Orion Academy: Telepathy

by A. A LEVINE

  Once our paperwork is complete, we fall in a single file line and are led up several flights of stairs. I pause in front of a picture, in what I think is the main hall, that looks a lot like the same boarding school building we passed hours ago. Are you telling me that all that running and me climbing down a tree could’ve been avoided by walking through the front door and taking some stairs? I look around to see if anyone else notices the picture. John’s eyes meet mine briefly over the top of honey bun’s head.

  “Keep moving recruit.”

  “Is this building usually off limits too?” I ask

  “Excuse me?”

  “We had to run two miles from the back of this building or scale a cliff wall in sixteen minutes. I mean yeah, I climbed a tree, but it still had the same risk of plummeting to my death. I’m just wondering why coming through the building wasn’t an option?”

  He steps forward and whispers, “Rule# 7: Don’t speak, unless spoken to, and no questions.” He walks away leaving me to contemplate those rules and calls over his shoulder. “Strike one.”

  Great. I think to myself. I’m getting a demerit for a rule no one even knew existed. He pauses mid-step and I realize that I must have said it out loud.

  Chapter Three

  Holli

  A horn blares what seems like moments after I finally lay down to close my eyes. Last night, or early this morning, is a bit of a blur. I remember being told our luggage arrived, and that it was offloaded into the dorms. They assigned us our rooms and roommates based on wherever the suitcases landed.

  Our dorm rooms are double occupancy. I’m sharing a room with Honey Bun, whose actual name is Gwynnette Smythe. She’s unhappy with the pairing because she was hoping to cohabitate with Ashland Cane or Millicent Boudreaux.

  My watch- my brand new watch- with the scratched up face, illuminates the time. It reads five am, so technically it’s been a little longer than a few minutes since I used my limp arms to help heave myself into bed, but not that much longer. I guess I’m about to find out how much or little sleep I really need to function.

  I’ve never been to camp but I’ve heard about open showers. The sign on the door says five minutes during morning rush. I don’t have time to worry about modesty. I wash my body and hair quickly hoping I’ve gotten all the shampoo out and hurry back to my room to dress. Just as I’m putting on my sneakers, the door to our room is flung open by one of Gwynn’s friends. They float by me hostility rolling off of them waves. It’s not like I got a choice in the roommate matter. But they dislike me for it just the same. Chloe pops her heard through the door a few moments later and waves me into the hallway.

  I trudge to the dining hall behind her. Half the class makes a beeline for the java station. If yesterday’s series of events is the norm, maybe I’ll start considering coffee as a major food group too. I’ve only ever drunk it in moderation because dad says it alters your brain chemistry. According to him fresh squeezed OJ is good. A fruit and veggie smoothie loaded with antioxidants is even better and don’t forget the multi vitamin. Which I couldn’t bring. All medicines, including over-the-counter products have to be approved and dispensed by the nurse. I think I’m too old for dad’s favorite vitamin cocktail, anyway. Twelve years of choking those things down, I’m glad I get to take a break.

  The cafeteria is packed. Looking around the room, I’m getting an idea about how big this program really is. The one hundred and fifty or so from the junior class, and last year’s recruits don’t even make a dent in the numbers I’m seeing. “Where did all of these people come from?”

  Chloe turns to me in line. “Different places, public and private schools, and sometimes other government agencies too.” She crooks an eyebrow at me. “How do you not know this? Didn’t you transfer from another school or move here from another state ninth grade year?”

  “No.” I say distractedly. “I’ve always been here.” I grab a bowl of fruit and oatmeal, because after yesterday’s workout, I’m not sure my stomach is functioning well enough to handle anything else. Our food options last night were slim. Most of the recruits ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which I skipped in favor of a granola bar and milk. “So it’s not just us.”

  She shakes her head. “Not just us.”

