Thaddea:

     I shut my door and my bag didn't end up on the opposite wall, just because dad would hear it - every person in the house would hear it, actually -, and he would come and ask, what happened. And that was the last thing I wanted to tell him.
     What? Are you surprised, that I got so deep dedication all by myself? Look, I'm not only the fighter. That I learn how to kick someone's ass, doesn't mean, that I'm fully dumb or something, right?
     I laid on my bed, when the steps sounded in front of my room.
     "Thadde?" A strong woman peeked inside. I raised my head. "Mom? Where is dad?"
     "Dad's not home, he went to the meeting. He'll come on a weekend, remember?"
     "Oh," I breathed out. -Great, now I'll be waiting whole week for my dad to storm home and frown above how much of a loser his daughter is. Great. Just great!-

     "Okay, who's going with Macleod?" The woman in the corner of the mat picked a name from the hat. "Will Gaudy. Oh, this will be fast," she muttered.
     -Yeah, you know it will.- I thought, but I felt like my anger could possibly explode as timed bomb. And - first time ever - I had to fight not the physical enemy, but the urge to fold to the ground and cry from the shame.
     Instead of it, I pulled myself to the middle of the dojo. Will Gaudy was a music componist, but he insisted to get these lessons, 'cos then he could say, that he's a boxer. Next to it, he was pure white, and obviously nervous too. I just stood there, waiting for him to "attack," when something caught my gaze. Someone pale - even paler that Will -, with long black hair was sitting in the fifth row, looking carefully around.
     -So you came to see, yeah?-
     Will stroke first, and started with his typical absolutely pointless waving with arms and legs.
     First I was about to do it as believable as I could, but when the Great Wundersmith Supreme showed up, I kinda lost my ability to pretend. When Will - mostly by the accident - punched me, I just laid on the ground and remained there with no move.
     Thaddea No-retreat Macleod.
     Yeah, sure.

     "Thaddea. Thaddea, I just wanted to..."
     "Don't," I groaned at Morrigan, when she tried to catch up with me, and I quickly disappeared in the crowd.

     "Hey, Thad, how's my daughter doing?" Dad asked, when he entered. "Um... Dad," I breathed out and let him hug me. He pulled away and frowned a little. "What's up, Carrot, tell me."
     I shook my head. "It's nothing, just didn't sleep much. Great to see you again."
"Did something happen in school? How was the fighting club?"
     "I..." I wanted to say him how it really was, how I fell and how much I want to kick this Wundersmith's ass... But then the Elders would find out, and...
     "I missed it this this week."
     Father stared at me, not believing me such a word. "You what?"
     "As I said, dad. I missed it out. Didn't feel for it."

°•°•°•°•°

Francis:

     I closed my door as calmly as I could, and called to the big house: "Aunt Hester?"
     "What's up, Francis?" she answered and I followed the voice to the dinning room. "I... I was thinking about... You know, baking... Challenge. My unit dared me to make something."
     Aunt looked up at me. "Was it that little monster?"
     I felt my cheeks heating up. I wanted to tell Aunt Hester, what was in a game. I really did. But something stopped me at last. "I... No, Aunt Hester. Hawthorne wanted me to cook."
     "Hmm, that dragon rider..."
     I pushed my lips together. -Maybe not the best idea to say this.-
     Aunt was eyeing me suspiciously. Suddenly I felt like a criminal. How can that Archan boy fight this every time he steals?!
     "What are you going to bake?"
     I looked at the ground. "Well, he said me to make something special, so I was thinking about..."
     "I know you too well, Francis. You wanted to bake a Great Caledonian, didn't you?"
     "I-I... W-well..."
     Aunt Hester's look was skeptical, but not disapproving. "Francis, although I think it's not the best idea, you need some friends in your unit."
     With this quiet agreement she left the room.

     There was a quiet knock on my door at half past six in the morning. I yawned and opened the door.
     There was Morrigan.
     "Francis, I..."
     I don't know what she meant with her I, but I shut the door right in front of her face.
     Don't want to hear it.

