Frank and Billy, along with several others raised their hands.
“Much to learn. Professor Orell tells me half of you babies still have trouble wielding a scythe. Any third years?”
Only two hands rose. Billy tensed as he glanced at the tall black boy standing in Luc’s group with a raised hand. It must be Frenchie.
“Not much help. I wonder how pathetic you two must be to get stuck in this class.” Suzie glanced at Frenchie, whose face was tense. He looked ready to hit someone. Luc cringed as his brother grabbed his shoulder, probably trying to control his temper.
Hann laughed. “Well this is what I’ve been given, but I guarantee this is not where we’ll end. I will make Deaths out of all of you. Right, your groups will begin general exercises. I issue training scythes tomorrow, and you have your first skills test a week from today. Any questions?”
The older students gasped.
“Only a week,” muttered Billy. “That’s impossible.”
“Good,” continued Hann. “Spread yourself around the room and begin warming up. Second and third years lead your groups in arm exercises. I will come around to each group to get your names. Go.”
Everyone spoke at once, darting to different parts of the room.
“Hey Bill,” said Frenchie, approaching them. “You got stuck with the little girl? Didn’t they have any men left?”
“I chose this group,” said Billy.
“You’re not going soft on me, are you? Maybe I shouldn’t let you on my team for boskery.”
Billy went to Frenchie and whispered something in his ear. The tall boy shook his head and laughed.
“Yeah that makes a lot more sense,” said Frenchie. “I’m looking forward to try-outs.” He walked away.
“What was that?” asked Suzie.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Billy. He looked embarrassed.
“Let’s go to the corner,” said Frank, leading her away. Billy followed.
“Wow,” said Frank, when they reached a spot away from the others. “I’ve heard of Hann, but never dreamed he’d live up to the reputation.”
“A week before the first scythe test?” said Billy. “You and I will be fine, but these first years? There’s no way they’ll be ready.”
“He probably expects them to fail,” said Frank. “Come on, let’s stretch our arms.”
They began a series of arm exercises and stretches. Some of them were ones Suzie had done in gym class, and she remembered her old teacher, Coach Barker—not his real name, but she always called him that. He’d barked at her and his other students like a dog. Suzie snapped back to the present as Hann walked over.
“Suzie,” he said, “how has your first day been going, as a girl?”
“I’ve been a girl all my life,” she replied.
Frank and Billy chuckled, but Hann glowered at them.
“This is your first day here. Don’t get smart.”
Her mind flashed to the protest outside the Hall, Dr. James taunting her, and the vision with the eagle.
“Fine,” she said.
“Good. What are your names?” He turned to Frank and Billy.
“Frank Pierce.”
“Billy Black.”
Hann nodded and turned back to Suzie. He was even fiercer up close. Suzie smelled tuna on his breath and wondered if it was from a gorger.
“You two better keep an eye on Suzie. If she fails, I will hold you accountable. The group passes or the group sinks in my class. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” said Billy. Frank nodded.
“Good.”
Hann left and they finished exercising. Sticks were passed out to each group, and Billy showed Suzie how to hold hers.
“No, no,” he said. “The position of the hands is critical, they have to be perfect.”
Suzie kept trying, but by the time class ended she had no idea how they expected her to hold the stick. She hadn’t even gotten to the training scythe, and they had a test in a week.
* * * *
Dinner was uneventful, which was a relief. Suzie looked at Billy.
“I want to go home,” she said.
“That’s where we’re headed,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
“No. I want to go home.”
“Come on,” he said, and led her back to Eagle Two.
Chapter Eight
Beginners
On Thursday morning, the sun shone through the windows of Lower Hall. Suzie sat at one of the long tables, in the spot she and her friends had used since their first chaotic day. The head table was empty, the Council didn’t return after Monday, and she hadn’t seen Headmaster Sindril again.
A ’Mental with glowing red eyes brought her a tray.
“More gorgers?”
“Not today, ma’am,” said the ’Mental softly. He opened the tray and stepped away.
“Eggs, toast, and bacon?” asked Jason. “This is the first real breakfast they’ve served. What’s going on?”
“Probably wishing everyone good luck,” said Frank, digging into a tray of Danishes and sausage.
“It’s boskery try-outs after school,” added Billy. “Every Death other than first years has to try out, but few get on the teams they hope for.”
“You two should come,” said Frank, his mouth half full. “Especially with Billy and me trying out.”
Suzie put some eggs on her plate. Going to try-outs sounded like an open invitation to repeat the scene from Monday. Frenchie and Luc would be there, and probably plenty of others who hated girls.
“I’ll go,” said Jason. “You’re coming, too, right Suzie?”
