Chapter Three (Part One)

The day begins with breakfast in the cafeterias. There are five, and each one holds a little over one hundred people. I’m surprised to say the least at the generous amount of food they give every one of us. I’m halfway through my meal when I decide that I can’t take another bite.

“Hey,” says a familiar voice. I look up and into Aspen’s ice blue eyes. I see his sister in his face. He carries a glass plate, and it’s piled with food. In his other hand is a glass of orange juice. He’s wearing a gold t-shirt and has the number ‘174’ on the top right corner, right above a picture of a crow that was sewn onto the shirt. I studied the Personality Color Chart at around 4:00 A.M. this morning, as well as the Personality Symbol Chart. The fact that he’s wearing gold explains that he is very charming, which I can’t say I disagree with just yet.

It also tells of how when he talks to someone, he gives them his full attention, making them feel special. And the part I agree with the most is how there’s something about him that makes people feel comfortable and relaxed in his presence. I find that to be very true. The smoothness of his voice must have a part in that, and the sincerity I can hear when he speaks would make it easier for me to trust him if I were anyone else. The crow means he’s diplomatic, charming and pleasant.

“You looked kinda lonely,” he says.

I raise a brow, wondering if that’s really what I appeared to be. “Lonely?”

“Well, not really. I just… I don’t know. I can go if you want.”

“Oh, no, you can stay,” I say, feeling bad when I see a look on his face that I can’t quite describe. Maybe ‘embarrassed’ is the word. Or maybe it’s a little of that mixed with disappointment.

If this were any other boy, I would feel uncomfortable sitting with him, but there’s something about Aspen that makes me feel as if I can trust him. Maybe it was how he saved me yesterday that causes me to feel this way. But I refuse.

“Thanks,” Aspen says, setting his plate on the square table in front of us before sitting down.

“You haven’t touched your food at all?” I ask, surprised. We only have about ten minutes left of breakfast and then we have to head to our first class.

“Nah, I went for seconds,” he explains, smiling sheepishly. “They hardly fed us a thing during the train ride all the way from Maine to here in Virginia. Where are you from?”

“North Carolina. And that explains your accent.”

With a nod, he replies, “Ayuh,” leaving me clueless as to what that means. I don’t bother asking. “So you’re just from the next state over.”

“Yup.”

“How are you enjoying your stay so far at Center University?” he asks with discreet sarcasm. “I stayed up all night, pacing across my room, trying to, um– ” he lowers his voice and looks around without turning his head “–trying to think of a way out.”

“Why in the world would you want to leave?” I say, feigning shock and horror. “The people are so thoughtful here. And the beds are comfy!” I mumble, “Much better than sleeping on the floor,” then realize what I said, after it’s too late. Aspen doesn’t say anything, but gives me a rather sympathetic look – the kind I’ve grown to hate.

He nods, then lets me know he understands and has been there – or at least that’s what I’m assuming – by saying, “I know, right?” The look was showing his empathy, not just sympathy.

Nothing is said for a while as he eats and I drink the milk that I chose from one of the mini refrigerators. I can hardly believe this food is free for us; we didn’t have to pay a dime, like I was expecting. Nothing comes free where I’m from; there was even a price for living, with grace periods only to the select few King Remus has chosen.

A loud bell rings, alerting us to the fact that it is now 7:55 A.M. It’s time for us to start getting ready to go to our classes. The first classes start in exactly four minutes and fifty-three seconds. We were all given watches that tell us how long we have before we have to get to each one, and they even name the specific class. The watches also tell us the room number, and if I press a certain button, it will give me directions from wherever I am to wherever the class is.

Aspen gets up, then I do, and I follow him to the back of the room where the trash cans are located. There are four lined up against the wall, and I go to the closest one, which is the one on the very right.

“So, which class do you have first?” Aspen asks.

“Combat 1,” I say, secretly hoping that he has the same.

Smiling brightly, he says, “Same here.”

The bell rings again, letting us know that five minutes has passed since the last bell rang and we should be in our seats by now. We were warned that we would be punished if we were late, and that there is only a two minute grace period.

Aspen and I exchange worried glances. We then almost run out of the dining hall after dumping what we didn’t finish in the trash, and putting our dirty plates where they belong. The room in which Combat 1 is held is thankfully in the same building, and not too terribly far from the cafeteria. We make it with just twenty-eight seconds to spare.

“You’re late,” says a man, and when I look at him, I’m for some reason surprised to see that our Combat 1 teacher is Declyn. He looks too young to be teaching a class… too young to be talking to us this way, or to order the Tamers to “shoot at will”.

“According to my watch, we had twenty-eight seconds left of our grace period when we entered this room,” I reply, trying to keep an attitude out of my tone. I fail. Declyn’s face once again shows how much he dislikes me and my mouth. He opens his to say something, but Aspen speaks first.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he says politely, trying to clean up my mess. “We lost track of time. It won’t happen again. We promise.”

