Fast-Tracked

by Tracy Rozzlynn

“No, ma’am. I was just enjoying the scenery of the gardens,” I respectfully replied. The other girls exchanged snide looks. Determined not to let them get to me I continued talking. “I was wondering, are we allowed to take cuttings from the plants in the garden? I’d love to have a fresh arrangement in my room.” I had no idea why I said that, but suddenly I found the idea of wandering through the garden collecting roses very appealing.

  Mrs. Glabough responded by suddenly wiggling in a way that I had decided showed her excitement. “You’re certainly allowed to take whatever you’d like as long as it’s not in a research greenhouse, but if you like I can arrange to have fresh flowers delivered to your room regularly.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to collect the flowers myself. I find the activity very relaxing – like a meditation of sorts – and I’m rather particular about my flowers.” None of what I said was actually true, but the lie rolled right off my tongue with surprising ease. I wanted to be able to collect them on my own and didn’t want Mrs. Glabough ruining it.

  “Ah. You have a controlling attention to detail,” Mrs. Glabough replied. I couldn’t tell whether it was a compliment or a criticism. But the other girls must have decided it was a criticism because they all began to snicker. Mrs. Glabough quickly snapped, “It’s a highly desirable quality that you’ll find most real fast-trackers possess. Myself included. You girls would do well to follow Miss Zandria’s lead.” She gave them each a cold stare that stopped their laughter in its tracks.

  Ha! Take that, you ostracizing witches, I thought. I was still hurt by their behavior and gave them each a snide smile.

  Before they had a chance to react the elevator door chimed and glided open to floor eight. Mrs. Glabough took the lead and we all obediently followed. One by one we were assigned our rooms.

  As Mrs. Glabough gave us a brief tour of Vera’s accommodations, we quickly realized that ‘room’ was an inaccurate description. Each one was more like a completely furnished apartment. A large living room opened up to a modest kitchen and laundry room. The bedroom and a large bathroom were on the other side of the living room.

  All the girls stayed together as a group as each one of us was shown her room. They all were basically the same and had the same basic décor, but no one minded because it was more than any of us had ever expected.

  Finally I was the only one left. But instead of showing me my apartment, Mrs. Glabough turned around and headed back down the hall.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Glabough?” I called. She turned around. “What about me?” I asked hesitantly.

  “That’s where we’re heading right now. You’ll be staying on the ninth floor.” All the girls behind me snickered. We already knew that was the same floor as Mrs. Glabough’s living quarters.

  I forced myself to smile and followed her to the elevator. None of the other girls followed.

  When the door opened, Mrs. Glabough gestured to the left and explained her quarters were in that direction, then led me down a long corridor on the right. There was a door at the very end of the corridor. Mrs. Glabough opened it and my mouth hit the floor. In front of me was a living room the size of my parents’ entire first floor and on the other side of it was a glass wall that led to a large rooftop patio.

  “Are you serious?” I asked in amazement.

  “You’ve shown that you’re smart. You can learn quickly, and can easily put others in their place. You’re the first truly promising student I’ve had in years. I reward those that please me. Continue to please me and you’ll be amazed by the doors that will open up for you,” she glibly explained.

  “Thank you,” I managed before she left the room.

  Just as the door was about to close, she opened it back up and stuck her head back in. “By the way, I know that haircut isn’t nearly as short as it looks. You can start wearing it down.” Then she was gone.

  I stared at the door in absolute amazement. In a few short days the woman I thought would be my worst enemy had become the best ally I had in my new life. Dumbfounded by the turn of events, I turned my attention back to my new living quarters.

  Three full-sized black leather couches and glass end tables formed a U around the edge of the living room. The wall behind me was covered with a huge entertainment system that included a huge viewing screen and gaming systems, like the ones I had used in arcades – but these didn’t require credits to play.

  I started to walk towards the kitchen, but the click-clack of my shoes made me look down. Wow, the floors were real hardwood, even in the kitchen, which was easily three times the size of the other girls’. I had to laugh when I saw that even my washer and dryer were nicer – sleek, black, front-loading and industrial strength. This apartment clearly wasn’t designed for a student’s use.

