by Dylan Steel
Pippa and Marnie continued arguing about what the older students had meant and whether or not Pippa was making that part of the conversation up entirely. But by that point, Sage had tuned them out. She didn’t know if it was true or not, if Mr. Strick was a spy—she was too busy worrying about whether or not she’d said anything compromising to him.
She was jolted out of her thoughts by an elbow in her ribs. She glared at Penelope.
Penelope pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly toward the cafeteria doorway. Sage’s eyes followed her nod.
Headmaster Alexander and Mr. Strick were standing in the hall. They were clearly in the middle of a heated conversation, but Sage was sitting much too far away to make out anything they were saying.
She watched as Mr. Strick jabbed his finger into the headmaster’s chest. She fully expected the headmaster to explode at the man, but instead, he seemed almost to shrink back a bit. Mr. Strick wagged his finger in the headmaster’s face and then turned and walked away, leaving the headmaster standing alone in a bit of a stupor.
The headmaster managed to shake off his rather obvious discomfort and motioned toward someone Sage couldn’t see. Another man stepped forward rather reluctantly.
His haggard appearance and thin frame didn’t fit with the public image the Institution liked to put forth. Clearly, he didn’t belong. He looked like a vagabond and yet was somehow familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.
She squinted at the man who was now talking earnestly with the headmaster. She could make out some of his features, but his lips and eyes were garishly large, probably swollen, and he had a deep gash on his cheek, obscuring the side of his head that she could see.
Their conversation was less animated than the one she’d just witnessed with Mr. Strick, and this time the headmaster seemed to have the upper hand. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, and the two of them turned and walked out of sight down the hallway.
Sage gasped as they turned toward her. She saw his face and realized she knew the man. It was Mr. Walsh.
6. SPOTTED
A flash of bright light blinded Sage for a moment. The pain quickly registered in her brain, and she began writhing on the floor, clutching at her face.
She tried unsuccessfully to get her feet back under her, but they just flopped around limply. Her body wasn’t obeying her commands.
“Sorry, Sage. I didn’t mean to connect that hard.” Lita’s hand was extended to help her back up, a worried look plastered on her face.
Sage shook her head and winced at the throbbing pain in her cheekbone. She knew that feeling. Her eye would be swollen for days.
She reached out and accepted Lita’s help, stumbling to her feet.
Lita waved her free hand to get Ms. Bax’s attention.
“She needs to make a trip to the infirmary,” Lita said.
Ms. Bax nodded. “Class is almost over. Don’t worry about getting back before it’s done.”
Injuries were a normal part of Bokja lessons. One or two students usually wound up making a trip to see the school physician before class was dismissed. With the number of times Sage had needed to go to the infirmary, she often found herself wondering why the administration had chosen to put it so far away from the training area.
“C’mon. I’ll help you get changed.” Lita put her arm behind Sage, steering her toward the girls’ room. Normally, Sage would have resisted the help, but her vision was still a bit blurry, so she didn’t fight it.
“Here.” Lita nudged a change of clothes toward Sage.
Sage stumbled and kicked off her Bokja uniform with great difficulty. She had no remaining sense of modesty after the past couple years of communal living. She gingerly tugged on the drab black shirt and gray pants that all the students wore, grimacing with every slight move of her already-sore muscles.
“I’m really sorry, Sage. Sometimes I get caught up in my kicks and don’t realize… Did you move into it?”
Sage shrugged and winced again as a sharp pain coursed through her jaw and down her spine. “I’m not really sure what happened.”
“It’s ok.” Lita picked up Sage’s sweat-drenched uniform and threw it into a bin on the wall. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be making you talk right now anyways. I’ll bet it hurts.” She shot her young friend a sympathetic look.
Lita hurriedly pulled on a change of clothes as well, and then the two girls walked out of the changing room, crossed over the Bokja mats, and stepped into the hall.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Sage mumbled as they trekked toward the infirmary.
