look that could have stripped paint.

Cassie shrugged. “More growth.”

Fiona left her standing on the boardwalk.

Van was still near Mara and Katherine when she approached. He braced automatically.

Fiona stopped several feet away and jerked her chin toward the pavilion. “That thing is gross,” she said flatly. “Do you want me to break it?”

Van blinked, then released a harsh sort of half-laugh, half-scoff. The sound escaped before he could stop it. Fiona's expression immediately suggested that laughing had been the wrong answer.

“No. Sorry.” Van put up one hand. “Please don't.”

“Why?”

“Because Verena will charge you some kind of damage fee or penalty, and I don't want you getting punished over something we can just ignore.”

Fiona considered that. “All right.” She turned and walked away.

Van watched her go. Katherine picked up her bag. “That was almost an apology.”

“Don't say that where she can hear you.” Mara smiled and headed toward the beach with them. Behind them, the Grill Master began arranging hamburger patties. No one looked back.

* * *

Claire was the first toward the water. She had worn her swimsuit beneath a loose cover-up and removed it beside one of the loungers with very little ceremony, revealing a two-piece in red, white, and gold. She looked around, taking a deep breath while unconsciously settling the fit of her bikini.

Lizzy made it three steps after her and stopped. Claire reached the edge of the water before the missing footsteps registered and turned. The smaller girl stood near the dry sand with both hands clutching the hem of her cover shirt. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Claire gave her a steady look. Lizzy lasted two seconds. “The System only brought one of my swimsuits.”

Claire came back several steps. “Why does that matter?”

“It doesn't,” she said quietly. “Not really.”

“Lizzy.”

Lizzy's fingers thoughtlessly twisted the tail of her cover. “I had another one.”

“A one-piece. I liked it more.” Lizzy glanced toward the water. “I bought this one too, but I never actually wore it anywhere.”

Claire understood before Lizzy finished looking toward the others. Van was near Mara farther up the beach, his attention on something Mara was saying, not on Lizzy. Lizzy pulled her cover shirt lower anyway.

“Okay, let’s work through this.” Claire squared her shoulders. “You picked the suit because you liked it?”

Lizzy nodded.

“Then I think you should wear it.”

“That is significantly easier for you to say.”

Claire laughed. “Yes. Fair.” Lizzy smiled despite herself.

Claire lowered her voice. “You don't have to do anything you don’t want to do. But if the only thing stopping you is being afraid of what someone will think of your suit, that seems unfair.” She held a finger to her bottom lip. “Unfair to yourself, mostly.”

Lizzy looked down at herself. “That was almost annoyingly reasonable.”

Claire revealed an expression of measured neutrality. “I've been studying under Evelyn.”

Lizzy let out a brief snort of derision. “That explains the annoying part.”

Claire put one hand dramatically over her heart. Lizzy's smile stayed long enough for her to grab the hem and pull the cover shirt over her head.

The two-piece beneath was modest by the standards the Hotel usually preferred. The bottoms sat securely at her hips. Several soft rows of ruffles crossed the bust of the top, the sort of detail Lizzy had chosen because she thought it made her chest look less small without exposing much. Lizzy immediately folded the cover shirt against her stomach.

Claire looked her over once. “You look great.”

Lizzy's shoulders dropped half an inch. “Really?”

“Really.” Claire glanced toward the others. “Mara!”

Lizzy's eyes widened. Claire realized the mistake at exactly the same time Mara turned, and Van turned with her. Claire closed her eyes briefly.

Mara smiled. “What?”

“Doesn't Lizzy look good in her suit?”

Van's face went red. So did Lizzy's. Mara's answer came easily. “Very.”

Van took one second longer. “You both look nice,” he said.

It was a perfectly safe compliment. Lizzy's cover shirt fell through her hands. She yelped, and Claire moved before the fabric finished hitting the sand, stepping directly between Lizzy and the rest of the beach.

“Okay?” Claire asked the question over her shoulder.

Lizzy's face had gone scarlet. Her hands were empty, but everything else remained where it belonged. “Yes.”

Claire kept her body between her and the others. “Need a minute?”

Lizzy swallowed and looked down at herself, then at the shirt lying in the sand. “No.” She bent, grabbed it, and this time the fabric stayed in her hands. “I'm okay.”

Claire waited until Lizzy nodded again before moving aside. Van had already turned back toward Mara, who had apparently found something fascinating about the lake.

Lizzy bundled the shirt into her bag. “Water,” she said.