  At first I was a bit surprised when I entered what I thought was my bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, it was small, with only a small bed, bureau, a little closet and a tiny, tiny bathroom – but then I realized that it was a guest bedroom. My bedroom was the second doorway, and it was huge, with a canopied king-sized bed in the center of it. I opened another door within the room and discovered it had a huge walk-in closet with all of my clothes already in it. Through the other door awaited my dream bathroom. It had both a Jacuzzi tub and a shower. A marble vanity ran the length of the wall opposite the tub. On top of it was spread out all the beauty products and make-up I could ever need.

  Well if any of the girls didn’t really hate me, they certainly would after they saw my new apartment. I couldn’t wait to tell Byron about it.

  Oh. I can’t call him up anymore.

  Self-loathing filled me as I stared at my stupid reflection and my ridiculous hairstyle in the mirror. I grabbed a brush off the counter and violently began to brush it out, not caring how much it hurt or if I broke every remaining strand of hair around my face.

  I didn’t stop until every hair on my head hung limply, but even then I didn’t really look like myself. I was rapidly transforming into someone I didn’t recognize, and it wasn’t just my hair and clothes. I didn’t even have the same name anymore. I wasn’t sure if I could like the new me. Maybe the girls were right turning their backs on me.

  A soft knock on my door interrupted my mental tirade. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the girls’ reactions to my apartment. I expected them to range from silent loathing to outright hissy fits. What I didn’t expect was to see Avery’s smiling face standing in my doorway.

  “I bring gifts and an invitation,” Avery announced as he held up a trash bag and a roll of duct tape. He answered my confused expression by saying, “You’ll see.” Then he walked into my apartment like he owned the place. “So have your first few days as a fast-tracker been enjoyable?” he asked as he surveyed the room.

  “That all depends on your point of view. Yeah, I got the nice apartment, and I have the biggest wardrobe. But Mrs. Glabough decided to rename me Zandria and the rest of the girls hate my guts and won’t even speak to me,” I complained.

  “In my book, that counts as an outstanding first few days. I had a feeling you’d do well, Zandria.” But seeing my unimpressed look he added, “Look, what those girls think doesn’t matter. They’re not the ones you need to impress. In fact, being friends with them will only hold you back. I’m taking you out to meet some classmates that you’ll actually want to know.”

  “I don’t think so,” I began.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. I know Mrs. Glabough doesn’t give you girls a curfew or anything and I also know you really don’t want to be around here later tonight.” He didn’t give me a chance to argue. Instead he boldly walked right into my bedroom, pulled open my closet doors, and began rummaging through my clothes.

  “What do you think you’re doing in my closet and what exactly do you mean that I won’t want to be around here later tonight?” I called over his shoulder.

  “There’ll be too much drama. Trust me.” He threw a pair of shimmery black j
eans at my head. “I’ll wait in the living room while you change,” he announced. He thrust a black blouse and pair of boots at me, and then he was gone.

  I decided his offer was a lot better than sitting around here and feeling sorry for myself on my birthday. So, I changed. But I didn’t want him to think I was his personal lap-dog, ready to jump whenever he commanded it, so I took my time.

  I searched around and discovered that all the jewelry I had been given was stored behind a large oval mirror that stood in the corner of the room closest to the window. I had never owned enough jewelry to need a jewelry box, but now I had enough to fill a jewelry armoire that was taller than me. I selected a pretty set of silver hoops and a clunky silver chain comprised of large heart shaped links.

  Then I headed to the bathroom to wash, brush my teeth and apply some make-up. Once I was there I even took the time to curl the ends of my hair. I didn’t usually put so much effort into getting ready, but for some unexplainable reason, I got a perverse enjoyment out of making Avery wait. I don’t know, maybe it was my way of passively-aggressively putting someone that thought they were my superior in their place. Seeing Mrs. Glabough couldn’t be that person, Avery made a good substitute.

