Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 15th, 2030, 7:12 am

Despite all the terrible things that happened to me yesterday, there was at least one positive outcome: I slept well last night.

I did not expect to fall asleep so quickly, either. After I spoke with the Captain, Sergeant Lee took me to my new room, with all of my clothing moved beside a separate bunk bed. The room doesn't consist of as many boys as the other one, though it still seems quite crowded. There are a couple of double-bed sets that are empty, especially near the window.

None of them have spoken to me since I arrived. To be fair, it was lights-out when I entered the room. I didn't hear a word from them this morning. They just woke up promptly and traveled to the dining hall. I was the last person to leave the room, throwing on a clean white t-shirt that didn't have maroon spots on it.

It was strange yet refreshing to see Captain again. Being in the business-intelligence wing of the headquarters was like entering a brand new world. Carpeted floor under my bare feet, furnished rooms; I wasn't so sure that I was in the same building.

I haven't seen Dad's face in ten years, since he went missing. His appearance in that old photo in Captain's office flushed all the memories back into my head. He may have only been my age in that picture, but I recognized him like it was the last time I saw him. My dad was in the top ten of his class. Wow.

I miss him so much. Before he went missing, he was my best friend. He taught me how to play baseball and stand upright. As I got older, he was home more often because he didn't hold any higher position and was only needed for advanced field work. While my mom was a nurse and worked nearly every day, my dad would stay home and help me with my homework and watch cartoons with me. Him and I were close.

In October of 2020, he was called to follow the Imperial Guard into a mission into the North Forest, located in the northwest corner of the city and leading into the Meadowlands. I never found out the contents of that quest, though both of my parents seemed grim about it. Their words were limited. Dad hugged me, told me he loved me, and went off with his best friend, Brian Manchester.

A week and a half later, Brian visited my mom and I on a sunny, autumn day. He told her that Dad was nowhere to be found. The camp woke up the morning before and my dad was gone without a trace. The mission was complete and the Imperial Guard was ready to head home, but Calvin Tross disappeared.

Needless to say, I never saw my dad again.

Sometimes I consider if all that is the reason I'm here today. If Dad was still around, he'd tell me that hanging out with Tyler Barber, the school's druggie, was a poor decision. If I didn't run off with Tyler that night, none of this would have happened. I bet my family would still be close with the Manchesters, and my mom wouldn't want to rip the Captain's head off every time she sees him. I wouldn't have the join the Imperial Guard to save my life.

Life sure is a strange thing.

I have returned back to the original routine of eating my meals alone. When I was with CJ, I could converse freely just as I would with any of my other friends back at school. Being a loner never seemed like it would be an issue for me, but I assume now that it's just going to be a cycle. Happiness is stripped away from me like a magician's tablecloth, and I have to be the one to earn it back.

I've grown tired of eating eggs every day, so this morning I chose something much more boring: a bagel. A sugarless donut. It's quite sad, to be honest with you. Aside from that, I added some cantaloupe to my plate, along with some orange juice. All of which taste good, except maybe the bagel. Once again, because it's boring.

I'm conflicted on what I should make of this whole situation with Luke and I. Fuck him, first of all. Just because I slept on the incident last night doesn't mean I'm not angry with him anymore. The bright side of all this is that I'm still a free kid. I'm not in jail or lying dead on a cold floor. I should be glad about that, but I don't know if I can be.

I keep telling myself that CJ is going to be okay without me. I was a magnet for Luke to pick on, and whoever I was near, he had to be right there with us. Now that I'm out of his group, CJ should be fine. But I know Luke Bradley and the twins far too well. They will torment him for the next two weeks, even with me in another room. And it's my fault. I should have never retaliated last night.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" A sharp, lean kid strides toward the bench across from me. He holds an orange in one hand and a blueberry muffin in the other, staring at me. Could it be...

"Uh, yeah," I pull my plate toward me, bewildered. "I mean no. You can sit here." It must be the nerves. I never expected someone to offer to sit with me like this after CJ.

He nods his head and grins, sliding his feet over the bench to sit down. "Cool, thanks."

I have never seen this guy before in my life, which is why this is all such a shock for me. Who would just choose to sit with me, especially after what happened last night? Does he have a death wish, or does he want to be shunned by the rest of the group? Some people have some real guts even approaching me in this environment. I'm glad that he decided to eat breakfast with me, but I can't help to wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

The boy begins peeling his orange and peers up at me. "Quite the change of scenery, huh? It's a lot quieter around here."

I study him as he glances down at the rind of the orange. His face is like a beach; his complexion is that of glittering sand that draw out his ocean eyes. His jade hair is somewhat curly at the top, though it is straight as it rises along the sides of his head. I still don't recognize him at all. Does he know that I don't know him?

"Yeah, there's not nearly as many people here as there were in my other group." I stab the cantaloupe on my plate. "And it's good to see that no one has harassed me yet."

He smiles again, this time briefly. "If they haven't yet, they never will." He tears the skin off of the orange. "I'm Hal. No need to introduce yourself, Slater."