“Excellent plan.”

They walked the rest of the way together. Lizzy hesitated when the first cold wave reached her ankles, then hurried forward with a squeal when Claire splashed her.

“Claire!”

Claire was already retreating deeper into the lake. “You wanted water.”

Lizzy splashed her back.

* * *

Evelyn had claimed one of the shaded loungers after changing into a dark one-piece. A broad sun hat rested low enough to protect her face, and sunglasses concealed most of the rest while she applied sunscreen along one arm with the unhurried efficiency of someone who had long ago learned that refusing to hurry was occasionally its own luxury.

From the chair, she had an excellent view of Claire and Lizzy behaving like teenagers in the water. Lizzy tried to return one of Claire's splashes and took half of it in the face.

Evelyn smiled.

There had been years when that kind of disaster would have occupied an entire afternoon. The wrong swimsuit, a badly timed compliment, a boy looking at the wrong moment. The absolute certainty that everyone else had acquired some secret manual for adulthood and neglected to provide her a copy.

A shadow crossed the edge of her shade. Van was headed toward the changing booths with a small bag over one shoulder. He stopped. “You look comfortable.”

“I have decided that I am relaxing,” she declared.

He glanced toward the pavilion, where his nearly naked duplicate was now carrying a stack of metal trays. Evelyn followed the glance. “I said relaxing. I didn't say I was comfortable.”

“That makes more sense.”

She finished one arm and switched to the other. “There is a distinction worth preserving.”

Van shifted the bag on his shoulder. “How are you doing with all this?”

Evelyn considered him over the top edge of her sunglasses. “Better than I might be if I spent every pleasant hour proving that I understand I am imprisoned.”

Van looked toward the water. Evelyn capped the sunscreen bottle. “If Verena wanted us miserable, she has demonstrated ample capacity to arrange it. I refuse to perform the work for her when she has temporarily failed to do so herself.”

“That sounds almost healthy,” he mused. “Did Celia come up with that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she countered.

Van smiled. He started toward the booths again, then stopped. “Actually, can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

He gave her the expression that response deserved. “About tomorrow.” Evelyn waited.

“You're my assigned—” He paused over the word. “You're the person I'm assigned to spend tomorrow evening with. What kind of date would you want?”

She pulled her glasses down to look at him over the rim. “What sort of answer are you expecting?”

Van opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Evelyn's mouth curved slightly. “I don't know,” he finally allowed.

She pushed her glasses back with one perfect nail. “So you have approached me without an objective.”

Van was seriously considering escape. “I thought the objective was asking what you wanted.”

“Interesting.”

Van's suspicion formed several seconds too late. Evelyn removed her sunglasses entirely. “You planned activities for the younger women.”

“I—”

“Was it easier because you were more interested in them?”

“No.”

“Or am I sufficiently old that this has become equivalent to taking your mother to dinner for her birthday?”

Van nearly dropped the bag. “What? No. You're not— I don't—”

Evelyn let him struggle long enough to let the lesson settle. Then she laughed.

Van stopped. “You're messing with me.”

“Yes.”

“That was mean.”

She let out a tiny hum. “Moderately.”

He stared at her. The reserve returned to her face, but amusement stayed in her eyes.

“I understand what you're doing, Van. You have been handed an absurd role without real instructions, so you keep trying different approaches to learn what causes the least damage. Asking is generally superior to guessing.”

He shifted the bag again, some of the panic leaving his shoulders. “I just thought maybe you'd prefer having some control over it.”

“If we were dating voluntarily, I would appreciate the conversation.” Evelyn settled back against the lounge. “Under present circumstances I do not have elaborate requirements. A quiet dinner. Decent wine, if this place can manage it. Something with music.”

Van nodded as though he had been given technical specifications. “Dinner, wine, music.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

He turned toward the changing rooms.

“Van.”

He looked back.

“To be clear, I am not old enough to be your mother.”

His face reddened again. Evelyn put her sunglasses back on as he left. She felt more in control watching him retreat. For the past few days, she had been responding to him like a much younger woman. Less certain, more distracted. The teasing wasn’t necessary, not really, but she felt much more herself after the exchange.

Mara arrived at the neighboring lounge less than a minute later. “You're terrible,” she chided, although the barb lacked venom.

Evelyn’s response was mild enough to qualify as laconic: “You heard all of that?”

“I was close,” she clarified. “I doubt anyone else did.” Her smile sharpened a bit at the edge. “He is easy to prod, isn’t he?”

