I
Something about required attendance takes the fun out of the entire thing. Like in school, when we all dreaded the times we would have to wake up and go to the schoolhouse to learn, our parents shooing us out of the door and wishing us well. Those were the days. Now, I can barely drag myself out of bed to find the next place that needs an extra hand. Just because it’s not steady, doesn’t mean it’s not required. If I didn’t find some extra jobs, Ma and Pa would be working a lot harder jobs than they are. They aren’t fit for those sorts of things. Ma’s hand is all mangled from working with machinery, and Pa's leg is getting bad, from years of hunting in the woods. If I were to just suddenly stop, they would have to go.
The work is far from fun. Usually I come home with sore hands, grease muttered across my face and an aching back from a day in the sun. Never do I come home in good spirits. But I come home with money, and that’s what matters. Without the money, my family would have nowhere to live. At least now we’re crammed into a three room apartment floor, albeit mostly abandoned and in shambles. My mother and father share one room, me and my sister, Leida, another. And one room for when we all want to be cramped together. My sister is still in school, so she doesn’t have to worry about doing her part. Her biggest worry is me being taken away for conscription in a year. A year is a year though, and I try not to let her worry. Just keep pushing through, changing the subject whenever it happens to come up. It’s usually effective, but as we move somberly in the streets I can hear Ma and Pa talking about it, shooting me worried glances every now and then. Neither of them were ever conscripted, they had steady jobs.
That’s the price of having no steady job, conscription. I’m not worried about Leida being conscripted, she has a pretty face. I’m sure she’ll be sent to work as a maid somewhere, just another pretty thing for the snobby nobles to look at. The nobles are the reason I’m not in some odd job, Leida’s not in school. Some required event. A spectacle. I think it’s something for them to show us how rich they are again, keep us in line. Lots of people have been toeing it, lately. Rumors of rebellious acts are spreading like wildfire, leading more and more people to try their luck. They’re all idiots, if they want to survive they’d best keep to themselves.
When we’re closer to the stadium, I can see a crowd of people funneling around into the stands in the stadium. Strange, usually they call this some ‘festival’ and have activities in the tall grasses. Usually they have all their finest gemstones and clothes displayed. Not today, when I look I can see them way up in the stands, looking down on us like we’re ants. How nice, just lovely. But they don’t seem to be focusing on us, pouring into the stands below them. I can’t see their eyes, but they’re all looking at a spot in the grass. I crane my neck, stand on my tippy-toes, anything to get a view of whatever they’re looking at. All I see is a circle of soldiers, surrounding something. No, not something. Someone.
We all keep walking, most haven’t seen the woman in the circle yet. The woman stands still, despite being surrounded by soldiers. If she weren’t dressed in rags, I would think her royalty. The way she holds herself is so postured that it’s no doubt she’s important in some way, just not by government standards. I look at her curiously, wondering. What has she done to deserve such severe consequences? I can only guess, and hold on to Leida’s hand as we move towards an empty row of seats. It won’t be empty for long, more will come pouring into the stands to claim their spot before they get stuck on the hard metal benches below. They all want a view, even though they don’t even know what’s to come. I know. I caught a glimpse of her through the crowd and soldier shield. I almost laugh when I realize just what is to happen. That woman will die, and it will be a warning to us all. A warning to stop the startings of the rebellion that is infecting their so-called ‘citizens’. I have to laugh, and Leida looks at me strangely as she takes her own seat with grace I could never have. I’m lean and flexible, but not quite graceful. Not me, never. I can almost see myself, if I were ever muscular, trudging around the streets like one of the soldiers. My steps labored under the weight of muscle. The image is almost as funny as the reason we’re here, and I suppress a smile. I can see Ma staring at me strangely from over Leida. I give her an assuring smile in return.
I don’t see anyone I know nearby, not that I know many. I would go and say hi if I saw someone I knew, I can already see Leida, from the corner of my eye, waving at her school friends. Once, we held a birthday party for her and she invited her whole class. It cost a month's pay to feed them all lunch, but it had been worth it. Leida was so happy, so were Ma and Pa. I never had enough friends to do that sort of thing, I was usually a loner when it came to school. Lots of people thought I was weird, and I was. I skipped school tons of times to do work around town to help us make ends meet. The other kids’ parents had good work, they weren’t in the dangerous industries. I was lucky to get to go to school at all, other kids I know around my parts of town never went.
A tinkling bell startles me out of my thoughts, and I realize the steady flow of people entering the stadium has slowed to small groups rushing in, receiving punishments from the officers at the entrance. Probably a price to pay for their lateness. This is no small event, it is required. I don’t doubt there are soldiers sweeping the streets looking for people missing it. Few people have pardens, mostly officers. I don’t doubt the price for missing this event will not be small. This will crush some families.
A red-robed noble enters from a side entrance, and black security units trail behind. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. Security details are not noble, they started from where I am. Yet they climbed, with choice, to protect the very people who keep me under an iron fist. Anyone like them makes me want to throw up in disgust. When the noble reaches the circle of soldiers, they part for the parade, like an ocean to the wind. I can only look on as the noble approaches the woman, who doesn’t flinch at all. I can barely see, but something like a snarl crosses the noble’s face before he turns to the audience. One of the security guards pulls out a microphone and hands it over, and the noble takes it. “People of the Republic, hello and thank you for being here. I am Lord Augustine.” I scoff. We didn’t have much of a choice, and he knows it. “We are here today to witness the execution of Loris Houghton. She was an instigator of much chaos, and killed many officers.” I feel sick to the stomach. She did little, compared to what this noble has probably done. Of course she’s the example. To show us that no matter what, we will be caught and punished. Effective. I can see Leida’s expression, and it is not pleasant. She was not expecting this. No one was.
“On my mark, the guards will fire at her. Remember, this is what happens to those who step out of line.” Somehow, he manages to look each of us in the eye, individually, as he spins in a full circle. It’s infuriating. And the message is clear. Clear as crystal. I look away, and turn to Leida.
“Don’t watch.” I hiss at her, and I hear the guns fire. They sound as if they’re right next to me. I have to look.
When I look, I am shocked. The woman, the rebel, is on the ground, bleeding out. This doesn’t surprise me. I knew this would happen from the moment I walked in. But she is not the only one who was shot. Security crowds around a figure, but I can still see who it is. The noble, Lord Augustine. The crowd roars, and I’m able to make out a common phrase from it. “We will overcome.” Officers crowd around us, herding us out. They don’t want to let us see what has happened. But we have seen. I can feel it in my stomach, that this is the start of something. What, I don’t know.
I pass by a screaming guard, being pulled away by the other security. The one being pulled away has been unarmed, and they try to keep him quiet. I can still hear his words. He has shot the noble. “We will overcome.” I feel him slip something into my hand, and a guard pushes me away from the screaming guard. “Move it, commoner.” It feels like a dream, as I fall onto my knees on the ground. The crowd is moving too fast, and keeps moving over me. The guard doesn’t spare me another glance as thousands of people move over me, some jumping, others just stepping onto me. I try to crawl towards the stands, but I am trapped by thousands of feet. I can only cover my head and wait for them to pass. I can still feel what I was given by the rebel guard, a rolled up piece of paper. I wonder why I have it. I am no one special. By coincidence, I think.
I finally feel the end to the feet, and an officer pulls me up and drags me out of the stadium. I can barely move, and everytime my shirt blows against my back it burns. The back of my shirt is torn up, I can feel it. I shove the paper into my pocket, and the officer hands me another piece of paper. A ticket. I look at him, jaw lowered in astonishment. “Loitering.” He grumbles before he drops me outside the stadium and returns back inside. I slide to the cement in disbelief. It’s all so ironic. What have I done to deserve this?
I slide my hand to my back, and it comes back sticky with blood. I wince, and someone comes towards me. A kind looking girl, my age or a bit older. She looks at me sympathetically. “I saw what happened to you.” She turns me around and examines my back with a grimace. “That looks painful. Want me to fix you up?”
I shake my head, despite the ache coming from my back. “Can’t pay you. Already have this.” I reach in my pocket and pull out the ticket.
She gasps. “That is mine.” She pulls it from my hand, and I realize I mistakenly grabbed the note from the rebel guard. She reads it with pursed lips and then looks back at me. “Tell you what, I’ll bring you to my place and fix you up, pay for that ticket. This is worth much more than money could get you.” I can hear her curse under her breath as she scolds someone named ‘Thery’ for giving a stranger the note. Thery must have been the rebel guard.
“I–yes please.” I respond . She nods and helps me up from the ground and I sling my arm around her neck, clenching my teeth. I hope my family has gotten away unscathed, and that they don’t worry for me. I trust I’m in good hands. I hope I’m correct. She does her best to keep my torn shirt from fluttering against my sensitive back, but the wind doesn’t listen, and I hiss whenever it brushes against my skin. It’s inconvenient, relying on someone else to do something as little as move. But I keep my head up anyway, looking at the streets head on. I see people shoot me worried looks from windows, but they don’t move to help. We’re in the rich part of the city, I’m not surprised. Not many would help someone as clearly poor as me, and I’m surprised this girl is. As we’re walking she breaks the labored silence with some mindless chatter.
“I’m Terry,” She says in introduction, and I nod.
“Avis.” I’ve always liked my name, it reminds me of flying. Once upon a time, it did have something to do with flying. Now, an Avis is a type of butterfly. A gold butterfly, named after someone centuries ago, before The Society was a thing. Back then it was a country called the SA or USA, or something like that.
We come up to an apartment complex, a nice one by the looks of it. I don’t doubt that she’s somewhat rich, has a nice job. I envy her. She must be the same age as me, I’m closer to her and I can see it in her face. She doesn’t look as young from a far, she was like Houghton, carrying herself with pride. We climb the steps up, up, up. All the way to the penthouse of the building, and I look at her with amazement.
“Good work,” She explains with a smirk. I can only nod as she unlocks the door and leads me into a place somehow nicer than the outside.
Each room is well furnished, filled with plush couches and expensive paintings hanging on each wall. A large window lets in all the sunlight the room could need for lighting. I want to look at it more, but Terry pulls me along into a bathroom. I can see my reflection, and it takes my breath away. Matted blond hair, dirty and knotted. Wide blue eyes, a lean form. I look terrible. I harden my expression at the mirror, and Terry notices with a small smile.
While I examine the figure in the mirror, Terry works on getting a cloth wet with warm water. When she presses it to my back, I hiss. “Don’t move.” She says as she works the cloth down my back, cleaning up the dirt and blood. I feel somewhat better without the grime on me.
She takes out a box with what I can only assume has medicine in it and takes out a tube, something you would see in one of those fancy medical centers. I’ve never been, the price is too high. We read children’s stories about them in school, though. I wonder how she was able to get her hands on this. Through the black markets and smuggling, I’d guess. It makes me wonder just what her ‘job’ is. She opens the cap on the tube and spreads a white paste onto her hands, then touches my back lightly. It stings, but I don’t make a sound, just grit my teeth. She has seen enough of my weakness already.
Once she’s spread the ointment on my back, it feels so much improved from before. I would hate to be in her debt, but now I am. She steps out and leaves me alone. I turn to examine the bathroom, and I find it to be incredibly nice. Gold faucets, a full rain shower. Shelves, filled with fluffy towels and colorful soaps. I wonder what one bottle of those could do for my family.
When the door opens again, highlighting her entrance, I am startled again. Already, I was getting comfortable in this stranger's home. I stiffen up, and she grins. “Nice, isn’t it? Now, let’s get you changed.” She hands over a soft white shirt and a pair of black pants. “I think these will fit you.” I take them from her and rub the material between my fingers. I’ve seen things like this on sale before, and I’m pretty sure they cost just about my whole apartment floor. She exits the bathroom again, and I catch a glance of her looking at the letter she took from me. I change quickly, feeling guilty. How can I put something on, this nice, when my family is probably panicked in my absence? I don’t know. But I do what I must, and exit the bathroom when I am done. Something about her expression compels me to ask the question I’ve been dying to ask.
“What’s in there?” The letter. What did the traitor guard write that she seems so excited to see? She smirks at me, a familiar sight. Terry enjoys knowing things that I don’t, knowing things that everyone doesn’t know.
“Revolution.” She answers simply. But such a simple word means so much to me. Revolution is an organized thing–and organized things have organized acts. The noble being shot is no accident. This was planned somehow.
“Who was Loris Houghton, really?” I ask, asking all the hard questions. Something more is going on, and this execution had more than one purpose. It was meant to scare us, yes. But not just us. The revolution. We will overcome.
“Let’s just say she was important to our cause.” She lets me puzzle over that with a smirk. Our cause, her cause. A cause. She doesn’t let me respond, the moment I open my mouth to ask another question she opens hers. “I should let you get some rest. Follow me, I’ll show you to a bedroom.”
I can barely nod, as I follow her down a hall with at least 6 doors. I don’t know how a house can have so many rooms in one place. The entire penthouse looks like there’s no one living there, other than her. How can she afford so much luxury without sharing any of it? She opens the last door in the hall, revealing a fluffy white canopied bed, a large desk with a comfortable looking chair and another two doors, which I assume lead to another bathroom and closet.
“I’ll come back here later. For now, try and get some rest. That won’t heal with hard work.” She points to the two doors and explains that they are the bathroom and closet, as I guessed. Finally, her eyes harden and she moves towards the door. “These doors will be unlocked, but I’d advise you not to leave your bedroom.”
She leaves, leaving me alone. I am exhausted, and I hardly puzzle over her last piece of advice, although I want to. I settle into the bed, plainclothes on and gingerly ease my back against the mattress. It’s so much nicer than anything I’m used to, and I fall asleep almost instantly, exhausted.



II
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up. Sometime later in the night, maybe midnight. There are no visible clocks in my room. When I sit up the familiar ache on my back returns, reminding me of yesterday. I’m surprised that Terry hasn’t woken me yet, and then I see a plate of food on the desk across the room. She must have not wanted to wake me, I think. That’s nice of her. I climb out of bed gingerly, but pause when I hear voices from across the hall. Terry and someone else talking, from what I can hear. I almost want to laugh when I catch my name. She mentions something about me delivering the note and her helping me in return. The other voice scolds her for bringing me into her home. Says something I can’t make out, then claims that I am now a liability to the revolution that she will have to take care of.
I don’t know why, but I’m compelled to climb into bed and pretend to be asleep. No sooner have I closed my eyes than the other voice leaves and Terry enters my room. I want to look at her, but I keep my eyes shut. When she nears my bed, instinct instructs me to jump up, and not a moment to soon. I can see her now, holding a dagger. She was instructed to take care of me. Not take care of me, kill me. It hits me in a moment, and I can see in her wide eyes she does not want to. I will make the choice for her, and run out of the room, ducking under her arm to reach the doorway. She does not make any attempt to stop me, just looks regretful of what it has come to. I hope whoever is with her is gone, but if they are not, I am confident I can outrun them. I have done it to officers before, when I was younger. That was something I learned to do very young, run.
I don’t stop when I exit my bedroom. I barely pause. Just keep running through the long hall until I reach where I think the entrance is. I can see the other voice, a man, in the living room. He eyes me and takes a second to react before leaping to his feet and pulling out a dagger.
“Stop and put your hands up!” He shouts to me, but I cannot stop. I am running too fast. I feel like I am feeling. It is not my first time needing to outrun authority, and I don’t doubt it won’t be my last. Although he isn't real authority. He’s a member of the revolution. Maybe the revolution isn;t what I think it is, but I don’t have time to think. Only to pump my legs as I reach the entrance to the penthouse and throw my body against it so it opens.
It gives way when I hit it, sending me sprawling on the floor outside. I can hear the other voice coming towards me, so I pull myself up despite my sore muscles. Those can be dealt with later. At least my back isn’t still raw. Thankfully.
I leap down the stairs, slamming into each wall when it comes to a turn. I can only hiss at the impact, because I can still hear the other person chasing me. It’s not Terry, judging by the heavy footfalls on the stairs. When I reach the bottom of the building, I do not continue forward. I head into the alley on the left side of the apartment complex, and continue as quietly as I can. I do not hear the other person following me, to my relief.
I do not stop, despite the ache creeping onto me. I’m sure the adrenaline is wearing off, but I want to at least reach the next building before resting. It feels like hours of jogging, when in reality it is little more than minutes. And that, I am thankful for. The next building is completely abandoned, an office building, maybe. I slump against the bricks and lay by head between my knees. My breath comes in short bursts, panting. I feel lightheaded. Not to mention a sore side from slamming into the wall on the way down the stairs.
I don’t know how long it is before I pull myself up and move towards where I think my home is. I’m not used to this part of the city, the rich part. I dimly wonder what my family is doing, when they stopped searching for me, if they did so. I cringe thinking of Da on his bad leg clambering through the city to try and find me. I know he shouldn’t be out and about on that leg, and that’s why I do the things I do. Maybe I would still be in school if I didn’t need to worry about money and find work around the city.
I try and banish all thoughts of my family from my mind and just focus on going forward, which isn’t difficult. I am exhausted, although I just slept. Running for your life does take a lot out of a person, it seems. I used to run for fun, when I was a lot younger. Now, I run from fear. It’s almost ironic, all that has happened. Sometimes I feel like an Avis Butterfly, no longer a caterpillar, trying to find my way across the globe to warmer temperatures. Trying to find my way through my life. But nothing is ever easy when you’re a butterfly. Sometimes the pretty things are what hide the most pain.
It’s not long before I reach a street that I recognize, one near the stadium. I cringe when I see the stadium, each muscle on my body standing on end. The stadium does not remind me of the thousands of feet running over my back, it reminds me of the revolution. I hope my family is not involved, for it could destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for. To keep us all safe. Especially Leida, who should not have to worry about the officers coming to our home.
I am acutely aware of the eyes on me as I enter the poorer sections of the city, where we live. I never was self conscious about myself before, but then I realize. I am not being self conscious, my clothes are clearly from somewhere rich. They really are looking at me. I shrink into myself, folding my arms over my chest to hide some of the shirt, as much as I can.
I keep walking, until I reach the street where my family’s apartment room is. Returning now from the rich sector, everything seems so…dull. But dull is what I know, so I do not pause for a moment. I swing my legs, pump them forward all the way to our building. And when I reach the building, I see a familiar pair of faces. Ma, Pa and Leida come rushing out of the building and engulf me with a hug. A rare smile crosses my face as I pull myself away from the embrace.
“We need to get inside,” I instruct with a glance over my shoulder. I do not think the revolution member has followed after me, but I do want to err on the side of caution with this direct threat. Leida looks at me with a confused glance, but I can see Ma and Pa share a look of warning. I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it does. “you first, Leida.” I finally say, trying to get a moment with my parents.
Pa cuts me off before I can say a word. “Avis, we were not involved in this. But we were aware of the group.” He glances at Ma, asking her to continue the story.
“They came to our building once, in the middle of the night. Starting banging on doors, asking people to join the revolution. Some said yes. We said no. Our priority was keeping you and your sister safe, not joining something that would get us killed as quick as the war. They didn’t try to recruit us again, but I’ve heard rumors of them going to other buildings and doing the same thing.” Ma looks at me with only love in her eyes, and I turn away.
“You should have told me!” I mutter, and Ma lets out her short laugh.
Pa answers while Ma laughs, his tone light, but a little annoyed.. “You were five.” He raised an eyebrow. I know why Ma was laughing now, and I grin, too.
“You could have told me when I was older.” I try. Reasoning with them is like reasoning like a mule. They’re stubborn, and there’s nothing I can change now.
“Why? So you can run off and join them?” Pa furrows his brow and Ma sends him a disapproving glare.
I almost answer him. I would have joined them, before now. Before I knew what they were really about. Ma and Pa were smart to not join them, their cause is not worth the price. I don’t answer him, because of Leida calling to us from the stairway. Her small voice carries through the room over to us, calling us toward her. “Are you guys coming? I don’t have a key.” I almost curse aloud, but I know Ma would scold me. I have reason though, the key to our home is either in the arena or at Terry’s house. Either way, someone will find it. I hope that they won’t try and figure out which house it belongs to, because it is blatantly obvious if you give the key a look. Our house number is inscribed on it, pressed deeply into the metal marking it as belonging to us.
“We’re coming, Leida! Run ahead.” Ma answers for all of us, buying us more time.
“Ma, I lost our key. Someone is going to find it.” I murmur just for her to hear. Pa has a temper and I don’t want him to hear about what I did, yet. Ma is smart enough not to say anything, but I can see in her face that she is not happy with me. I lower my head in shame. As we walk up the stairs she whispers back to me.
“We can get a new one. Don’t worry, I will tell your father.” I release a breath of relief. I do not want to have to deal with his temper, if I can avoid it. But it is my fault, being so careless with an object that could lead a stranger right to us. Or not a stranger, someone after me. “Let’s hurry, Leida is already suspicious.” She urges me onward, up the stairway to our home. I hope she does not mind how slow I am to climb, my body sore from running.
I reach our floor after them, and the door is unlocked and still open. Pa and Leida have already entered, while Ma waits for me at the door with a frown. “What happened?” She asks, and I do not respond. I shake my head, giving her a look that says it all. Later. I do not want Leida to be around when I do share.
Despite all that has happened in the last two days I still feel like…me. Or as close to me as I can get right now. It’s strange, that in the past two days more things have gone down than in my whole life. It’s terrifying, knowing that. Why has so much happened to one person? Coincidence. Bad luck. Fate.
“Hurry up, Avis. Breakfast is getting cold.” I’m shocked by Pa’s words. Rarely do we have breakfast. It’s a waste of money, and we can survive without it. At most we’ll have something random from the cabinet, but never a warm meal. Why waste money now? Ma can see the question in my eyes, and she waits until I’m inside to answer.
“We thought we’d lost you.” Her words are hushed, and she wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me forward. I blink at her, trying not to cringe. Her hand is hanging loosely at the side that slammed into the walls on the stairwell, and I would rather not make it hurt more by touching it.
“Ma, I’m sore there.” I gently push away from her arm and move into our eating area myself, without her support. Having her next to me makes me feel weak, when I am anything but. I have proved that today. I can survive without my parents’ protection. I am strong in my own way, if not physically.
On the table an array of scrambled eggs, sausage and toast makes my eyes widen. This looks too nice for us to afford, and I don’t know how they can all look at it without being drove out of their mind. “How..?”
“How did we pay for it? Pa got a new job. He’s been applying recently.” Leida cuts me off before I can finish my question, and I almost wish I hadn’t asked it. I spin on my heel to face Pa, face red with fury.
“You did what? We both know you aren’t strong enough to take a harder job! Is what I’m doing not enough?” The accusations fly, and Pa takes none lightly. He pushes his chair back and stands to face me.
“We both know you’re not going to find a steady job before next year.” Next year, conscription. Forced service in the army. He says it as lightly as he can, but it’s still a punch to the gut. I bar my teeth at him. “If you’re serving, we’re going to need more income for the family. We all know a soldier's pay is close to nothing.”
I ball my fists at my side. “And why can’t Leida work?” Leida does her best not to react, but I can see a look of betrayal attempting to fight its way onto her face. I do not take back my words. “She’s more eligible at any work than you!” It’s true. While she’s not physically built for strength, she is completely healthy, unlike Pa. Any employer would hire her before him.
“We want Leida to finish her school,” Ma says lightly, taking a seat next to her and laying a gentle hand across Leida’s arm.
“There’s no opening for maids anywhere.” Pa is much more gruff, and at the mention of the work we’ve all known she’ll be going into, Leida cringes. I don’t blame her. I don’t think I could stand serving people like the nobles, being treated like slaves. I don’t spare her another thought, though, mind encompassed in the current argument between me and Pa. I will not give up, I will not lose.
“And why were you applying so early? A year, Pa. I have a whole year. What does preparing so early help? What if there were suddenly an opening for maids before I went?” I don’t like talking about my incoming service. It makes it real. Pa does not have the same reservations.
“That is enough!” Ma finally calls indignantly. I do not blame her, me and Pa argue like children over adult subjects. It is not befitting of the dinner table. I stare down Pa until he finally takes a seat first, and I follow suit, a smirk twisting my lips. I have won this bout. Pa scowls.
“Can we eat now?” Leida asks quietly, ever the lady. I envy her for that. It has been clear since she was young how polite she was, and that’s how we knew she would be a maid to some rich noble. It pays well, if you can do it right. Me and Pa do not have the patience that it takes, and Ma does not have the limbs. No one wants to look at a damaged maid when they can have a pretty one like Leida.
“Let’s let your sister eat first.” Ma offers quietly, eying me from beside me. I can only shake my head. I never ate the food offered at Terry’s, but I no longer feel hungry.
“I’m going to my room.” Our room, me and Leida. We do not have the luxury of a bathroom in our home, the only one being a few floors down. I’m not sure whether to risk washing up or just staying in the safe confines of my home. Whatever Terry used on my back is working well, but I would like to see it in a mirror myself. Our home does not have any mirrors.
I decide not to, and settle onto my palette on the floor. It is still early morning, but I do not feel like being awake right now. My side aches now that I lie still, and I know it will need a good night’s rest before I can safely move around again. No odd-jobs today, just good old-fashioned rest.
When my eyes finally close, my thoughts lull into the dream land, and I enter a, the, black void, an endless abyss. I do not dream. I do not have the luxury to do so.






