  We walk by the first few tables, looking for a place to sit. I see the four musketeers have hooked up with a few people I remember from last year’s junior class. The only seats we can find put us directly in the line of sight of Alex and John. As if I’m not going to get enough face time being one of the shortest people in our group. I steal a glance at them. Now that I’m not fighting through ragged breaths or squinting in the dark, I can make out some things I couldn’t before.

  For example, John has a long roman shaped nose and there’s a slight bend at the bridge of it, like it’s been broken more than once. His eyes are the most interesting shade of blue, light and translucent with a hint of green and flecks of gold. The folds of his upper lids are so deep, his lashes are barely visible, and his eyebrows are thick adding to his scruffy appearance. His top lip is thin almost completely obscured by the fuzz of his mustache. I think his unshaven look is a matter of preference and not the beginnings of the five o’clock shadow I thought it was.

  There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes and the set of his mouth screams trouble. He’s cute in a wild and untamed type of way.

  Alex is what Aiden would call a raven-haired beauty. Skin tanned to the perfect shade of bronze, her fingers are long and thin and her mouth has that cupid pout that men find irresistible. The explosive blue of her eyes are watchful, always scanning the crowd. She leans in when John speaks and defers to him as the lead. But underneath it all, I sense cold calculation. If she were my age, she’d be the Queen Bee of high school. It would be unwise to underestimate her.

  Xander slides into the space next to Alex and my next spoonful of oatmeal feels three times lumpier than the last. He’s dark broody and Greek god worthy. His eyes are chocolate brown and restless taking in everything all at once. His top lip is only slightly fuller than John’s, but his bottom one is what kissing dreams are made of. He has a square jawline and strong hands. I know from last night, his voice is deep and rich and that even when quiet it commands respect and attention.

  I think about the demerit I earned last night for a bullshit rule I didn’t know about. Another thing I’ve noticed is that they’re all assholes. John looks up and for a moment I feel guilty as if he’s heard my wayward thoughts.

  I chide myself for being so silly. I know that’s impossible. Even if he is a telepath, his ability wouldn’t work here. Part of last night’s orientation was a long winded explanation of why are gifts don’t work. Yeah, they got a kick out of crushing our expectations that we’d be walking around here using our powers like the students in an X-Men movie. The s-chips (suppression chips) set up around campus dampen everyone’s powers and they don’t turn off unless our training calls for us to use our powers. I feel a poke in my ribs and realize I’ve been staring at Xander. He’s eating his food and totally oblivious of the weird crush I already seem to have developed. Get it together Holli. This is not what you’re here for.

  Chloe taps her wrist and points to the clock above the door. It’s time to go. I grab my tray and follow her towards the exit, scraping my plate and placing my tray and utensils on the return cart in front of the scullery.

  Alex and John have already vacated the table leaving their half eaten trays behind. The training officers don’t have to bus their own dishes. The students rotate through a service week in the cafeteria where we wash dishes and clear tables. I watch a tall willowy guy walk up to Xander and point to his tray. His intimidating gaze has the busboy turning red. Sorry guy, you’re in violation of Rule# 7. Chloe taps me again, and I nod falling into step beside her. Time to get our day started.

  People always tell you to read the fine print. Well, I read the Palmer Biotech Institute handbook from cover to cover. I listened to the counselors- vague as
they were- for two years in a row, when they came to speak to me about interning here, and I now understand my abilities won’t work outside of the specific training times and areas they’ve designated. I’m prepared for that. But this other thing, the running, it wasn’t in the book and I call no fair. I’m a straight-A student and excel at all things academic, but with physical fitness outside of tree climbing and volleyball, everyone has an advantage over me.

  Today all the recruits are wearing the same color. Dark grey sweatpants and a light gray t-shirt issued by Orion Academy. We also have shorts we can wear in the summer. It’s to promote uniformity during our physical training sessions. Drop a stranger in the middle of this group and ask them to pick out a breaker. They’d never be able to and today with all these people, neither could I. It’s like starting with a clean slate. Everyone could be a powered individual, or I could be the only one. Even though I know that’s not the case, it’s still a depressing thought, because let’s get real, no one truly wants to be the only one of their kind.