Evelyn opened her book. “Yes,” she admitted. “But he’s so sincere that it makes me feel a bit guilty.”

* * *

The swimsuit waiting inside Fiona's changing booth had attitude. She hated it immediately. “Oh, fuck off.”

The fabric divider to her left rustled. Cassie's voice came through it. “What?”

“The suit the Hotel left here for me.” She hesitated. “It’s too much.”

“You’re telling me,” she complained through the wall. “This thing was made for a toddler.”

“Don't start.” Fiona took the suit off the hook and held it up.

The dark fabric started life as a standard one-piece swimsuit. Then it went to fashion school. Its top was a looping collar that reached her sternum, and a deep and broad window was cut into its length from her throat to her lower stomach. The cutout was joined once in the middle by a brass ring.

Fiona stared at it. “This is completely unnecessary.” She adjusted its fit, looking down at herself. “They gave me something I'd wear to get somebody's attention.”

Cassie paused, then asked, “Wait, so you like it?” The confusion in her tone was clear.

Fiona huffed angrily. “That isn't the point!”

“Oh, this is going to be good.”

Fiona pulled the curtain fully closed even though it already was. “What did they give you?”

“Normal bikini,” was Cassie’s quiet reply.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Fiona decided. “I need to see this.”

Fabric shifted on the other side. Cassie said, “Mine fit when I put it on.”

Fiona stopped adjusting a strap. “And now?”

A longer pause. “I hate my life.”

Fiona laughed.

They finished changing in relative silence after that.

Fiona stepped out of her booth at the same moment Cassie stepped out of hers. Both stopped in front of a full-length mirror standing opposite the changing stalls.

Fiona looked at herself, and the irritation got worse. The suit fit perfectly. Every line that should have sat flat sat flat. Every strap remained secure without cutting into her skin. The high hips made her legs look longer. The top supported her chest without flattening it, and the amount of bare skin gave the whole thing precisely the aggressive confidence missing from the morning's shapeless tank and shorts.

She turned slightly. “Oh, that's bullshit,” she said, cupping the bottom of her own ass in the mirror. “It fits perfectly.”

Cassie had been looking at Fiona as she examined herself in the mirror. Fiona caught her reflection in the mirror. “What?”

Cassie's eyes moved instantly to herself. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I was comparing your gift from a fairy godmother whose only concern is getting you laid.” She gestured at herself and her suit. “Versus my own personal nightmare.”

Fiona finally looked properly. Cassie's two-piece had probably been ordinary when it appeared in the booth. Cover Girl had corrected that. The top had shrunk and separated, revealing a wide expanse of her chest. The bottoms pulled snugly through the crotch, thinner and tighter than anything she would ever have worn before. The whole suit appeared at least one size smaller than it should have been.

Cassie hooked a thumb beneath one side. “See?”

Fiona looked back at herself. “My suit fits like it was made for me.”

“Yeah. Congratulations.”

“It fits better than anything I actually own.”

“That sounds like a good problem.”

“No, it doesn't.” Fiona turned toward the mirror again. “I'm wasting this.”

Cassie blinked. “Wasting what?”

“This.” Fiona gestured at herself. “If I'm going to look like this, I want to look like this somewhere there's someone I actually want looking.”

Cassie's attention drifted over her again. Fiona snapped her fingers. “Stop.”

“I wasn't—”

“You absolutely were.”

Cassie folded her arms, which only made the fit of the bikini worse. “I'm jealous because yours fits. Mine feels like somebody bought it one size too small and then put it in the dryer.”

The third changing booth opened. Van stepped out wearing simple dark swim trunks and stopped.

Van's eyes went to Fiona first, then Cassie, then somewhere safely above both of them. “I wasn’t listening. I was changing, and…” His face colored. “Okay, yeah. You both look good.”

“Thanks,” Cassie said.

Fiona gave him a flat look. Van apparently decided he had survived enough and walked toward the beach.

Fiona watched him leave. “That.”

Cassie glanced over. “What?”

“That is what I'm complaining about.”

“Compliments?”

“I want to save reactions like that for men I'm interested in.”

Cassie had gone quiet. Fiona followed her attention toward the boardwalk. Van's back and shoulders shifted beneath the sun as he adjusted his towel around his neck. Without the loose Hotel clothes, the muscle built through his torso and arms was considerably harder to miss.

Cassie tilted her head. “It wasn't all bad.”

Fiona looked at her. Cassie kept watching for another second.

“Don't be a slut.”