III
A loud knock interrupts my sleep. It is some time in the afternoon, and Pa has left for his new job. It is just me and Ma in the house.
I can hear her voice carried from the room over. “I’ll get it, Avis. Stay in bed.”
I told her what happened yesterday, and part of me regrets doing so. Another part of me feels much lighter, more unburdened. She was sorry for not being there, but proud of me. I think she somehow expected more had happened to me than what did.
I am naturally curious, and haul myself out of bed. I have not slept well this afternoon. I do not dream, but I dream all the same. Nightmares–no. Not nightmares, memories, haunt me. I remember the feet, but worst of all I remember the dagger held above me as I pretended to sleep. I find it difficult to sleep now, remembering what had happened. How can I ever feel secure in sleep, after not sleeping saved my life?
The hall in between the two bedrooms has peeling yellow wallpaper, floral patterns printed repeatedly. When I was younger, I used to find it calming. Now, it taunts me. It almost represents my life. It was much nicer when we first moved into this part of the building. Now, each edge has a line of curled material, like the walls have their own set of gnarled claws.
I cannot see who is at the door, Ma’s body blocks my view. I can still hear the voice though. I tense on reflex, not recognizing it. Ma’s posture becomes stiff, too.
“…Avis Saydreen is to serve for the country, in the new legion, called the Bone Legion. She will be trained for 3 months before being sent out to the battlefield, where she will serve for a total of 4 years.” My head is spinning. The person at the door is not some random errand boy, coming to ask us if we would like to purchase a loaf of bread from his master’s shop. This is an officer, with a conscription letter. A letter to my doom.
Ma tries to protest. “But Avis is not yet 18, she is only 17. You cannot take her, she still has one more year!” The officer ignores her protests and continues to read.
“Should Avis Saydreen put up any fight against the soldiers who will come to collect her in approximately 1 hour, the resulting penalty is a charge of traitorship to the crown. Should Avis Saydreen not appear when the soldiers who will come to collect her in approximately 1 hour, the resulting penalty is desertion. Should Avis Saydreen disobey any commander while during training, the resulting penalty is traitorship. Should Avis Saydreen fail to complete her training, the resulting penalty will be desertion. The crown thanks you for your service, signed Mordecai Kaua.”
I step up behind Ma, glaring the officer down. “Did you hear my mother? We can check my birth certificate right now, I am only 17. The minimum age is 18! Do I look like I’m 18?” That was a bad question to ask. Most 17 and 18 year old’s look the same, but I stare the officer down with not a break of courage. The officer nods at me.
“The Bone Legian consists of kids ages 16 to 18, and is meant to give our army legion’s with quicker reflexes.” He stares right back at us, and I look down. I don’t want to go to war, I don’t want to be conscripted. Rarely do those conscripted come back. “You have approximately 56 minutes and 32 seconds to get ready. Clothes, food and shelter will be provided at the camp, each person is limited to one suitcase only. Choose what you bring wisely, and beware of pick-pockets.” I wonder if this is this man's strange way of feeling sorry for me, warning me of the pickpockets to come. I know pickpockets, I am one. No one would pass up this opportunity, ripe for stealing.
Ma covers her mouth with her hand, and I can see tears in her eyes. This officer is completely serious. She thought she had another year with me, to prove to herself that she could make up for what she thought was abandoning me. At first, she tried to convince herself that this officer was an unruly teenager trying to scare the wits out of people to make their friends laugh. At first she thought she still had more time. At first she thought I wasn’t lost.
“Have a good day.” The officer walks away, leaving the two of us scowling after him. He treats the end of my life like a new story in the daily news. Something interesting but something to come to pass. Something not important to him, just another part of his job.
I move first. “I’d…better get packing.” I try to stay upbeat. I keep my voice pitched high even though every part inside of me is dying. I don’t want to die in war. Maybe my body is shutting itself down so I won’t have to. I almost prefer it, but then I remember. There’s still a way out of the war, if I can survive it. Ma begins to cry, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders. I don’t have the strength not to wince now.
“Ma, do you have any paper I can use? And a pen?” She knows what I mean and she does her best to clear her eyes.
“I’ll go grab them, and then I’ll pack for you.” Ma’s sister went to war when she was a kid, and while it wasn’t on this short of notice, it was still short. I have an hour–less than to get prepared to go to war. Or to be trained for it, at least. It’s all the same, and leads to the same place.
I take a seat at the kitchen table and lay my head on the table. This cannot be happening, not to me. What have I done to deserve all this terrible luck? I cannot seem to catch a break. “Are you alright, Avis?” Ma’s gentle voice calls to me. I want to admit weakness, tell her how I feel, but that would be defeat. I will not be defeated.
“I’m fine.” I try to sound as normal as possible and grab the papers from her. She kisses me on the cheek and finally takes off to my room to fit everything into our ‘suitcase’. We can barely afford food, I don’t know what officer would look at us and think that we had multiple suitcases worth of things to bring. I’m guessing Ma will use Leida’s spare bag, one that was used for school many years ago and I used before that. It is ragged and worn, but still functioning and will work for what will be fitted inside. I don’t expect it to be much, because we never had much. Whatever Ma finds to put in the bag will surprise me, however small it is.
I can only stare at the blank sheets of paper. I have so much I want to say to each person in my family, but no words to say them. None of it feels easy. I don’t know who to start with. I don’t want to have to leave anyone out of my letters. It strikes me to just write one letter, and I settle on the idea. I was never a wordsmith, and writing three unique letters sounds terrifying, even though they’re only for my own family.
The pen weighs heavy in my hand, making me pause. It’s not expensive, something cheaply handed out during rally’s. Such a small thing has such a large power, though.

Dear family,
Apparently, the Bone Legion is now a thing. A legion made of kids from the ages 16 to 18, trained to have ‘quick reflexes’. We all know that this is for control–and fear. Don’t let them get to you. I promise I’ll be safe, if you try and stay, too.

Pa. Keep your opinions in our house. Maybe even keep them inside. If I come back and I found out you’ve been put in prison because people caught wind of your opinions. I know we clash heads a lot, but I could not stand it if you weren’t here when I come back. You are an important part of our family, even if you don’t pull your own weight half the time.

Ma. It’s not your fault that I’m here. There’s nothing you could have done to save me from this fate, no matter how much you try and convince yourself you could. Just keep looking after the family, they’re going to need you right now. You’re the rock to this family, without them we’d be stranded. And please, don’t force Leida into something no matter how much it pays.

Leida. I love you with all my heart. I’m going to miss you for every minute of every day away from you. I already hurt. I’m only regretful of one thing, that I never got to see you grow up. I don’t doubt you’re going to be great someday, even if it doesn’t mean earning our family’s paycheck. Just because I’m not providing anymore, doesn’t mean you need to step into that role.

If we’re lucky, I’ll see you again in 5 years. I hope you haven’t changed a bit, and if you have you’ve changed for the better. Maybe I’ll have changed for the better. I hope you still recognize me. And I hope you still remember that I love you. That’s something time won’t take away.
Love, Avis.

I feel like there’s nothing left in me by the time I finish the letter. Each word was like a stab through the heart, making this my new reality. If I’m lucky, I’ll see my family in about 5 years. 5 years. It certainly leaves me feeling defeated. I don’t know how I’m going to fight this war. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this training. The page is stained with tears, each one leaving a fingerprint behind. Something for them to remember me by.
I doubt there’s much time for me to do anything else. The letter has taken up my time, and I don't regret writing it. Ma has set the bag by the front door, the exact one I thought she would. Under any other circumstance I would smirk, because I was right. But I can’t find it in me to smile. I can’t find it in me to look away from the door. I am waiting for the soldiers' arrival, coming to pick me up in approximate time. I wonder who else I will see marching out of the city with me.
Ma waits nearby, keeping her distance. I don’t want her to remember me like this, defeated. I want her to remember all the times I won, each time many. I want her to remember me as I am fighting with Pa. I want her to remember as I am taking care of Leida.
“Remember me.” I whisper the word into the air, the last note before the end of the song. I don’t know if she hears me. I have grabbed my bag and have it slung over my shoulder, the sound of a pair of marching footsteps approaching. I am not surprised when I hear a knock on the door.
The knock hardens my expression. I want to make a good first impression on these soldiers who could very well be in charge of things at camp. The knock knocks lose something in Ma. I can hear a choked sob from the back corner of the room. I do not react, just open the door.
Three soldiers, each one dressed meticulously in a uniform, holding a rifle across their chest. They all look the same, but do not. Physically, they are clearly unrelated. But in everything else, their posture, and stance, and even grip on their gun, is perfectly in sync with the next.
“Avis Saydreen, #122919. Bone Legion.” The soldier in the middle recites it from memory. I do my best to put my number to memory. It’s simple enough.
“Reporting for duty, sir.” I try to mirror their stance to look more professional. I probably look ridiculous, trying to match them in normal clothes holding a roughed up school bag over my shoulder. If I were these soldiers, I would be laughing too hard to get a word out.
“Conscripted to 4 years of service after training. Currently 17, birthday on July 4th.” The one on the left steps forward to speak, also from memory. I find it very impressive that they are able to memorize so many facts, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Correct.” I feel like I need to answer, even if they didn’t ask a question. I don’t know if that’s respectful or not to answer them, but I do so anyway.
“Follow us. Fall in.” I know the command ‘fall in’ from when I was younger and still played army without actually expecting to be in one. You would pick one person to be the captain and give commands, while everyone else had to follow through with them. If there were enough players, you could even have a war between two sides.
The soldiers continue to march forward, and I follow them out. I don’t bother to shut the door as I leave, I know it will slow me down. I do not have time to be the person I was, and who I was raised to be. I have to play soldier now. We walk down the stairwell, hurrying to the bottom. I can see an army truck in the middle of the road, bags thrown into it haphazardly. I toss mine in with them, too. I fall in. There’s a line to receive uniforms, and I shift into it. Then, a gunshot vibrates through my body.
All heads whip towards the sound, and I see a boy that had been coming out of an apartment building in uniform on the gravel. Three more shots follow, each body of someone coming out of an apartment. The people who change at the side of the road are unshot.
I see the pattern now. There is no time to waste, and we are all dispensable. When I receive my uniform, I step aside and begin changing immediately. I can see a captain smirk as he watches, and I keep my head down. He comes over with his megaphone and claps me on the shoulder. I stand still, doing my best not to cringe. The captain is strong, and I am still sore.
“See this everyone? Follow her lead. Privacy is an illusion, get used to it.” I keep my head raised high, hoping that there is not heat flooding into my cheeks. I do not like the captain very much.
The other soldiers are quick to follow, changing into their uniforms as quick as they can. I catch a few resentful glares my way and duck my head, embarrassed. It’s not my fault that I was the first the captain noticed. I’m not sure what to do with myself, so I scan the crowd quickly. There’s not enough of us to be a legion, so I assume we’ll be meeting others in other sectors of the city. The captain finally steps towards us and raises a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.
“Let’s keep it moving, people! We have a long ways to go.” The first of the challenges I’m sure we’ll be facing, marching in the hot sun towards a camp none of us want to go to. This captain is without mercy, and I do not doubt that he will shoot us down if we are not quick to follow. My body already aches, just thinking of it. It’s unfortunate, being put in this position. Forced to support the very empire I resent. How unfortunate it is.
At least I can blame it on my terrible luck these past few days. At least I can curse all the gods and curse karma and whatever forces people deem right to believe in. Curse the nobles who have brought me to a soldier, too young to be here but here anyway. At least I am not the youngest face here. Some look at most 14, whether that be from a young face or truly young age.
We will die, and I have no doubt of that.
It’s only moments before we all have the uniform on and are waiting for the captain’s next orders. He does not waste a second pointing us towards the streets. “Organize into rows, soldiers!”
He is not a large man, but his pride swells in him and his command makes him stronger. His voice easily carries across the length of the crowd. The already trained soldiers form a single line, and I am quick to mimic them and find a spot somewhere in the middle, too unremarkable to be noticeable. Yet the captain keeps a stern eye on me as I move, never looking away for too long as to lose me. It sets me on edge, and I tighten up. I am unarmed, unremarkable compared to the line of trained soldiers, but I still feel some sense of duty as I stand. I do my best to stamp out the fire that has ignited in me. How dare I feel any feelings of connection to such a wretched empire such as this one. How dare I enjoy a second of my service to them.
But some part of me feels excited. I will learn to fire a gun, I will learn to be stronger, I will learn to endure. All are skills that are required of me to be a solider, and skills required of me to survive life after being one, if it ever happens. I do doubt that I will survive my time in the Bone Legion, even the name is chilling. Nothing like the Honor Legion or the Strength Legion, the Bone Legion. It chills me to my bones, and I have a feeling that is what it is intended to do. Chill you to your bones, instill a sense of dread and terror. Kids our age don’t deserve such a terrifying name, and such a name would make me laugh if I ever saw the ragtag group of us lined up here. Many of us already look half starved. It is not a good place that we live in, and I am not surprised that as many are hungry, are hungry. I’m hungry, and we have a mostly steady food income. I can’t imagine how terrible life would be if not for Ma and Pa’s steady jobs and my odd jobs. We still manage to provide for Leida, however tight it ends up being to do so.
It takes some time to get into line. Many do it successfully, but many do not. I do not look around me to see if anyone has followed my example and gotten into line quickly, instead staring straight ahead of me. Looking around like some phenomenon is happening around me will not help anything, although from what I can hear people are still getting in place. The caption watches me with a smirk, staring for at least a minute. It takes a moment before he looks away and holds up his gun, firing at anyone who is not in line. I count 13 shots.
Before our society, 13 was believed to be an unlucky number. Some still think so. I think that this is a sign, a warning. This war will not be easily fought, and there will be many lives lost to even get there. No mistakes will be tolerated. I will have to be perfect. The captain’s eyes search the crowd before finding me again, then he holds up a hand and the line in front of me starts marching.
I have always been good at mimicking, and I am quick to do so now. I watch how their legs and arms move, and try to copy the rhythm. Mistakes will not be tolerated. It’s simple enough, stiff legs swinging in opposite time. A drumbeat, our pounding feet make. There are stiff boots on each of our feet, and I find them to be miraculously well fitting for being handed out at random. So is my uniform, hugging my body loosely. The boots amplify our sound, making it echo loudly through the streets, alerting everyone nearby that we are here and there will be no room for mistakes. I remember the execution in the stadium and realize what this is. We are being put on display for everyone to see, to instill fear on those young and old as a warning.
‘Don’t step out of line’ our footsteps say. ‘Rebelling is not an option’ our faces call. ‘You cannot escape’ our mouths pressed against the weight of it all scream. We are as much an example as the woman executed. The only difference this time it, we have no good reason to die.