  We’re standing in formation in front of dorms when Alex arrives. John’s already explained that this morning’s breakfast was to compensate for the lack of food we had yesterday. From here on out, our schedule will be up at six, train, shower, breakfast, school, and train some more.

  “Anyone hurt or injured?” Alex asks. I look out the corner of my eye to see how everyone is doing. No one speaks up. “Come on, people. I need to know before we get started. Is anyone hurt or injured from yesterday?”

  I think we’re all a little sore, make that a lot sore, but I don’t think that’s what she means.

  “Good.” Is that a note of glee I detect?

  Xander steps in front of us and reads from her clipboard. “No one? Really?” He gives a half smirk. “Well, who was the last person through the doors last night?”

  There’s the undeniable feeling of my stomach lurching, and I think for a second I might see my meager breakfast all over again.

  “Holland Forbes.” He says. “With a whole second to spare.” Xander’s attention turns to the entire class. “We’ll be going on a three-mile jog today. Keep three abreast, and Holland, you’re our pace keeper. Step out.”

  I take a step towards him and my inner critic is on her soapbox. Shortest person and now class spectacle. Welcome to your new high school experience Holland. You were invisible before, and in twenty-four hours you’re the most watched person around.

  “You’ll run slightly ahead and to the left of the formation.” He pushes me to my designated position and swivels my shoulders so I can see how much space should be between the first person in the group and me. “If anyone passes Holland, we will stop the run, reset the distance, and start all over again. Is that understood?”

  They all nod yes. They understand but I have questions, which I’m not allowed to ask.

  “Let’s go.” He says, with the conviction someone would tell a Siberian dog sled leader to “mush.”

  I’d like to say I ran like I gazelle, or that the whole run was over in record time, but I didn’t, and it wasn’t. Being a pace setter is hard, but not passing up the pacesetter must be harder. The four musketeers couldn’t seem to keep their long ass legs in check. We stopped four times, once for each of them, and I think our three-mile run was closer to five or six. I don’t know which was more painful, the run or listening to the moans and groans of them, the runners, telling me to pick up the pace.

  “You have ten minutes to hydrate, then meet us in Training Room Three.” Alex says when we get back to the starting point.

  The training room is where we finally receive our class schedules. This year I’m taking Computer Coding, Trigonometry and Pre-calculus, Anatomy and Physiology, Physics, and oh goodie-self-defense. My schedule concludes with French and Greek as electives. Don’t ask me why Greek, but okay, Greek.

  “How do we change our schedule?” My eyes snap to attention and zero in on the freckled-faced kid in the back who was bold enough to ask a question. “I mean, if I need to change out a class. I’ve already taken Calculus over the summer.” He sort of waves the paper in his hand as if he’s expecting someone to come collect it from him.

  Alex makes a tick mark on her clipboard and exits the room without answering him. We all get comfortable and wait. It feels weird that this is the second day of the school year and I still haven’t been to class. A door I didn’t notice before opens on the other side of the room. A senior recruit steps through it and starts yelling orders. “Everyone on your feet and listen up for your team assignments.” So the rumor going around the shower this morning is true. The senior class gets to help torture the newbies.

  The recruits that are sitting hurry to stand. Those already standing stand up taller. And those that are sleeping, and too groggy to move quickly, they get stepped on. Which seems like a rather effective way to dwindle down the competition for this internship before we get started.

  “Parker- Team A, Jeffries- Team C.” I watch the shuffle of bodies trying to put the names with the faces as they’re called. They’re not going alphabetically and there doesn’t seem to be a pattern to the way they team’s are being assigned. “Forbes-Team F, Lincoln- Team C”. The roll call continues for another fifteen minutes, and when it’s over where separated into twenty-six distinct groups. I’m the only girl in mine, and the look on my teammates’ faces say they want to know how if they can swap. I hear one of the recruits on another team ask to switch. His request is quickly dismissed. I can imagine what the guys on Team F are thinking. I’m the least athletic person I know. The girl nobody likes to pick for teams in gym class, and they’re stuck with me.

