The third girl with them meanwhile opens my bag, and starts taking things out. I stare helplessly as she takes out a book, one of my Dad’s precious rare editions.
“No!” I say.
“What’s she got there, Ashley?” Claudia lets go of my hair and looks closer at Ashley, a skinny blonde, who’s holding up a leather-bound precious copy of Consuelo by George Sand—possibly my favorite book in the whole world—by its front hardcover cardboard plate.
“Put that down, please,” I say.
“Oh, yeah? Or what?” Ashley holds the book carelessly and gives it a shake, so that a fragile, age-yellowed page falls out from the middle, and the cover itself starts to rip and come apart at the binding. . . .
I feel a fierce burning at the back of my throat, and the stifling thickness that comes just before tears. I am about to bawl, like a pathetic loser coward, both from the pain and the humiliation, as I’ve done before countless times, when cornered at school. . . .
So many times before. . . . Always.
But something different happens this time. This is my favorite book in the world. My Dad’s beloved edition. I am probably not going to Qualify. So, in a few months from now, it’s going to burn in asteroid flames as the world ends. Together with me, and probably most other people I love.
What does anything matter?
A weird new sense of calm comes over me. For some reason in that instant, I also remember, of all things, Aeson Kass. I see his steady blue eyes, strangely intense and unblinking. He is speaking to me, in a low soft voice of power, and his words fill my head. As you learn to fight, you learn to defend yourself. . . .
The hairbrush that Olivia’s holding tangled up in a clump of my hair is ripping my hair out. I lift my hand and take hold of her wrist.
And suddenly I press hard—I press with all I’ve got, feeling the bones in her wrist, so that Olivia exclaims in surprise and lets go of my hairbrush that clatters on the floor. At the same time I use my other hand, balled up in a fist, to slam into Claudia’s midriff area.
In the next second, I stand up. I reach out quickly and grab the precious book from Ashley. “Get away from me! Get out!” I say, and my voice, it’s different now, as if it’s not my own. It’s low and hard, and coming through my teeth.
“Get out.”
I am standing straight, and my eyes are burning with intensity, tears transformed into fury.
I can see something has clicked, because Claudia’s expression is transformed also, and she is frowning, but at the same time she’s no longer so sure of herself.
“Did you hear me?” I say, looking at each one of them. “The cameras are on us right now. What are you going to do, if you still want to Qualify?”
“We’re not done, chica,” Claudia mutters, holding her abdomen. “Don’t think we’re done. You touched me, you’re gonna pay.” But she is up, and she is backing away from my cot casually, and she throws a smile at Olivia, who glares at me. Ashley steps back also, then kicks my bag, hard, as she walks by.
“See you next time, Gwen-baby,” Olivia says. “Meanwhile, you’d better watch your back.”
I don’t answer. I am breathing hard, watching them leave. No one else is in the surrounding area, the nearest cots are vacant and the girls’ dormitory floor is nearly empty. The closest girl is more than a dozen cots away, and she has her back turned, straightening her things, likely pretending she heard nothing. I don’t blame her.
I stand, holding Consuelo in one hand. It occurs to me, I just defended a book.
What have I done? I am absolutely insane. They are going to come after me even harder now. They always do. And cameras don’t matter—they will find a way.
I go downstairs to grab dinner. In the cafeteria, no one I know is around, not even Laronda. And there’s no sign of Blayne’s wheelchair. So I eat alone, at a table near the wall, as quickly as possible. I am keeping my head down, and thinking grim thoughts, as I move my fork around some kind of bland, greasy macaroni casserole.
After dinner, I decide, I’m finally getting out of this building. Time to go look for my brothers, for Gracie.
Ten minutes later, as I unload the remnants on my tray into the trash, I turn to see the big scary guy with the neck tattoo walking past me. As he passes, he pinches my rear and then slams his elbow into my side painfully, and keeps walking, without a glance at me.
I wince in pain and almost double over, but hide it, pretending to be checking something at the seam of my jeans near my thigh.
Quickly I head out of the cafeteria, out through the lobby, and outside. The place where the jerk pinched me really smarts, and so does the side where he slammed into me. I wonder how much if anything those supposed surveillance cameras picked up.