She looked at the expectant faces. Don’t show fear. Besides, if everyone’s preoccupied with the actual boskery try-outs, how bad could they be?
“Yeah, I’ll come cheer you guys on. Which’ll be tough, since I have no idea what boskery is.”
“Me neither,” said Jason. “But we’ll go. It’ll be fun.”
“It’ll be brutal,” said Frank. “It’s not a pretty game.”
“That’s for sure,” added Billy.
They finished the meal and Jason walked with her to Theory. Dr. James sat behind his desk, glowering at them as they entered. She sat down, winced, then rose, and pulled a tack from her seat. Luc winked at her.
“We’ve established the World of Deaths is for males only,” said Dr. James. “My superiors,” he adjusted his glasses, peering at Suzie, “want us to move on. Open your books to page eighty-three.”
Move on. Was he done bullying her?
For two days, Dr. James had singled out Susie, assigning her Theory class extra work on the uselessness of females in the World of Deaths. Luc picked on her every time they had class.
Of course, they couldn’t spend the whole year talking about girls, when she was the only one in the entire world. A question struck her.
“Doctor James?” she asked.
“Yes,” he snarled.
“Before we move on, are there any female ’Mentals?”
“Of course,” he snapped. “Now stop wasting our time. Our lesson today is on metals.”
Suzie stopped listening. She was not alone. No female Deaths, but other women, other girls lived in this world. All of the ’Mentals she’d met had been male, but women lived here, too, somewhere.
She was confused. The three races in this world were Deaths, Dragons, and Elementals. The Dragons and Deaths were enemies for some reason. The Elementals, or ’Mentals, seemed nice. The Deaths used them for servants or workers, but didn’t socialize with them. Billy hinted that some Deaths might be afraid of the ’Mentals, but he wasn’t sure. Frank said he didn’t know anything about the ’Mentals, but when she asked, his eyes glazed as if trying to block an unpleasant memory. She wondered if something had happened he didn’t want to talk about.
“Are you listening Susan?”
“Yes sir.”
“What are scythe blades made of?” The corner of Dr. James’s lip curled up in a sneer.
&
nbsp; “Mortamant, sir.”
His sneer deepened into a malicious scowl. “Yes. Yes, that is correct. Mortamant is a special metal that can slice through dimensions. A metal said to be alive. You’ve seen it, on the scythes that brought you here, or on the Ring surrounding the College. Pure mortamant is only used in scythes, and is the most precious commodity we have. This is impure mortamant, the way it is mined.” He pulled a block of silver from his desk and passed it around the class. “Take a moment to hold it in your hands when you’re able. Even the impure mortamant is no ordinary metal.”
Suzie took the block. It looked heavy, but felt lighter than a feather. Tingling in her hand, the metal pulsed with unseen electricity. Or magic. She moved the block around her palm. Was the metal watching her? No, don’t be ridiculous. But as she passed it to Jason, she sensed that the mortamant knew it was leaving her hand.
After Theory, Jason turned to her.
“That was a lot better than usual,” he said. “And you talked about mortamant. When’d you learn that?”
“Billy told me in Applications. Still, you’re right, the class went better. Maybe it’ll be okay now that we’re done talking about girls.”
“I hope that’s true. Good luck in History.”
She nodded and trudged down the hall. She glanced to her right. A large pink sign outside the bathroom announced it as a “Girl’s Bathroom.” Another one had been labeled near the Hall. Sindril must still be watching out for her. She wondered if he had told Dr. James to move on with the class. Someone, probably Luc and his brother Frenchie, had scratched out the word “Girl’s” and written “Bitch’s.” Lovely.
She walked into History to find Professor Stevens dozing. He sat cross-legged on top of his desk, with his eyes closed, and his mouth open. She coughed as she walked by his desk, but he didn’t move.
The other students filed in and waited.
“Guess History’s a bore, right teach?” asked Luc in a loud voice.
“Wrong,” said Professor Stevens. He opened one eye and yawned.
“Sorry, you looked like you were sleeping.”
“I was,” said Professor Stevens. “Now open your books to page thirty-five. And you are?”
“Luc.”
“Luc, why don’t you read first?”
Luc read about the Dragons and the Great War. Dragons, she learned, had once ferried the souls of the dead to the Hereafter. The War changed that.
She went to lunch feeling better than she had since arriving in the World of Deaths.
“What’s gotten into you?” asked Billy, as he noticed her smiling.
“Having a pretty good day for once.”
“Good,” said Frank, “are you ready for Applications?”
“I guess.” She looked at her gorger and focused on a hot cheese pizza. The gorger warmed in her hands.