IV
It takes forever and no time at all to reach the rich section of the city. I’m surprised to see just as many lined up like we are, and just as many dead here as we left behind back home. It’s crazy, seeing people, just steps below the nobles, lined up and preparing to fight with us. I keep my face forward, but even now I can see their faces, red with anger and indignation.
If anything, there are more dead here than we left behind. We all have an intact survival instinct. These people do not. I bet many were shot for talking back, others for refusing to come. I almost want to smile, but an ache has built in my legs. Although we have not marched long, I am exhausted. I have done my best to stay standing straight for the captain, who has continued to watch me, but I ache from the events previous to now.
The captain turns away from me to address us all. “Rearrange, include everyone in your ranks!” He calls out, and we do as commanded, moving quickly to let newcomers into the gaps. I find myself with two new elbow partners, but I do not let my eyes stray from the general in front of us. The one on my left gasps when she sees me, and I frown at her. Finally I look at her and, as I’m about to scold her for making noise I see her.
“You.” It’s Terry. My eyes widen and I look away quickly, back at the captain. He has seen my reaction and raises and eyebrow at me. I harden my eyes to him, and he nods his approval. I don’t know why he is watching me so closely, I do not know what I have done to merit such terrible eyes trying to find a fault in me.
“I’m–” Terry begins to say but I shush her. Now is no time to talk. Words are each new arsenal for the captain, and I do not doubt that he will use them when he can get his hands on them. She closes her mouth, and not a moment too soon as the captain holds up a hand, gesturing for us to march again. Somehow, he manages to look at me while watching everyone else, eyes trained especially on the rich with suspicion. I do not blame him, I am just as suspicious for different reasons.
When he finally looks away, it feels like we have been marching for eternity. I think it’s been an hour, and at least half an hour marching through barren wasteland. There is no human life anywhere in a two mile radius, and even if there were the dust we were kicking up as we walked would be enough to obscure it from our view. We make quite the dust storm, just marching across this land. I’m glad that I’m somewhat near the front of the procession, or else I would probably be choking on the dry dust. I can hear people way behind me coughing, over the paint sound of our boots marching.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed at her quietly. I think I see a few heads turn our way but not enough to give me away. Anyone who does look at me close enough I glare at, and they turn back to their marching.
“Conscripted, just like you.” She says it like it’s obvious, but it’s not. I thought if you had enough money you could pay your way out of it, and I know she has enough money. I’m sure she had enough money to pay out 20 of us.
“And you didn’t pay your way out?” Out of the corner of my eye I see her shake her head slightly. I’m thoroughly surprised.
“Why not?” I can’t keep myself from asking her, eyes still trained ahead of me but clearly interested in her. I wish I could turn to look at her, read her expressions. A conversation is so much harder when you don’t understand what the other person is feeling.
“It never occurred to me,” The captain glances at us for a moment before looking away again, but I catch him giving me a hard look. He almost distracts me from the blatant lie on her tongue. You can’t lie to a lier, I know she knows that I have caught her. She only bites her lip and shakes her head again, and I know the real reason why, one that she can’t risk saying now. The revolution somehow managed to get her here, and instructed her not to leave. I wonder why. It strikes me that it might be to finish me, but then I realize that I am a nobody and they would not waste someone as high standing on a nobody like me.
I do not speak again, even when my tongue is parched and I know that talking will at least get me focused on something other than our marching rhythm again. It’s unfortunate, so many cannot continue and drop on the side of our path. The soldiers with guns shoot them with no remorse, leaving them dying, bleeding out on the fields that we have now come to.
I do not relent, I keep my pace steady even in the face of the captains continuously staring eyes. I can get through it, although each step is a mental chant in my head, begging to be released into a scream. But a scream would lead to being shot, and I cannot risk death when I have done so little. I have barely had a chance to leave my mark on the world, much less experience what it has to offer. I cannot give up so easily.
Each step brings us closer to a camp, where we’ll be training. Where every legion in our history has trained and other legions are training. They just keep on taking more soldiers and churning them out with hard edges, each one no longer a person as much as an extension of the power of the nobles, and the king.
I think I can see the fortress, the outline of the camp, but I’m so tired I don’t even know anymore. I wonder what it’s like to rest. It feels like forever since I’ve done so. Forever since I’ve had a moment of decent rest, untouched by the worries and perils of daily life. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve felt safe. How long has it been?
I really did see the fortress, and the outline of it becomes more and more clear as we move. I can feel our speed increase as each of us see it, desperate to not have to march anymore. My arms and legs are stiff, and I don’t know how many we’ve lost at the side of the road. Many, I think. Very many. More than there should’ve been. Most of them were a mix of the rich, who have never worked out a day in their sorry lives, and malnourished people like me, who barely had the strength to make it the first mile. I feel bad for both. No one should have to die alone on the side of the road because they couldn’t march fast enough, or well enough.
There are guards standing guard on the walls of the fort, and as we approach I can see them whispering about us. Probably talking about what a sorry bunch we are. How hard it must be for us to have made it this way. Gossip about how young we are, and how we won’t last a week here. I don’t really hear what they are saying, but I think some of them look at me. I think they have noticed the captain’s interest in me. It’s blatantly obvious, truthfully.
Me and Terry haven’t spoken a word to each other since she hinted about the revolution, and for that I am glad. I cannot forget how she almost tried to kill me, how I almost died at her hands. She is terrible, yet I still find it in me to feel sorry for her. Something like friendship blooms with me as I march with her, the source being the miles we have walked together.
A part of me knows that this marching was a test, but another part of me wonders how they could be so cruel to us. I know they have enough space to take us in vehicles, but they did not and let us suffer through the marching with no instruction. It’s cruel, survival of the fittest at its rawest form.
We finally reach the gates, and the captain gestures for the soldiers on guard to open it. They salute him before opening it, but do so quickly. The large wooden doors roll open, revealing something out of my nightmares. I have imagined this moment for so long, I have dreaded this moment for so long.
On the left side there are boring buildings, what I assume are barracks by their simple labels. On the left their are training fields, and I can see soldiers training, doing some sort of routine that involves pushups, running laps and some sit-up, burpee mix. It’s completely intriguing, watching them move in complete harmony, never pausing to wipe the sweat off their faces.
In front of us is a large building, the front being what looks like a cafeteria, the left wing a medical wing and the right seems off limits, which can only lead me to assume it’s the place for the captains and high ranking officials to stay and get work done.
The captain stops in front of us and takes out a scroll and a pen, and everyone quiets down, straining to here what he’s about to say.
“Soldiers of the Bone Legion, here are your barrack assignments. Please salute when you hear your name.” There are armed soldiers on all sides of us also holding scrolls, also holding pens. I can only assume they are marking off who survived and who did not, as quickly and efficiently as possible.
The names are in alphabetical order of last name, so it is many minutes before I hear my name called.
“Avis Saydreen, Y2.” I raise my arm into a salute, and it aches to do so. I can see each soldier mark off my name from the corner of my eye, but I can also see the captain make note of something next to my name. I do my best not to gulp. I know in that moment there will be pressure on me to do well.
“Teresa Sayk, Y2.” I almost snicker at Terry’s full name when I see her raise her arm into a salute as well, until I realize she is in the same barrack as me. The same person who just tried to kill me is now sharing a room with me. What absolute fun this is going to be. But I don’t hate Terry as much as I used to. She did let me go free, after all. I know she’s not all bad, I just need time that I’m not going to get.
It’s not long before we reach the end of the names, and the captain salutes back to us. “You will be dismissed to your barracks for the rest of the night. When you hear the bell you will be able to get supper from the dining hall. Please visit the medical wing if you are in need of medical attention. You are dismissed.”
We all scatter, heading off in our own directions. I can see the truck with our belongings pulling up behind us and I choose to go and wait over there. I still have no idea what Ma decided to pack for me, but I have a feeling there’s a lot of thought put into everything there. The truck pulls up and I watch, waiting for it to come to a stop. When it does, I move towards it quickly, fighting to get to the front. I have no patience to wait in a line to get my belongings. I do not want them to be stolen. I elbow until I’m in front, and glare at those who even try to approach me. The rich’s stuff has been tossed in the truck as well, and while I comb through the bags looking for my stuff I loop my fingers around anything of value hanging on the outside of bags and suitcases. I collect 5 pieces of jewelry, each one feeling expensive between my fingers. I finally find my bag, near the bottom of the stack of bags. It’s bulging with things, and I do truly wonder what’s in it again. Ma must have been very thorough with her packing.
Once I’ve got it I tuck the jewelry in it and push my way out towards the barracks. The next step is to get settled in what is going to be my ‘home’. It will not be my home, it will be somewhere I was forced to stay. I will not enjoy staying here, no matter what they tell me to do. My family is not here, and I only know one person who has tried to kill me before. It is difficult to be optimistic in these circumstances, but I keep my head raised high. I cannot give in now. They will be trying to break me, reshape me in their mold. I cannot let them break me. I cannot let them break me. I cannot let them break me.
The barracks are easy to understand, 50 rows each one with a letter, 50 sets of barracks in each one making for a grand total of 260 barracks, and each one seems to fit 12 comfortably. I don’t even know how many soldiers that means here, but I know there are a lot. A lot, a lot.
It takes some walking, but finally I find my barrack, Y2 carved into the front. It doesn't take much work to bring my bag in and find a bunk, and soon others begin pouring into the room. I sit on my bunk to claim it, one secluded in the back, underneath another bed. There isn’t much space for moving around, but that is not a luxury I expected to have. I do not see Terry come in, and the others avoid me, scared of the glares I send their way. I don’t want to be mean, but I’m hopeful that I can get an entire bunk to myself. It’s possible, maybe. There’s still two empty spaces, and once Terry comes in there will only be one. Once there is only one, I will have to wait and see if anyone else is coming.
A girl enters the barracks and catches my glare before I can wipe it off my face and doesn’t bunk with me, instead choosing a much nicer looking girl my age. No. There is only one more empty bed, and it is right above my head.
Terry enters the barracks and looks around, then meets my eyes. Her eyes do soften, to her credit, as she approaches me. I bare my teeth at her, probably looking more rabid than human in the moment. He blushes and hoists a suitcase up to the top bunk. I finally decide to open the bag, see what it has in it. When I unzip it, the first thing I see is a letter. Written by Ma, of course. I know that if I read it I’m going to start crying. I don’t want anyone here to see my weakness just yet. Of course, Terry has already seen me weak, but I cannot change that. That was beyond my control, unfortunately.
I set the letter aside and am grateful to see a blanket folded tightly to fit inside the bag. This is a thin mattress with an even thinner blanket, and I’m pretty sure this barrack is going to cool down quick when it reaches fall. Beneath even that I see a change of clothes, a mix of medicines that I don’t know how we managed to afford. Maybe Ma has been saving, preparing for this moment. I will have to protect this bag carefully. I can also see a picture, and a small pocket knife. I have to wonder how Ma managed to get all of these supplies, they must have cost a fortune for our family. Even I could never get my hands on these supplies when I was stealing in the streets, they were guarded too heavily. It feels like Ma was prepared for this, far too early. Was she really already preparing for me to be conscripted before I had even reached conscription age?
I wonder what led her to have all these things prepared, to spend so much money on a person who was about to leave the earth fighting in a battle she didn’t want to fight? I’ll never know. Even if I manage to survive the fighting, I will not return home the same. If I manage to survive the fighting, I will come home war torn, a soldier through and through as they’ve trained me to be. There is no chance I will come out of this like I went in, unscared for the most part. Why did I think life was hard before this?
I lay the blanket across my bed and shove the bag as far underneath the bed as it can go, so that no one will touch it or steal it. I then lay down, keep my eyes open so that I can see everyone else. They’re all still busy getting comfortable, although two of them have laid down and gone to bed already. Taking a quick nap, they had said before they fell asleep, and that had made me snort. I know they won’t be up at dinner, and will probably have to drag themselves out of bed in the morning. I won’t fall asleep, I will myself not to. It’s been a long day, but I will not fall asleep yet. I need to stay awake, stay aware. I try an attempt at small talk instead, to keep me distracted.
“Does anyone know what time it is?” I ask them. No one responds, until Terry above me answers. I grit my teeth. Of course, of all people she has chosen to respond.
“It’s 4:47. Dinner will be at 6.” I don’t ask how she knows this. She probably has a watch, but knowing the schedule already can only be credited to the rebellion. Of course the rebellion would have the camp times known, probably memorized as well. Of course. What else would I expect?
I can only try and rest without sleeping, then. Not very restful, but at least a reprieve for my weary muscles. God, am I tired. I can barely stand up without my legs quivering and my body going taut. Marching for however long we ended up marching does that to you, no surprise. But I know this can only be half of what they have prepared. What will we be doing tomorrow? I already dread it. A mix of conditioning, no doubt.
“Stay awake, Avis. Falling asleep won’t do you any good.” Terry, above me. I’m trying not to fall asleep, and she knows it. I hate that she knows it. Why can she tell, even when she can’t see me? I have been quiet this entire time, it shouldn’t be obvious now that I am falling asleep. But I am grateful for her talking to me, it gives me something to focus on when I am so close to falling asleep.
“I know,” I sigh from below her, pulling myself into a crouched sitting up position. There isn’t enough space for me to sit up completely straight, her bunk is very close by my head. I hope I don’t hit my head when I wake up in the morning, and I mentally dock that in my brain for myself. I cannot fall asleep now, I need to save that for later. “So.” One word, one syllable, has so much power to keep me awake. Just speaking helps me not to fall asleep, thankfully. Something about talking keeps my brain moving, although I wouldn’t know the scientific reasons for it.
“So.” Terry repeats the word as well, and I can hear that she is tired as well, which brings me something like joy, even though I am not happy. I do not mean to be mean, but I am glad that I am not the only one tired. I’m sure Terry is well conditioned and strong in the legs from her work, but apparently even this was a struggle for her. “Dinner is pasta. Always pasta.” Terry whispered down, quietly so that only I could hear her. Although she couldn’t see it, I nodded.
“Would you care for a walk?” I say it like the nobles would, with their posh accents and false nobility. They are nothing but noble, but impersonating them can usually get a laugh out of the people around me. Terry inhales sharply. I’m sure she’s heard jokes like the one I’ve just made, so I’m surprised.
“Not here, Avis.” I don’t know why she keeps saying my name. “And yes.”
I slide out of the bunk to stand by her and wait for her to swing her legs over the short metal bars they call railings. She takes the lead, swinging her legs quickly to cross the small space across the room. I follow, with a much slower pace. She is not nearly as sore as me, clearly. I can barely cross the room without wanting to sit back down, but she faces no similar qualms. I almost break into a jog to keep up with her fast pace.
She walks around the camp like she owns the place, and I try to mimic her movements and expressions. I need to seem like I belong here, too. If I don’t, I could become recognized as having a low work ethic, although I can work hard when I want to. She knows the place well, and leads me to a quieter part of camp with picnic tables. I’m quick to sit at one, and she follows me with a smirk.
“How did you end up here?” I’m quick to ask. I know that if this revolution is half of what I think it to be, she is here with purpose. She smirks at me, but is not quick to reveal any information that would give away anything that I actually want to know.
“Operation. There’s a few others here with me.” At least she has offered up something, a lot more than I was expecting. Others, part of the revolution, here. She sees the look on my face and laughs quietly. “The things you don’t know about the revolution could fill an ocean. You don’t even know their real name.”
I blush, even though it is no fault of mine and nothing that I could change now, or even years ago without a direct invitation to their group. I still have qualms about joining, but logic has taken hold of the panic that came immediately after the night, and I feel much more reasonable. Anything would be better than the oppressing nobles who pretend to be our equals, to be fair and just when they are anything but. At least I can come out and say when I have made a mistake, most of the time. Not as much as I should, truthfully. Maybe that’s why no one ever showed up to recruit me, or maybe it was some other reason. But I do not doubt that this revolution has eyes in most places.
“Why are you here?” She deflects the question back at me with ease, and I scowl as if it is not obvious.
“Conscription. I’m not part of any fancy group like you.” She laughs at that. At least I’ve kept a piece of my humor intact through the march, although I will have to hide it in the future. I glance at her, remembering back in the cabin. “When we’re around others, please call me Saydreen. It’s much more appropriate for our situation.” It really is. I am a soldier now, a pretty name based on a fragile butterfly does not suit me now. I need to be strong, not some eye catching moth.
She nods at me. “Please call me Terry or Sayk. Never Teresa. I haven’t been called that in years.” I nod at her with understanding. I can understand that, of course. It is hard to be taken seriously when your name sounds like it is from centuries ago. Probably passed down, too. A family name just as much as the last name is.
We sit in silence after that, both of us reveling in our thoughts. I’m starving, and my thoughts revolve around finding a watch and the pasta Terry has said is for dinner. Of course, I do not know whether this information is accurate. Terry sees my eyes trail over to her watch many times, and she smiles gently.
“Would you like to have my watch?” I inhale sharply, knowing how much that watch is worth. Everything she owns is worth so much. She sees the look in my eyes and laughs, much gentler than before. “Don’t worry, I can get another one. I don’t need this one.”
“I-” I’m lost for words. Would she actually offer me mine, deem me important enough to hold such an important possession? Or if not important, expensive. “I would love it.” She carefully undoes the clasp and removes it from her wrist to transfer it to mine. I do not know how I managed to get in her good graces, but I am grateful however I did. She works her fingers to tighten the clasp, and glances at me to make sure I’m not in any pain.
“Does that fit alright?” She has already asked me this with her eyes, but I nod anyway.
“Thank you, Terry. This is the most expensive gift I’ve ever been given.” She winks at me, and glances at my watch now to check the time.
“We’d better start heading back. I have a feeling we won’t have such a fast pace this time around.” She’s probably right. My legs still feel like jello. “And don’t go around telling everyone where you got that watch, I don’t have enough for everyone.” She grins and stands up. I can’t find it in me to stand up, just one more minute. She offers me a hand, and I take it. One more minute would become two and would become three until we’ve completely missed dinner.
I find myself studying the watch as we walk, its thick leather band, finely polished and carefully shined glass face. I realize that I have no idea how to read it. All clocks in my house were boringly plain, with the numbers displayed easy to read. 8:45. 7:21. Never with three arrows of different lengths. I think we were taught to read these kinds of clocks in our primary school, but it has long since left my memory.
I don’t want to ask Terry for help, admit she knows something I do not. She already knows so much more than me, I don’t want to be so behind her that it’s comical. I’ll figure out how to read this clock on my own. Not with her help.
I can see the cafeteria as we near it. More weathered soldiers are already there, waiting in a quickly forming line that seems to snake all the way around the building. The dinner bell hasn’t even rung yet, and I feel bad for the new recruits, probably still asleep in the barracks. Terry urges me to pick up a faster pace so we can get in line with everyone else. I know it’s going to be a bit of a wait to get our food, given that we are in line at the back of the building.
“We’ll need to be quicker tomorrow?” I’m asking Terry, and I don’t know why I didn’t just say it like a statement. But I do want to know what Terry thinks, she is experienced in this, much more than I am. She is knowledgeable in this area.
I can hear the bell ring when Terry nods. “We should have a bit of freetime before dinner, after training. And we’ll have freetime after dinner until we go to sleep or until lights out. They never told us about lights out, but if you’re caught out of a bell when the night bell rings you can be severely punished.” I laugh, and I know Terry knows before I say it. I’m sure she echoes my thoughts.
“It’ll be a miracle if I’m still awake by lights out!” It’s a joke, mostly, but I really am exhausted. I won’t mind a few extra hours of sleep if I can gleam them. Terry laughs along with me, stifling her laughter with a cough. We’re surrounded by older recruits, and they laugh along with me. I didn’t realize they were listening in our conversation, but I’m glad I made the joke now. If my entire Legion hates me, at least I won’t have all the other recruits hating me, too.
“Trust me kid, it’s a miracle if I’m awake by the end of dinner.” A guy in front of us laughs, and his friend slaps him on the back. Along with being more trained than us, they are actually older than us. I’ve almost forgotten that these people are older than us, at least older than 18. The oldest among us aren’t even 18.
“What are kids like you doing here? There’s no way y’all are 18.” This guy has an accent, he’s from somewhere southern. It makes me wonder how far our city actually spreads. Much farther than I thought, for sure. I wonder if they had to march here like us.
Terry answers for us both. “Neither of us are. Bone Legion, ages 16-18.” The two inhale sharply and share a look with her. I wonder if they know her, and ended up to them not by chance but by careful timing. I look at her, question in my eyes and she nods. These two are part of the revolution, too.
I need more time to process the magnitude of this revolution, the scale of it much larger than I had originally imagined it to be. How did it ever end up being such a large movement? How did they end up with so many people!
Now…I’m not sure. A part of me wants to join it, to join up, to join where I could make a difference. But another part remembers what Terry was told to do to me, and I don’t want to have to do that to an innocent, ever. Another part is so aware of who I need to be for my parents, and another part is so aware of who I need to be for me. I’m torn, straight down the middle, to put it simply. I don’t know how to pick a side, but I hope that I’ll have time before I make a choice, pick an option.
The line is quick, many people here are practiced in getting their food and getting out. The quicker you finish eating, you get to go to sleep. I can’t wait for a meal, more than I’ve been getting at home by the looks of what the soldiers are carrying away on plastic plates. I also can’t wait to sleep.
I watch the line slowly form a much more contained length, and it’s finally our turn. It’s set up buffet style, but a woman on the end of the metal serving table, a chafing table, her eyes on us and the food watchfully. I’m careful to let Terry go in front of me so I can copy her movements, see how much she takes.
She grabs a plastic play and uses the serving spoon to put a heaping scoop on her plate, but only one. She looks back at me with instructing eyes and sets the spoon back in the noodles. I pick the spoon and quickly fill it with as many noodles as can fit before dumping it on my tray. The lady in the back glares at me but says nothing, so I must assume I’ve done it right, to my happiness. I’m sure she’s waiting for someone new to make a mistake so that she can tell them off…or worse. I don’t know whether it’s worth warning the other people to not take more than one helping, but Terry shakes her head and grabs a stale looking bread roll from a pile of them, and I follow suit. When we reach the serving lady she raises her eyebrows at us, and I freeze.
“Teresa Sayk, Bone Legion, #122920.” She recites it perfectly without missing a beat, and I realize how lucky I am to have Terry here, instructing me. I would be lost if not for her, and I am grateful for her help. The serving lady looks at me expectantly and with some pause, I begin.
“Avis Saydreen, Bone Legion, #122919.” She looks uninterested in us when she shoos us away disappointedly. I’m now sure she’s looking to pick a fight with one of us, no matter how it ends. I walk away, hot on Terry’s heels and struggle onto a picnic table, which is really just cheaply nailed together wooden boards hardly enough to stay standing, unfortunately. Maybe if they were more sturdy some people wouldn’t be moving to sit on the ground.
I realize that I have no utensils, and Terry pulls some out of her pocket and hands me the carefully wrapped silver. I dip my head to her and dig in, and the two older guys that had been before us in line sit down by us, grinning about some joke I haven’t heard yet.
“We never got introduced. I’m Clark.” I almost snicker at the guy on my left’s name. No one uses the name Clark anymore, and such a name is funny to hear. It sounds like what a grandparent would be called. He scowls at me, but I think it’s for show.
The guy on Terry’s side grins. “Don’t worry, we all give him a hard time. He’s just playing with you, aren’t you Clarky-Warky!” He teases, using his ‘baby voice’ on Clark. “I’m Sam.” Now that sounds a lot more normal, when compared to the other guy’s name. I’m sure they’re just teasing each other about their names, and I hope I haven’t actually hit a nerve. But Clark is grinning and Sam is grinning, so I have to think this is a joke often used between the two of them.
I grin as I eat, but stay silent. I’m grateful for the food, although it tastes disgusting. I’ve been so hungry, so much so I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until I saw the food. Terry glances worriedly at me a few times but I’m so zoned out I don’t notice, my eyes trained on a spot somewhere over the wall that surrounds camp while my hands use the silverware she gave me to shovel food into my mouth. I’m not listening to their hushed conversation anymore, although in the back of my mind I know it’s probably important. Probably something I should be listening to.
But I can’t bring myself to listen in, and when I’m finished I stand up and announce my departure. “I’m going back to the barracks, I’ll see you guys later.” Terry glances at me and shovels the last of the food into her mouth and chews carefully.
“I’m coming, too. I could sleep forever.” She sighs and stands up with her plate. “Follow me.” I grab my plate as well and follow her to an overflowing trash bin, where she tosses in the plate but pockets the silverware. I copy her and shove the silverware into one of my back pockets without care. I’m practically swaying as I walk, moving like I’ve picked up a few pounds and have become bulky. I really haven’t, though. No new muscle, no new weight, although I’m sure that’s coming. They can’t have a twigs firing guns when the guns weigh more than the twig who has to use it.
When we reach the barracks we still haven’t said a word, although I’m not sure if that has to do with our tiredness or her thoughts being focused elsewhere. I assume that whatever hushed conversation she had with Clark and Sam was important and probably has her worried or something, but I’m too focused on the sight of the bed that I have claimed as mine to worry.
I collapse onto it, literally. My arms and legs are splayed out as far as they can go with the tight space and my head is against the mattress. I can hear Terry above me lay down with much more focus and settle into a comfy position. I’m comfortable as is, I think I could sleep on a rock right now and not mind.
“Are you alright, Avis?” Terry calls down from above me. It’s just us in the barrack, everyone else is still at dinner. She doesn’t have to mind her voice, make sure it’s at a good level. “You seemed really off during dinner.”
I almost laugh, because she’s barely known me for a few days. How would she know if I were ‘off’? Although she is right, I was really off during dinner. Usually I’m more focussed, able to pull myself together even when I’m feeling terrible. Put on a bright face so that my family doesn't see the hurt, worry about me. But I guess that’s the problem.
“I’m just missing home, and I’m tired.” She doesn’t respond, and I think she has fallen asleep. Minutes pass, and I feel my mind drifting, although I stay awake, waiting for something.
My breathing is even, if she’s not asleep already I’m sure she thinks I am. I almost miss it when she finally responds in a whisper, words I was probably never meant to hear. “Home.” She sounds sad, I think as I finally fall asleep.









V
I wake up to a bell ringing, and then Terry shaking me. I don’t want to get up yet, I’m more sore than I was yesterday.
“C’mon, Avis, get up. We need to go, now.” I finally managed to sit up, groaning as I do. My entire body feels like it’s a wet cloth that’s been rung out and left damp, and I’m pretty sure I have bruises all over my body. I don’t know how I managed to get such pains, until I remember yesterday. I’ve waken up in so many places in the past few days, and in most–all of the places I’ve felt sore. What a great feeling it is.
I feel Terry pull my arm, urging me out the door, ignoring the others who are slow to rise. I guess we’ve made a pact now, to help each other even if it’s her doing most of the helping. I keep my legs stiff, limping out the door, trying to match her quick pace. I don’t know how she manages to keep on going, even in the face of the pain I know she must be feeling, because it can’t just be me who’s sore to the bone and can’t move.
She pulls me out the door, and she breaks into a slow jog. “Role call, then breakfast.” She explains as I follow her, quickening my pace into something a little faster than before, but not nearly as fast as her.
“Right.” She growls at me and practically drags me across the room from the way she is pulling my arm. I speed up a little to lessen the pressure and pull she has created.
“Avis, hurry up. If we’re not there in time we’ll be punished. Struck by a gun on the back in front of everyone. Come on, Avis, you're going to make us late!” She’s much quicker in her steps, and I do not attempt to stop her now, my eyes have widened at her words. I cannot be punished so early on, I have a good reputation and I don’t want to ruin it. We’re practically in a dead sprint, but she does her best to keep our pace steady.
As we near the common area where we arrived, I can see lines of soldiers forming quickly, in legion order. I assume it’s alphabetical order, which means me and Terry will be next to each other, given that our names were called next to each other yesterday. “Slow down, and try not to breathe heavily.” Terry hisses at me, trying to make it look like we didn’t rush over here late.
I try to steady my breathing and glare out over the rows of forming soldiers, getting in line near the back of soldiers who look young enough to be in our legion. I can see the other legions now, looking at us skeptically. Probably wondering why we’re so young. I don’t blame them, I’m wondering why we’re here, still. I haven’t had much time to think about it, but I do think it’s for more reasons than our so-called ‘quick reflexes’. They could train anyone to have quick reflexes, a bunch of 16 year olds aren’t going to help them much, no matter what they try to convince themselves of.
“Why’d we leave everyone else behind?” I feel kind of bad for abandoning everyone else in our cabin, but I’m not sure why Tory did it when she knew what would happen to them.
Tory growls at me with little sympathy in her eyes. I suppose she must have taken a liking to me, for whatever reason, because she treats me better than everyone else. Maybe she’s trying to make up for the attempt on my life. “Avis, we didn’t have time. I barely had time to get you and me over here without getting in trouble, you know?”
Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I nod my head but then straighten up when I see captain near by, who eyes me with approval scrawled across the lines of his face. I keep an even look on my face, but I feel a boost of pride in me. I am his current favorite, and so I will have a slight advantage here. I don’t know how I earned it, but I have it now and have to make the most of it.
He doesn’t even spare Tory a look, and I can hear her let out a sigh of relief, and I wonder why. Why would she not want to be in the favors of the captain when he has our fates all tied together and is conducting them like we are in an orchestra? At least right now he has reason to keep my string close, and not tangled with the others and the messy problems of war.
I wonder if it’s because I’ll be under more scrutiny by everyone. I’m sure that’s the last thing she wants, when she’s part of an illegal organization with the goal to take out the people watching. Staying close to me will keep her high, but not high enough as long as she stays mediocre enough. I’m sure she knows the mark to aim for so that she isn’t obviously the best of us. She has come heavily prepared for this, and I almost wonder if she…knew. But that would be impossible, most conscription lists are finalized only days before they are sent out.
Maybe this was a more calculated move, though. I don’t know. It all seems strange, to have us out in the field instead of anyone else. Maybe this was preplanned and more of a warning than I thought. Maybe. They really are losing by feeding us, housing us and training us, though. We aren’t worth much.
I can hear names being called out, and I do little to listen in. It looks like it’s being called by legion, and it’s not our legion. Yet. The salutes come from rows in front of us and slowly work their way back to where me and Terry are, almost completely alone in our legion. I’m glad that Terry is here, because if she hadn’t dragged me out of bed this morning, I wouldn’t be here. I would still be in bed, although I’m not sure what I prefer more. I’m sure I’ll be glad that I got up, later. Once I’m not exhausted and it doesn't feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.
Slowly, the rollcall reaches our legion, where the gaps where soldiers should be is obvious. As the names are called out and no one salutes, the guards surrounding us slowly disperse to find the deserters and, as I assume, punish them. I watch as the few recruits who have reached here salute in order, and it reaches closer to where me and Terry are.
“Avis Saydreen, #122919.” The moment I hear my name called I snap my arm up to my face in a stiff salute, copying the salutes I have seen from the experienced recruits from other legions.
“Teresa Sayk, #122920.” Her arm flies up only a moment slower than mine did, although I know it’s on purpose from the expression on her face. I can only see her from the corner of my eye, but I can see her mouth turned down a little in focus. She had to focus on not going too fast, and not going too slow. She’s very disciplined.
I hear the names to continue to be called but do not lower my arm, where it stays stiff at my face. The captains wandering eyes find my arm many times to make sure it is straight, and once he nods his approval. Just once, but I again feel familiar pride in me.
It’s not long before all the names have been called and a number of the guards are gone to find the recruits remaining sleeping or finding their way over here.
“Diamondback Legion, dismissed.” I see the legion in the front move as one, snapping their arms back down and forming a marching line towards the cafeteria, where they will be served first. I can assume they are the most experienced out of all of us, and the closest to joining the war effort for real.
“Harrow Legion, dismissed.” They wait for the legion to reach a sustainable distance away from us before they dismiss the next legion, the Harrow Legion. The Harrow Legion copies what the Diamondback Legion before did, snapping their arms down and forming a marching line towards the cafeteria. Soon there is only the legion in front of us and our legion left.
Another pause before they dismiss the next legion. “Ghast Legion, dismissed.” The next legion copies the other two with skill, but not as in sync as the others. I suppose they’re newer and are still working on it, much like we will be doing.
I watch as their backs retreat and their figures grow smaller. “Bone Legion, dismissed.” I watch Terry from the corner of my eye along with all the other recruits as we begin to form a line similar to what we saw the other legions do, with much less precision. I suppose that’s how the first day will be, figuring things out without instruction. I’m not thrilled.
Our legion doesn’t get very far before we are in line behind the other legions. Like before, the line is snaking and long, albeit fast moving. I can’t see what is being served, but Terry leans forward and whispers in my ear from behind me. “Eggs, bacon, toast.” I have enough pride not to gawk, but I am impressed. Feeding 4 legions like this? It has to be expensive, worth a buttload of money probably provided from what people like my family should have. Gained through taxes and similar things that are unnecessary but required for us to buy. Even small things like the price for living in a house can probably provide enough food for a soldier, with how much it costs nowadays.
“It’s not as nice as your imagining, I promise.” Terry must’ve seen some shift in my face, and I do my best to compose myself as we move closer to the food. “Still have your silverware?” She asks me quietly, eyes scanning the recruits around us carefully. If I had been paying more attention yesterday I would have seen many recruits eating without silverware–Terry was kind enough to loan me hers but not everyone is lucky enough to have the luxury. I wonder if there’s something you have to do to earn the silverware here, some unspoken rule.
I pat down my pockets until I find them and nod, slightly. If she was able to see my face change, she would be able to see my nod. She nods back at me and then refocuses on the line and the steadily approaching cafeteria.
I’m in line before her, so when we finally reach the front I am on my own. It’s the same setup as yesterday–I wonder if this stuff has even been washed, but I shake the thought off. I’m assuming it’s the same rules as before, so I heap the scoop with the pale yellow scrambled eggs and dump them on my tray before moving on to the bacon. I don’t know what the rules are with this, so I watch for a moment, seeing how much others take. Most take three pieces or less, so I take three. I’m starving, and don’t err on the side of caution today; I need the food. I grab only one slice of slightly burnt toast and move past the same lady as yesterday, who has not even spared me a glance. She’s more focussed on the others who are still getting their food, including Terry.
I keep a slow pace so that Terry can catch up to me quickly, and she does, holding a tray that looks almost identical to mine in terms of food quantity.
“So you figured out how to do it without my help,” She jokes, poking at me with the silverware she had pulled out of her pocket. “You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?”
I shove her lightly, although I made sure that it wasn’t hard enough to knock anything off her tray or catch her off balance. I didn’t want to ruin this carefully built mentor-mentee relationship we had…or maybe we were becoming friends? I’m not sure, and I can’t come out like in school and ask her if we are friends. It’s not that simple anymore, unfortunately.
We sit down at the table where Clark and Sam are sitting and eat our food quickly, probably eager to finish before it is taken away. I know we have drills in the afternoon because of when we arrived, and I’m sure we have them in the morning, too. Eat quickly or you won’t make it in time, each hurried scoop says. I eat just as fast as them, using the silverware Terry has given me well. The food is, as Terry said, alright. It’s not good, it’s not bad. It’s not quite tasteful, but it’s not completely bland. It’s on the hard line between disgusting and just fine.
It’s not the cleanest or politest meal I’ve eaten, but it might be the quickest. Terry, Clark and Liam are eating just as fast, if not faster. I can’t be the last one eating, or it’ll be awkward for me and for them. I’m almost choking on my food with how fast I’m eating each piece and shoving more in my mouth.
I finish only seconds after Terry, and she gestures for me to follow her to the trash where I drop the plate off and pocket the silverware again. I can see in Terry’s face that she’s looking for a serious discussion, and I nod my head toward our barrack. For two reasons: to give us a bit of a walk so we can talk and so that I can drop off this silverware. I don’t want this to become some wrestling match over the fork that fell out of my pocket while I was running laps.
Terry looks around before speaking. “Avis, I’m sorry for what happened.” I know what she’s talking about. When she was given the order that made me run, and made my decision about this new revolution group. I keep my eyes straight ahead and don’t react, which she takes as permission to continue talking. “I know you got the wrong idea when my boss ordered me to…” she paused and glanced around us again, as if someone were trailing us.
“You didn’t do it, that’s all that matters.” I say it firmly, trying to close the conversation. I don’t know where this conversation is going, all I know is that it’s probably not somewhere I want to go.
“I know that you would never consider joining the revolution now, because of what you’ve seen us do. But…I don’t know, I just have this feeling that we need your efforts. I don’t want to ruin…whatever we have right now by trying to get you to join, but this is me, extending a hand to you. I want you to join up with us, and you can make a difference.” I wonder how many people she’s said this, or a similar thing to. This little speech, convincing them to join the revolution.
I stop in my tracks and turn to face her. “No.” I can see her face fall, and I turn away. My answer still stands, though. I will not join this revolution after what happened. If that’s what they do, kill innocent people, I don’t want to be remotely involved. Never will I choose to be involved with something like this, even if it means I am missing my chance. Even greatness has a cost, one I am unwilling to pay and will never consider doing something like what she was ordered to do. I have boundaries, and there are many lines I am unwilling to cross.
There’s this feeling in my stomach…and I know that I will have to cross these lines soon, whether it is because of the war or because of the coming revolution–and believe me, the revolution is coming, and soon.
“I’d have to ask you to reconsider, Avis, but I won’t push.” I don’t respond to her. I will not reconsider, but saying no to her will only lead to more pushing, nothing good will come if I say no again. Silent is the best approach in some situations. This happens to be one of those situations.
The barracks continue to draw closer, and that’s when I start to hear the sound of human agony. It is now that I remember those we left behind in favor of protecting ourselves. Me and Terry have caused harm in saving ourselves. I’m sure they’ve been punished for their lack of knowledge, deemed as ‘desertion’. It makes me want to scoff at what our army has decided is true. Not having a link or a large amount of insight leads to punishment.
There are many who have been punished, as I can hear from the sounds inside the barracks. I suppose they wouldn’t be allowed to go to the hospital wing when the punishments were inflicted by guards with authority.
I almost want to run, abandon all plans to drop off the silverware that I am fortunate to have, that Terry gave me. I realize, with a pang, that Terry is the only reason I am not in the barrack in pain with everyone we abandoned. If this continues, I will be in her debt, and I don’t doubt that she will not use her resources, no matter what relation we manage to build. She will do whatever it takes to survive, and I respect that. So will I, as long as I can, even if it means I backstab my friends as I stay above the tide. As long as my family stays safe, and so do I. Call it messed up, but it’s the only option I have now. I need to survive now more than ever, with my dangerous position. There is not much I can do to stop what is coming, only shield myself.
We enter the cabin and I realize everyone but one person is still in bed, clearly in pain. I watch Terry from the corner of my eye, who does her best to conceal a well hidden frown. I can feel her concern from the look in her eyes that she tries to hide, does so much to keep me and everyone here from seeing. But I still catch it.
I move quickly towards my bunk, and no one says a word although I can feel the countless eyes on my back. I fight to keep a blush off my face, I do not want to be the target of their disappointment and resentment when I am already a target with the captain’s favor for me, or at least I think it’s favor. Maybe it’s something more like hate, although I will not know until we start our training. I wonder if everyone here will have to go through training, but I am able to answer my own question. Yes, the army will not spare them when it is their fault they have been punished and injured. A domino effect, something so simple as not getting out of bed in time will cause so many problems for these people. For everyone here, it will be a slippery slope, and a hard one to get back on.
I quickly slip the silverware into a pocket of my bag and make note of where it is carefully covered by the note from my mother, then shove the bag back under the bed. Nothing should be stolen. I can feel the watch, also given by Terry, catch on the frame of the bed as I pull my hand back out, and I again take a moment to examine the carefully made wristband and face of it. How can something so simple be so important to so many? How can life revolve around something as simple as moving lines and simple ticks? I do not know, I do not even know how to read this watch, but I am determined. This watch means so much to me, it is both a learning opportunity and the hand of friendship being extended to me.
I haven’t really had a friend before, and Terry is almost everything I had imagined it would be. I cannot believe how fate has pulled it’s strings until we have become friends, when only days ago we were enemies. How can such a thing be? This world, I realize, is so complicated. It makes me wonder, it makes me think. I wonder about the revolution. In only a day so much has been revealed to me about the nature of things, and I wonder. Could the revolution be different from the impression I have gotten? I do not know, but I plan to find out.
Once Terry has climbed down from her bunk I make way for the exit, eager to be away from the prying eyes who now resent me. Move quickly towards the door where I’m almost sprinting to get away. Terry follows closely on my heels, and when we are outside I turn to face her, anger clearly written on my face.
“Why didn’t we help them? All we had to do was say something on our way out and it would have helped them!” I don’t think I’m making much sense. I’m just so angry, and seeing others in pain has gotten me worked up over little.
“Avis, calm down. We had to get ahead.” Terry places a hand on my shoulder and I shake it off. I do not want to be comforted right now, I don’t deserve it. And frankly, neither does Terry. What she has just said–I take a step back from her.
“Terry, a few words could have changed what happened. It wouldn’t have been that difficult.” I glare at her, sharper this time. “Getting ahead is a terrible reason! If this is what you do…I just…can’t.” I rake my hands down my face to make my point. If what she is doing is really like this, including what the revolution is about, then I take back everything I said before. I am not curious. Maybe everything really is black and white, and I accidentally smudged it. Maybe my fantasies are getting in the way of my reasoning. I know it’s probably getting in the way of my reasoning.
Her eyes go wide, and I don’t know why. She’s staring at me with such awe I can’t even comprehend it. “I knew it. I knew you were special!” I clearly look confused, but she doesn’t spare me another glance. She quickly looks around, as if I am a secret who needs to be hidden. There’s no one around us, but she grabs my arm with such a sense of urgency I would almost guess that there were captains ordering soldiers to fire at us. “Avis, we need to gt out of here, now.”
I pull my arm away from her, disgusted. “No, did I not make myself clear? There’s no good reason for what you did, and I cannot be by you right now.”
“Avis, I’m serious, we need to get out of here. Look at your hair.” I’m confused, and don’t move, so she takes a tighter grip on my arm and literally drags my towards a more private area, and shows me a strand of my hair. It takes me a moment to register the fact that it is red. Literally bright red, almost pulsing.
I jerk away from her. “What the heck! What did you do!” I demand, pointing an accusatory finger at her, and I can see I am shaking.
She looks calm when she responds. “Not me, you.” She takes a tentative step towards me, and holds out her hand. “Look, we need to go. You need to calm down, and it will go back to normal.” I think her mutter under her breath: ‘I think’. I focus on doing what she has just told me to do, and focus on my breathing. In and out, until I do feel fine. She breathes a sigh of relief next to me, and shows me a strand of my hair. It’s back to normal finally.
“How did you know that would work?” I ask, trying not to explode at her again. She shrugs at me.
“I didn’t. But it changed colors when you were angry, so I guessed that once you calmed down it would go back to normal. Nothing more than a guess, though. I swear.” She must’ve known I was wondering if she had the same…ability as me. I don’t know what to call. “Avis, you’re going to have to be careful from now on. If anyone finds out that you can do…that, they’ll use you, or punish you. I don’t know what. But it won’t be good, I can tell you that.”
I blink at her, wondering. “Terry, everything here is going to make me angry in some way. How am I supposed to keep this,” I gesture at my hair with a clearly unhappy expression, “secret? Or even under control? I don’t even know how it works.”
I can see something in her face change, and I shake my head at her. “I can get you help.”
“No.”
She breathes quickly, eyes searching my face. “I don’t know if they’ll really be able to help, we’ve never had anything like you before.”
“No.” I repeat the word again, shaking my head much more aggressively at her.
She continues, despite my clear hostility towards her. I don’t want to be involved in what she thinks is good but is clearly bad. “And more then us helping you, you could be helping everyone. All the people trapped in this world. You’re being offered a way out and you’re not taking it.” Her eyes finish the question. Why?
“I said no.” I don’t let her continue to talk, opting to stalk off away from her and find somewhere where’s not annoying me. I try to keep my emotions in check. Apparently, every emotion I have is now visible to everyone, and more than that, when they can see my emotions they probably want to use me or kill me. I’m, as they say, stuck in between a rock and a hard place, and both are places I do not like being stuck between. I wish I had any easy way out of this, but the only options I’m seeing is taking Terry’s way out or sticking through this by myself.
Both are helplessly miserable, and neither is what I want to do. I would prefer being able to just lose the power without having to do anything, but never is anything that easy, obviously. Not that I’ve had enough time to try and cut the power out of me, like some cancerous cell, but I doubt it will work.
I can hear Terry jogging behind me to catch up and I snarl. Haven’t I made myself painfully clear, or was that not obvious when I left? When I left without saying a word to help, looking angry? “Avis, wait.” I pivot on my heel to face her, glaring at her tight face.
“I. Said. No. Or was that not clear?” Each word is cut tight with my anger as I force it out on her, and her eyes widen, and I know it’s my hair again. Before she can say anything I begin taking in deep breaths, in and out again. Cursed hair has left me so unfortunately positioned, that I now have to do breath exercises all the time.
“It’s not that. I don’t want to ruin anything we had going because of my offer.” I glare at her again, and this time she looks hurt.
“Was I not clear? The problem wasn’t even your offer, although that didn’t help, it was that you left everyone in our barrack behind like some backstabbing traitor.” That’s what’s really bugging me, not her persistent offers and pleas for me to join the revolution. I don’t want to be associated with someone like Terry if this is what she does. I know that, somewhere, she has a heart. But I don’t know where it has gone, because she seems unable to use it in situations involving strangers. The only reason she helped me in the first place was because she thought I had the letter, which I did. It was a win-win situation for her, when you took all things into consideration.
“I just wanted to get ahead, alright?” She finally admits unhappily, although it sounds like an accusation.
“And what happens when one of us is in need of help? Do you think they’re going to go ‘aw, they helped us on the first day so let’s help them!’? No! It’s going to be much more like ‘they’re backstabbing traitors so I’m not going to help and get ahead!’. Sound familiar?” Each word comes out like a fist to the gut for her, but I do not stop until I am finished with my thought. It comes out at a rant, and word quick and barely understandable as the next word overcomes the last.
She shrinks away from me, backing away a step. “Avis, I really am sorry for that. Believe what you want, but in some ways I do regret it.” I can’t decide how to take her apology. A part of me feels satisfied, because she has taken the words to apologize to me, winning me some pride and robbing her of some of hers. But the other part is still angry because of what she said. ‘In some ways’. Not in all ways, she doesn’t completely regret it. And that’s what’s making it hard for me to be with her, because she doesn’t completely regret her actions. She doesn’t regret the pain she has subjected someone else to, and I can’t stand that.
“And that’s the problem.” I say after a moment of pause, finally turning away from her slowly. Not angrily this time, but disappointed. I take one step forward, and then stop. Freeze. It’s an invitation for her. She can choose to follow me or not. I will not force people into decisions, or try and persuade them to do something they don’t want to do. I swear not to, if that is something you can swear by. I am not part of someone’s thinking process.
Terry notices my pause, and falls a step behind me before I stop walking. Keeping her at arms length away, and she is giving me the space I need to process. And I really do need to process. I have just discovered so much. I apparently have magical powers straight out of a children's book, and now I have to hide them from everyone despite my lack of knowledge in all things surrounding it. It;s an impossible task, to say the least. A task I don’t want, certainly. I don’t know when it became possible for so many bad things to happen to me, but I must’ve done something to upset the fates and gods of past civilizations. Because that is the only explanation, how could I be subjected to so much when I am only one person?




