The chill evening air strikes me, and I remember I left my sweater upstairs, and I’m only wearing a T-shirt. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I continue outside, after getting a printed page with the map of the campus buildings, up at the info desk.
According to the map, Dorm Five, Red Quadrant, where Gracie’s at, is only three buildings away.
The compound grounds are filled with Candidates walking in the twilight. I see small groups of teens whispering nervously, hear occasional bursts of laughter. But mostly, it’s just quiet solitary individuals hurrying somewhere.
Dorm Five looms before me, with its red square logo up on top. As I enter the front doors, I am in a Common Area lobby that’s an exact copy of my own dorm, down to the layout of the info desk, the stairs, cafeteria doors in the back, and even the lounge furniture. I see teens everywhere, and the only difference is, their tokens are all shining red. A few of them give me and my yellow token hard looks.
I pause, considering what to do next, where to even begin looking for Gracie, when I see a bunch of people gathered on the sofas and chairs. As I scan the company, there’s Gracie herself. She is sitting on the sofa, chatting with people on both sides of her, and I can even hear her familiar giggle laughter, all the way to the door. Okay, wow. Gracie hasn’t been so cheerful and relaxed in days. What on Earth has happened to my little sis, overnight?
I make a beeline directly for her. Gracie says something to a boy on one side of her, tosses her hair back, slaps her hands together, and then her gaze falls on me.
“Gwen! Oh my gosh, Gwen! Over here!” Gracie jumps up from her seat, and as I approach she throws herself at me. I am hugging my sister, smelling the familiar scent of her hair, soggy from a recent shower. Then we pull apart, and I see her face with its slightly smudged, newly applied eyeliner and globby mascara, and she is glowing with high-energy excitement.
“So, you survived today! How was everything?” I say with a grin. And then, as Gracie opens her mouth and begins to talk, I happen to glance sideways and see . . .
Logan Sangre.
He is sitting on the sofa near the empty spot where Gracie has been.
I feel like someone had just body-slammed me in the gut, and I freeze, while my cheeks are suddenly on fire. Gracie is saying something, and honestly I have no idea what’s coming out of her mouth. Could be anything, blah, blah, blah.
“. . . and so we had Agility Training first thing after lunch, and it was kinda awful at first, then not so bad!” Gracie is chattering. “I got a demerit because I fell off the monkey bars, and oh, the hoverboards were okay, maybe even fun in a weird way! And our Red Quadrant weapon is the bestest evar, a sword!”
“How are your Instructors?” I say, trying to take in a deep calming breath so that I can speak evenly and keep my face from twitching or my teeth from chattering.
“Oh, they were mean and awful! Two of them were these hotshot Atlanteans with a real hard attitude,” Gracie exclaims, plopping back down in her seat on the sofa.
As she does so, Logan Sangre, who’s been talking to some guy on the other side of him, turns his head to look at me.
“Everyone, this is my sister Gwen!” Gracie looks around and then focuses on Logan, of all people. “Oh hey, Gwen, this is Lo
gan, he’s a senior from our school, can you believe that?” Gracie has no idea about my crush obsession, naturally, no one does. No one, that is, except my friend Ann Finnbar, the only person I’ve ever told, back at school. And oh yeah, now there’s Laronda who knows too. . . .
“Hi,” Logan says to me, with a light smile on his sexy chiseled lips, a smile that makes his already amazing face beautiful beyond belief. “It’s a small world. Go, Mapleroad Jackson High Wolf Cubs!”
“Hey,” I say, while I drown in his warm hazel-brown eyes with their mile-long lashes. Somehow I manage to make my own lips shape the necessary words, as though I am a wooden puppet. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around. Go, Wolf Cubs!”
“Yeah. . . .” He leans back, and his hair falls in an attractive way over his forehead as he leans his head sideways, looking me over. “I’m sure I’ve seen you too. Are you a junior?” His eyes, warm, rich, are looking at me directly, and it’s smoking-hot, and I am just going to stop breathing now. This. Very. Moment.
My temples are pounding. He knows what year I am!