  I was a little disappointed when I finally emerged and he wasn’t the least bit perturbed. All he said was, “Wow. You look great.”

  I decided to put my cattiness aside. After all, Avery had been nothing but nice to me and didn’t deserve to be the target of my frustration. So I simply smiled and said, “Thanks.” I even placed my arm through his as he led me towards the door.

  “Trust me,” was all he said as he stooped by my front door and duct-taped the garbage bag to the floor.

  It was a nice night outside. Avery said our destination was nearby, so we walked. He stopped in front of a place called Club Night. I refrained from commenting on what a lame play on words it was and followed Avery inside.

  Fortunately the name was the only lame thing about the place. Large comfy mismatched seats of every color and shape scattered the perimeter of the dance floor, which was packed with dancers. I noticed that everyone in the place looked about our age.

  In the corner farthest from us someone waved. Avery nodded his hello and led me in that direction.

  An assortment of guys and girls dressed similarly to Avery and I looked up from their chairs. “Gang, Zandria. Zandria, gang,” was Avery’s version of an introduction.

  “Hey,” I said. They answered back the same. Not wanting to stand out like the new kid I was, I pulled over a yellow chair and sat down. Mimicking the haphazard way they were all poised in their seats, I hugged one leg to my chest and dangled the other one down to the ground. Believe me, the position was much more comfortable than it sounds. Avery pulled his own chair up next to me, but most of his upper body ended up draped over mine. I got the impression it was his way of declaring to the gang that I was his.

  “Trevin,” a boy with an odd resemblance to Avery stated. “So where’re you from?” he asked. On closer inspection, I realized he wasn’t a lookalike. He just had a lot of the same coloring as Avery, but his features were much more rugged.

  “Let’s dance.” Avery shot Trevin an angry glare and pulled me to my feet.

  Deciding not to make a scene, I waited until we got to the dance floor to demand, “Just what was that about?”

  “Me doing you a favor,” he said flatly. “Trevin’s a complete and total sleazebag. His main goal in life is to charm the pants off of every girl he meets, leave before the next morning, and never call back.” It was hard to see his expression under the strobe lights, but I felt his muscles tensing under my hands. Whatever was between the two of them definitely went further than Avery thinking that Trevin was a slut.

  The slow song we were dancing to ended, but we stayed out on the floor as a fast song replaced it. I loved to dance but I didn’t get the chance very often. So I closed my eyes and let the music move me. When I opened them back up, most of Avery’s friends had joined us. We spent the next hour dancing as a group on the floor.

  When we were all hot and sweaty we collapsed back into our chairs. Immediately a waitress came over to get our drink orders. I was surprised when everyone started ordering mixed drinks. The drinking age apparently didn’t apply to fast-trackers. But I stuck with ice water: the last thing I needed to do was get drunk and make a fool out of myself or wake up with a hangover.

  “You’re not scared of a little alcohol, are you?” a boy named Grayson teased.

  I had guessed my lack of drinking might be an issue, so I already had a response handy. “It’s not worth the extra calories. Might be something you want to consider,” I quipped back.

  “Oooh, burned,” several people simultaneously teased.

  Scarlet flipped back her honey blonde hair, walked over, and patted Grayson on the stomach. “She does have a point, you know.” She gave him a rueful smile before skipping over to sit on Slade’s lap. Grayson immediately flushed so red that his freckles disappeared, and it was hard to tell what was brighter: Grayson’s face or his bright orange hair.

  After that, if felt like the group had accepted me as one of their own. We easily chatted about nothing in particular for most of the night. I was able to avoid the subject of my newbie status the entire time. But I didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in tomorrow morning like they did. Plus, I had to deal with Mrs. Glabough and the girls. So the rest of the gang was still alternating between dancing and chatting when Avery and I left.