VI
Training is difficult, to put it lightly. It’s only been a week since my arrival, but since then I have started to feel more and more inhuman. My muscles are stiff, and all I want is a day of quality sleep. My brain feels disconnected from my body, which is probably good because my hair doesn’t act up as much. Usually it’s when me and Terry are in private that it really causes problems, and even then I have gotten better at reining them in and focusing my thoughts away from whatever has caused the moodspike.
Terry and I…I don’t know how to describe our relationship. It's one built on a foundation that could hardly be called reliable and sturdy, and there are many things we don’t talk about. Many things that we have banished from all conversation, so that I do not have to focus on calming exercises and so that Terry can…gain whatever she is gaining from me. I do not know what it is yet, it is not very clear. Why she is still keeping me close, even as I keep her away from her life’s goal. It’s a mystery to me, and she does not give me any helpful hints or clues. She hardly talks now, and seems just as disconnected as I am. I think it’s because of one of the problems that have arisen in the revolution recently, one that I heard her and Clark discussing. Apparently, all communication to the revolution has been closed off, making it impossible for her to get messages there and impossible for them to get messages here. I have no idea what it could be that is causing this problem, but I try to stay interested even though Terry can tell that I am always leaning in on her conversations with the people she meets with on a daily basis.
Despite her being younger than most of the enlisted here, only 17, like me, she has a sense of authority over those I can only assume are members of the revolution. People that she whispers with in hushed tones seem to respect her greatly, making me wonder just how important she is to the revolution. But I try not to wonder as much as I can. I try to keep a neutral approach, so that I will not anger anyone including myself. Because, I will admit, I enjoy me and Terry’s ‘friendship’ and I gain much from it. Like the watch, that I am still unable to read. Or the silverware that she has given to me. Or the countless pieces of advice and words of encouragement she has given me during training. She is careful to be worse than me and a few other individuals, but not particularly poor at the exercises either. She manages to keep a completely neutral and uninteresting profile, while I have stayed at the top and under the captain’s watchful eyes.
I do have the captain banked as a reason I cannot join the revolution. How can I, when the captain is watching me so closely? I know that Terry will have a response to that, but I try to ignore that fact. I’m stubborn in this, and I w
ill not give into her discontinued pleas for me to join her in the revolution. I will not bend so easily to her will, even if she is only urging me with her eyes. She never speaks of the fight we had, but everytime she looks at me I can see something in her eyes, and I don’t know what it is. Resent for not joining, maybe. Or disappointment in my lack of participation in her purposeful jabs that she uses to try and get me to start talking about the revolution. She will not talk about it, but she will try and get me to talk about it. It seems to be an unspoken rule that she has written and decided I will obey, that she will not speak of the revolution unless I mention it first. Well, I am not so easily fooled that I would take her bait and lead her into the conversation she so desperately wants.
Everything we do is a careful dance, our actions and our conversations each being an intricate step that must be executed perfectly. And I do my best to dance, but it is liking dancing with traps set. She is waiting for me to fall in one, so she can spring like a cat attacking a caught mouse. Not the greatest metaphor to use when it is in relation to a friendship, or whatever we’re calling this thing we have. Maybe an alliance is a better word, when you think about it isn’t very friendly to be trying to get your so-called friend to do something she has clearly said no to multiple times.
Now I don’t even have the energy to say no, although she does not ask. It;s not a yes, though, either. I think that’s the purpose of working us through drills so hard everyday, to get us to be unresponsive and easy to mold into the soldiers they want us to be. Malleable, as, people. I do want to be molded into something I am not, some heartless cold person with no ideals for the world. That is not who I am, although I fear that is where I am headed, if things continue as they are going. In a negative direction.
I can see the effect the drills have on other recruits, too. They seem just as worn out as me, no longer willing to fight. We only walk like an army when commanded to, and we otherwise look like the walking skeletons of what used to be lively people. Now we only look forward to meal times and sleeping. And you know it’s bad when even Terry looks exhausted, cheeks thin and eyes slightly sunken. I can’t imagine what I must look like.
It’s a comfort when I climb into bed each night and have things from home so close. I still have not opened my mother’s letter, although I do not know whether it is out of fear or something else. Maybe wanting to save it for when I really need it. Having it remain a mystery is a comfort just as much as anything else, allowing me to imagine what it might say.
I have so many imagining for what this letter might say, each one crazier than the last. But each one is a comfort hold close during long training sessions, and difficult days.
I can’t believe it’s only been a week since I got here. I feel like it should've been at least a month. It’s hard to keep track, when each day is a repeat of the last. The only changes are the few conversations shared between me and Terry, and the even fewer conversations I have with the other recruits. I continue to work hard, and the captain continue’s to watch me.
Today, Terry finds me sitting on the bunk, only moments away from letting my eyes close and catching a quick nap before dinner, which has stayed the same throughout everything. The same pasta, night after night.
“Saydreen, get up.” We’re in the company of the other recruits, and she’s been good about listening to my request that she calls me by my last name in the company of others.
I groan and sit up with aching muscles, and hear a number of bones crack as I do so. I sound like a cracking fire when I get up in the morning, the pops of various joints getting ready to move after the few hours of sleep I am allotted every night, until I am shaken awake in the morning by Terry. Since the first day, there has not been a day when I get up without her help. I know the consequences of not getting up, but it becomes harder to bring myself to move each day, and Terry is probably the only reason why I am not covered in the lashes that most recruits have, the strikings of whatever the guards are using on their backs, leaving scars. I’ve never asked the recruits that have been punished what happened to them, and they do not choose to speak about it freely.
I’m sure if I asked they would answer, but I refuse to ask them what happened. I don’t talk about the painful things that have happened to me by choice, and I’m sure it’s the same for them. They do not want to relive the memories by sharing them. I don’t know how traumatic it was to each recruit, I am sure it varies from person to person based on how they were raised and what they’ve already had to face. I can see it takes a toll on the rich who arrived with us, and on the youngest among us, only 16.
“We’re allowed to send one letter to our family once a month, today’s the day. Get up, now.” She grabs my arm and pulls me out, and I can see her touch something in her pocket, and I realize she had parchment and pencils or pens to share with me, but not with the other recruits. I nod at her, and pick up the pace, moving out of the cabin quickly. Before we exit she turns around to face the other recruits in our cabin. “You guys can mail something, too, if you have supplies. Letter drop off is during dinner, there will be a man there with a basket for you to put it in. Make sure you address it to your family’s address.”
Recently she’s been making an effort to help everyone in our cabin, and I know she’s trying to make it up to me. It’s dizzying to be with her, I’m never sure of her intentions. She’s always either trying to get me to step into one of her traps, or to try and apologize to me for her actions on the first of our days here.
“Benches?” I ask as we walk, and she nods. The flimsy picnic benches have become a spot for us to hang out, and there usually aren't many there. It’s out of the way from the rest of the camp, and a bit of a walk. Most recruits prefer trying to get minutes of sleep in their free time, anyway. It’s not difficult to wonder why they would miss out on being able to explore camp when all I want to do is sleep, too. But Terry always pulls me along on her walks around camp, and I usually don’t say no. I know there’s a real purpose to these walks, and something involving the revolution involved in every person she stops to walk to, but I try to keep my nose out of her business. I do not care about the revolution, I have to tell myself every single time I am remotely curious. I have said no, and although the offer still stands, I will not join up. No matter what.
When we finally reach the benches we take a seat, and Terry slides the pieces of paper out of her pocket and hands me a pencil. I’m sure the pencil was expensive, like all the other things she owns, because it is engraved with her initials. The wood is nice, something other than the cheaply manufactured wood most pencils have, the kind of wood I’ve used during school when I attended.
“Do you know what you’re going to write? Who are you going to write to?” I inquire, watching as she
twirls the pencil around in her fingers. She shakes her head.
“What about you? Do you know who you’re going to write to?” She reflects the question easily, and I shrug at her.
“My family, I guess. There’s not really anyone else that I want to write to, or even that I could write to.” I haven’t really thought about it that much, but it’s the obvious choice. Why would I write to someone other than my family? I do wonder though…if she’s not telling the truth. I know that she said there was a problem with communications within the revolution, and I don’t know if that problem is still a thing, although I’m sure our mail will be screened before being sent out. There’s no way that they would allow us to send letters and then not care whether or not we were giving away confidential information regarding how the camp works, the locations and even the tactics we are being trained to use. It’s all a mystery to me, and it’s not like I have any information to give away, but I am still curious about what she could do to disguise the findings I know she has.
She nods at me. “Right.” She looks at me in a way that almost makes me think she doesn’t believe me, although I don’t know why she wouldn’t.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Who else do you think I would write to?” I raise my eyebrows at her, more angry than I give away. I have been doing well hiding my emotions from people, and it comes in handy more than I know. It comes in handy in normal conversations when I don’t want even my small emotions to be known and noted by others.
She shakes her head, as if trying to shake off some idea that has become stuck in her mind. “It’s nothing.” I’m careful to conceal the wave of anger I feel rippling through me, because I know it’s not ‘nothing’. The way she looked at me and the way she said the words, I know there’s something more on her mind than what she’s revealing. I don’t know what it is, but I know I can push for it.
“What? It’s not ‘nothing’ clearly.” My words are bitten out with a venomous tone, and I can’t help but glare at her now. I need to know why she is looking at me like that, because if it has anything to do with the revolution I will not be happy.
She shakes her head at me again, and I can see her mouth form the words ‘it’s nothing’ again before she changes her mind. “Do you really want to know? Even if it makes you angry and you decide you want to bite my head off?”
I know she’s trying to make an attempt to be funny and lighten the conversation, but I narrow my eyes at her and nod. “Yeah, I do want to know, Teresa.”
She doesn’t react to me using her real name, but I can see a flash of resent in her eyes. “Fine. I’m wondering if the reason you’re refusing to join the revolution is because you’re secretly working for a noble and you’re trying to get me to give you something and then you join the revolution and…” She finally shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes. “I said it was stupid. Just forget it.”
It really was stupid. Really stupid. It doesn’t even make real sense, truthfully. It really didn’t make any sense, when you thought about it. “If I worked for a noble I would have taken your offer right away. I could’ve gained way more information by being involved in the revolution than I could by making you try and convince me to join, which, I will point out, still hasn’t worked for you, has it? And it never will.” I finish with a glare, watching her expression as I speak. I don’t enjoy it when she accuses me of these things, nor do I enjoy it when she secretly tries to push me in the direction of joining the revolution. It should be my choice, and my choice alone whether I join or not, not hers. She should have no part in whether or not I join her group, and I do not want to be bribed into joining.
If you have to be bribed into joining a group, the group is clearly bad, there is no question about that. Getting new members should be easy if the group is truly good, but they haven’t even gained a good reputation yet. Killing the guards at the execution of Loris Houghton was a risky move, and it did nothing to improve their reputation. It made them more well known, yes, but not positive.
I still refuse to harm someone else, and that seems to be what this group is about. Harming the guards was strategic, but damaging. And not to mention when Terry was ordered to kill me. The group is anything but positive, and there are many rough edges involved here. I do not want to become a rough edge, a person forced to harm others, arguably innocents for a cause.
Why does war have to be so messy? Why can’t it be decided with simple negotiations, not trying kill each other’s soldiers? War is so messy, and I am not a messy person. I would like to believe I am sweet and kind, and I do my best to appear so at all times. I do my best to not be negative, but sometimes it is unavoidable. Sometimes, my temper gets the best of me. Sometimes I can’t help but explode at people, even though they haven’t done anything. Sometimes, once all the emotions I’ve bottled up get full, I explode. And whenever I explode, everyone around me gets hurt in some way or another.
I wonder when I’m going to explode here. Bottling up everything I feel can’t be good for me. So many things make me mad, and choosing to keep it all trapped inside of me is going to lead to an explosion, but there are so many people here. And with my new ability…I’m going to have to be extra careful now. More careful than I’ve ever been, for sure. Now, I’m going to have to focus on being safe for everyone around me. I hope that this won’t end badly. For me, and for everyone around me. All I know is that something is going to happen, and soon. The arguments I manage to have with Terry only release a fraction of the anger I keep inside of me, and not nearly as much as it should. I need to be better and release it more often, but that just isn’t possible here.
“Why wouldn’t you just write to your family?” I challenge, eying her and her still blank page. She blinks at me sadly and then glances away from me.
“They’re not here.” Oh. They’re dead. I feel a pang of sympathy for her, I wouldn’t know the pain of losing a family member and my family has always been intact. And for that, I am lucky. Many families around us have lost kids in the war efforts, or to the diseases that run rampant around our part of the city. Some have died for disobeying authority. Some have just up and disappeared with no obvious reason, and we don’t know where they end up. It’s not like the noble’s and authorities bother looking into the disappearance of some poor boy’s father. They aren’t getting paid more to follow some nonexistent lead that probably doesn’t exist. But people always hope that maybe, if they can scrape enough money for the officers, they can convince the officers to actually look into things. But it’s never enough, and the officers always refuse. Always refuse to help the poor, even if they managed to scrape together a living. The officer’s would rather die than assist us in something that we really want. Why would they ever help us?
“I’m sorry for pushing.” I murmur to Terry, and bow my head at my paper. Terry looks down, too. I need to get writing, or it won’t be done before supper.
The words don’t come, though. I don’t know what to say to my family, I feel like I;ve changed so much since they last saw me. I don’t know what they;d think of me now. Maybe I can comfort them, convince them I’m fine.

Dear family,

It’s the same way I started my last letter to them, the one I left behind in my absence. I realize, with a sense of solemnity, that my family is now incomplete. They must feel as if they have lost me and I have died. For all purposes, I have.

It’s been a week. I’m sure it’s the same for you guys. I hope you’re holding up alright. I promise, I’m fine. I know it’s probably hard for you guys now that I’m not helping, but hopefully Pa’s job is helping. It’s a good thing you got it when you did, Pa. Leida, I hope you’re doing well in school. Your grades really do matter, and I know you want to hangout with your friends, but please study. For me, if for anything. If you can just study a little bit everyday, it would help so much. Just a little bit. If you study hard enough, maybe you can even get a really good job, one with a good pay. Wouldn’t that be great? A job that doesn’t leave you sore everyday, and you actually get paid well. That really is a thought, isn’t it? Pa, don’t overwork yourself. I know you feel like you need to support the family, but the family needs you. If we lose you, we’ll have lost more than you could have ever provided with your job. I promise it’s not worth it, no matter how much you think you’re earning by taking on a harder job. Don’t be afraid to quit if it gets too hard. And Ma, please try and keep everyone safe and don’t miss me too much. I know you probably feel guilty for me leaving, but it’s not your fault. None of it is. Please stay safe without me, and don’t miss me too much, everyone. I love you guys.