“Wanna sit down?” Gracie says, as I nod and mumble some half-baked reply. She then moves off to the side a little, making space for me right between her and Logan.
“Sure,” I say, while the whole world is pretty much spinning around me in a crazy carousel.
And then I sit down next to Logan Sangre.
I mean, flush next to him. So that we’re touching. The entire side of my body, my left hip is pressing against his. I feel the muscular hardness of his body.
And he doesn’t move away. Instead, he puts his arm around the back, so that if I close my eyes and imagine it, in some alternate dimension or something it could count like he’s got his arm around me!
It took the end of the world to bring this about.
I am squeezed between my sister and Logan Sangre.
If the asteroid hits us now, I can go out with a smile.
We talk about stuff for the next five minutes, and if you ask me, I wouldn’t be able to say what we’ve been talking about, or for that matter if we’ve been talking human or dog. This is what the presence of Logan Sangre does to my pathetic brain. I was going to ask Gracie about our brothers, if she’d seen them, but of course now that’s all gone out of my mind, together with any semblance of rational thought, motor function, or long term memory.
Seriously, I am fortunate that I can remain seated without keeling over and tripping over my own legs, or my feet snagging on the coffee table before us. It could be worse; I could be having an attack of the hiccups, loss of bladder control, or spontaneous drooling.
Good thing Logan seems to be unaware of my discomfort. Neither is Gracie or anyone else in this lounge group.
“Yeah, can you believe it, we get to fight with swords! Real swords!” a freckled redhead younger boy keeps saying. His name is Charlie Venice, and he is sitting on the other side of Gracie, and sort of hitting on her. And by hitting on her, I mean, he is being loud and saying dumb things in a stupid voice and constantly grinning obnoxiously. His token is glowing red—about as red as his hair and freckles.
Gracie is oblivious, because I notice she is chattering with everyone, and looking over at Logan, and at the guy on the other side of him, who introduced himself as Daniel Tover.
“So, people. We made it this far. Now what are all your plans to make it all the way? To Qualify?” Daniel leans forward, speaking to everyone in general. He’s dark haired, older, with a large-featured pleasant face and a slightly crooked nose. His expression is steady and comfortable. “I mean, we passed the initial tests, and now we have all this bizarre training. What do you think it is all leading up to?”
“Yeah, what’s up with all that fighting stuff? And the four color Quadrants? It’s like we’re in a creepy color-coordinated camp,” a petite and pretty brown-haired girl says. Her name’s Mia Weston, and she is also a Red. As far as I know, I am the only Yellow in the room.
Logan is watching me—I know with my peripheral vision, even though I am trying to look straight ahead while pretending to be fascinated with what Mia is saying. He definitely must be looking at my yellow token. That must be it, there’s no other reason for him to be looking at me.
“So, Yellow Dorm,” Logan says, turning his face at me, and leaning in closer. “What was your Combat like? I’m curious what’s it like to have to work with nets and cords—or whatever they call it. Swords and blades are intuitive, but the Yellow Quadrant weapons seem very complicated.”
“It’s pretty weird, I guess,” I say, trying not to look directly into his eyes, while my cheeks begin to warm up again. “We didn’t get to do anything with them yet, only watched the demo. The two Instructors were showing us all the four types of weapons. I have to admit, they were really something! Amazing moves!”
“Were they also stuck-up a-holes, like our Instructors?” Gracie laughs, nudging me.
“Kind of, yeah,” I say. “But then they’re astra daimon, which I suppose gives them some kind of excuse for having an attitude.”
“Oh, really?” Logan looks at me with even more interest. “I’ve heard that term used today in Culture class. Isn’t that supposed to be their highest elite Pilot rank? Astra daimon means something like ‘star demon?’”
“Is that what that means? I didn’t know,” I mutter. “Okay, yes, that would make total sense, since Ancient Atlantean shares linguistic roots with Ancient Greek. . . .”
“Yeah, that’s their elite fighting forces.” Logan pulls out a small knife from his jeans pocket and flicks it open then snaps the blade folded again, with a clever motion of his fingers. I stare at his sleek movements, his strong, well-shaped hand.