  As we walked back to the college I noticed Avery’s hand kept brushing against mine. I sidestepped away from him repeatedly, but he kept on doing it. In the end I let out a loud sigh and crossed my arms, hoping he’d get the hint. I simply wasn’t interested in him that way.

  He stopped short, shook his head at me and then stared at me with confusion. “You know, on the plane I passed your melancholy off as a symptom of nerves. But now that I’ve spent more time around you, I’m beginning to think it’s a permanent state. Don’t get me wrong, you put on a good show to hide it – most of the time – but it’s still there.”

  His insight took me by surprise, and before I really had a chance to think about my answer I threw up my hands and blurted, “It’s hard to enjoy yourself when you know your best friend in the world is living his worst nightmare. Especially when you know he should be right here beside you, not stuck in some hellhole.”

  “Ouch. So your friend got sunk.” Avery grabbed my hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.

  I quickly pulled my hand back. “What do you mean ‘sunk’?” I snapped, confused.

  “He was given an assessment ranking a lot lower than anyone ever dreamed was possible – one that defies explanation. Right?” Avery asked.

  I nodded, because my voice was choked off by a wave of emotions.

  “Well, my guess would be that either he or someone close to him seriously pissed off a very powerful fast-tracker and he ended up paying the price for it.” I’m not sure what surprised me more: the information or how nonchalantly Avery was giving it.

  “They can do that?” My mind reeled. All this time I figured it had been some horrible mistake, but to have someone do it on purpose was unimaginable. “Uh-uh. No. That’s not possible. It’s not right. We have to do something about it. Isn’t there an appeal process? Can’t Byron petition for a retest? There has to be something we can do to fix this.” My voice rose in volume. I was almost yelling now.

  “Hey,” Avery cooed as he pulled me into an awkward hug. I pushed him off and shot an angry glare. He let out a sigh before saying, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Does your friend have a younger brother or sister?”

  “Yes. A sister,” I answered, afraid of where the conversation was going. “Why?”

  “Well as I said, your friend or someone in his family has made some very powerful enemies. If they try to fight the assessment placement, there’s a good chance they’ll fail and his sister will pay the price for their efforts.” His voice w
as soft and somber. I could tell he didn’t enjoy telling me this. “I’m sorry. That’s just the way it is with some fast-trackers.”

  “But I’m a fast-tracker now. Maybe I can help Byron?” I asked hopefully.

  Avery let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Maybe one day. But not yet. You need to choose your career wisely, complete your training, and establish yourself. Then when you have some power, and if your friend still needs it, you’ll be able to help him.” His tone was kind, but a bit patronizing.

  I said a meek, “Okay,” and walked the rest of the way home in silence.

  I intentionally said goodnight to Avery at the main door to the college. I didn’t want him coming upstairs and getting any ideas or trying anything.

  As I headed towards my room I felt the heavy ache that had permanently settled on my chest lift a little. It wasn’t much, but Avery had given me hope. I had a new sense of purpose and determination. I would never forget Byron like he had asked me to, but I wouldn’t mourn or cry over him any longer either. Instead all my energies would be focused on completing my training and gaining as much power as I could so that, one day, I would be able to give him all the help he needed.

  Fortunately, I remembered the garbage bag before I entered my apartment. I pushed the door open carefully so as not to rip the bag. I was so glad that I did. When I untaped the bag and peeked into it, I found it filled with bright pink powder. Avery somehow had known about it. So I knew it couldn’t have been the other girls. It must have been fast-trackers pranking the newbies. I carefully sealed the bag and tossed it down the garbage chute.

  I was exhausted, but before going to bed I decided to unpack the small carry-on bag I had brought with me. I covered my nightstand with the pictures of my family and friends. Most of my other mementos were already neatly packed in a shoebox which I slipped under my bed. The only other things in my bag were Byron’s dried rose and the LifeFire coals. I placed the small black saucer of coals on the nightstand. Then I carefully used the ribbon tied around the rose to hang it from my bed’s canopy, right over my pillow. Feeling a bit more like everything was in its place, I drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the day Byron and I would be reunited.