Hal. It's not a typical name, hence why I recognize it from somewhere. I don't remember who brought it up, but someone did, not long ago. That's going to rack at my brain for as long as I'm with him.

"Well, welcome to our little group. Many of the recruits here now are trying for a spot in immediate duty. There are ten people in this room who could make it into the top ten, and we don't know who it is yet. But they're in this room, and that's all we know."

I frown. CJ said that he was going to make it into the top ten, and he isn't in this group. What gives Hal the nerve to say that? Is he telling the truth? Or did CJ lie to me? He wouldn't do that. I trust CJ before I trust Hal.

"Do you know CJ Martin? He was in my other group, and he said he was already nominated for the top ten. Does that mean he's not going to make it?" I ask, taking a sip of my orange juice.

He places the fruit on the table in front of him. "CJ is one of three exceptions to that. He should be in this group, but he opted not to on orientation day." Hal digs his fingernail into the table beside his orange and watches himself trace a line back and forth. "I'm surprised you met CJ. I go to school with him, we're friends."

"Does everyone go to Stanville?"

"There are a good number, yeah. Most actually go to Woodrow, which I'm not shocked by at all. Wealthy kids think they have an easy ride to the top and they're more prepared than us, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. They don't know what's coming until they get here."

Luke goes to Woodrow. Hal's statement couldn't be any more accurate.

"Only one kid from Woodrow is expected to make it into the top ten, and that's Wyatt Mallory. He goes to Thomas B. Prep, though. He's not like the rest of them." Hal removes a wedge from the orange and shoves it into his mouth. Between bites, he adds, "I think he's cool, I don't know about all the others."

I take another piece of cantaloupe. "So, you're headed into immediate duty, right?" I raise my glass of juice to my lips.

He shakes his head. "Slater, I don't know how I'm going to tell you this." With a grin, he laughs to himself. "I'm actually expected to be the Sergeant of Class 30."

Any juice that entered my mouth is sent back to the glass. "Are you serious? You're kidding, right?"

"I am serious. Both of my parents were in the Imperial Guard, and they said that it's only right that at least one of their kids joins too. And I didn't want it to be either of my little sisters." He glares down at the rivet he's making in the table. "It kind of sucks, but I'll just try to find some kind of positives."

"I'm sorry they made you do that, Hal." I drop my fork onto the plate and watch as his eyes bounce around the space.

Hal shrugs. "It's not so bad so far. See, my parents were in the same class as the Colonel before they quit, so our families are close. I got to spend the summer with him and his family and he prepared me for the ranking. So, you could assume that I've heard a lot about you."

I've probably been damned and praised by the Colonel a million times. He's never even met me, and I've never met him, yet it's likely that I obliterated his reputation in authority in one swift motion. I don't know whether or not I should feel bad for what I did to him. After all, we don't even know each other.

"I will never know why he did it. I didn't deserve to live, but I guess I did, to him."

"You did. And you still do." His gaze switches upward and near the window. He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. "Do you see that guy over there? The one sitting alone, with the brown hair?"

I extend my neck and look out toward the backyard. I see who he's referring to, eating his breakfast against the morning sunshine by his lonesome. I can't recognize his face all that well, but I can tell by the way he observes the rest of the room that he means business. Or at least, he thinks he does.

I bring my eyes back to Hal. "Yeah, what about him?"

He sighs. "That's Craig Larsson. He is the only one that stands in between me and the rank of Sergeant. He was trained by the Major. He's out for blood."

"Why is he out for blood? He doesn't really want to hurt anyone, does he?"

Hal shuffles in his stance and doesn't look me right in the face. "I wouldn't worry about him, if I were you. I mean, just watch your back. He's not the type to approach you directly, but I would keep an eye out for him."

I don't like the way Hal phrased that. It doesn't look as if Craig is like Luke in his bold encounters with me, but that might make him more dangerous than my enemy from the past few days. If he is as skilled as Hal makes him out to be, then I could have a real threat on my hands. Why does Hal want me to keep an eye out for him?

"Craig is kind of like my rival at this point. Our mentors challenged us to see who could rank higher. I think I might have the upper hand, but he's a tough guy." He knocks his knuckles against the table rapidly, glancing over at his opponent. "I've got some pressure on me, too. The Colonel is on a streak with his recruits becoming the Sergeant. Three years, I think. You know Lee? The Colonel trained him. He's pretty good at preparing us for the ranking."

"Yeah, I got stuck with the Captain for two weeks. He said that the only person he's ever trained was his son. I don't know if he ever knew what he was he doing."

"I met the Captain, Slater. He's not as bad as you might think he is."

"What makes you say that?"

Hal claws out another orange slice from the sphere. "He would visit the Colonel at his house while I was there on occasion. He's been through a lot, so you know, he's wise. James trusts him with his life, and he does the same. They're like brothers."

"Hey Hal," A girl's voice behind me butts in. "We're headed to class now."

Hal perks up and grins. "Thanks, Mai." He stands up and motions for me to do the same. "C'mon Slater, stick by me. We're learning about the Creed of Honor today."

I thought I had wasted my last chance. Now I guess the wind is pushing me forward once again.