Avis

I wrap up the letter abruptly, because I can’t see straight anymore. Tears blur my vision, and I know there are tear stains covering the page. When I glance at Terry, her eyes look clear, although I really can’t tell from my eyes. Her letter is done and tucked in an envelope and she is watching me carefully. She doesn’t say a word as I slide the letter over me, and she doesn’t look away as she slots the paper into the envelope and slides it back to me. I glance away, breaking our staring contest first, and write our family’s address on the envelope front. We learned how to address letters in early school, and all the memories come rushing back as I quickly write it in the correct format, or the one I learned in school. I think it’s right, and when I glance up at Terry to ask I can see she is still watching me, making me forget my question.
“Do you need something?” I demand, watching her just as carefully and waiting for an answer. I can see a little clearer now, but that might be because the tears have traced a path down my face.
She glances away from me, finally. I’m glad to have her glance off of me, not have to deal with her staring at me without reason. Maybe if she would explain herself, for once, I would like her more. She tucks her letter into her pocket and does not let me see who it is addressed to. Why would she show me, when I am so clearly insignificant to her intricate plans that go deeper than I could ever know? I know she has plans, but I do not know what they are. I don't even know what her plans revolve around. The revolution, her own motives, none of it is clear to me.
I’m afraid of what I will find if I investigate her further. I am terrified of what I could learn from whatever I learn from observing her. What I do know is that I can learn something, although I refuse to learn more about whatever this something is.
I slide my letter over to me and she pockets it without glancing at it, and I think that at least she respects my privacy, which makes me happy. If she didn’t, I know I would not be happy. I really do value my privacy greatly, more than she would know now. I’ve never really had anything that was only my own, I have always shared everything either with my sister or with my parents or someone else. Having something all to yourself is a luxury that I cannot afford, one that my family cannot afford either.
“Let’s hurry to dinner.” I say after a moment of silence, and raise myself off of the bench slowly. I’ve learned that if you stand up too quick it can wobble the whole bench and almost break them. I’m just waiting for them to break, truthfully.
Terry stands up with me and nods. We like to be early to dinner so that we can eat quickly and go to bed quicker. It’s like we have some rule that we cannot take naps, only go to sleep early. I do wonder whether there is some science behind this, one Terry has not explained to me yet. I thought naps were helpful, but she is so persistent about not letting us get extra sleep through naps, only through going to bed early.
The line is longer today, although we’re early. I’m guessing most people are eager to mail out their letters, enough that they are willing to stand in line longer. I understand them, in some ways, but I also resent them. Their eagerness has prevented me from getting the extra sleep I would get from eating right away and not having to wait in line. I can sort of understand why Terry did what she did, now. Not that I accept that side of her, but I can feel it growing inside of me. Resent for when people get something I want, when people are ahead of me in anything.
It makes me sick with myself. I want to be good, and resenting people for simply getting in line is not a good indicator to my character. I wish I would be better, but it’s not something I could easily change about myself. I can’t just say that I want to be better and be better, it doesn’t work like that. I wish it worked like that. I wish I couldn’t control what I felt, but these emotions seem out of my control.
Maybe there is something in me that prevents me from being good, something in every single person that leads us to destroy each other with only actions. I’ve learned that even a glare can hurt someone more than throwing a punch would. I don’t know how that works, but it does. Maybe it’s human nature to take words and actions harder than physical force.
So many maybes that I will never have the answer to. I am so curious, all of the time, and I just want to know what could possibly be going on in the mind’s of people as they make harmful decisions. Maybe that’s because half the time I don’t understand why I do the things I do, the harmful things that come out of my mouth for no apparent reason and the glares that have begun becoming second nature to me. I don’t know why half the hurtful things I do happen now.
Terry pulls me in line, and I realize I have been walking without direction, stuck in my head and my thoughts. At least one of us pays attention. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Terry not focused on the immediate moment. I admire her for that, I don’t know how she manages to stay so focused throughout it all. I feel like I’m always zoned out and not paying attention, as if it’s some kind of coping method. I really don’t know when it started to happen, but now I have such straying thoughts, I’m always focused on my thoughts more than real life. My thoughts are so much more manageable than what I’m dealing with in real life. In real life I have so many issues I don’t know how to deal with.
The line moves a little slower than usual, although not necessarily notable by all standards. It’s just annoying to have to wait the extra minute to get my food and finally mail the letter.
“Are we able to receive mail?” I ask Terry, and she shakes her head.
“That would reveal our locations. No way to bring mail in without a mailing address and I’m sure there are more camps like this all over the place.” Terry is quick to respond, and she responds logically, with something I hadn’t thought of. It sometimes seems like Terry has all the answers, which annoys me. I want to be the best, and Terry makes that impossible. Her extra knowledge makes her, well, more knowledgeable than me and everyone else here. She has an obvious advantage, being able to pull information from her mind that I only know by asking. Some of the stuff she knows isn’t even that pertinent, but she was so well prepped to be here that she knows so much.
I nod at her as we move to the front of the line and finally get our food. It’s the same as always, it never changes. Sometimes I wonder if all of the food is prepared at the start of the week, with how it tastes. It has gotten progressively worse since the first day, and I notice the changes to the food even though they try to hide it by warming up the food.
I grab a plate and load my plate the same as usual, using skills that I’ve gathered throughout the week, learning how to manage to pile more and more food onto the serving spoons without taking two scoops. I’m yet to see what happens if you take more than one scoop, but I know it can’t be good. Each of the new recruits had enough common sense to observe on the first day, and now we know the drill just as much as any other recruit here. I can see now that we are being treated the same as even the oldest recruits, and no one seems to care that we are so much younger than them. We are just as tired as them, and our hope was gone quickly. Any hope we possibly could have had at the start is gone, the drills have crushed each positive thought we had.
“Avis Saydreen, #122920.” I say quickly, and move on without waiting for her reaction. She will stop me if she sees something wrong with how I have served myself. I can hear Terry behind me and hold out a hand for her to give me my letter back. She hands it over, and I give to the guy in front of me who has a box full of envelopes from everyone else who has already gone through.
I pull out my silverware and go to sit at our usual table, where Clark and Sam have joined us for every meal. I’ve learned that their legion, Diamondback Legion. They’re only a month from release into the war, and I feel bad for them. They’ve been well trained, but no one should be forced to fight in a fight they don’t want to fight in. One thing I do know is that these legions will be less effective than any legion formed by voluntary soldiers. No one here is here by choices, which will be a major drawback in any combat. Why would you fight for the people you hate? I know that if I make it through this, I will not be easily ordered around. There is no reason for me to do my best when doing badly means I can help make my side win. I don’t even know who we’re fighting against at this point. It is not a conversation here, and it was never a conversation at home.
“Earth to Saydreen.” Terry waves a hand in front of my face and I startle awake.
“Sorry. Got distracted.” Again. I am very easily distracted. Small things can sidetrack me so much, unfortunately. I wish it was easier to stay on track, but I can never keep my mind on the current world, especially in times of quiet like this.
“You’ve been getting distracted a lot today.” Terry notes quietly, raising her eyebrow at me. I don’t know why she keeps on acting like this, like I’m hiding something from her. I have no reason to tell her loads about my personal life, but I am not hiding anything by any means. If she asks me a question I will answer truthfully, as I have done the whole time we have been here.
“Why do you keep acting like I’m hiding something from you?” I ask, glaring at her firmly. I don’t know why she thinks I have anything to hide from her. Sam and Clark come and sit down and catch our expressions.
“Trouble in paradise kids?” Sam asks, jokingly. I admire that he still has some way to be humorful, even though he has been here for months. I can’t imagine being able to do that when I’m already so down after only a few days. And we can’t receive letters from our family, meaning there will be nothing to carry our moods higher, give us something to look forward to. Just the prospect of release to a war we don’t want to fight. I already know that this is something I can wait for. It just feels so…unreal. I can’t pull my mind out of it, but that’s when I realize that is exactly what they are hoping for. For us to retreat into our minds, and become obedient on the outside. And for that to happen to me would be becoming like the people that I hate, the many that are uneducated and willing to follow any authority, including that of nobles. Because it really is everyone in power’s fault. They are the reason we are here.
I turn to glare at him, but it’s kind of weird to be talking to him. It’s not like he’s just a year older, he’s like–4 years older than me.
Terry answers for the both of us, deciding to put on a united front when I likely would have chosen to share our growing pains with them. “Nah. Just some friendly banter.” She relaxes and eats without a worry, and I copy her. I really want to sink back into my thoughts, but I’ve decided not to do that. I focus on them, and eat quickly.
“What about you two?” I fire back, although they seem to be perfectly fine to be honest. More than fine, brotherly. Sure, I’ve seen them argue many times, but they remind me of me and my sister back at home, always arguing with each other over the most inconsequential things just for entertainment. Our parents hated it, but we always found it so funny to go back and forth over and over again, until our arguments didn’t even make sense and we collapsed in giggles.
Clark shakes his head with a smile but focuses more on scarfing down his food than answering the question, which was valid when finishing means sleep. I wish I could develop more hands so that I could eat quicker and more efficiently. Then, I could go to sleep quicker, although sleeping on the extra limbs would probably be really uncomfortable in the long run.
We all stare across the table at each other in a mini staring contest food eating contest. Whoever wins first gets to stare at everyone else without focussing on eating, what a great prize. It is fun to not have to think about training, though. I glance at Terry and find her staring right back at me, and we both frown before looking away. I know Sam sees it, but he doesn’t mention it, either because his mouth is full of food or because he has chosen not to push it. Or maybe he just doesn't want to hear about our drama, which is also completely valid. I wouldn’t want to hear about some kid’s drama, either.
Clark finishes first, probably because he didn’t join into our conversation earlier, and he stands up and jerks his head over to the barracks purposefully at Clark and Terry, waiting for them both to nod before nodding sympathetically at me. The two choose to eat faster, and I’m soon left behind as they stand up and jog to catch up without a single glance back at me.
That hurts. I finish quickly and stand up, adding my trash to the pile and heading toward the barracks. I’m still just as exhausted as I have been all day, but finally it’s over, which is reassuring in a small way. But it also means tomorrow is still coming so quickly, and it will be just another repetition of every day I’ve suffered through everyday.
I climb into bed and tuck the blanket Ma packed for me carefully around myself to keep me warm in the night. And touch the unread letter with a gentle hand before closing my eyes and ignoring the opening of the front door, allowing one person in, judging by the footsteps, and the words whispered to me.
“Sorry, Avis. If you would just join…” I don’t think she meant for me to hear the last words. She probably thought I was asleep. But I heard them, and knew I would need to shield my heart even more now so that she could never get in and change it. Because that’s not her job, it’s mine and mine alone.










VII
Drills, drills, drills. Shouted instructions, careful movements and orders to follow. Not following is the worst choice you could possibly make, and Terry has informed me of that from the first day.
“Do not ever question their authority. Just do what they say.”
It was probably the best advice she had received so far. She was yet to disobey any of the tasks given, although completing them successfully was a completely different story. She knew that there was muscle forming all over her body, but it wasn’t near as much as the captain wanted her to have. It was like asking her to ask a boulder on the first day with the tasks she was given.
The most I had been able to do was try and complete them as thoroughly as possible, and not stop until I completely dropped. It became both easier and more difficult as the days advanced, because I knew I was getting stronger each day, but I was also sore. The two were two very different results from the exact same actions, but I love one and hate the other.
It was kind of like that with me and Terry. One action had led us together, a bond formed through marching and drills. But it had also led to countless arguments, and more suspicious looks as I closed off more to her. But I had my reasons, I would not be pestered and persuaded into joining the revolution. That was my opinion, and I had strong feelings on the subject around the revolution and convincing people to join.
“Saydreen, left side!” The captain calls out, and continues calling and waving people to either side of the field we are practicing in. With some 5 thousand of us here, we are split up into much smaller groups for training, groups of around 500. It makes me proud that the captain knows my name and doesn’t know many other’s, because it means I must be doing something right. Or horribly wrong, but I hope it is right, not wrong. For my sake, really.
I get in line along with all the other soldiers on small white lines painted in the dried out grass, clearly worn from thousands of feet traversing its territory. On the other side we are facing a soldier, and I see who it is. Terry. I bite the inside of my cheek, mind working through the odds. How did she end up across from me, against all odds?
“We will be practicing hand to hand combat. Please enter a fighting stance of your choice.” His eyes scan the crowd quickly, and I think he knows what many of us wanted to say before we say it. “Yes, I know it hasn’t been taught.”
Across from me, Terry slowly drops into a fighting stance, legs spread apart and fists up. I mimic her as closely as I can, hoping it’s not obvious what I am doing, copying her. If it’s obvious, no one points it out as they focus on their opponents.
We have adequate space to fight, although it is definitely a tight fit. It’s alright, because most of us have no idea how to fight. I sure don’t. Terry, on the other hand, looks trained for this. I know she is trained for this. She tries to make her stance look sloppy, but that is breaking a probably hard learned habit, and habits are difficult to break in any situation.
The captain walks in the small division between the two lines before I hear him speak. “Begin!”
I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing at this point, other than trying to throw punches and kicks, which I don’t really care to do. I don’t even know how to do it. Unfortunately, I can’t just stand there, so I rush towards Terry and swing a fist at her side, which she quickly blocks without much thought.
“Too wide. I could see what you were going to do before the hit was delivered. You have to be faster.” As if to highlight her point, she swings her fist at my ribs, so quickly that I don’t have time to react. I’m sure that’s the point of what she has just said, but it still makes me stagger back a step. Ouch. She didn’t need to swing so hard, but I can’t do anything but retaliate now, using my new knowledge.
I approach her carefully, holding my arms up as if I am expecting another blow from her. My eyes are sharp, this I know. I am still a little sluggish, but my senses are heightened with the surge of adrenaline her punch delivered to me. Now, when she goes to punch me, I use one hand to block her punch and the other to take a quick jab at her where she has left it open. She takes the punch without blocking it and is knocked back a few steps, so I advance towards her and drive my leg into her ribs. She falls to the grass where I quickly use my foot to pin her down, but she is not as weak as she appears.
It is my fault when she grabs my leg and knocks me off balance, sending me tumbling to the ground next to her where she rolls over and pins me down with her left fist. I glare at her and ram my skull into her arm, knocking her off balance and allowing me to get to my feet and throw another punch at her. She grips my leg, using it to pull me down, but this time I am ready. I roll over so that I have space to get up, and she does the same as we begin a dance, with opposite movements from both of us. When she advances, I retreat, and when I advance she retreats. One of us will have to make the next move, and I want it to be me. I swing my leg at me, but she grabs it quickly and uses it to pull me towards her, also knocking me off balance. But not enough to stop me from throwing another punch at her, which she cannot block because she is holding onto me. She releases me, allowing me to stumble backwards as she mirrors my movements, crossing the field away from me. I smirk at her and she growls back, approaching me again to throw another punch in my direction.
This angers me greatly. Why does she keep on fighting me skillfully when she knows I don’t match her level, and she can hurt me? I can feel my anger pulsing, and can see the look in Terry’s eyes as she tackles me to the ground, covering my head.
“How long?” I whisper and I make a show of trying to wriggle out of her grip, and she blinks at me from her tight grip on me.
“Not long. Not even a second.” I breathe a sigh of relief. Not even a second means I should be safe, hopefully. Hopefully. Maybe I’m lucky and no one saw. Maybe I’m unlucky and someone did. With my luck, someone probably did. “Calm down.” She breathes to me, and I try to take her advice, breathing in and out evenly until I know the anger has subsided, leaving only fear in its place. I was almost revealed. And by revealed, I mean actually revealed to everyone here, including to captain. If it weren’t for Terry’s quick thinking, I would be as good as dead.
“Thank you.” I sigh to her, shoving her off of me roughly. Once I am in full view, I can see everyone has shifted their focus to the little fight me and Terry were having. Great, exactly what I need. More attention in an already precarious moment and situation. If anyone saw my hair they don’t reveal it, as they turn to face the captain again and listen to whatever orders come next. That leaves me to brush myself off and stand up where I was before, while Terry does the same.
“That was terrible, each of you. The punches were sloppy, kicks were weak, and don’t even get me started on your blocking techniques. You don’t block with your head!” He critiques, eying different people at each new point he makes, giving out especially ferocious glares to those connected to the last point. He doesn’t look at me once, which makes me happy, but not enough to drown out my fear.
I was so close to revealing myself. I really do need help, even if it’s from the very group I vowed not to work with. Because it will have to be from the very group I vowed not to work with. I will have to receive help from…the revolution.
Terry isn’t even sure that they will be able to help me, but it’s the best lead I’ve got. Nothing else will help me, no one else has revealed themself to be struggling like me. And the worst part of it is that I will have to reach out to Terry, and Terry can be…smug, from what I’ve seen. I know she’ll think she convinced me to join, and nothing I say will convince her otherwise, which means I will have to deal with the triumphant looks she will be giving me for the rest of the week.
“If I point to you, I want you to stay here with me rather than receiving your lunch.” The captain begins pointing fingers at people, many of them being the same he had eyed when he was pointing out what we had done wrong. I hold my breath, hoping it is not me. Or Terry, because I want to get this over with. If I have extra time to think it over I will convince myself it is not the right choice, but I cannot make weak decisions now. It is my job to make the right choice for me, even if it means…the revolution.
I eye Terry standing across from me, who watches me with matched resolve. I think she knows what I’m going to say. I don’t know what gives it away, maybe the defeated slump in my shoulders or the look in my eyes. I don’t know.
“If I didn’t call your name you are dismissed.” The captain turns away from us and the people he pointed at stiffen as the rest of us scurry out as quickly as possible, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the captain’s anger. I fall in step next to Terry, gingerly massaging where she punched me. She also seems to be slightly limping, but keeps us walking at a brisk pace towards the cafeteria. The line for lunch has no way to beat other than to be dismissed at a good time, and even then you have to fight everyone else dismissed with you to be in front of the line. At least after this hand to hand combat most people seem sore and limp slower than me and Terry move through the crowds, allowing us to get ahead of the incoming wave of people hungry for lunch. He aren’t even close to being the first legion dismissed, if anything we are last. The line is almost all the way around the building, something I only see during lunch when the flow of people comes all at once, unlike dinner where everyone eventually finds their way over. There’s no order when it comes to dinner, but lunch is much more chaotic. We don’t have much time to eat lunch, either. Many are desperate to get to eating quickly so that they can have some free time to enjoy, and maybe a minute to catch a nap. I’m desperate to get my food so that I can sit down at our table with Terry and talk about the matters that need to be discussed now, each one involving the revolution, unfortunately. Before I agree, I want to ask her some questions, and if she really wants me to join her she will answer them.
That’s what I tell myself while I wait in line, is that Terry will be giving me answers this time around. She definitely will. I’ll demand them of her, and threaten to blow her cover if she says no. It’s half formed fantasy in my mind, and not a very realistic one at that. Much more like something I would do if I were out for revenge, which I’m not. Not right now, anyway. Right now, all I need is answers, not revenge. But just for right now. I have a feeling revenge is coming.
The line, thankfully, moves quickly. Everyone seems desperate to grab their food and get out today, and I’m happy to let them do so. The quicker they go the quicker I go, so the faster they move, the happier I am. Terry can see my impatience, and gently rests a hand on my arm, which I shake off while still pacing the small plot of grass I have claimed for my pacing. A few people give me side eyes but none say a word, to my relief. I don’t want someone to tell me to calm down, not to wear myself out, I want people to wonder what I’m thinking about. That is preferable, in my mind. Even if it is just for the attention.
When we make it to the front I quickly grab my food, the same food it has been everyday since the first time we had lunch here. Even the meals here don’t change. Grilled chicken, if you could call it that, and a simple salad. That’s it, and the portions are small. Almost tiny, when you think about it. But I’m not thinking about it, I’m focusing on how close the conversation I’m both dreading and wanting is coming. This conversation has been drawing nearer for under an hour, yet I have put so much thought into it. So much thought into a conversation I decided I was going to have only half an hour ago. Incredible that I have still stuck through with my plan to do it.
“Avis Saydreen, #122920.” Same line every time, and I get quicker on each round. I don't even wait for Terry anymore, because I know that she is right behind me, getting through just as easily as I have. It’s nothing special anymore. Nothing crazy, just the same words that we say every time.
I take a seat at our table and Terry passes me our silverware, which I have chosen to entrust her with everyday. I really don’t think I’m capable of running laps and making sure that something as inconsequential as a fork doesn’t fall out of my pocket, and I think Terry knows that, and that is why she offered to take them. And do gauge how much I really trust her.
I know it’s crazy, but silverware here is like gold anywhere else. You just can’t get more of it, and no one wants to give theirs away. I still realize how lucky I was to be able to receive some from Terry, I would have been stranded otherwise. Utterly, and completely stuck eating this food with my hands like it were finger foods, no matter how messy or drippy it really is. It really is pathetic to watch those without silverware during dinner, on the first night I saw a few recruits choose no food over eating with their hands, although now they don’t seem to care as much about being clean and proper. The worst has been on those from rich sectors, who still find things wrong with everything. The beds aren’t soft enough, the food isn’t salty enough, the captains aren’t good enough.
I hear Terry sit down and glance up quickly, then quickly swallow the food in my mouth. I’m trying to decide what to say when Terry speaks first.
“You have questions.” I raise my eyebrows at her, because yes, I do have questions, but I don’t know how she knows that. I didn’t think it was that obvious when I sat down, I thought she just knew I would agree to join. But maybe she’s learned enough about me by now to know that I am anything if apprehensive, and will not just agree to something without asking more.
I nod at her, and Sam and Clark both have this look on their faces that makes me wish we were doing this somewhere more private. Too late now. They share a look, Clark raising his eyebrows and Sam sighing that makes me think they discussed me. That makes me blush, so I look away from them and get back to business.
“What does joining actually mean? Like, will I need to do something for you guys?” I really don’t know what the people working for the revolution are doing, truthfully. I know that there is probably a bunch of planning going into each public move that they make, but all I see are the few moves they have made.
“You’ll help when they need you. That could be now, could be in 2 years. By joining you’re agreeing to help us in the case that we need your help.” Terry explains, glancing between the still quiet Sam and Clark, who nod as her eyes focus on them. She turns back to me.
Oh. That’s a lot more reasonable than I thought it would be. Agreeing to be able to be called upon is not such a terrible idea, really. Agreeing to be there for this group if they need me, even if they don’t ever need me.
“Can they really help me?” I glance quickly at Clark and Sam who look surprised by the question and relax a little. So she didn’t tell them about me, thankfully. I think that if she did, this whole thing would be off. I couldn’t care what else she tried to use to lure me into joining, if she was talking about my…powers behind my back, I wouldn’t ever listen to her again. I already don’t like the idea that Sam and Clark were talking about me, and I don’t even know what they were saying about me.
Terry considers the question for a second. “I don’t know.” That’s not the answer that I want. I need to know if it’s a yes or no, not a ‘I don’t know’. But she’s being honest, so that’s at least something. A very small something. But her words carry some truth.
I can only think of one more question. “Do you really think you’re doing the right thing?” The question seems to startle Terry, and she stands up to face me.
“Yes! I know I am, that the whole group is!” She almost shouts the words, which makes me sort of smile at her. She’s so passionate about this subject, it’s not hard to imagine why people would join if she were recruiting them.
“It’s the right thing for us, the people who have nothing so they fight for nothing.” Clark answers, and Sam nods alongside him. They’re all so clearly decisive about their answers, and I can’t help but wonder if they have asked themselves the same question before. If they have done some morally gray things and doubted their loyalties.
I don’t know why, but I think it’s Clark who completely pushed me over, because he’s right. I have the strength and the ability to aid the revolution, and so many people don’t. More than that, I have a reason to help them. In exchange for my offer for help, they can help me, or so Terry tells me. I’m not sure whether I believe her or not. She can only make guesses, but they’re more cemented than what I have.
I think Terry saw the look in my eyes, because she shakes her head at me. “Not now, later. In private.”
I nod back at her, deciding to try and finish my food before we are called back to do more drills, or in today’s case, hand to hand combat. Terry continues to eat, too, but not before sharing another look with Clark and Sam, who both nod.
I don’t enjoy when they clearly do this in front of me, it hurts not to know what they’re talking about. I know why they did it before, because I wasn’t supposed to hear anything about the revolution and the group I should only know from the stadium spectacle. But I know about it from Terry, Clark, Sam. I know it because of every person Terry talks to.
Clark and Sam finish first and walk away without a second glance for us and dive into a deep conversation, and maybe an argument by the wide gestures they’re making.
“Hey. Are you sure about this?” I’m surprised by the tone in Terry’s voice. And the way that she places a hand on my arm, gently. It’s…interesting. I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me, and I raise my eyebrows at her.
She looks away quickly and drops her hand, cementing something in my mind. She definitely isn’t telling me something, although what it is is beyond me. I grab her shoulder with a tight fist, but I know that she will be able to shrug me off easily. My grip isn’t that strong, and I know she is a lot stronger than she pretends to be.
“You don’t know if they can help me?” I guess, although it’s kind of dumb because she’s already said that she doesn’t know.
She shrugs. “Like I said, it’s only a guess.”
“How much do they know about me?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. Do they even know about my ability? I don’t know if Terry has talked to them about me. I don’t know when she would’ve had time, but she’s clearly somewhat high ranking within the group given the way that most people seem to report to her, rather than the other way around.
“Well…” She bit her lip and looked away. “They know that I’ve encouraged you to join. A lot.”
I glare at her, staring at her with so much conviction that I know she would look away if she hadn’t already. “And do they know about my ability?” I ask, watching her closely. But I know the answer before she says it.
“No.” My heart sinks. She doesn’t look at me, staring straight down at her half eaten meal as I slam my fist on the table.
“No? Terry, this is critical! This is the main reason for me joining!” I keep my voice down to a whisper-yell but she cringes anyway.
“I know, I know. I just…haven’t had the chance yet.” The tone in her voice makes me roll my eyes. She’s been avoiding talking about it, I know it. What I don’t know is why she would want to avoid talking about it. Is there something I need to know about the revolution that she’s not telling me? Some intolerance to abilities? Something I don’t know about, that’s for sure.
“Why haven’t you told them?” I ask, partially in curiosity and partially because I’m angry with her.
She only shrugs and digs back into her food, which really makes me interested in the why. Because there is a reason, I know. She’s trying to be nonchalant about this, but I can see it in the hunch of her shoulders and the way she is quickly eating.
“Terry. Why?” I’ve ignored my food for this conversation, and now I want answers. Answers that she is clearly refusing to give me. I frown down at her, and then realize that I’m standing up. I slide back into my spot and pick up my fork, but don’t make a move towards my food.
“I don’t want them to…use you because of your ability. To make you do something you don’t want to do.” I glance at her, confusion on my face.
“Terry, how are they going to use color changing hair that only follows my temper?” Genuine question this time. No trick questions, no trick answers.
“Avis, there’s no way that your hair is the full extent of your ability. I can bet you’d be able to change your entire appearance if you willed it.” I raised my eyebrows at her, surprised. I didn’t think about that. But it makes so much sense. Of course my hair can't be all I can do, I’m sure there’s lots that I could do if I tried. And practiced it. It just…hadn’t occurred to me yet. I’ve been so focussed on the fact that I have an inconvenient display of my feelings, my hair, not that I can change my hair. I can probably change everything if I want to. All of this power at my fingertips, and I haven’t even thought about that yet.
Her eyebrows raise at me, almost smugly. But then they furrow back into the same frustrated look she had before and I sigh.
“I don’t need you to look out for me, I can take care of myself. They’ll have to know at some point.” My reasoning was correct, although Terry looked at me like I had said something wrong. I narrowed my eyes at her, daring her to say I was wrong. She didn’t.
“I’m sorry. It’s instinct.” I didn’t look away quick enough to miss the look in her eyes. I could see in every color that made up her irises, that she was thinking to those she had lost. The many, or the little. I don’t know. And I feel her loss, in a way.
I don’t know what has happened to her family, but I have lost mine. They may still be alive, but I know that it will be a long time until I see them again, if ever.
We finish eating in silence, each of us thinking about our own things and our own problems. It’s almost at the same moment that I eat the last of my food that I hear the bell ring, and I know me and Terry need to get back to drills. I still can’t believe what I have just done. I have agreed to join up with the revolution, somehow. One thing has driven past my self made barriers, and now I am standing in a new unknown.
I’m not sure if I like it or not.