°•°•°•°•°

Mahir:

     -They'll see me. They'll find me. They'll blame me... No. Let's do this. Just do!- I thought, when I was walking slowly across the hallway on the Sub-Three level, one Tuesday's afternoon, trying - and hoping - to be as unnoticeable, as I could have ever been.
     Here and there, the spray paint in my backpack rang a little, but in my ears, it was as every bell in the city started ringing, saying: He did it. It's his fault! Go, get him!
     I reached my classroom. No one was there. Of course. Everyone are in the Society's canteen, having lunch. But Dearborn is still somewhere there, keeping her eyes on everything.
This last thought didn't help much. I thought I would feel like some great uncaught-able robber, or something, but instead, my knees started to shake even more.
     I closed the door, then opened it again and left it with a little gape. Now, if I heard footsteps, I can hide, or something.
     Most quietly as an unprofessional sprayer could, I put my backpack at the table and took out the black spray. I watched it for a while, sitting in my hand, the looked up at the blank wall.
     -What. Am. I. Doing?!- I thought, but then I put the top to the cane, shook it, and the wall didn't stay clean for much longer.

°•°•°•°•°

Hawthorne:

     "Whoa..."
     "What? What's over there?"
 

   "You needa break a window?"
     "Set the TNT to the other unit's Hometrain?"
     "Hurt your leg?"
     "Fall off the dragon?"
     "Drop another jelly sculp at Noelle?"
     This last hopeful question came from Cadence, but when everyone else turned to her, she cleaned her throat. "Ehm, I wanted to say... Do you have something dangerous over there?"
     I smirked. "No. No, my friends, this one..." I lifted the paper up to the air. "This is gonna be fun."

     "Hawthorne? You home? C'mon, I have a dinner for ya!"
     "Yep, mom! Gimme a second! Duh, I really don't have anything that could do for the explosion..." I muttered, but maybe not so quietly, as I wanted, since dad's voice came from the staircase: "That could do for what?"
     -Ooops...-

     BOOOOM!
     -Yeahey!- I yelled in my mind, silently gratulating to myself, when the fire roared in the dragon stables. I should do this stuff way more often!

°•°•°•°•°

Anah:

     I peeked behind the corner to the one of smaller rooms in the Wunsoc teaching hospital. I felt like a robber, that is about to steal the super guarded bank. And no, it wasn't a good felling.
     There it is. The object of my trying. The pair of rubber gloves and the bedpan. All of the patients were asleep, and even if they weren't, I hoped they won't understand, that these things will never return.
     "Going to change the supplies, yea?"
     I jumped meter and half up to the air. "Oh! Um... Tim. I didn't expect you to be here."
"Aye. I didn't expect myself to be here too. Just thought about going to control the patients before my lunch break. See you did it before I could. Good girl," he praised me.
     "Um, yeah... I'm done here already, just need to get..." I picked up the bedpan and the pair of gloves.
     "Take away this ones for me too, will ya?" the Nurse Tim gave me another five pairs of the rubber gloves. I almost dropped them down from surprise. "Um, yeah. Yeah, sure, I'll... Take it."
     When I left the room, I was shaking from the top of my head, to the last toe on my feet, but inside I sighed by relief.

°•°•°•°•°

Arch:

     I was floating in the air from the window, Anah's scissors in one hand, strand of Dearborn's hair in the other, while Mahir was annoying the mistress with some long, long boring speech about how great her talk in the begining of a semester was.
     -Nothing's better than the good old teamwork.-
     I took a deep breath, scissors in my hand and then quickly cut about three inches long strand of silver hair. Hawthorne - who was in the opened window - pulled me up there and we ran away as quickly, as we could with ten meters long rope around our waists.
     When we reached the end of the hallway, Hawthorne burst out with laughter. "That- that was- AMAZING!" he stammered between the giggles.
     I nodded. "Yeah." But I was thinking just about poor Dearborn. I know, I know, that I really shouldn't be sorry about her, but... I ruined her... uh.. Hairstyle... And...

A few hours later I left the hair with the apology letter on the Proudfoot staircase.