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Instead, she waved, grabbed her gear, and bolted out the door.
    The main hall was humming with excitement. A good portion of the villagers were already packed inside to watch and support the thirty competitors. Silicon Valley tryouts only happened once a year, and this was an important day for everyone. Grace checked out the panel of judges in the front row. There were thirty of them, mostly males, with a few women sprinkled in. The judges would assess each individual across three areas: combat, strategy, and technology. Only four individuals would make it into the academy program to further their training in a specific field: Combat & Weapons, Strategic Development, Digital Communications, and Search & Rescue (the toughest). Grace had her heart set on combat, but she’d be okay with strategy and even digi-comm. The least appealing category was Search & Rescue. Not because of the grueling and challenging searches that would be performed. No; Grace was thinking specifically with regards to the intense emergency service involved. She pushed the thought of it from her mind and looked around for Marion. She almost didn’t recognize her friend, who had her unruly hair tied into a neat bun.
    “Looking tight, Marion. How’d you get your hair to obey such a high command?” she teased.
    “Figured the judges would pay more attention to my skills this way. My hair can be kinda distracting.”
    “Yeah, no kidding.”
    “You ready?” Marion scanned the judges with her big brown eyes. Grace could tell she was nervous.
    “Yeah, but you look a little shaky. You’re gonna be great. You have the most precise shot in the village. You’re a born sniper.”
    “But only one of us is getting into combat,” Marion said.
    “There’s still strat and digi-comm.”
    “Don’t forget about Search & Rescue,” Marion joked.
    Though Grace loved combat, her dislike of the aftermath was no secret.
    “Please. It’s too early,” she said with a shiver.
    As they walked over to join the other competitors, Blythe stepped in front of the girls, glaring at them with her icy eyes. She secured her quiver and bow around her wide shoulders. “Look what the coyotes dragged in,” she said.
    “Move it.” Grace tried to step around the behemoth, but Blythe held out her arms to block her.
    Blythe smirked. “You think you’re real special, don’t you? Think you’re a shoo-in for the program—the General’s daughter, whose mother saved the world.”
    “She’ll get in because she’s good.” Marion tried shoving Blythe out of the way, but she didn’t budge.
    “Shut up, Red.”
    Grace looked up at Blythe and held her stance. She wasn’t about to let this weak intimidation tactic spook her. “The judges are looking for team players; you know that, right?” she said.
    Blythe dialed it back a notch. “I’m a team player. But how would you know?” She was right about that. Grace had always kept her at arm’s length, making sure the safe distance between them remained intact.
    “Can we have this heart-to-heart after tryouts?” Grace faked a smile.
    “You might do good, but once they figure out you’re a wimp who can’t stand the sight of blood, you’re smoked.”
    Marion stepped up to Blythe. “Why don’t you take one of your arrows and stick it up your—”
    “Competitors, please take your seats. Tryouts will commence in five minutes. The first segment will be combat.” The announcer’s voice filled the room.
    “Come on, let’s sit down,” said Grace, walking around Blythe.
    The thirty competitors sat in their section and waited for their names to be called. Grace watched each contender as they went to the floor to perform some sort of combat demonstration. Most had a specific skill set within combat, but a handful just had the basics down because they were more versed in other categories. Many of the guys that year were physically fit and as tough as bulldogs, but a lot of them hadn’t put in the time and effort to develop