Cragbridge Hall, Volume 2: The Avatar Battle by Chad Morris

their riders. He picked a dark red one with silver flames painted on the side. As he mounted it, he noticed that his virtual self was dressed in a racing suit and helmet. He started it up and could hear the quiet purr of the engine. He could get used to this.
    An announcer said something Derick couldn’t understand in Portuguese. Maybe he could understand later after he had studied more. A man with a checkered flag waved. Derick twisted the throttle and jolted forward.
    The same narrating voice spoke another Portuguese word, this time slowly and deliberately: “ rápido. ” It then gave the definition: “fast.” Derick was living that definition. As he looked ahead on the track, he saw a series of words floating over the race course. He found rá pido and drove through it.
    More points.
    Derick continued for another five minutes, driving through all twenty of his vocab words of the day. Then after the race was complete, his motorcycle and its world faded. “It’s almost time to go,” his teacher said. “Please exit your booths and gather any belongings.” Derick obeyed. On his way out, he checked the console again; he’d found where he could insert the sphere his grandfather had given him. He hoped that world was at least a fraction as awesome as his Portuguese review had been.
    “Thanks for your work today,” the teacher said. “It’s a good start to learning a beautiful language.” It was kind of pretty, but Derick hadn’t switched his schedule just to learn a beautiful language; he was tired of not understanding Rafa.
    “We may use other game tools to review in the future, but the booths are mainly used to put you in scenarios where you have to speak Portuguese with people who speak like real natives.” Interesting. “Before you go,” his teacher continued, “I believe your student body officers have an announcement.”
    A group of five students wearing matching jackets appeared in the virtual room. “Good morning, Cragbridge Hall!” a blond girl said. “And welcome to your second semester.” She had a little too much pep in her—or maybe hanging around Carol had just made Derick hypersensitive. “There are going to be a lot of great activities coming up soon, like the virtual games for those in ninth through twelfth grades.” A long groan echoed through the room. Their class were all in seventh grade. Derick could just imagine how fantastic it would be to use the virtual booths for contests. “But the big news is, of course, the dance.” The room suddenly filled with images of royal balls, castles, parties at the White House, dance halls from the early 1920s. “We need suggestions and some decorations for this year’s theme—so submit them to dance committee through your rings.” A boy chimed in: “And remember that boys in grades nine and up should ask a girl out for the occasion, while those in seven and eight should not. For you, it’s a large group event.”
    Derick wouldn’t have to ask anyone for a few years. Good. No pressure from Carol. Wait. Scratch that. Less pressure.
    A different girl, this one with a streak of green in her hair, continued, “I get the best—or perhaps the worst—of the announcements for driven students like us. You’ll all be distracted for the next several minutes. Here it is: Your first semester grades have just been posted. Simply sync up to your Cragbridge Hall account.”
    Immediately all the students in the class began typing with their rings. Derick thought he might be one of the quickest. He was usually the winner in a search battle. And there were his grades—an impressive array of As. He did feel his heart sink a little as looked at an A minus. Who would give him an A minus? Music? Of all his classes he got an A minus in music ? He wasn’t even playing an instrument—it was music appreciation. Did his teacher not feel that he appreciated music enough? Derick could tell this was going to bother him for a very long time.
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    Abby