Chapter One: The Thief CHAPTER ONE The Thief SKANDAR SMITH STARED AT THE unicorn poster opposite his bed. It was light enough outside now to see the unicorn''s wings outstretched mid-flight: shining silver armor covering most of his body, exposing only his wild red eyes, an enormous jaw, and a sharp gray horn. New-Age Frost had been Skandar''s favorite unicorn ever since his rider, Aspen McGrath, had qualified for the Chaos Cup three years ago. And Skandar thought that today--in this year''s race--they just might have a chance of winning. Skandar had received the poster for his thirteenth birthday three months before. He''d gazed at it through the bookshop window, imagining that he was New-Age Frost''s rider, standing just outside the poster frame ready to race. Skandar had felt really bad asking his dad for it. For as long as he could remember, they''d never had much money--he didn''t usually ask for anything.
But Skandar had wanted the poster so badly and-- A crash came from the kitchen. On any other day Skandar would have jumped out of bed, terrified there was a stranger in the flat. Usually he, or his sister, Kenna, asleep in the bed opposite, was in charge of making breakfast. Skandar''s dad wasn''t lazy--it wasn''t that--he just found it hard to get up most days, especially when he didn''t have a job to go to. And he hadn''t had one of those in a while. But today was no ordinary day. Today was race day. And for Dad, the Chaos Cup was better than birthdays, better even than Christmas.
"Are you ever going to stop staring at that stupid poster?" Kenna groaned. "Dad''s making breakfast," Skandar said, hoping this would cheer his sister up. "I''m not hungry." She turned and faced the wall, her brown hair poking out from underneath the duvet. "There''s no way Aspen and New-Age Frost will win today, by the way." "I thought you weren''t interested." "I''m not, but." Kenna rolled back again, squinting at Skandar through the morning light.
"You''ve got to look at the stats, Skar. Frost''s wingbeats per minute are only about average for the twenty-five competing. Then there''s the problem of their allied element being water." "What problem?" Skandar''s heart was singing, even though Kenna was insisting Aspen and Frost wouldn''t win. She hadn''t talked about unicorns for so long he''d almost forgotten what it was like. When they were younger, they''d argued constantly about what their elements would be if they became unicorn riders. Kenna always said she''d be a fire wielder, but Skandar could never decide. "Have you forgotten your Hatchery classes? Aspen and New-Age Frost are water-allied, right? And there are two air wielders among the favorites: Ema Templeton and Tom Nazari.
We both know air has advantages over water!" Skandar''s sister was leaning on one elbow now, her thin pale face alight with excitement, her hazel hair and eyes wild. Kenna was a year older than Skandar, but they looked so similar that they''d often been mistaken for twins. "You''ll see," Skandar said, grinning. "Aspen''s learned from her other Chaos Cups. She won''t just use water; she''s smarter than that. Last year she combined the elements. If I was riding New-Age Frost, I''d go for lightning bolts and whirlpool attacks." Kenna''s face changed at once.
Her eyes dulled; the smile dropped from the corners of her mouth. Her elbow collapsed, and she turned to the wall again, gathering her coral duvet round her shoulders. "Kenn, I''m sorry, I didn''t mean." The smell of bacon and burnt toast wafted under the door. Skandar''s stomach rumbled into the silence. "Kenna?" "Leave me alone, Skar." "Aren''t you going to watch the Cup with me and Dad?" No answer again. Skandar dressed in the half-light of the morning, disappointment and guilt tightening his throat.
He shouldn''t have said it: If I was riding . They''d been talking like they used to, before Kenna took the Hatchery exam, before all her dreams came crashing down. Skandar entered the kitchen to the sound of sizzling eggs and blaring early Cup coverage. Dad was humming, leaning over the pan. When he saw Skandar, he gave him an enormous grin. Skandar couldn''t remember the last time he''d seen him smile. Dad''s face fell a little. "No Kenna yet?" "Still sleeping," Skandar lied, not wanting to spoil his good mood.
"She''ll find this year hard, I expect. The first race since." Skandar didn''t need him to finish the sentence. This was the first Chaos Cup since Kenna had failed the Hatchery exam last year and lost all chance of becoming a unicorn rider. The trouble was, Dad had never acted like it was rare to pass the Hatchery exam. He loved unicorns so much, he was desperate for one of his children to become a rider. He said it would fix everything--their money problems, their future, their happiness, even the days he couldn''t get out of bed. Unicorns were magic, after all.