“You were worried something was broken?” Lita exclaimed. “By Eprah, Sage, I’m so sorry. I mean, I’ve been doing lots of leg exercises lately, working on getting ready for the tournament. I should’ve known—held back better at least. I really do forget sometimes.”
“It’s fine.” Sage opened and closed her mouth a few times, hoping it would help her jaw stop smarting, but it didn’t seem to do any good. “I need real sparring practice anyways. If I want to do ok in the tournament, you know?”
A smile played at Lita’s lips. “True. But you have to make it to the tournament first.”
She pushed open the door to the infirmary. “And I don’t seem to be helping you there any. Maybe I should let Travvk spar with you from now on.”
Sage snorted and then cringed in pain. Travvk was quite possibly the most incompetent student Bokja instructor there was. He’d qualified for his position as a junior instructor after a series of dumb luck wins in last year’s tournament. His victories could be chalked up to distracted and tired opponents, out of bounds missteps, and—Sage’s personal favorite—the use of his above-average body weight to pin another student long enough to elicit a tap out.
“So you’d rather I lose every match. Why do you hate me?” Sage teased through her pain.
Lita laughed.
“Well, you two seem to be having fun. Not sure why you’re here—seems you don’t need me if you’re all smiles.” Already bored, the nurse got up from her desk and looked the two girls over.
“Actually, this one needs some gel. Possibly a scan.” Lita glanced down at Sage’s face apologetically and then looked back up. “I’m fine, though,” she said cheerily.
“I’m sure.” The nurse rolled her eyes at Lita and motioned for Sage to sit on the exam table.
“The physician’s out right now. I can take a scan, but he’ll have to look it over when he gets back. I’m not allowed to give an official report,” she said snidely as she tapped on her databook. “Unofficially, though, I’ll tell you if anything’s broken, and he can let you know later if I’m wrong. What hurts?”
Sage swept her hand in a circle in front of the right side of her face. “This, mostly. But pretty much everything else does too.”
The nurse held her databook up in front of Sage’s face. “Turn to the left. Ok. Straight ahead. Ok. And now right. Good.”
She drummed on the tablet, examining the scan she’d just taken. “Yup. You’re fine. No breaks. I’ll go get the gel.”
“Well, that’s good news, right?” Lita thumped Sage on the back. “No breaks!”
Sage’s face screwed up in pain. “Yeah.” She held back a whimper.
“Oh, geez, sorry. I’m doing great today.” Lita rolled her eyes just as the nurse walked back over.
“Is there a problem?” The nurse raised an eyebrow as she squirted a thick mound of gel onto her gloved hand. Without waiting for a response, she began smearing it on the side of Sage’s face.
“No, no problem,” Lita said.
Sage shrank back at the nurse’s clinical touch. She couldn’t be bothered to be gentle though, so Sage initially felt more pain from the rough application of the gel. After a few moments, the viscous liquid had started to work its magic, and the tenderness in her face was being numbed away.
“Is that it?” The nurse looked down her nose at the girls and made her way back to her seat without pausing for an answer.
“I guess that’s it.” Lita looked at the clock and turned to Sage. “Bokja’s over for today, so there’s no point in going back. I’ll walk you to your next class.”
She shook her head. “I have a free period until dinner.”
“Even better,” Lita grinned. “I have a free period too, so I’ll just drop you at your Common Lounge.”
She grabbed Sage’s hand and helped her off the table.
“Bye, Nurse Candice,” Lita called over her shoulder. The woman waved dismissively as they left the room, not bothering to look up.
“She’s always a ray of sunshine,” Lita whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.
Sage grinned. She’d been to see the woman a number of times in the past year, and not once had she seen her smile.
“Don’t forget to keep your fists up next time,” Lita chided in an effort to make herself feel better.
“They were,” Sage said ruefully, remembering all the drills she’d been put through last year to ensure exactly that.