“Those hotshot Pilots, I hear they’ve all got fancy call signs,” Charlie says, leaning in over Gracie. “Oh, wait! I was early to Combat class, and heard a couple of Goldilocks Instructors talking quietly out in the hall, before anyone else got there. Get this—apparently their giant motherships are no longer in those low-altitude positions in our skies! You know how they used to be parked right over the cities and stuff, so you could see them when they first showed up? Well, now that we’ve all been Preliminary-Qualified, those huge ships have gone back up into orbit!”
Daniel Tover leans forward and glances at him. “Since when?”
“Happened overnight! So now instead they’ve got space shuttles landing and going up all the time. And not just here, but all over! They go back and forth between all the RQC compounds and their starships, on a regular basis.”
“I think I saw one launch this morning,” Mia says. “We watched it from our dorm windows.”
Charlie nods vigorously. “And also today, okay, there was some kind of extra-VIP shuttle arriving. Some really important Atlantean dude coming down to visit, and he’s here in our compound. Why, I don’t know. Probably to check up on us ‘Candies.’ You know that’s what they call us, right? They and the Dorm Leaders call us behind our back, Candidates—Candies. We’re all Candies. Oh, and from what I could tell, they used some weird Greek God sounding ‘call sign’ name for the VIP—”
“Who is it? Do you remember what they called him?” Daniel’s gaze follows Charlie’s excessive nervous movements.
Charlie shakes his head. “Like I said, some Greek mythology thing. I don’t remember that kind of junk.”
“Mythology is not junk,” I say. “And if it’s the same person, I think he was looking in on our Combat Training class. His name’s Aeson Kass—he was kind of different from the rest of them. Not just higher ranking but—hard to explain. . . . Better, I guess. He was wearing a black armband. But I don’t think they mentioned any Greek-sounding ‘call sign’ or whatever.”
Logan’s one brow goes up. Charlie and Daniel exchange glances.
Gracie stares at me. “Wow, I wonder what’s up? What was he like, exactly?”
I think momentarily. How in the world to describe what I’ve seen in class—the whirlwind Er-Du fighting demo, the amazing, almost inhuman spe
ed of their moves? Both Oalla and Aeson were incredible, and for that matter, so was Keruvat, during the earlier weapons demo.
But Aeson Kass—okay, there really was something special about him. Just a little more, just a tad extra. If Oalla and Keruvat were blazing hot, then he was the inferno. . . .
I think and I say, “All I know is, he’s astra daimon, and he wears a black armband because he gave his life for Atlantis. I guess that’s the VIP part. That’s what our Instructor Oalla Keigeri said when she introduced him. I have no idea what any of it really means, or what his story is. That’s all I know. And yeah, I realize it makes no sense, actually.”
“He gave his life? How? Okay, that’s so weird!” Gracie has a big-eyed expression. She stares at me then glances over at Logan.
“Very curious, agreed.” Logan watches both of us. “There’s so frigging much about these Atlanteans that we don’t know. Makes you wonder about all kinds of other things.”
“Personally, I don’t trust them,” says another girl whose name I didn’t catch; I think it’s Becca. “It’s bad enough we are stuck in this impossible situation, and yeah, I get it, they are offering us our only way out. Great! But what really happens there? As in, up there, on those starships, and on Atlantis? Those of us who make it, what happens to us?”
“That’s the million dollar question.” Daniel slaps his leg and gets up. “You coming?” he says to Logan who nods, stands up also then turns to me and Gracie.
“Well, it was great to meet both of you, Gwen, Gracie,” Logan says, and his warm hazel eyes crinkle lightly at the corners. I stare up at his lean and powerful runner physique.
“We’ve been making the rounds of all the Red Dorms,” he continues. “Getting to know our fellow Red Candies. We’re from Red Dorm One. But now—time to hit the next one before the 8:00 PM homework hour.”
“Red Candies! I like that!” Charlie Venice makes a horse-laugh noise. “Checking out the competition, eh?”
“Yes, you better not miss the curfew,” I say, “or they might lock you up in the Big Bad Candy Jar.” Wow, okay, did I just make an actual albeit lousy joke in the presence of Logan Sangre?
[Atlantis Grail 01.0] Qualify Page 14