So for Kenna''s whole life he''d insisted that she''d pass the exam and go on to open the Hatchery door on the Island. That she was destined for a unicorn egg locked inside. That she''d make their mum proud. And it hadn''t helped that Kenna had always been top of her Hatchery class at Christchurch Secondary. If anyone was going to get to the Island, her teachers said, it was Kenna Smith. Then she''d failed. And for months now Skandar''s dad had been telling him the same. That it was possible, probable, even inevitable, that he''d become a rider.
And despite knowing how unusual it was--despite seeing Kenna so disappointed last year--Skandar wanted more than anything for it to be true. "Your turn this year, though, eh?" Dad ruffled Skandar''s hair with a greasy hand. "Now, the best way to make fried bread." As Dad gave him instructions, Skandar nodded in all the right places, pretending he didn''t already know how. Other children might have found this annoying, but Skandar was just pleased when Dad gave him a high five for getting the bread the perfect amount of crispy. Kenna didn''t come out for breakfast, though Dad didn''t seem to mind too much as he and Skandar munched on sausages, bacon, eggs, beans, and fried bread. Skandar stopped himself from asking where the money for this extra food had come from. It was race day.
Dad clearly wanted to forget about all that, and Skandar did too. Just for today. So he grabbed the brand-new bottle of mayonnaise and squeezed it over everything, grinning as it made a satisfying squelch. "Aspen McGrath and New-Age Frost still favorites for you, then?" Dad asked through a mouthful. "I forgot to say, if you want to invite any friends over for the race that''s fine with me. Lots of kids do that, don''t they? Don''t want you to miss out." Skandar stared down at his plate. How could he even begin to explain that he didn''t have any friends to invite? And, worse, that it was sort of Dad''s fault? The trouble was that looking after Dad when he wasn''t well--not so happy--meant that Skandar missed out on a lot of the "normal" stuff you were supposed to do to make friends.
He could never stay after school to mess about in the park; he didn''t have pocket money to go to the amusement arcade or sneak off for fish and chips on Margate beach. Skandar hadn''t realized to begin with, but those were the times people actually made friends, not in English class or over a stale custard cream at morning break. And looking after Dad meant that Skandar sometimes didn''t have clean clothes or hadn''t had time to brush his teeth. And people noticed. They always noticed--and remembered. Somehow for Kenna it hadn''t been as bad. Skandar thought it helped that she was more confident than him. Whenever Skandar tried to think of something clever or funny to say, his brain jammed.
It''d come to him a few minutes later, but face-to-face with a classmate, there''d just be a weird buzzing in his head, a blankness. Kenna didn''t have that problem; he''d once heard her confront a group of girls whispering about how weird Dad was. "My dad, my business," she''d said very calmly. "Stay out of it or you''ll be sorry." "They''re busy with their own families, Dad," Skandar mumbled eventually, feeling himself blush, which always happened when he didn''t tell the whole truth. Dad didn''t notice, though--he''d started stacking the plates, which was such a rare sight that Skandar blinked twice to make sure it was real. "What about Owen? He''s a good mate of yours, isn''t he?" Owen was the worst. Dad thought he was a friend because he''d once seen hundreds of notifications from him on Skandar''s phone.
Skandar hadn''t mentioned that the messages were far from friendly. "Oh yeah, he loves the Chaos Cup." Skandar got up to help. "He''s watching it with his grandparents, though, and they live miles away." Skandar wasn''t even making this up; he''d overheard Owen complaining to his crew about it. Right before he''d torn three pages out of Skandar''s Math textbook, screwed them up, and thrown them in his face. "KENNA!" Dad shouted suddenly. "It''s starting any minute!" When there was no answer, he disappeared into their bedroom and Skandar sat down on the sofa, the TV coverage in full swing.
A reporter was interviewing a past Chaos Cup rider in the main arena, just in front of the starting bar. Skandar turned up the volume. "--and do you think we''ll see some fierce elemental battles today?" The reporter''s face was flushed with excitement. "For sure," the rider replied, nodding confi.