“Is that what happened?” Declyn replies. “Well, you know that relationships are strictly forbidden on this campus.”

“We’re just friends,” I’m quick to say, now feeling uncomfortable beside Aspen. I steal a glance at his face, and notice that he looks uncomfortable as well.

“Alright.” Declyn instructs me to go to the left wall, then tells Aspen to go to the right. I’m standing at the end in a line of about ten girls, including myself. Our backs are to the wall as we face the boys on the other side of the room. “Today,” says Declyn, “we will be starting with the simple things; no blades, no arrows… Nothing of that sort today, but we will soon, so don’t worry. Today we will be practicing hand-to-hand combat. Boys against girls.”

“Aw, but that’s not fair,” a girl in the line says. I can see her in the mirror across the room that the boys stand in front of. The mirror stretches nearly across the whole wall, and almost everything in the room can be seen in it. She wears the same blue and black jumpsuit that everyone else in here is wearing.

“Are you admitting that boys are better than girls?” Aardin says with a smirk. I didn’t notice that he was here before he spoke.

The girl replies with an attitude in her voice, “Girls trump boys ten times over when it comes to smarts, though. It’s better to be smart.”

“Are you calling us dumb, Faira?”

“Maybe,” the girl says, her hands on her hips. Her elbows cause the two girls beside her to have to step aside a little.

“Children,” Declyn says sternly, “if you’re done, we can begin. But first, I need a volunteer to help me give a demonstration. You, 175, come here.”

“Me?” I ask, bending forward and looking around at the girls to see their nametags.

“Are you 175?” Declyn replies sarcastically. “Yes, you. We’re losing time.”

Slowly, I walk over, then stop about four feet away from him. He rolls his eyes and tells me to come closer, so I do, but there’s something in those grey eyes that makes me feel as if I need to be on guard.

The moment I reach him, his right fist comes flying toward my face. Instinctively, I block it with my forearm as I close my eyes, still expecting to be hit. Then, completely unexpectedly, I feel his leg wrap around the back of mine, knocking me right off my feet. I regret closing my eyes as I fall, then land hard on my back. The thin, blue pad on the ground does nothing for me, and I’m sure I’ll wake up to a serious back ache tomorrow.

Dazed, I look up at the disapproving face of Declyn and frown, propping myself up on my elbows.

“You shouldn’t have closed your eyes,” he says, not moving at all to help me up. “It only leaves you vulnerable to your opponent. You never let your guard down.”

“I’m very well aware of that.” I huff, feeling a little embarrassed as I turn my head to look at the other students. I don’t know why I do, or why I care. I see Aardin smirking at the girl he was arguing with just moments ago, and that makes me even more embarrassed. The other kids don’t seem to care, but when I look at Aspen, I see concern written all over his face. I see it in his knitted brows, and his frown. But I also notice the anger as his eyes narrow and leave me to place their focus on Declyn.

“What were you saying about ‘smarts’, Calea?” Declyn says, looking down at me with amusement in his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned upward. “Can’t get up yourself? Since you’re not as strong as your body suggests, I’ll pair you up with someone who I believe is a fair rival. 174, 175, get on mat number one, now.”

Declyn walks away to pair up the rest of the kids, leaving me on the floor with a back that currently won’t permit me to get up on my own. My head also aches from hitting the floor after being jarred.

“What a jerk,” says Aspen as he bends down and extends a hand toward me. His face is tinted a light red and his voice gives away the fact that his throat is a little tight.

“I’m fine,” I reply in a slightly sharp tone, forcing myself to get up without his help. I immediately feel guilty for responding that way, and think to apologize. But I can’t seem to, as my self-image has already taken a serious hit.

We walk to the first mat which is the closest one to us, then wait for further instructions. During the wait, it occurs to me that I’ll be fighting against Aspen, and I suddenly become nervous. With his height and build, one glance at him in the street would make someone think twice about trying anything. I feel so small standing this close to him.

“Alright everyone, your goal is not to kill your opponent, but to bring them to their mental breaking point… to the point that they give up or are unable to continue. But your second option for every wuss in this room,” he says, pausing as he looks pointedly at Aspen, “is to keep your opponent on the ground for ten seconds. Whenever you’re ready.”

Right after those words are spoken, the other kids get to work. Neither one of us makes a move to do anything to one another. After a while, looking at each other starts to feel awkward, so I look away.

“Follow my lead and trust me,” Aspen says in a low voice.

“Huh?”

Before he answers, he steps behind me and his right forearm wraps across my collarbone, and his fingers grasp the back of my left shoulder. He uses his knee and hits the back of mine, causing me to crumble to the floor. As he straddles my body, I hear him repeat, “Follow my lead and trust me. Stay down.”