We enter our lines to get ready for drills, and the captain stands at the front of our lines with a guard. Although he uses no technology, I can hear his voice ring out over the recruits gathered. “I will be demonstrating how to correctly use hand to hand combat. Please practice each move with your partner.”
In a blur, I can see the captain’s arm connect with the soldier’s ribs, but the soldier does not flinch. I almost wonder if the soldier is just a training dummy, until he swings his leg quickly to connect with the captain’s leg. Not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to be clear that it was done correctly.
“Go!” The captain shouts, observing our frozen expressions. I take a step towards Terry and throw the punch before she can, but she steps back a step so that my fist connects with air. I grit my teeth, but Terry looks sympathetic.
“Faster. And lighter, please.” She winks at me, and I suppress a smile. I know she’s just trying to help me and herself when she winks, so I punch again, much lighter but still quickly. When my fist connects with her robs I think it hurts for me more than for her, because all she does is flinch slightly, whereas I cradle my fist in my hand. Ouch, she’s clearly strong because I could feel her strength when I punched.
She doesn’t give me a moment to rest, swinging her leg out to meet mine like the soldier did up front. She does it somewhat lightly, but I still flinch away, caught off guard.
I attempt to store this information in my mind somewhere safe, because I know I am going to need it for later, even if it’s not regarding this camp or combat matters. Knowing something like this would be helpful on the streets, that’s for sure.
“Again!” The captain shouts as many of them slow to a stop, waiting for more instruction. This time Terry throws the punch, quickly but controlled, and lightly. I’m ready for it, and I don’t flinch away from her hand. I give her only a second before I swing my leg to connect with hers, and she grins as I throw another punch, but this time she blocks it with her arms, holding them together to form a shield against my fist. She sweeps her leg to hit mine, and I grin ferociously at her. She grins too, and I can tell she is having as much fun as I am with this.
Her turn to punch, and I form the same wall that she did against my fist to block her. It connects with a small sound of bone hitting bone, muffled by our skin. She’s still going light, but I have a feeling she wants to actually try, so when I go to kick her I sweep my leg faster than ever, which she dodges by stepping back.
“Power, not speed.” She advises as I lift my fists to punch again, she lifts her arms to block, too, and I know I’ll have to find a different opening.
I hook my arm around in a curve rather than a straight line, still as quickly and controlled as I can. It connects with her side, and I see her smirk at me as she flinches slightly. She’s not going to go easy on me now. Before I can do anything she sweeps her leg towards me, but I’m expecting it to leap back. She takes the moment of vulnerability to send her fist my way, and, with only a second to spare, I block it with a loud thud.
We’re both enjoying this. This time when I go to kick her I am anticipating when she leaps back, so I kick farther and wider than before and catch her slightly. She smirks at me, knowing I have started to catch on with what I’m supposed to do so that I can do this successfully.
It’s more like a game now, one that can actually hurt a lot if we actually let ourself try. More like let her try though, because I’m still not the greatest in this field, strength and coordination, but I’m improving, which is good. Really good, I am happy about that fact.
I go to punch, but before the blow lands I hear a shrill whistle. “Formation!” The captain calls out, and Terry looks surprised, just as much as the rest of us. I don’t know how much access to information she has, but clearly was unaware that this was happening today. Not once have we formed a formation during the middle of drills, and I know there must be a reason for this. A reason that none of us know and that surprises Terry. I think that’s what scares me the most, is that Terry doesn’t know what’s happening.


















VIII
I get into formation quickly, next to Terry as usual. What are the chances that we always end up next to each other, keep running into each other. I can see that there is someone other than a guard near the captain, but I cannot see who it is over the various people ahead of me.
It’s not just our legion, either. I can see other legions come and line up with us quickly from where they have come from on different grounds. This must be quite some occasion for them to gather everyone, and interrupt our training, and the training of recruits who are so close to going out on field. But I’m not arguing, and on other days I wouldn’t be scowling at the excuse to not have to do training exercises. But I was having fun throwing punches and kicks with Terry, slowly growing my skill to a level that is much closer to hers, although I doubt that there will come a day when I am as good as she is. It sometimes seems like she’s been training for this her whole life, although I’d never ask her if she has been. She doesn’t pry, and I don’t pry. It’s an agreement, although unspoken.
But I’m attempting to pry now. I search her eyes, trying to figure out why we are here. Finally, I can see the figure next to the captain step up, and my neck snaps to attention as he holds up a hand.
We move as one, saluting whoever is up front. Someone important, judging by the medals weighing down his uniform. I can see a name stitched onto a patch near his heart, but am too far away to read what the words say. I can’t help but feel curious, leaning forward, standing on the tips of my toes to get a better look. The face I see shocks me, one somewhat familiar to me. This man has been on the television before, giving reports to us. He is not the president or even on the nobles court, but I know he must be close to being on the presidential court. Maybe he’s higher, rank order is beyond me. Second Lieutenant Cravis, if I am not mistaken. How could someone so high up end up at our camp? I know that we are not the only camp of our kind, but I would think that if he was visiting every camp Terry would have received word of such?
No, we all have no idea why he is here. When he lowered his hand we all drop our arms, and I use the second to glance at Terry. I know she has seen who is upfront and knows who he is, because her face is white. I don’t know if there is something she is not telling me or if she truly doesn’t know what is happening, and that’s what scares her. What I do know is that the Lieutenant keeps on looking at our legion as if to confirm something in his mind, by the way he keeps murmuring to himself and the captain every few seconds.
A barely concrete idea has formed in my mind, that he is possibly here to evaluate the new legion filled with soldiers too young to actually be here, who are supposed to be ‘sharp’ but clearly look anything but. It’s been the hardest on us, because we didn’t have time to prepare for our conscription. If we were conscripted when we were 18, at least we would have had the whole year before that to prepare for it. But now, here we were all trying to convince ourselves that by some miracle we wouldn’t be conscripted, that we could get a good enough job that it wasn’t an option to go to war.
Those are fantasies I haven’t had for a long time, but I thought I would at least have a little bit more time. I’ve known I was going to be conscripted since last year, but I thought I would have more time to prepare than what I have been given. But sometimes you just have to work with what you are given. Sometimes you have no choice but to play along with life until you can take it by the reins and change it.
“Recruits of the Rock Camp!” He calls out, his voice rich and clear as it carries over the thousands of us here. Now I have a name for where we are, the Rock Camp. It’s fitting, given that we are in the middle of nowhere and it seems like we have more rock than grass around here. There’s probably better reasons for why the camp is called Rock Camp, but they are not explained as the lieutenant continues with his speech. “I am here to examine your legions. Do not doubt that I won’t hesitate to get rid of our weak links.” As if to highlight his point, he fingers the holster on his hip, and I look away quickly, seeing Terry do the same with an obvious curse on her tongue. I don’t blame her. If he makes good on his threat, we will lose half of our legion.
“Dismissed!” The captain booms, and we all quickly salute before turning to go back to our various training places. I don’t know where the other legions are practicing, but my legion is lucky enough to be working in the field that we are gathered in right now. Convenient, definitely. But also inconvenient, because it cements the idea in my mind.
The second lieutenant is not here to judge all the legions, just ours. To make sure we are not a waste, although you would think that they would know that our legion was a waste from the day they decided to create this legion. Or days, if this were planned.
The pressure is definitely on now. My and Terry turn to face each other, and a silent agreement passes between us. No holding back now that the lieutenant is here, we need to impress him. As we step by each other, I can hear her whisper in my ear.
“Do not flinch, no matter what.” I stiffen, but I know she is just giving me advice. I nod at her, as if to say the same thing back to her. That’s what I am doing, is echoing her words although she doesn’t not need them. She is already well trained, and I can barely do this correctly. She does not need any instruction as she faces me, her eyes hard as if she is looking as a stranger and not the girl she has befriended.
I try to do the same, desperately trying to erase her kindness from my mind and replace her with a monster I would not hesitate to mash into a pulp, not that I could ever actually do that. Now it is time to focus, so I do. The captain watches as closely, walking down our lines like he did the first time.
“Begin!” He calls out, and Terry does not hesitate, swinging a fist at me. I block it in the nick of time, creating a loud thud that turns several heads our way. I smile at her manically, and swing my leg out quickly to catch her in the side, but she dodges it easily. This time I do not wait to throw a punch, and she blocks it skillfully. This isn’t going to go very far. I lift my arms to create a shield around myself and glare at her, daring her to punch me again.
She accepts the dare, and more than that, begins throwing punches at me repeatedly. She moves constantly and I move with her, moving my body so that she cannot hit me, swiveling my arms, torso, shuffling my legs. I am never not in motion.
I take a moment of her hesitation to sweep her legs out from under her, but before I can pull back she latches onto my leg and pulls me down with her. We grapple with each other on the ground until she shoves me off of her forcefully, and I leap to my feet to face her again.
My mind is focussed on this fight and nothing else and I do not look away from Terry once, completely set on winning this fight, even if Terry is a higher skill level then me. I do not know if she’s going easy on me or if I just have good luck, because there is no way that we could be evenly matched. But how could it be possible that we continue to fight like an even match, going back and forth and not dealing real damages. The most we’ve actually done is grapple on the ground, and my kick was somewhat good.
I smirk at her and charge towards her to punch again, which she blocks skillfully. I don’t mind, though, because it gives me the seconds I need to distract her and duck down and punch her thigh with as much strength as I can muster before scrambling back from her where she hisses in pain. She gives me this look that looks so surprised, I don’t think she thought I could actually hit her.
It’s her turn to charge now, and she throws punches at my arms quickly, each one landing with a crack. My arms hurt, and I know they will be covered with bruises by tomorrow, but right now the pain is urging me to continue. I can’t stop now, and when she turns to try and hit my throat I duck, which really doesn’t help because her fist connects with my skull.
I hiss in the same pain as Terry was in and charge her, starting to go for her arms but changing in the last second and swinging for her head, where my fist connects with her temple.
“Enough!” The captain calls out, and then I realize that me and Terry are the only people still fighting. They had formed a circle around us, and the captain had been watching, too, by the looks of it. I guess once we started going for each other’s heads that was the end of the fun for everyone.
I glance up and see that the lieutenant is still here, and looks interested in us. He turns to the captain and whispers something to him, and the captain nods.
“Both of you, to the medical wing immediately.” Terry glances at me, surprised, and then starts walking, and I follow. I probably look just as surprised. Why would we be sent to the medical wing for such small injuries? Not that I’m complaining, but it seems so out of character for the captain, who wouldn’t send us normally even if we had just broken a bone during sprints.
When I hear another set of footsteps join ours, I realize why. The lieutenant wants to talk to us. Once he catches up to us Terry salutes, and I mimic her as quickly as I can, hoping he didn’t notice my obvious pause. Once he nods we both drop our hands and share a look.
“That was quite the spectacle, yes?” His voice is accented in something so distinctly…posh. It’s like an accent you would hear in the UK, but make it something that royalty would use. I recognize the same speech patterns as ones that the crown royals would use, as well as the council when they are broadcasted on television.
Terry nods and I follow her lead once again, and try not to pick up the pace. I don’t want to seem like I’m scared of the captain, because I’m not.
“And this is your first day of hand to hand combat?” He asks, and he gently strokes the well groomed beard on his chin. I nod confidently, and Terry takes a second before nodding. I shoot her a look but say nothing, and she bites her lip.
“That was quite impressive, since you have been taught little to no technique.” I don’t know where he’s going with this. Obviously, he is complimenting us, but I do not know why he is doing so. There must be a purpose to this conversation.
“Are you quick learners, or does this just come naturally to you two?” I don’t think it comes easily, because without Terry’s whispered advice and my own moments of learning I am terrible at fighting. It’s just a simple fact, one that I’ve accepted by now.
“Quick learner, sir.” I answer and Terry nods next to me.
“Also a quick learner, sir.” She doesn’t miss a beat, but she is clearly following my lead now. I’ve never directly interacted with a noble and certainly no one as high up as the Second Lieutenant Cravis, but when I was trying to find work I needed to be respectful to get the job, no matter how repulsed or frustrated I really felt. This is no different than that, or so I try to convince myself.
“Those are admirable talents for recruits to have. Especially paired with how…sharp you two seem.” He pauses for a second and sweeps his eyes across our faces, and I am starting to form an idea of what he wants. “You don’t let anything escape your notice.” He nods towards me, then glances at Terry. “And you don’t react until you are sure. Paired together, those are two very valuable traits. Exactly what I am looking for.”
Me and Terry share a look, and I realize that she is completely unprepared for this. She doesn't bother to hide her shock, because she has not been as well trained as I have. I am experienced in hiding my feelings, but Terry is used to not being surprised. Well, that’s not true anymore. She can’t just gain information from the revolution and ride above the tide, she’ll have to be caught with the rest of us right now.
“I’m sorry sir, I don’t understand. ‘Looking for’?” I speak up as politely as I can, and he chuckles as if I have just told a grand joke.
“The conditions here are hardly ideal, yes?” He waits for us to nod, and smiles, and I know that this conversation is going exactly the way he wanted it to.
“How would you like to join up into a group of special forces to protect the president’s son?” I think the shock on our expressions is tangible, so he smiles gently at us, although I can see straight through his act. We need to accept soon, or not. This offer will only stand for so long. I glance at Terry, trying to convey the sense of urgency our situation has. We need to choose, probably before we make it to the medical wing. She considers the option, I can see it in her eyes. She knows that I will follow whatever she chooses. I trust her judgment on this, she has more information on the matter than I do, like usual.
I think I know what she’s going to pick before she says it, because I know how she thinks. She is thinking of what she has to gain, not of what she has to lose. And saying yes will give her way more to gain than saying no. She glances at me for confirmation, and I nod. I don’t even need to see the look in her eyes to know what she is going to say.
“I accept your offer, sir.” She nods, and I muster a smile.
“I also accept your offer, sir.” I answer, nodding at him. I see a smile cross his face, a somewhat relieved one at that. “I do have one question, if I may ask it.”
He glances at me as if I am inconsequential now that we have accepted his offer. I think I prefer it to his mask. “Do ask?”
“Why would you choose us, when we are not even of age yet?” Not 18, yet. I certainly feel like I’ve been 18 for ages, though. I think I’ve been 18 since I was 16. The stress matches. I’ve always felt stressed out at most times, not that I ever acknowledge that.
“Because we need people that Alexander would trust, people near his age.” He explains it simply, and I’m surprised. I was aware that the president had a son, but I was not aware of the fact that he is near my age. Terry nudges me as I open my mouth, about to ask a question, and I know she is right for telling me to keep quiet.
We reach the hospital wing, and the lieutenant steps aside to let us in. “I’ll be reaching out to Captain Grety to organize transportation from here to the palace, please have your stuff ready by, say, tomorrow morning.”
We both nod and he gives us another one of his fake smiles, then uses a hand to wave use towards the open room where a sharp looking woman sits at a desk, filling out paperwork or something like it.
“Pleasure to meet you, girls. Until tomorrow.” Not a second after the words have escaped his mouth does a car pull up behind him and he turns, definitely not going to inspect the other legions. I watch it go in shock, and Terry grabs my arm to pull me into the open wing. When the woman hears our footsteps she looks up and gives a smile that pulls the skin across her face, revealing her bones. It’s not an attractive look, and something about her makes me think of a bird. She seems to be about to say something when I hear a beep, and she glances down at a tablet screen and looks much more relaxed.
“Hand to hand combat?” She reads off, and we both blink at each other and smile. Yeah, now I can feel the soreness in my muscles, but it felt good when we were fighting, it felt real. And I like real, especially when it’s with Terry who is often anything but. The woman smiles at something on her tablet and nods.
“Go and collect your stuff from your barrack, you’ll be staying here tonight until the morning. We nod at her, me saluting and Terry saying a simple ‘yes ma’am’. Both seem to satisfy her, so we scurry out quickly and head towards our barrack, where our stuff is. I realize now that we will be moved again, and will be leaving everything behind. Again. I’ll have to repack perfectly.
“Avis, keep up.” Terry breaks into a slow jog, as if to make up for us missing the rest of the drills, even if they aren’t going to be running. I roll my eyes but follow her, knowing in my mind that only she would want to make up for missed drills. But I suppose she is right, we need to dive into this now rather than later, and be fit for whatever job the lieutenant will have us doing, whatever ‘guarding the president’s son’ entails. Part of me really is excited for this job. It’s going to be a great opportunity, that’s for sure. A lot better than dying in a trench, which is where staying here would have led. I crash into Terry who has stopped in the doorway.
“What are you doing, let me through!” I say it playfully, and use my shoulder to shove past her. But when I enter the cabin I can see why she is shocked. The whole place looks like a bomb went off in here. Everything is covered in thick ash, and by everything I mean the metal that survived. I run to the back where my bunk is–had been–but realize that there is nothing I can do. The damage has already been done.
I don’t even miss my stuff that much, although that’s a huge inconvenience, I miss a simple piece of paper. A letter from my mother that I will never get to read. I sink to my knees in the ash, and feel a tear trickle down my face as I frantically sift through the ash, fingers everything I can find. There are only bits and pieces, none of them making sense no matter how i arrange the little singed bits.
You. Hate. Love. Survive. Knew. I. She. None of the words make sense so matter how much I shuffle them until I have touched them with my soot covered hands so many times that they, too, are covered black so that the words are unreadable. I feel Terry pull me up and restrain me by looping her arms around my waist, pulling me back even as I claw against her and fight to be closer to the remains of the letter, the last connection I had to my family. No. The whole letter, gone. There’s nothing I can do about it now. If only I had just read it when given the chance.
I strain against Terry, but she is stronger than me, in more ways than one. She has just lost her stuff, too, but she doesn’t seem at all fazed. Maybe because she’s holding me back, but maybe because she really is stronger than I am. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. I really am just a weak, sad girl who is crying over a piece of paper.
“Avis. Calm down, it’s not there.” She attempts to calm me, but the attempts are pointless. If I cannot have the letter, then at least I can have the remains of it. But she shakes her head frantically, and drags me out the door. “We have to get out of here, or they’ll think we did it.”
My eyes widen and she nods, finally releasing me as I scramble to my feet. If we are caught here and they really do become convinced that we did it, we could be killed for treason and destroying others property. This is no small thing. Everything we have just earned will have been for nothing, it will have become a waist. The combat and all of my hard work, and the new promises, all gone in a flash in favor of convicting someone of a crime to settle unease.
“Who did that? And how?” I know she doesn’t have answers, but I ask anyway. Only the inside of the barrack is damaged from the outside; you cannot tell that anything happened. It’s crazy, like some bomb went off, but only on the inside of the barrack. And I’ve slept inside of those barracks, I know that whatever the walls are made of it not strong, and certainly not strong enough to protect from a blast like that.
“Avis, we need to wash the soot off of your hands.” Of course she’s thinking much more clearly than me. She leads me to the showers and turns one on, and pushes me gently into the stall. The water is cold, but it is only on my hands so I can suffer through it for now. Showers in the morning are unbearable though, cooled overnight, and then you stand on a grimy concrete floor with only a soap bar to wash with, and a clearly cheap one. It looks like something that could have been handed out for free outside of pharmacies as a gift to the poor. Who knows, maybe they were. It wouldn’t surprise me too much. Everything here seems cheap.
I wash my hands as thoroughly as I can without completely stepping into the water and getting my uniform wet. When I finally step out I can still see that my hands are faintly tinted gray, but nothing obvious enough to give me away, hopefully. The ash just sticks to my hands though, and I feel like I’ve rubbed them raw.
“I’ve got a cover story for why we don’t have our bags.” Terry says when she sees me, and then begins her fast pace back to the hospital wing. “We can say the door was locked so she’ll send someone to check it out, hopefully.” It’s a pretty solid plan, the only problem is if she has a key and she chooses to send us back.
I don’t voice my concerns to her, and she doesn’t ask for them. I suppose it’s for the better, because we don’t have the time to think of a better plan. The showers are right near the main area where the hospital wing is, so in barely a minute we are at the hospital wing.
“Hey, the door to our barrack was locked. We couldn’t get in.” The look on her face is so genuine, I’m surprised by it when she glances back at me to support her. If I didn’t know that this was a cover story I would truly believe that the door was locked.
“Yeah, we couldn’t get it open.” I agree, although with much less confidence than Terry. Maybe that’s a good thing, because the woman sighs and lifts up her tablet. Terry shares a look with me and we watch as she types something out on it, either something about us or the locked door.
“Don’t worry, those doors get stuck all the time. What barrack are you and what bunk?” She looks minorly inconvenienced by having to do all this, so I think we’re safe. I breathe out a sigh of relief and see Terry release the look on her face, slightly.
“Barrack Y2, bunk in the very back left.” She says quickly, and I nod along with her. We have the exact same one. When the woman glances up at me I keep nodding, and she nods back before typing something into her tablet.
“Right. Well, now that that’s taken care of, let me give you the medicine for your bruises, and then something the lieutenant told me to give you two.” She glances down at her tablet again and moves to a back storage room to grab the medicine, and me and Terry take a seat on each of the cots. There are curtains drawn around some of the other cots, and I am curious of who inhabits them but have no way of finding out. Terry glances at the curtains, too, before shrugging and looking away, waiting for the woman to return.
I look away after a minute, just in time to see the woman come back around with a tube of ointment and a pill bottle. She shakes the pills out onto our hands, and sets to spreading the ointment where the bruises are forming, starting with our arms and fists. I swallow the pills quickly, but only after I see Terry start to sway do I realize what they are.
I can feel my eyelids grow heavy, and I fight against the urge to let go. I am in time to see Terry collapse against her cot, and only seconds after my body follows, while the woman continues to work like nothing has happened. I know I should be unconscious now, but I hold on to my grip on reality for as long as I can, until I relent and let go. Then everything goes completely dark, and I don’t wake up for hours.