Cassie's head turned back. There was no bite behind it this time. “I'm a window shopper.”

Fiona tried to maintain the glare and failed. Cassie started laughing, and a second later Fiona joined her. They walked out of the changing area together.

* * *

Claire and Lizzy had moved far enough into the lake that the water reached Claire's waist and Lizzy's a little higher. Evelyn and Mara had settled beneath neighboring shades. Katherine stood beside the boardwalk talking to a pleasant young Hotel attendant in a pale official polo. The attendant was taking notes on a small pad.

Naomi disappeared into the changing booth Cassie had just vacated.

Van stopped to bend over a large equipment bin.

“What are you looking for?” Mara called.

“Something to do with my hands so I can’t keep embarrassing myself.”

“Wrong facility,” Evelyn said without lifting her eyes from her book.

Van emerged with a Frisbee. “Found one.”

Claire waved from the water. “Van!”

He tossed it. The throw started well and then betrayed him, curving past Claire's outstretched hand toward open water.

Lizzy cupped both hands around her mouth. “Boooo!”

Claire turned after the disc. Something in her awareness caught the motion. She reached.

The Frisbee stopped in midair. It hung above the lake for less than a second before reversing direction and sliding neatly into her hand.

Cassie pointed from the beach. “Cheating!”

Claire looked down at the Frisbee. “What?”

“Powers aren't allowed.”

Claire stared at her. “Since when?”

“If you wish to dispute the ruling,” Cassie shouted, “you must meet me upon the ancient field of battle.” She pointed dramatically at the volleyball net.

Claire's eyes narrowed with delighted recognition. “I will absolutely meet you on the field of battle.”

Cassie slapped one hand against her chest. “Then choose your second.”

Claire pointed at Lizzy. “You. With me.”

Lizzy's response was immediate. “Absolutely not.”

Claire’s voice softened a bit. “It'll be fun.”

“I believe you. Still no.”

Claire looked toward the loungers. Evelyn turned a page without looking up. Mara raised both hands. “I'm very comfortable.”

“Cowards.”

“We're dry,” Mara corrected.

Claire's attention found Van. “You. You're my second.”

Van pointed at himself, then looked toward the net and at Cassie and Fiona. “Okay.”

Fiona crossed her arms. Van added, “But I'm not Empowered, so maybe don't murder me.”

Fiona's head tilted. “Don't vacillate. Either you're in or you're out.”

Van looked at Claire. Claire grinned. He sighed. “I'm in.”

“Good.”

Behind them, the changing booth opened. Naomi stepped onto the boardwalk in the modest one-piece she had used for aquatic training. The front remained secure and practical; the back dipped low enough to leave most of her shoulder blades and spine uncovered. She adjusted one strap once, then left it alone.

Lizzy had retreated into shallower water while the volleyball teams assembled.

Naomi joined her. “You're not playing?”

Lizzy shook her head. “Claire tried.”

“I heard.”

Lizzy watched Cassie retrieve a volleyball from the equipment bin. “I don't want to have an accident.”

Naomi waited. Lizzy touched two fingers to the ruffles along the top of her suit. “If I get embarrassed enough and my clothes stop cooperating, there isn't very much here to lose.”

Naomi laughed before she could stop herself. “Sorry.”

“No. That's fair.”

Naomi stepped deeper until the water reached her thighs. “It does give us a strange point of common ground.”

Lizzy glanced over. Naomi considered how to phrase it. “Both of us are struggling to control our powers right now. Both of us lose modesty in the exchange.”

Lizzy stared at her. “That is a weird way to explain it.” She tilted her head back and forth for a moment. Lizzy laughed. “Accurate, but weird.” The tension around her shoulders eased as she turned back to the game.

Cassie tossed the volleyball to Fiona. “Serve first.”

“Obviously.”

Everyone moved into position. From the loungers, Evelyn lowered her book. “Inevitable,” she said.

Mara followed the game with a smile. “They're having fun.”

“I am not forecasting disaster.” Evelyn adjusted the brim of her hat. “I am forecasting a modification. This place has demonstrated considerable hostility toward normal.”

Mara considered that. “Fine. We'll wait for the twist.”

“Exactly.”

At the edge of the water, Lizzy watched Van take his place beside Claire. “He was good about it.”

Naomi looked toward her.

“When my clothes did that before.” Lizzy kept her voice low. “He didn't make me feel stupid. Or like there was something wrong with me. He just looked away and helped when he could.”