Lita shot her an incredulous look, clearly doubting her truthfulness. “Maybe it’s just ‘cuz I’m older and bigger. But you should work harder on deflecting.”
They turned a corner on their way to their respective Common Lounges.
“And next time, don’t step into a kick. That has to be what you did, and it’s just not a good idea. What you should do is—” Lita stopped dead in her tracks and stared at something at the end of the hallway.
Sage followed her gaze and saw the figures of two men walking across the intersection of two hallways. They didn’t appear to look up or see the girls at all, but the girls both gaped silently as they walked out of view.
Lita forgot her companion for a moment and sprinted toward them. Sage followed closely behind as best she could, fighting through the ache in her body, arriving at the intersection just a moment after her.
The girls looked around, breathless. There was no one in sight. Lita smacked the wall with her palm. Her eyes darted back and forth at all the doors along the hall.
“He was just here!” She paced the hall in obvious frustration, talking to herself. “Where did he go?”
She circled the empty space where the men had just been and directed her question at Sage. “You saw him too, didn’t you?”
“I saw someone,” she said slowly.
Lita whirled around in anger. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare lie to me. Everyone here lies, but by Eprah, you can’t. Not you.”
She backed up a bit, her face softening. “We’re friends,” she whispered.
Sage swallowed. “It maybe looked like—” she hesitated.
“Mr. Walsh,” Lita bobbed her head up and down, finishing the thought with conviction. “He looks different,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “But it was him. It had to have been.”
7. YELLOW
“Over here!” Lita motioned frantically toward Sage. “You have to see this!”
“What?” Sage called over her shoulder as she pushed off the floor. She shoved a few artifacts back against the wall and trotted over to her friend. “What is it?”
“See for yourself.” Lita grinned mischievously as she extended her arm, keeping her fist closed.
Sage held out her hand. Her friend dropped a gaudy ring in her palm. Sage wrinkled her nose.
“I almost didn’t see it under the pile—it was so little,” Lita explained. “Well, relatively speaking.”
Sage turned the ring over in her hand. Its interior dimensions were small—it was most likely a woman’s ring. A large yellow stone perched atop it, encircled by gaudy green swirls that seemed both decorative and functional, serving to keep the stone firmly in place as well as to accent the unusual natural shape of the stone.
She slipped it over her finger, and the weight of the stone spun it downward, pivoting toward the ground. The gem caught the light from above and cast starry pinpricks on the floor.
“It’s ridiculous… and beautiful,” she whistled. “But I don’t think it fits.” She slipped the ring off and handed it back to Lita.
“Not yet. Give it a few years.” Lita rolled the gem between her fingers, mesmerized by the tiny lights dancing on the floor.
“Like I’ll be able to find it again in a few years,” Sage snorted. “I doubt we’ll be able to find it again in five minutes in this mess.” She swept her arm around the room.
Lita peered closely at the tiny relic. “Then maybe we should put this in a safe place.” She looked up at Sage. “You know, until you’re old enough to wear it out of here without it falling off.”
Sage raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? There’s no way.”
“Why not?” Lita’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “No one would notice. Or care. It’s not like they know any of this stuff is here anyways.”
Sage furrowed her brow, remembering what had happened the last time she’d taken something out of the Archives and who had paid the price. And that had been with permission. “Lita, I can’t. I—”
“I know, I know. It doesn’t fit,” she interjected. “I’m going to put it in a safe place for now. You can decide later. There’s plenty of time for your fingers to fatten up.” She giggled.
“No, Lita. I’m deciding now.”
Lita clucked her tongue. “Don’t be a spoilsport. I’m just going to make sure you know where it is. For the future. I mean, maybe one of the instructors or Mr. Gramples will want to see it. It’d be awful if it just got misplaced and disappeared for the next hundred years.”
She paused and gave Sage a sideways glance. “Or Mr. Walsh, whenever he comes back. I’m sure he’d be interested. This has to predate Eprah’s formation. I know that kind of stuff fascinates him.”