  “Team F and C report to medical.” Our lovely recruit director glances at the clock. “You have twelve minutes to get there.”

  This is our first full day here, no one knows where anything is, and they didn’t exactly issue a campus map and a welcome packet.

  “Where is medical?” Someone behind me asks.

  “Two point five, maybe three miles south of this building, around the lake.”

  I’m already running towards the exit, when the rest of my team calculates how fast they need to move to get there on time. A four-minute mile? You’d have to be Usain Bolt to run that, but damn if I’m not going to try. The sun’s not even up yet, making this run even tougher, and where the hell is the lake? A lake is bigger than a stream or river. Was last night’s man-made reservoir a lake or river? I hear footsteps behind me, then ahead of me, but I tune them out concentrating on my breathing and stride.

  I feel like I’ve been running forever and my still damp shirt is clinging to my back. I’m dying. I skipped out on being in a lab because I thought I’d waste away with no sunlight, only to come here and die. How’s that for ironic choices? I stop running to catch my breath. Through the silence I finally hear something that sounds like gurgling. The guy said three miles south, around the lake. Why run unnecessarily? All I need to do is get to the lake and get across it. I cut through the trees leaving the path behind and follow the sound of the water. At some point downhill turns to uphill. My lungs and legs are burning, but I keep going. A sign with the universal symbol for healthcare is on my left, and I feel hopeful when I see there’s a shabby plank bridge anchored by ropes, connecting the banks. I can make out shadowy bodies across from me and breathe a sigh of relief that I am at least still within visual distance of the group. Once I get back on asphalt, I hope I can make up the difference.

  The second my foot hits the bridge I know I’m in trouble. Some of those shadowy figures circle back and pull the stakes out of the ground on their side. I hang from the bridge knowing there’s no way I can make it and scramble back to the safety of the edge. I can’t see the bottom of the lake, so I’m too nervous to risk trying to swim it.

  My team and the other team are out to get me already? I haven’t even done anything yet. I guess this is payback for this morning’s run.

  I continue moving south hoping to find another spot where I c
an cross. I estimate I’m half a mile past my destination, before that option becomes available. The current is moving quickly, but the depth is shallow enough and the sky now bright enough that I can safely swim across. I splash through the water fighting the current but my ingenious plan hits a snag when I discover I’ve got nothing but dirt to grab on to on the other side.

  I dig my hands through the dirt trying to find something that I can use to get traction on the bank. My hand finally touches a rock that’s embedded deep enough to support my weight. I take a step back and jump-hoist myself up then find another and pull. Finally, my hand touches a small plant. I grip it giving a silent prayer it won’t uproot. A vision of me getting swept downstream flashes before my eyes. Not thank you. I don’t know where this water leads. My foot dangles looking for support and finally connects with another rock that I didn’t notice before. I’m a soggy mess, when both of my feet hit the concrete and I run north as fast as I can, turning right when I get to the place where the bridge used to be. Twenty-three minutes have passed when I finally push my way into the lobby of the medical building. I ignore the snickers my wet appearance causes and sign my name on the check-in roster.

  There’s a senior, a different one than before, here to watch us. He’s also here to impart some wisdom. “In case you didn’t know, this is a point-based system. At the end of each week, you’ll be ranked. If you are in the bottom tenth of the rankings at the end of the third week, then your spot here is in jeopardy. We split the sixteen weeks into three phases. Each phase ends with an endurance trial. Think of it as a final exam, because it will be the final test for whether you stay or go. The bar for staying gets higher and higher at the end of each phase. So, if you were late today, I suggest you do us, and yourselves a favor. Drop out now.”