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eyes—pale green eyes that reminded me of sea glass, particularly striking in his tanned face. I might have been in love with someone else, but I wasn’t blind. He was cute.
    And he’s the competition, I reminded myself as Coach began to call out commands.
    As soon as warm-ups were finished, we broke from the line, donned our protective masks, and turned to face our opponents. Coach moved among the pairs, his voice a muted rumble as foils began to slash through the air and feet shuffled across the rubber mats.
    “C’mon, McKenna,” Coach called out from somewhere to my right. “Be more aggressive. Show him what you’ve got.”
    Beneath my mask, sweat dripped down the side of my face, my breath coming faster now.
    “That’s it, McKenna,” came the coach’s voice. “You’ve got to move more quickly, Bennett. Anticipate her every move.”
    It was immediately obvious that we were well matched, just as Coach had said. I sharpened my focus, pushing every extraneous thought from my mind as my foil whipped toward his, my feet moving faster, my thighs beginning to feel the burn.
    Several minutes later, Coach called out the command for us to stop. I pulled off my mask and wiped my forehead with the back of one hand.
    Tyler did the same. “You’re good,” he said with a drawl that didn’t sound very California-like. “But I’m better,” he added with a smirk.
    “Oh yeah?” I challenged. Too bad he couldn’t see me in action with my stake. “We’ll see about that.”
    His mouth widened into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the effort. “I like a challenge.”
    I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I bet you do.”
    “Cut the chatter,” Coach Gibson barked. “I’m going to call you up in pairs. Everyone else watch, and then we’ll critique. Got it?”
    We all nodded in unison.
    “Okay, first up, McKenna and Bennett. Let’s show ’em how it’s done.”
    A half hour later, Tyler and I sat side by side on the dusty gym floor, stuffing our equipment back into our bags with matching scowls. Our technique had been deemed “sloppy” and “careless” by our teammates, which seemed a little harsh, all things considered.
    But it was par for the course, considering the competitive nature of the team. After all, fencing scholarships were plum deals, especially at top-tier universities. Everyone wanted to be the best. Attempting to rattle your competitor’s confidence was just part of the game. I assumed that Tyler had experienced the same at his previous school.
    “So, you transferred here from Summerhaven, huh?” I asked, just trying to make conversation.
    “Yeah,” he muttered, apparently not quite over the insults that had been tossed our way.
    “How’d you guys do at state?”
    “We came in second,” was all he offered.
    “Huh. And what is it that you do? You know, your gift?”
    He zipped up his bag and glanced up at me with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, I knew what you meant.”
    I shrugged. “It’s not like I care, but it is against the COPA not to tell.” The Code of Paranormal Activity basically outlined the school’s rules about using your psychic gift.
    “I’m telekinetic,” he said, reaching down to adjust the braided bracelets he wore around one wrist. There must have been a dozen of them, a rainbow of colors against his skin. “Micro,” he clarified.
    Ah, like Jack. “I’m a precog,” I offered, zipping up my bag.
    “A precog, huh? How’s that workin’ out for you?”
    “I’m still not sure,” I answered with a shrug. “So where are you from, Tyler Bennett? Because that drawl is definitely not from California.”
    “Nah, I’m from Texas. Austin. What about you? That ain’t no New Yawk accent you got there,” he teased.
    I shook my head. “Atlanta. So … Texas? That’s pretty far away. Why’d you transfer here?”
    “Why so many questions?” he countered, catching me off guard.
    I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me, or if he was serious.