Sage studied her face cautiously. This didn’t seem like a trap, but she felt like Lita was fishing for a reaction. She didn’t want to talk about the other day—the second time she thought she’d seen Mr. Walsh at the Institution that year. And she definitely didn’t want to talk about any pre-Eprah history.
“Are you worried it’s stealing?” Lita interrupted her thoughts, raising an eyebrow. “No one actually owns it anymore, you know. And it’s probably been in the cataloguing room for decades.” She brought the stone within a few inches of her eye, examining it more closely. “Eprah would never miss it,” she said softly.
Lita straightened and walked over to an old desk buried in another pile a few yards away. She tugged open one of the small drawers and looked back at Sage. “Are you watching closely?” she grinned.
She snaked her hand into the back of the drawer. Sage could hear her fingernails scraping the underside of the desk from inside the drawer opening.
“What are you doing?” She grimaced at the sound. She was convinced her friend had lost her mind.
“Just watch.” Lita had an impish grin on her face as she continued feeling around inside the drawer. “Got it,” she said triumphantly.
As soon as Lita’s fingers stopped their exploration, Sage heard a creak followed by a hollow thud as the upper part of the desk fell open.
Sage gaped at it. The writing surface of the desk had seemed solid a moment earlier, but now the bottom part of it was hanging open, not unlike her jaw.
“Figured it’d be an old rebel relic,” Lita explained matter-of-factly. “They had all sorts of hiding places in normal things—even before Eprah was officially formed.” She hesitated. “Not that you should probably advertise that. You know how people are about these things.”
“Yeah.” Sage nodded. It was generally a bad idea to bring up anything related to the Lawless unless it was information to sell someone out.
Lita ran her hand along the open compartment and then bent down to examine it more closely. She squinted and gingerly placed the ring inside before pushing it closed and leaving no trace of the jewelry.
“Now it has a home—a secret home. And we’re the only ones who know where it is.” Lita winked at Sage. “So if you change your mind, you’ll know where
it is, and I seriously doubt anyone else will find it.”
8. A VISITOR
When Sage stepped into the classroom, she held her breath, hoping again to see her familiar old instructor behind the desk.
To her disappointment, Mr. Strick was sitting there as usual. His eyes were no longer glued to his databook screen, however. He now wore a rather dull, bored expression on his face as he waited impatiently for the students to file into the room.
Sage had only told Penelope that she thought she’d seen Mr. Walsh. She’d avoiding talking about it with Lita despite her prodding after they’d both seen the man in the hallway. Sage definitely hadn’t told her that she was pretty sure she’d already seen him once before.
It was surprisingly hard keeping secrets from Lita—especially this one. She liked her, and she knew how much they both disliked Mr. Strick. And Lita kept bringing up Mr. Walsh, saying how she wished he’d come back and how she was sure that the man they’d seen had to be him. But he had been so far away when they’d seen him… It really was hard to be certain what they’d seen.
It had been two weeks. Two weeks since she’d first seen Mr. Walsh—or at least, since she thought she’d seen Mr. Walsh. The more time passed, the more her conviction waned. He’d looked so different when she’d seen him anyway. Maybe she’d just imagined what she wanted to see. She so badly wanted him to come back and take over for Mr. Strick, but that obviously hadn’t happened yet, and it was beginning to seem like it never would.
She couldn’t tell if Mr. Strick was happy or not when the tone rang to signal the beginning of the class. Ordinarily, he was only too willing to stop his students’ chatter and get down to business.
He grunted and got to his feet slowly, a near-snarl gracing his lips as he turned to face the students.
“A real treat we have for you today, class,” he growled, then managed to stand a bit taller. “Pull up chapter fourteen.” He walked around to the front of his desk and leaned back.
“Begin reading the chapter to yourself. We’ll change things up a bit later in the period.” Mr. Strick crossed his arms and stared vacantly across the room. A silence stretched over the room as the Level Nines buried their faces in their databooks.