IX
When we wake up we are in a room, on soft beds. Unlike in the books I managed to get my hands on when I was in my reading phase, I remember everything that has happened when I wake up. I sit up to see that I am in a room with Terry on my left and 3 other strangers in beds to my right. I am the first one awake out of the lot of us.
The room looks well off, each of the beds are expensive, although I can see the metal frames underneath them. I stand up and sweep my eyes across the room, and then realize with a start what everyone in this room has in common. With one shaking hand I move it to touch my skull, but instead of the long blond hair I am used to I only feel the fuzz of what remains of my hair.
All of our heads have been buzzed, completely. I don’t know when this happened, but I assume it was when we were knocked out. I shake my head, chastising myself. Of course it was when we were knocked out, when else?
The next person to wake is 2 cots to my right, in the middle of the other two strangers. From the face shape I’m guessing it’s a guy, although I can’t completely tell. With our heads shaved we all look pretty identical. Not that I mourn for my hair, but I already feel myself missing it. Not in a weird way, but in the sense that it was not my choice to get this new haircut.
Only a minute after the person 2 cots over wakes up, Terry jerks awake, and I’m unsurprised to see her fists up in a fighting position. Instinct, or training. When she sees me she relaxes slightly, although the moment that her eyes scan over the three beds to my right she stiffens back up. I don’t blame her, I can see them stirring now, each of them sitting up and opening their eyes, looking just as stiff as Terry did when she woke up, although with much less fight instinct.
I can see that the person directly to my right is a girl, and the person 3 cots down is boy, and, now that my eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting, I can see the person in the second cot to the right is also a boy.
3 girls, 2 boys. Almost perfectly balanced, and if we are all here to protect the president’s son, then the balance will be equal. 3 girls, 3 boys. Now that we’re actually here, and we were knocked out to get here, it feels much less…hopeful than it did back at camp. Sure, everything in here seems nice, if not expensive, but there are only 5 of us, and with that there will be higher expectations.
I can hear the door open, and am surprised to hear no locks clicking, unlatching or latching. In walk three figures, and I recognize two of them. I can infer who the third is. The first to walk in is an obvious face, the president. We all lift our hands in tight salute at him, and do not look away. To his right, the lieutenant is there. And to his left, I can only guess, if his son. Who else would it be, looking young and right around my age. He also looks like his father, with the same sharp jaw and jet black hair. The president nods at us and we lower our arms with a snap. He seems satisfied by this, and nods at the lieutenant.
“I trust you all know why you are here?” He asks, the same accent as before. We shift our focus to him and all nod as one. Yes, we all know why we were technically dragged here against our will. “We will be providing for you until you quit, or until we dismiss you. While you are here you will be provided food, clothes and compensation for your work to the ruling family. Specifically, Alexander.”
He explains this all to us even though we already know it, and we all nod at him. Waiting for him to get on with the point, I think. There’s no way that he will allow some half trained kids the guard the heir to the country, there must be something more involved in it. “For the next week you will be shadowing President Hon’s guards, and the week after that we will be watching you to see how you perform on a daily basis. Understood?” We all nod. It is simpler than I thought, but I know it will still be a lot of work.
“Each of you were brought here for an admirable trait that you possess, and we know it will benefit Alexander.” With each use of his name I can see Alexander’s expression change slightly, becoming more angry with his name use.
The president glances expectantly at his son, and I snap my eyes over to him. “Thank you all for coming here to serve me.” That’s all he says, and I can see in his expression that he is a little…shy? No, that can’t be it. He has been raised for this, there is no way that he could be shy to a small group of 5. I watch him turn his back and walk away, and I watch the president follow, leaving us alone with the lieutenant.
“You have uniforms stored underneath your beds, as well as hygiene products, a safe, any stationary you may need and a small amount of storage for any other items.” The lieutenant points out each item at my bed, pointing to the various cubbies that hold the items he has just listed. It hits me just how permanent this is, even more than conscription. This is an actual job, and like he said, I will not be able to leave until we quit or until we are fired. Neither are things you want to have happen to you, and especially not from the royal family.
“Your first meal will be taken at 12, please be changed into your uniform by then. You will have the remainder of the day to get settled in, and your dinner will be delivered to you.” He doesn’t spare us another glance after reciting his clearly memorized speech, just turns toward the door and marches out of the room without another glance at us.
I glance at Terry and find her already staring at me, and we both nod at almost the same time and pull out uniforms from the shelf they were located on. The others seemed a little frozen, but copied our movements quickly. Terry nodded towards the door next to her bed, opposite to the door where the president and his group had entered.
She reached it first and opens the door to reveal a spacious room, around the size of my bedroom at home. I breathe in a gasp of amazement as I examine it, stepping in after her. It’s set up carefully with another two doors, although I do not know where they lead to. I am too focused on the gym equipment surrounding us, weights and fitness machines that I know cost a bunch of money. They are meticulously arranged around the room, and I can see that each corner is devoted to one particular area of our body. The left corner in the back is clearly focusing on arm strength, with a rack of weights and devices I knew were adjustable, where you pull the bar down to your chin and rep that. Along the wall a pull up bar is screwed in.
In the back right corner it seems to be devoted to leg workouts, with a few treadmills, an exercise bike and leg stretchers. Everything there must have cost just as much as the rest of this room, and I wonder just how many of us they think will be in here. There looks to be about 20 pieces of equipment in all, whereas we are a small group of 5.
On our left I can see a bench pressing spot and a rack with the various weight to add, as well as comfortable mats on the ground, and I know this must be for your torso. The whole station is well arranged, and the mats are the same colors of the almost white blue walls. They contrast against the dark wood floor, although I doubt that it’s real wood, which is hard to find and expensive.
I turn to see a weapon rack on the right, with guns and swords carefully sheathed and resting in a carefully arranged order on the racks. There’s nothing else in the corner, but I must assume that is what the large round mat in the middle of the room is for, sparring.
They’ve provided us with everything we need to become even stronger than we already are, spending thousands on this room alone. I push past Terry and cross the mat to open the door on the left, which opens to reveal a staircase spiraling up. I know that it isn’t the right one when I see the gold lettered plaque on the door. Alexander’s Chamber. It is written in sweeping block letters against the gold of the sign, and I step back. Across the room, Terry opens the door to much more luck than me. I close the door to the staircase and cross the room to join Terry in the spacious bathroom, somehow bigger than the room we came from. In it I can see 5 doors, each one about 4 feet apart, and on the walls next to us sinks are mounted on the wall, which is covered in a thick mirror that spreads onto the two walls it touches, creating a room with mirrors for walls other than the wall with doors.
I find it to be even more expensive than the last, and when I go to one of the doors I can see names written on them, looking almost identical to the one on the door in the last room. I glance at the doors until I find my name on one, Avis. I cross the room to open it, and find something like a small closet with an area in it set aside for showering, with a wall full of soaps and scrubs, and an area to change. Although there are towels in our room, there are towels handing on a handle in here as well, above a machine I recognize to be one of the more expensive washing and drying machines, for us to do laundry.
“Holy cow,” I breathe in wonder, amazed by the expense this room must have cost. I can tell that we are here for a job and not because we were forced by everything that they spent on us. This room must have costed a fortune, and I wonder dimly if this cost could buy Terry’s entire apartment. I don’t doubt it.
The others file into the room and find the showers with their names on them, and close the door behind them. I can hear the showers starting up in many, but not in Terry’s, which is the only one to my left, everyone else is on my right, again. She changes and steps out, and then knocks on my door.
“Saydreen, hurry up. We have work to do.” I change quickly with a smirk, knowing what she wants. She wants to train, she wants for us to get ahead. Somehow, we are still allies.
I find that the uniform fits perfectly to my body, although it feels a little stiff. Hopefully after a wash it will feel better. When I open the door I find Terry standing, not in her uniform but in an all black training outfit, expensive shorts and a sports top. She shakes her head in mock disappointment at me and I sigh, not even needing her to tell me to change into something more appropriate. She grins and shuts the door behind me, and laughs when she hears the uniform drop to a pile on the floor at my feet.
“Hang it up, we don’t want it to get wrinkled.” I roll my eyes but follow her instructions, draping the uniform over the towel rack neatly. I’m used to doing those sorts of things for my parents at home, helping to wash and hang up the laundry, and the memory erases my smile as I change into the airy black training uniform that was set out on the wooden bench. It feels perfect, hugging my body in all of the right ways and making me feel more confident than I had without it, for some reason. It does seem a little strange that something with so little protection and significance would make me feel confident, but perhaps it is for those reasons that I like. It is mine, and it was made for me. I grab the shoes underneath the bench and slide them on, finding them perfect and supporting the arches of my feet well.
I step out and Terry grabs my arm carefully, and I realize that the forming bruises from yesterday are gone. So at least that woman did one thing that she told us she was going to, even though it’s not her fault that she was instructed to give us the medicine. That was the lieutenants fault, and his alone.
“So, what do you think of Alexander?” Terry asks as she leads us over to the leg section of the training equipment. I shrug as she taps something into the treadmill, making it beep and begin to slowly pick up pace. Terry moves to work on the one next to the one I assume is for me, so I hop on and begin to walk along to the pace of it. She grins as hers beeps and starts picking up pace.
Once mine reaches an easy jog it keeps at the same pace, and I consider her question as my feet pound the treadmill, nestled in the simple shoes. But the shoes are nicer than every piece of clothing I have at home, so I enjoy the feeling of my feet inside the padding and protection as I run. I can see Terry pick up a slightly faster pace and roll my eyes but don;t comment on her obvious affinity for running. And jogging. Whenever she can.
“I don’t know, he seems alright.” I don’t want to say anything bad about him, because I’m sure there are cameras in here if not mics. While we do seem to be treated well, we will not be allowed to just wander free, we have a job to do and we can not be mixed up in any scandal. Too bad that me and Terry are already involved in the revolution. Too late to back out now. This position is going to be good for the revolution to use, and not to mention if they can somehow take advantage of my abilities somehow to help me sneak around here. The idea brings a smile to my face as I keep the pace, and I can see the timer on the machine slowly counting, counting my time on it, as well as how far I’ve run.
“Yeah, I thought so too.” Terry glances at me for a moment, but seems to enjoy watching the numbers tick up and she glances back at it quickly.
“How did I make this go faster?” I ask, partially joking, partially complaining and partially curious. She only laughs and shakes her head.
“Just give it a minute starting…now.” She waits until the clock on mine says 4:00, meaning 4 minutes, and then nods toward her own. “Once it reaches the 5 minute mark it will speed up into the actual workout, right now we’re warming up. This should feel easy, alright?”
I like the sound of the belt whirring on the machine and our feet slapping the material in even intervals, it’s calming. I keep my eyes on my feet, making sure that I stay near the middle of the belt and not too close to the front or the back of it. After about a minute I hear the machine beep again, and then slowly speed up.
After a few seconds Terry’s machine begins to speed up, too, and I can hear us both begin to breathe more heavily as the pace picks up, forcing us both to run faster, to push our legs. Not that I mind, I think it’s fun to do this, no matter if its purpose is only to strengthen us for guarding Alexander. I can see why some people pay for gym memberships.
Terry and I don't talk after the pace picks up, choosing to focus on the run instead of wasting our breath in a monitored conversation. After the timer shows 9:34 the first person comes out of the bathroom, the other girl. She sees us on the treadmills and glances down at herself, wearing the uniform, then shrugs and heads towards the bedroom. I feel kind of bad for her because she clearly has no one to talk to, but don’t try to chase after her. Around 2 minutes later the two guys come out together, having a playful conversation with each other and arguing over something, probably something inconsequential that they both like. Probably a sport. They see us on the treadmills and smirk, but turn to go to the bedroom instead of joining our impromptu workout session. I lift my wrist to check the time, and am relieved to see that the watch is still there. It could have easily been stolen, either by the woman in the hospital wing or by the lieutenant when we were brought in. I’m surprised the woman didn’t take it, it is clearly expensive, and would be easy to sell in a pawn shop or something similar.
I still can’t read the watch, but I can see that the built-in display on the treadmill says it is 11:12. We’ve been running for 20:00 minutes when the machine beeps again and picks up the pace even more, and I groan. Sure, it's been fun to run, but I’m starting to feel exhausted.
“3 minutes, Avis, you got this!” Terry responds to my groan, although she doesn’t sound that excited either, much like me, exhausted. Well, we have reason to be exhausted, so I think I have good enough reason to groan about having to run for 3 minutes at a much faster pace when I’ve just been running for 20 minutes. The display says that I’ve run over 2 miles, and I’m impressed with myself. I don’t usually run nearly as much as home, although I’ve never really kept track of my distance, so going this far is amazing for me. When I glance at Terry’s monitor, I am unsurprised to see that she has already run 3 miles, because she is going a lot faster than me.
My feet hit the treadmill quickly, pounding against the plastic in an echo of Terry’s faster footsteps. I sort of feel like I am flying, I can almost imagine the wind in my hair as I use the last of my energy to sprint for these 3 minutes, to get as much of a distance as I can, and to satisfy myself. I can’t just go easy and step off the treadmill, or turn it off or even slow it down, I need to finish. This is my way of satisfying myself, proving that I can be here and that I might even belong here. I watch the timer draw closer to the end, 21:32, 22:21, until it suddenly beeps the track stops propelling itself forward, and I stop my quick pace as the machine slows to a stop, the display reading off the stats for me run. 240 calories burned, 2.2 miles run, 23 minutes running. I grin at Terry as hers slows to a stop and she examines her stats carefully.
“Well done, Avis.” She claps me on the back and helps me get down, my legs unsteady. As we walk toward the bathroom it feels like the ground underneath me is still moving like the treadmill, and I stumble a few steps before regaining my balance. Terry seems naturally adjusted from the moment she steps off, but I can see her rubbing her legs as if in pain. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were sore, she has just run over a mile more than me, thanks to her training and stamina. “Be out within 10 minutes, I know it’s not much but we need to be ready for lunch.”
“Alright,” I answer easily, and then close the door to my shower room behind me. I strip out of my clothes quickly and turn the shower on, letting the warm water soothe my aching muscles and clean the sweat off of my body. It’s a welcome change from the freezing cold showers we had at the camp, with a dial to adjust the amount of heat the water has. Fancy, much more than my house ever had.
There is so much soap, I have no idea what to choose from. Bottles of it, bars of it and cups with liquid in them. I read the labels carefully and select two, one that says ‘Lush Hair: Cucumber’ and one that says ‘Fresh Smell: Lavender’. Although there really isn’t any hair to take care of anymore, I’m hoping the soap will help grow it out faster, and scrub it through the fuzz on my scalp quickly, working it in before dipping my head under the water to rinse it out. I realize how long I’ve been in the shower and hurry to lather the other soap onto my body, inhaling the calming sent as I wash all the grime off my body.
It takes every fiber of my strength to turn of the shower, and once I do I quickly slip a towel around me and dry off, then pull the uniform off of the hook I have left it on and change into it. Now that I am in a uniform and cleaned up, I feel like I can face people again, and put on a convincing mask. When I open the door Terry is already out, and is adjusting her uniform in the mirror, as if it isn’t straight enough already.
“There you are, I was just about to bang on your door and tell you to come out,” She says with a straight face, her tone serious as she straightens the uniform and carefully swipes some invisible dust off of my shoulder. I roll my eyes at her and laugh.
“Come on, let’s get to the beds.” It feels wrong calling it the bedroom, even though that’s exactly what it is, so I call it the beds. A bedroom would feel much more cozy than the room we are sleeping in, that’s for sure. But I also can’t call it the barrack either, because we are not confined to it nor are we with many others on a compound. That leaves me with nothing to call it, and I guess I’ll have to be fine with that for now, because there is nothing I can do to change that fact.
Now I’m the one pulling Terry along at a fast pace, and by the way she moves I can tell she is sore and has pushed herself too hard on the treadmill. I roll my eyes at her, and I know she knows what I mean because she smirks back at me. “I beat you.”
She says it in a sing songy teasing voice, and I narrow my eyes at her in the same fashion. “Not for long.” Before she knows it, I’ll have caught up to her speed and maybe even become faster than her. Eventually, with enough work, maybe. Just maybe.
The others are all engrossed in a conversation when we walk in, and they look up when they hear us enter.
“Why didn’t you invite us to your little training session, huh?” The guy farthest from us glares at us haughtily and I sigh, glancing at Terry to wait for her answer instead of giving one myself.
“You all seemed very focused on your showers.” She answers, grinning almost ferociously. It almost seems like she’s singled him out as an enemy, and the glare he returns cements the idea for me. These two are not going to be friends
“Hey, there, let’s not start a fight on the first day,” the other guy in the room says, and he reminds me a little bit of Sam when he says it, sticking to the side of humor first. That, I can appreciate, because the other guy backs off.
“I’m Avis, although I prefer to go by Saydreen.” I nod at them in greeting, and go to sit down on my bed. I hear a chorus of hellos, and then Terry sits down next to me.
“Terry. Not Teresa. Terry.” She stares at the guy she had been arguing with earlier with obvious heat in her eyes and he shrugs, and I think I hear him say ‘whatever, Teresa.’. When Terry’s eyes narrow I know she heard the same thing, but I rest a hand gently on her shoulder to keep her from firing back.
The guy who was trying to smooth out the arguments goes next. “I’m Aarav, it’s a weird name, I know. Don’t ask where my parents got it from, because I have no idea.” I laugh at his joke and he grins at me, and I decide that this is someone else I want to tie myself to, like I did to Terry.
“Right then, I’m Ava.” The other girl says simply, and continues to stare at the door. She seems oddly vacant, and I remember the conversation she seemed to have with herself back when me and Terry were on the treadmills, or that’s what I thought she did, at least. She doesn’t make any other comment, although I can see her mouth something to herself before shaking her head. It makes me curious about what she’s thinking right now.
We all turn to look at the last guy, the snobby one that Terry was arguing with early. I think they’re both being petty and want to be the best here, but I keep that opinion to myself. After a beat of silence he stares back at us with fire in his eyes, and Aarav raises his eyebrow, prompting him on.
“What do you want? I’m not telling you guys my name.” He says it with as much fire as is in his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to deter any of us, especially not Terry.
“Actually, I saw your name on your plaque. That’s Colin.” She introduces him simply, and he glares at her. I don’t know why he wouldn’t tell us his name, it’s not that crazy. It’s actually pretty common. And even if he hadn’t told us his name, we could’ve figured it out easily. It was on his bathroom door, which Terry figured out long before all of us did.
We all turn when we hear the door start to open, standing up and saluting although we do not know who is coming. I’m glad we did because the open door reveals Second Lieutenant Cravis, who holds up a hand for us to drop our arms. We do it, and he nods his approval.
“Follow me, I’ll be pointing out some key locations to you before we arrive where you will be taking your lunch. Usually, you wouldn’t take any meals there, so this will be a one time occasion. Understand?” He waits for us to all nod before he nods back. “Fall in, soldiers.”
We do fall in, forming a formation quickly, with a line of girls on the left, me behind Terry and in front of Ava, and the guys on our right. It looks a lot better than forming a straight line, I think, but I don’t know how we decided that we would form something like this. The lieutenant looks back at us and seems to blink at our formation, then nods. I don’t think this is a usual formation, or one that he sees often.
I feel awkward as we march out of the room, following him, for obvious reasons. We’re being treated like guests right now, being escorted to a meal, which is strange when we are anything but. We are here to serve now. I wonder why they didn’t just hire more eligible guards our age from…wherever you can get guards from. I’m sure there is some place in the city that is used to create guards for the nobles, people that can then be hired and don’t require training. Surely they would be much more well equipped for the job, and certainly more so than us? We are just a group of ragtag kids pulled from the army to serve, judging on our skill level in a hand to hand fight. And then by our conversation with the lieutenant. At least, that’s where I assume we are all from, although I am not sure for everyone other than Terry and me. Maybe they were trained, and me and Terry were just the lottery guards, pulled from such a large group with no hope. I think that is what happened.
But I also don’t, because by the way the other three are acting, they seemed just as shocked to be here as I did when I woke up, and just as shocked by the niceness of our rooms. They still look a little shocked to be honest, especially Ava. Or maybe that’s just how Ava is, I haven’t known her long enough to decide anything other than that she seems a bit…unstable. She’s not bad or anything, just a little interesting.
The lieutenant points to the door at the very end of the hall we have just entered. “That is Alexander’s room. I trust that you have found the entrance connecting your rooms, but this is another point of access. We continue walking, until we reach the next set of large doors, which Cravis throws open.
It’s the main dining room, judging my the nice table covered in white cloth and the silverware set out in careful arrangements. It honestly looks like something out of a movie set, with at least 10 kinds of forks laid out at each spot. I’m guessing there’s about 30 seats there, 14 on either side of the table and the two heads, but it’s only an estimate. I wonder briefly if this is where we will be eating, but the lieutenant leads us past it without a word, probably knowing that he has no need to explain the room when its purpose is clear.
The next room looks much more appropriately set up, with a number of small tables scattered around. I can see that it isn’t nearly as fancily set up as the dining room, but there was a fair amount of effort that went into this room, too. Just as much as the other rooms. I can see a few people mingling around the room, each one standing near the wall where I can see a table is set up with refreshments, and a spot for food.
“You’ll be dining in here today. In the future, meals will be delivered to your room and available to you during the times when you switch shifts, which will make more sense tomorrow. For not, focus on refraining from making a spectacle.” The lieutenant explains it all to us simply enough, and I nod my head at his instructions. I can do that easily.
“I’ll be in this room, but will not be eating with you. I’ll come to retreive you when it’s time to leave. Ah.” He nods toward where food is being placed on a table in the open space. “You can retrieve your food from there, but do not take too much.” He gives us one last warning glance before he heads over to mingle with the various people around, including the nobles that I can see. Or at least I assume they are nobles, from their awards and medallions it is unclear. I’m sure a few of them must be captains, and others could be on the committee, but we seem to be the lowest ranking people in the room, by far. Talk about awkward, much.
Colin is the first to cross the room, and we all watch as he picks up a plate and grabs one of the sandwiches being offered to us. Once he’s through the line, we take it as a good enoughs sine for it to be safe for us to go. I give Terry a begging glance, asking her to grab food for me, and she shakes her head. I’m pretty sure I know her reasoning, but my face falls anyway and I follow the group to grab food. I kind of shrink a little as we walk, our group attracting more than one stare. We don’t look like we should be dining with them, we look like every other palace guard here. I tug at the uniform, as if trying to cover myself up more, despite the fact that I am completely covered, other than my face.
We reach the front of the table and I grab a plate, surprised to see that it is only a thick paper one. I suppose that no one here wants to do more than just toss away what remains of their lunch, rather than doing actual work and setting the plate in the dish return for it to be cleaned and reused. At least not everything here is fancy.
I see some people walk out with their food, and realize that they are also paper so that people can leave with their food and not have to return their dishes later. I can see how that would be convenient to some people, especially people working on the go.
I grab a sandwich, but before I can turn to go Terry places another on my plate, then takes two for herself. I raise my eyebrows at her, and she leans over to whisper in my ear so that we cannot be overheard.
“You wouldn’t be able to go back for more, that would be rude. And we need to build some muscle, and to do that we’ve got to eat.” When she pulls away I can see a smile on her lips, and I grin with her. Of course she would be thinking about that, while I’m more too focused on wanting to get back to their table. Of course.
This is why I keep sticking with Terry, despite our disagreements. Because no matter what she does, she is still helping me so much, and I know I wouldn’t have made it this far without her. I can try and tell myself whatever I want, I owe part of my success to her. Of course, I also owe it to myself.
We reach the table and sit down, and I’m careful to take a seat between Terry and Colin, who glare at each other over their sandwiches, and I almost want to laugh. Their agreed hate for each other is so funny and so out of reason, it’s hard not to. When Aarav sits down, I can see that he is holding in as much of a laugh as the rest of us. Well, not Ava, who still seems consumed in her thoughts, and Not Terry and Colin since they are busy glaring at each other, so really just me and him. We meet eyes and he smiles a little, showing how amused he is before taking a bite of his sandwich. I lift up the first of mine and inspect it, a little surprised at the simplicity of it. Thick pieces of bread, ham, american cheese, lettuce and tomatoes. Nothing special, just the basic sandwich. Sometimes when we had supplies at home we made sandwiches at home, although none of our ingredients were this expensive. I sink my teeth into it and find it to be quite alright, to my delight. It’s actually pretty good, despite the simple ingredients. While I don’t shove it in my mouth, I do eat it quickly and barely pause to breathe as I eat it.
Terry does look away from Colin once, not even to pick up her second sandwich and inspect it. I have to hold back a laugh by taking a bite of my second sandwich, and I can see the same look of concentration on Aarav’s face as he tries not to laugh. When we meet eyes I can’t hold it in anymore, and laugh softly. I hold a hand up to my mouth to block any unwanted glances into my chewing process, and both Terry and Colin look at me.
“Something funny, Avis?” Terry asks, and I shake my head at her.
“Just laughing because of that.” I point to the tomato that is dangling haphazardly out of the end of Ava’s sandwich, although that isn’t actually the reason for me laughing. “And Saydreen, Terry.” I correct her, shooting her a pointed glance. That name has no use here, no more than it did at camp. Maybe even less, now that we are in a small professional setting.
Colin uses my words like ammo. “Isn’t she like–your best friend, Teresa? Shouldn’t you know this?”
I latch onto Terry’s arm before she can do something stupid and shake my head, willing her not to respond to his teasing…or whatever he’s doing. There’s no way he would chance this by attacking her in the form of bullying, so I don’t really know what his purpose is other than to get on her nerves. Great.
Aarav shoots me a look from across the table, and I roll my eyes at him. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and his eyes down, but now he’s the real source of the problem, which I make sure to tell him with raised eyebrows.
It’s his turn to laugh, and he makes no attempt to hide it, which I admire. At least he seems somewhat comfortable here. That makes one of us. I finish the sandwich as quickly as I can without seeming impolite when I see the lieutenant approaching again, and stack my plate on top of Terry’s empty one. I take the last bite of my sandwich when he reaches us, and gestures for us to follow him again.
“Fall in,” He commands, and we form the same formation as we did earlier, the same odd looking two line formation that somehow looks better than having just one line. We follow him as he leads us back, past the dining room and into the hallway our room is in. “I trust you enjoyed yourself?” He doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “Great. As I said, your dinner will be delivered to your room tonight. Make sure to get a good night’s sleep, because I’ll be collecting you early in the morning to show you where the president’s guards are, who you will be training with. Understood?”
He waits for us to nod out head before nodding back at us and leaving us at the door to the room, not even waiting to make sure we make it inside. I follow Terry’s lead as she steps in first, and we all walk in with Ava bringing up the rear, although I’m surprised we didn’t lose her when we were walking, by the way she still seems to be paying no attention to anything whatsoever.
In her own world, that’s what people used to tell me when I zoned out when I was little. I wonder if this is what I looked like back at the camp, when I had retreated to my own mind for comfort rather than sticking it through and paying attention.
I guess everyone zones out from time to time. Terry elbows me sharply in the ribs, although I don’t feel it as sharply as I would have a few days ago, or even yesterday. I guess that means I really am improving, strengthening and building muscles.
She nods toward the work out room, and I nod along with her. “Can we do some more hand to hand combat? I know we’re pretty evenly matched, apparently, but I know you still have some tips to give me.” She brightens at the idea, and nods enthusiastically.
“Of course! Good job with that yesterday, by the way!” She seems so much happier than she did at lunch, and I think it’s because Colin immediately ran for the bathrooms and locked himself in his room, or that’s what I think he did.
I move faster than her towards my room and change back into my sweaty training uniform with a frown, but it only dampens my smile, really. I don’t know why I’m happy, either. I think that exercise is my thing, though. Sure, it’s a pain when you’re doing it, but once you’ve accomplished your goal it feels so satisfying to see the results, larger strength, more precision and things like that.
And I do, genuinely, enjoy hand to hand combat. I learned that yesterday when we were first starting on it, but it still seems so crazy to know that I have such power in only my fists and legs.
I change quicker than Terry, although that’s probably because she gets into her room slower, still limping slightly from the treadmills this morning. Her fault for setting her settings too high, I suppose. It’ll just give me an advantage when we fight today. I’m practically shaking from anticipation, and I jump when she touches me.
“Woah there, calm down. We’re not aiming to do any damage, alright? Just to practice.” She smiles at me and I nod, taking in a deep breath to try and calm down.
She leads me into the training room, and I can see that Colin has set himself up on a treadmill, much like we did this morning. Terry smirks at his speed, and I think we’re lucky that he doesn’t catch her expression, because then we would have a real fight on our hands.
Before we step on the mat she slips off her shoes, and I do the same. “For less damage?” I ask, although it could be for some other reason. But it’s not. Terry nods at me, and paces the length of the mat so that she is standing across from me.
Now, we have much more room then the rows back at camp ever allowed. Good, we’re going to need it. No, I think, trying to calm myself. We are just practicing, it’s not a real fight. I have to repeat it three times before I feel my pulse return to normal, and I shake my head. I need to focus now, not prepare myself for a real fight.
Terry dives straight into it. “Right, so yesterday I noticed that your dodging skills were…lacking. You dodged a punch to your throat by ducking, and got hit in the head, which is not what we want, if you were wondering.” She grins at me and I grin back, and I know that we are just joking around. “I want you to anticipate my moves and dodge them, alright?” She asks, and I nod.
“Got it.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth does she start actualling punching, and I hold up my arms to block. She shakes her head at me.
“Dodging, not blocking. Don’t do that again.” She says, although not too angrily, so I know she is only instructing me. I drop my arms and she nods her approval, then swings her arms again. This time, I take a step back to avoid the swing, and she nods her head again, but does not stop before swinging at me again, and I try to step back but have run out of mat to step back on. She grins and smacks me lightly. “You can’t run out of space, either. Imagine that this were a wall, you would be completely trapped!” She playfully swipes her hand across my face to show just what would happen if I were actually in this situation, and I grin back at her.
“Fine, then let’s go again.” I prompt, and she paces back to her original spot on the mat. I take up the same spot as I had before, but when I see her start approaching me, I walk towards her, too. When she throws a punch at me, I dodge to the left and slightly backwards, then advance towards her again. This time she uses her other fist to try and throw a punch near my head and I duck completely down to dodge it, rolling on my side and leaping to me feet.
She claps her hands lightly together, although not in a mean way. “Great. Now, I need you to actually fight me. Lightly, of course.” She amends, and then faces me again. “Got it? Still no blocking.”
Once I nod she retakes her original position, and I do the same, raising my fists this time. When she starts approaching me I grin at her and move towards her as well, and she makes the first move, sweeping her fist toward me. I sidestep it and use the opportunity to swing my fist at her as well, and she grins as he does the same thing as I did, sidestepping it. I’m not surprised that she seems to be echoing my moves with her own. It’s a smart tactic.
I go in for the next punch, carefully moving towards her and jerking my arm out as fast I can, just as she has taught me to do. Strike fast, so that they have no opportunity to see what you are doing. She dodges left, but I grin ferociously. I was expecting her to do exactly such, and so I made myself swing slightly wider to include the spot I assume she will be moving to. I’m a little short, but my fist still brushes her side. She grins at me and moves to throw a punch at me, and I use the opportunity to dodge to her free side and punch her lightly there. She still catches my side, but not nearly as hard as she would have if I hadn’t moved. Either way, I have gained the most from this round of follies. You have to lose some to win some, as the saying says although I am sure that is not what it was referring to, but it makes sense in this situation either way.
She sets back off the mat, and gestures towards the arm stations in the corner. “Your technique is great, but we both know that your arms are not your strongest point.” We had done a few drills over the past few days involving arm strength, things like pushups and burpees and other things, usually large amounts of reps of them. Of course, I wasn’t very good at those. I could run the laps alright, but once we were told to drop down and give 100, I was a goner. I usually did my best to pretend like I could do all of the exercises, but those were the drills that were the worst, or at least in my mind. I couldn’t stand them, at all. Nothing could convince me to actually like them, no matter how you put it.
“Why don’t we work on the weights first.” She looked incredulously from me to the bar before saying it, and I knew that she knew that I had no arm strength. She goes over to the rack and grabs two 10 pound weights, and I’m able to hold them easily.
“Is this meant to be a challenge? I can do this easily.” She grinned at me.
“Yeah, maybe you can hold them easily now, but trying doing 200 reps and see how you feel after.” She winks at me and selects her own weights, two 25 pound weights. If she’s only doing 15 pounds more than me, maybe she really is right, and I don’t need heavier weights.
I start lifting them, alternating each arm as I lift them completely to my chest before lowering them back down. I count in my head, and am surprised to see how exhausted I am by only rep 13. Terry notices my expression and grins.
“Not as easy as you thought, yeah?” She asks, and I shake my head as she continues to lift her weights at a steady pace. “Keep going.” She advises, and I nod before beginning to lift the weights again.
I do keep going. It’s just as much of a mental challenge as it is a physical challenge, sure, my arms are aching from the many reps, but I also have to keep on convincing myself not to stop lifting the weight, which I find somewhat funny.
After around 100 reps I can’t keep on going, and I set the weights down. My arms feel like they are on fire, and even Terry has slowed down her pace. She glances at me and seems satisfied by my expression, because she nods for me to re rack the weights.
“Go and shower, and then take a nap if you want. We have time.” She grins at my surprised expression. “Yeah, you can go and nap. Now hurry up and you’ll get a longer one. Oh, and throw your uniform into your washer so that it’s clean for next time!” She exclaims suddenly, and I roll my eyes back to her, nodding my head. Yeah, I know that if I shower quickly I can nap longer, but she doesn’t seem to notice my expression as I climb into my room and strip out of the dirty training uniform quickly, tossing it into the machine and fidgeting with the dials until it said that it was set to finish washing and drying in 2 hours. After that’s done I turn the shower and step into it, not even caring that the water is still cold at first. It soothes the muscles in my arms, but I don’t sit in there and enjoy it. I quickly wash my body and change into the stiff uniform because I have nothing better to change into, unfortunately. It won’t be the most comfortable thing I’ve worn to bed, but it certainly won’t be the worst thing, either. The material is nice enough that it makes up for any stiffness, I try to convince myself as I exit my room and cross through the bathroom and into the training room. Colin and Terry are still the one’s in there, but the only difference is that Terry is pulling herself up on the pullup bar quickly, much quicker than I could ever do, although I’m not sure if I could even pull myself up once there. The problems of being weak in the arm, I suppose.
I head toward the bed I know is mine, and see Aarav already napping his. On her bed, Ava seems to be having another conversation with herself. I consider going to talk to her but shake my head, deciding against it. What I really want is to take a nap, and not feel the burn in my arms that the workout left. But I like the burn, somewhat. It shows that I’ve accomplished something, that I’m learning and growing still. And that’s my only goal when I workout, is to learn and grow. I think I’ve done just that today, between my hand to hand lesson and my arm workout. Pretty good, all things considered, I think. Not half bad, I think.
I pull up the covers over myself and settle into the bed carefully, ignoring the pain in my arms as I push an arm under the pillow to give it even more support, although the pillow doesn’t need it, it seems to be as expensive as the rest of this room. I’m not surprised. Nothing in here is even close to cheap.
I have barely settled in when I fall asleep, happy to follow my mind down a mental trail that leads to simple rest. Yes, please.