Naomi watched Van crouch slightly as Fiona prepared her serve. “He did the same thing with me.”

Lizzy nodded. “I know we're all stuck with the Master thing. I know that. But if they had picked someone different…” She picked at one ruffle, caught herself, and let it go. “Someone who laughed. Or got angry. Or thought we were powerless because we were struggling.”

Naomi understood too easily.

Lizzy looked out over the lake. “I think we got lucky with the person, even if we didn't get lucky with anything else.”

Naomi didn’t answer immediately. Fiona threw the volleyball into the air.

“Yes,” Naomi said. “I think you’re right. We did get lucky with the person.”

Then Fiona served. The ball crossed the net like an artillery shell. Van got both forearms under it, and the impact drove him back one step, but the ball jumped high enough for Claire to recover it.

“Jesus,” Cassie said. Claire sent it back, and Fiona took the point two exchanges later.

Van rubbed one forearm. “You all right?” Claire asked.

“Yeah,” he said dismissively.

Fiona had already retrieved the ball. Her second serve came harder. Van moved for it, misjudged the angle, and the ball struck the sand beside him hard enough to kick up a spray.

Cassie stared at Fiona. “Are you trying to score points or flatten him?”

Fiona looked at the mark in the sand, then at Van. “Sorry.”

Van brushed sand from one leg. “I'm fine.”

“I forget how hard I'm hitting sometimes.”

Cassie pointed toward the opposite court. “He looks like he can take it.” She held her hands up. “But jeez.”

Fiona rolled the ball once beneath her palm. “Fine.” The next serve went toward Claire.

The game settled into a rhythm after that. Or tried to.

Claire didn’t have to turn her head to know when the ball entered the space around her. Twice she moved before a normal player would have registered the angle, catching low returns that should have hit sand.

Cassie complained the first time. Claire reminded her that transformations don’t turn off. No telekinesis was the rule. Cassie stopped complaining when she discovered her own body was cheating in subtler ways. She knew where Fiona was—not where Fiona had been a second earlier, but where she would be.

Cassie reached a bad return near the line and sent it backward without looking. Fiona was already there. Another ball came toward the middle, and Cassie shifted at the same instant Fiona moved right, neither calling for it, neither colliding.

“Okay,” Cassie muttered after they won the rally. “That's weird.”

Fiona tossed the ball to her. “Useful.”

“I didn't say it wasn't.”

Across the net, Claire looked delighted. “Still think transformations are cheating?”

“Shut up.”

Van laughed. His own play remained much less dramatic. He returned what came directly at him. He avoided hard spikes. When he served, he used easy arcs with enough control to place the ball without driving it. Twice Claire made up for his conservative position by darting into space he had left uncovered.

The score stayed close. Cassie and Fiona worked increasingly well together. Claire's reactions kept saving balls that should have ended rallies. Van occupied the fourth corner and did his job.

Fiona disliked it. At first she couldn’t have said why. She marked it down as general distrust of Van.

Then Van crossed behind Claire to reach a return near the back line. He was late. Barely. The ball touched sand half a step in front of him. Fiona stared. Van had moved faster than that during training—not at Empowered speed or anything close to Claire's, but fast enough that the difference here was obvious.

The next rally gave her another example. Cassie sent a return high and deep. Van got under it easily, then checked his movement before sending the ball gently over instead of driving it down through the open center of their court. Fiona blocked it. He had given her time to.

The point after that, he let Claire take a ball passing almost directly above his shoulder. Claire dove and saved it. Fiona caught the return and sent it back.

“Stop.”

The ball dropped near the net. Claire straightened. “What?”

Fiona was looking at Van. “You're holding back.”

Van frowned. “What?”

“You're better than this.” She pointed. “You're not committing to anything. You don't move unless you have to. You won't spike. Your serves are half-speed.”

Van stared at her. “It's not an Olympic tryout.”

Fiona walked toward the net. “No. If you're playing, then play. Don't act like we're too fragile for you to try.”

“I wasn't—”

“You were.” The statement fell like a hammer.

Cassie remained quiet behind her. Claire had stopped smiling. Fiona's voice stayed level. “You don't have to prove anything. I don't care if we win. But if you deliberately play like a weakling because you think that's what we can handle, you're not being polite. It’s an insult.”

Van looked at the volleyball lying between them, then at Fiona. He rolled one shoulder, then the other. “All right. I realize you and I were playing two different games before.”

Fiona took a step back. Van bent and picked up the ball. “No more taking it easy.”