X
When I wake up, it’s to Terry shaking me. I blink at her, somewhat surprised and definitely annoyed by the interruptance to my sleep.
“C’mon, get up. Dinner will be soon.” She looks freshly showered, and I wonder how long she was actually working out in the workout room. I glance over and see that Aarav’s bed is empty, and that Ava is still awake. Colin is nowhere to be seen, although I think I can faintly hear the sound of the treadmill in the other room, still going. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping, but I think it’s been a sort of long time, judging by the puffiness of my eyes from sleep, and the somewhat subdued pain in my arms.
I stand up and climb out of bed, and then turn to straighten the sheets to look cleaner and more professional. I still feel a little weird being here, but after getting some voluntary sleep I feel a little better. Not a lot, but for sure a little better. I can see Terry waiting for me at the door to the workout room, and I follow her to see Aarav now on the mat playing with one of the swords without much skill. I rolls my eyes at him, and think that it’s such a him thing to do, although I’ve only known him for less than a day. But I’ve picked up on his obviously playful side, always joking around. It’s a good trait to have, definitely, and it’s one that I greatly admire. I don’t think I could ever actually be as upbeat as he is, usually when things get hard I am more comfortable with pretending that they didn’t happen, or mulling over them to a point that it’s unhealthy. Those are my coping strategies, I guess.
We all seem to be coping here, and I’m not surprised that we have to cope. It seems like we’ve all gone through a lot, not to mention that, even if we hadn’t had anything going on in our lives, we’ve all been brought here technically against our will, lied to and drugged to just do the simple act of getting here. Doesn’t make me that confident in the president and his style of ruling, or in the lieutenant who has also had a hand in all of this.
“You’re holding the handle wrong,” Terry observes with a smirk, watching Aarav struggle with the sword for a minute before she walks over and readjusts where he’s holding the handle.
He grins at her. “I knew that, obviously. I was showing Saydreen here how to not hold it.”
“Uh-huh.” Terry says, clearly not convinced, but a good natured grin on her face. I grin along with them, happy to see us all connecting. Well, not Colin.
“Can you all shut up so that I can focus? Jeez.” His breathing is ragged, no surprise if he’s been running this whole time, but I can see Terry smirk, for whatever reason. Of course she smirked, because she thinks this proves she is better than him. I roll my eyes at her, and at Simon.
These two are going to be at it for a while, unfortunately. I think if they were to actually talk, they would probably have loads in common. Not that either of them would ever cave and have a civilized conversation with the other.
Aarav shoots me an exasperated glance, and I know he’s mostly kidding when he does it, he means absolutely no harm in his joking. I give him the same expression. These two are the worst, I communicate. Yeah, I know, he responds. I smile. I don’t know if that’s actually what his glance meant, but I think it’s safe to assume that’s what he would say if he were talking out loud, because he seems to be in favor of saying things like that all the time.
“Food is here,” I barely hear Ava from the other room, her voice soft like usual.
I repeat her words for everyone in here. “Ava says the food is here.” I announce, and lead us back into the bedroom, where food has been set out on the empty table across from our beds.
“The lieutenant didn’t show, some maid brought it here.” Ava explained when she caught me looking around the room, clearly searching for him. I shrug, not unhappy by this revelation, and go up to grab a plate. No one stops me from going first, and I grin when I see the food, not pasta. There are a number of rolls set out, and a plate of burger patties stacked on another plate, and on the next plate there are toppings for us to add. I quickly scan the supplies, and guess that there’s enough for 14 burgers in total, so I take two of the buns and feel them apart with my hands, then use the tongs to set patties on top of the bread. I only add ketchup to my burger, then go to sit down on my bed. I start eating before anyone else has even gotten there food, and I want to melt. The food is amazing. The bread is soft, and crispy on the outside, while the patty is perfectly seared and almost greasy with something that tasted like butter. I almost wish that I hadn’t added ketchup the the burger as I eat it faster, sinking my teeth into the meal so quickly that I practically inhale the whole burger, which is kind of true because I don’t take a single breath as I eat it, so quickly that it’s almost comical. Terry spots me and grins.
“Woah, slow down Saydreen.” She grins, and I almost hear Aarav behind the words. I glance at Aarav, who had just grabbed his food, and he seems satisfied with her execution of the words. While it’s not a joke, it does seem right up his alley.
I try to focus on tasting the burger when I pick up the second one, and take a bite of it. Next to me, Terry takes a bite of her burger and her eyes widen. “Woah, these are good. I see why you inhaled yours.” She jokes, and I see her sneak a glance at Aarav. I smirk at her, realizing what is going on. Someone here has a crush, and she isn’t very good at hiding it. She shoots me a death glare when she sees my look, and sighs exasperatedly, then glances back at Aarav who is watching her with a smirk on his face. I think he can see her feelings just as clearly as I can. He shoots me a glance and raises an eyebrow, and I nod with a small smile as I take another large bite of my burger and focus on not inhaling it. It’s not easy, when the burger is so good. I do basically inhale the next bites, no matter how much I try not to. But it’s just so good. I want to go up and grab another one, but figure that it would be rude to do so when there isn’t enough for us all to have another one, which I realize, sounds snobby, but is not. I’m just stating the facts here.
“Hey, I’m going to go to bed, we have an early morning tomorrow, right?” I don’t need their permission but I wait for it anyway, and only when I hear a chorus of goodnights and yeahs do I finally lay back down and nestle under the covers, not even bothering to change out of my uniform. It seems more important that I focus on getting some sleep. And this way, when I wake up I won’t have to worry about changing.

-

I wake up to Terry shaking me, and it’s almost nostalgic the way that this seems to happen every single morning, or time that I fall asleep. Apparently she has a much better body clock than me, because she always seems to get up on time. Or maybe I just have a bad one, because everyone else is already up. I grin and stretch as I stand up, flexing my still sore arms and my slightly more sore legs. I turn to make the bed, but I can see Terry doing it for me. I nod to her gratefully, and she nods back, but doesn’t take her eyes at something across the room. Ah, Aarav. I grin at her.
“Terry has a crush!” I whisper in a sing-songy voice, and she waves me away with her hand.
“Shut up,” She mutters as she finishes and stands up, which only makes me grin more.
“Ooh, you sound like Colin.” Aarav pointed out, joining in our conversation. I roll my eyes at both of them.
“Come on, we need to get ready for the lieutenant.” Everyone nods to my suggestion and we each busy ourselves with straightening our already straight sheets until we hear the door slide open. We all snap up into alert, arms raised in salute. It makes my arm hurt even more than before but I don’t let any weakness show on my face as I face him, and he raises a hand, allowing us to relax.
He scans each of our faces, as if making sure we look good enough, then waves us to follow him. “When we get there, the president will probably be in the middle of important matters. It is vital that you don’t interrupt him, instead you should go to one of his members of security and stand at attention with them, you will be shadowing that person for the rest of the week. Understood?”
We each nod separately, and he nods his approval back. He searches each of our faces separately, making sure that we really are ready for this. I don’t know what he sees in my face, but it seems to satisfy him. It’s clearly different from what I really feel, because I am terrified, to put it lightly. But whatever I have painted on my face makes him happy, which makes me happy. If he thinks I’m ready for this, I must be. Right? I wish I had a mirror, so I could look in it and see what he sees. But I don’t.
He steps out into the hallway and we follow, forming our formation in the hallway. As we walk, he resumes his talking. “I won’t give you any instructions when we enter, so I need you to keep the objective at mind when we get there. The guards present have been instructed not to respond to you, so it’s in your best interest not to try to ask them questions. They have, on the other hand, been instructed to guide you when they are given the chance. Not when you need it.”
We all nod our heads, although his back is to us and he cannot see it. I think he knows that we have nodded, because he gives us no further instruction, and continues his brisk pace through the halls, past rooms that we have not been introduced to, nor will be explained to us.
I think he enjoys knowing more than us, I can almost see the hint of a smirk on his lips as he continues forward. I can feel our pace slow as we near a new door, this time I can see the label next to it. “Presidential Court”.
In front of me, I can hear Terry inhale sharply. No doubt the revolution has been trying to gain access to these rooms, this one in particular, for awhile. Everything that goes on in here is important, this is where the President’s advisors help him come to decisions about the matters of our world. I can’t believe that I have managed to step into this, and it’s a far cry from where I started, doing odd jobs at home in hopes of earning enough to keep my family afloat. I have no need for that now.
The lieutenant opens the door for us, and I’m grateful when none of the arguing people inside look up at us. Our formation quickly breaks apart, and I scurry over to the nearest of the uniformed guards, who doesn’t even look at me, keeping his stiff posture and blank expression. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that he were only a wax figure, like those in the museums we once visited for school trips.
Once everyone in my group has found a guard, he steps forward and walks to the door. I take this as an invitation to follow, remembering the lieutenants warning that they would not talk to us until they have the chance. The moment that we are out of the room, the guard I am following turns to me and instantly brightens.
“Hello!” His eyes scan my uniform and find the name tag stitched onto a patch on my heart. “Saydreen?”
I nod, and hold out a hand to him, exhaling slightly. “Yes, hello.” I do the same as him, searching his uniform for his nametag. It reads ‘Nagfide’. He takes my hand and shakes it.
“Lucky that you’re stuck with me, I’m by far the friendliest of the lot.” Ah. He’s another person with a sense of humor. I’m slightly surprised, and with good reason. At home, no one joked around, but we were alright. Maybe not happy, but we were okay. When I was conscripted, I was sure that everyone would have at least lost their sense of humor, and not have anything left to give. But so many people I’ve met here wield their humor like a sword. It’s a trait I admire, but do not possess. I’m sure I could learn it with time around Aarav, and back at camp with Sam.
“And the laziest?” I offer, trying to gauge him through a joke of my own. It’s not the best executed, and sort of sounds more like an insult, but he grins back at me,
“Absolutely! It’s no wonder I take my break first, because sitting through those meeting are so boring.” He sort of reminds me of a child, despite him being at least in his 30’s. He looks like he’s my parent’s age, to be honest. I hope my awkwardness isn’t showing on my face, but I usually am not with people his age except for when I’m working for them. And I guess I am working for him, sort of, but I’m used to the work seeming a little more professional.
I nod and grin, and he takes it as an invitation to lead me through the hall to a door on the left side of the hall, which he opens, revealing quarters almost identical to the ones that we have been assigned. The one difference is that theirs looks a lot more lived in, and I can see personal touches surrounding each bed. One of the sheets has been changed to be straight pink, and another’s bed has extra pillows scattered on it. Another one has pictures from an old polaroid camera, one that is called ‘vintage’. It’s pretty much ancient, we have much better technology if you can afford it. Most people can’t afford it.
Almost mindlessly, I fidget with the watch on my wrist and the guard I am following catches the action. He looks excited when he rushes over and holds up my wrist, clearly not caring about personal space. I guess when you’ve spent half your life trailing someone, you wouldn’t really be used to the concept of such.
“Jeez, this is nice! Where’d you get it?” He looks so excited at the sight of it, like a kid in a candy store. For whatever reason, I can’t help but compare him to a child, he just gives me those kinds of vibes. It’s really strange, when I think my generation acts like a bunch of adults. It’s like each generation just dumps their problems on the back of the next one, in an endless cycle that seems to be breaking so many people. I’m not surprised that so many of us are in poverty, when the adults in our life have let go of any of their responsibilities to give them to us.
“Uh, I’m not sure, my friend gave it to me.” I answer uncertainly, and he looks surprised.
“Well then your friend must be rolling in money, because this,” He points to some initials on the band, and I assume it’s the initials of whoever crafted it. “This, means that it’s from a really really nice company called Leoreele Giov, and these watching can cost from around 5 thousand dollars to 10 thousand, and even more if it’s custom made.”
I think I looked more shocked than he does. 5 thousand dollars? That’s more than my family has ever had in our possession. That’s worth–like 10 of our houses. An insane amount of money, especially to spend on a watch that she gave to me. We weren’t even that close when she gave it to me, and the fact that she gave it to me in the first place still amazes me. Why in the world would she give me the watch when we weren’t even that close. I’m surprised she hadn’t asked for it back when we were arguing, over those many times we did argue. How in the world have I managed to acquire this watch?
“Sooo, how long have you been working as a guard here?” I ask, changing the subject to something slightly less awkward, or at least I hope it’s less awkward. Maybe it’s awkward and has an even more awkward story behind it, I won’t know. I won’t know until he answers.
He considers the question for a moment, seems to be trying to remember when he started working as a guard for the president. “I think it’s been 10 years. I started when I was 22, maybe? It’s been awhile, and the years kind of blur together when all you do is the same thing over and over again.” His smile deepens into a frown, and I look away quickly.
Yeah, that was awkward. Too late to switch back to the simple topic of watches now. I have to keep pushing, to look at where I might be in a few years. Hopefully with the same sense of humor as he has. And the same people we started with, although something in my mind tells me that I won’t be here in 10 years. Something tells me that no matter how it ends, it will not end with me as a guard for the president’s son.
“Do you know anything about the president’s son?” I ask, trying to see what I can learn about the person I’ll be stuck serving.
Not for long, if the revolution pulls through on their promises, do what Terry told me they would do. Nagfide considers for a moment, and then shrugs.
“He’s a recluse, I rarely see him with his father. Actually, I usually don’t see him with anyone other than the people the president sends his way and forces him to hang out with.”
I glance at him, and see that he’s not joking in the slightest. He is dead serious. I sigh, sounds like exactly who I want to be trailing for who knows how long.
“What about when he was younger, I know you must’ve signed on when he was around 8?” I ask, and he looks like he’s looking at an old movie as his eyes flick around the room, looking a little unhappy at my prying.
“7, actually.” He corrects, then blinks again before speaking again. “Yeah, he wasn’t around his father much then, either. I think he had a nanny or someone to take care of him. Most of the rich folks around here do.”
I nod at him, I was expecting that. Of course he would have someone paid to take care of him. “Probably an ambassador too, for his lessons.” He nods his head at me, still lost in thought, and I stand awkwardly, waiting for something to do. I have a feeling that he usually doesn’t take his breaks with another person, so talking to him is a large change from usual. If I were him, I would probably nap during my break. I love sleeping a little bit too much.
Sleeping is the best, definitely. I think I need to get more of it, judging by the way that it’s usually on my mind. Unless I’m with Terry, usually she can distract me from matters with equally serious matters, but not something that I deal with immediately. She gives me food for thought.
Food, that’s what I want. We weren’t given breakfast, and that’s when I spot an assortment of dry cereals on the table where the food is served. He doesn’t seem to care much about grabbing any, and I don’t want to grab it first. That’s too awkward for me.
So far, this entire experience has been so awkward, completely awkward, and I don’t know how to feel about that. I hate feeling awkward. Feeling awkward is so…awkward. I don’t like feeling awkward.
He glances up at me and goes back to his childish self. “Right, then, you hungry? Breakfast isn’t the best meal here, but it’s alright, for sure.” He walks over to the table and grabs a bowl, quickly poring some of the chocolate puffs into his bowl and adding milk. I follow behind him, grabbing a bowl and prodigy some of the colorful loops to my bowl. It takes him a second to add milk to his bowl, but after he does he hands it over to me.
He goes to sit on his bed, and I take a seat next to him, awkwardly sitting on the other side of the bed carefully, eating in silence. He doesn’t talk to me, so I don’t talk to him. Simple. We eat in silence, neither of us daring to say a word and chance changing the careful peace that we’ve invented. He doesn't seem thrilled to talk about the president’s son, and something tells me that there’s more about Alexander than he’s saying, but I don’t push.
Instead, I ask one of the lamest questions of the century.
“Sooo. Do you like being a guard?” I think the expression on my face shows how I feel the minute I’ve said the question. I probably look like I’ve just eaten a lemon. He catches my expression and laughs, returning my expression with one of his own.
“Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t know why he even needs guards, nothing really happens around here, anyway. But the pay is good, and they let us send it home to our families.” He seems happy by this, and I realize that I haven’t even been told how much we’re being paid.
“How much is it?”
“About 15 grand a month.” He says it so casually, but my jaw drops. This could majorly pull my family out of poverty, and pretty much everyone around us. I could change so much by staying here and not messing up. He grins at my expression and nods enthusiastically. “Right? They’re tossing money around here like it’s actually paper, and it does wonders for us.”
I guess he has a family like mine, at home. I don’t ask, but given his lack of general decorations around his bed, whereas I realize most everyone here has purchased expensive items with their salary, he sends his money home somewhere.
That’s…an absurd amount of money. How could anyone ever need that much? I don’t even know what I’d do with that money, and if he’s right I won’t even have to do anything but trail a snobby rich kid around. Convenient, but still a necessary job that they wouldn’t be able to cut. And life changing to whoever holds the position.
We fall back into a quiet peace, until Nagfide stands and heads towards the door, turning around once he reaches it. “C’mon, we better go and let another pair off. We’ve taken enough time as is.”
His eyes shine as he leads us out, navigating the castle with ease. I wonder if he’s even paying attention to where we’re going, or if he’s just so used to it that it’s basically a habit. Once we reach the door, he hesitates before opening it.
“Copy my expression,” He instructs, and then his face goes completely blank, back to how it looked when I first met him. He’s somehow both focused and not, enough to show that he’s aware of his surroundings but not enough to show that he’s paying close attention or cares too much. I do my best to copy his expression, focusing on his face but letting the details slip past me, sort of blurring everything. But I can still see everything go on around me as blurs of color, and when he nods I can see it well enough that it my focus should be enough for here.
He grabs the door handle and pulls the door open, careful not to make too much noise as he does so. I can see his expression go blank and do my best to copy him, and almost the moment that we open the door I can see Terry and her person, a girl, walk out. We replace them quickly, and I take up a position behind Nagfide, and slightly to the right so that I can at least see a little bit around him. He doesn’t react once we’re in place, and I copy his posture, a stiff spine, arms clamped on the side and head held high.
After a few minutes, the only thing I can focus on is how much I want to fidget. My legs start to ache pretty quickly, and then my arms come, and then my back. It’s more of a mental fight to keep myself fighting to stay up, rather than a physical one. Sure, my body hurts, but I have to convince myself not to fidget or move.
I see Terry and her partner walk in, both of them looking slightly nervous about something, although they hide it well. Terry, not as well as her partner. We meet eyes for a second before I snap mine away, trying to focus on something other than her obvious nerves. It’s not easy.
My mind wanders, and another partner group leaves, Colin and his partner. The only one left to take a break is Ava, although she doesn’t seem to notice. I would almost think that she was doing a really good job, but this is how she usually looks, so I don’t know if it counts. Maybe she’s been hiding her feelings this whole time from us, although that doesn’t make much sense. I think she’s just been through something hard, and that’s why she’s like…this.
But what would I know? Because I certainly don’t know what Terry’s nervous about, although it could be a new update more than something she’s hiding from me.
I can’t see her from my spot in the room, but I make a mental note to ask her about it later. It has to be something important, because usually she’s much better at hiding how she feels.
After a while, I’ve almost completely forgotten about everyone in the room, my mind has strayed, and the last thing I’m thinking about is the expression I caught on Terry’s face. There’s been one more guard switch, and now Ava is taking a break and Colin is back in here with us. If we weren’t all wearing carefully crafted masks, I think Terry and Colin would be glaring at each other from across the room.
At least now we get a rest from their bickering and glaring. It makes it a lot easier when I’m not worrying about those two trying to destroy each other.
I can see the president stand, and that’s when I refocus on my sort-of task. The real guards around the room quickly form a formation, moving to make a wall of strength and will. The four of us trailing take up a line a few steps behind them, and the president begins to move as if this is the most normal thing ever. I guess for him, it is. It’s easy to get used to something like this when you’ve grown up your whole life in preparation for such a thing.
But to me, the formation looks so bizarre yet completely natural. The guards seem to mold to the president's steps, something I assume can only be done through hard practice, and carefully gathered knowledge that many don’t have unless from years of experience. It’s a well oiled machine, the bodyguards and the president.
I doubt that my group will ever look so smooth, but then again, I can’t picture any of us here in a few years, even if that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Now, that’s a likely reality for me. And I have to start thinking about it.
Speaking of thinking…I turn subtly to Terry, who walks on my left side, not enough to alert anyone to my movement but enough to catch her eye. I can see her raise her eyebrows at me, asking what I need.
I raise my eyebrows and glare back, sweeping my eyes down the length of her unformed body, saying that I’ve noticed her behavior. She sighs, and shakes her head slightly, and I know she knows what I’m talking about. She’ll share later. I sigh, and refocus on our current task, trailing the odd arrangement of bodyguards.
After walking for a few minutes, across a span of hallways and other closed doors, we reach a new room. I haven’t been to this part of the castle yet, and I have no idea what the door will reveal. Whatever it is, from what I can see of the President’s expression, he’s not quite excited to be here. In fact, he looks like this is a chore rather than anything else, to my surprise. I would think yjay after so many long years he would be used to having to do inconvenient things that he doesn’t want to do. Or maybe all of his terrible decisions have been what he wanted rather than something he resorted to.
It’s worse when he opens the door and enters a room with only two people, his son and a middle aged woman. I keep my expression neutral, but I feel disgusted. Is meeting with his only son such an inconvenience?
I’m assuming the woman is a tutor, based on the arrangements of papers and books in careful organization around them.