At the end of each day, Applications class arrived with the swing of a scythe. Suzie couldn’t master it. She’d practiced on the training scythes, and everything seemed fine, but both Frank and Billy continued to tell her she was doing it wrong. Hann rarely helped anyone in the class; the groups were left on their own. On Wednesday, Suzie had glanced at Luc’s group. His brother Frenchie was screaming at him. She wasn’t the only one having trouble.
“You ready for try-outs?” Frank asked Billy.
“I hope Curtis isn’t around,” he replied. “That guy is huge.”
“Frenchie’ll be hard enough. They make you battle for the try-outs, no matter what your position.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Any idea what they’re talking about,” Suzie said to Jason.
“Nope,” he replied.
“Jason, I like what you started in Art yesterday. The colors are amazing.”
“It’s my first time with oils,” he said. “But Cronk lets us do pretty much whatever we want.”
“It’s my favorite class. Did you hear him the other day? He’s lost a bunch of other jobs.”
Art was her refuge. Suzie was glad Jason shared the class, but also enjoyed having Cronk for a teacher. There was something childlike, almost innocent about the Death who had brought her to this world. She didn’t blame him either, after all it had been his job, a job he had now lost. “Well, you told us he was the Death who brought you here. I can’t imagine what he did to lose that. Bring the wrong person?” Jason laughed but Suzie stayed silent. Was that possible? She was the only female in a million years. However, Athanasius had expected her, and she had lost most of her weight.
“I like the clay thing you’re working on,” he added.
“It’s supposed to be metaphorical. It’ll make more sense when it’s done.”
A ’Mental came to take her dish.
“Thank you,” said Suzie. “It was delicious.”
“Of course,” said the ’Mental.
“What’s your name?”
“Korik,” he said looking around. He hurried away.
“Not supposed to talk to them,” said Frank.
“Why not?”
“I told you,” said Billy, “Deaths don’t mix with ’Mentals. They serve us food, and we leave them alone. They probably like things better that way.”
Something flashed in Frank’s expression but vanished. She sensed he wanted to say more, but he picked up his bag and headed out of the Hall.
She walked to Art with Jason.
“G-g-g-good afternoon.”
“Hello, Cronk.” She walked to the back and got her project out: a large shallow bowl. She walked to the clay and broke off several small pieces, sticking them up in positions along the rim.
Cronk came by but said nothing, he only smiled.
“It’s a metaphor,” said Suzie. For loneliness. She guessed Cronk understood.
She and Jason didn’t speak much, but concentrated on their projects. Jason painted while she sculpted. One Death in the back spent the class staring into space, claiming he needed time to develop inspiration. Cronk smiled at him too. He smiled a lot.
The class passed far too quickly. Suzie had barely started when it was time to clean up.
“Always too short,” said Jason.
“Yeah.”
She walked to Applications. Frank greeted her with a training scythe.
“We’re getting beginner’s blades today,” he said.
“Are they mortamant?”
“Not pure, but they’ve got mortamant in them, yes. This is what Monday’s test will use.”
“Great.”
“Try not to sound too thrilled.” Frank rolled his eyes.
“I’ll do my best.”
She finished stretching and grasped the training scythe.
“No,” said Billy. “Remember, right hand high and steady, left hand is a guide. Tense the right but leave the left loose.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“You’re not. Here, like this.”
He moved her hands a few millimeters if anything.
“Now get ready,” said Billy. “I’m going to come at you, and you need to block.”
“What? We haven’t practiced fighting. Aren’t scythes just for transport?”
“They are,” said Frank, “but learning to swing in combat will help prepare you for the real thing. Besides, Billy wants to get in some last-minute practice for boskery.”
“You can go next,” said Billy. “When I learned how to swing, the Death I was paired with taught me like this. Are you ready, Susan?”
Hann walked behind Billy, an amused grin on his face.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Billy lifted his training scythe and whirled it around himself in an arc. The plastic blade whizzed forward and she raised her own scythe. Billy’s trainer struck hers and bounced off. He spun again and the blade whizzed toward her a second time. Suzie tried to block again but turned the blade too quickly and lost her balance. The training scythe fell to the ground and Billy’s plastic blade slapped her leg.
Hann laughed and walked a
way.
“Try again,” said Billy. “You started well, but remember to guide with your left and swing from your right. The real scythe won’t let you make a false swing, it’s too smart.”
“Why not give her the beginner’s blade now?” asked Frank. “Show her the difference.”
“She’s not ready,” said Billy.
“She’s as ready as she’ll be,” said Frank. “Maybe if she learns how a blade responds she’ll understand why we’re being picky about how to hold the scythe.”
“But—”
“Billy, it’s Thursday. The test is Monday. I’m going to get the beginner’s blade.”
Billy nodded and Frank walked away. Across the room, Luc waved a massive scythe through the air. Frenchie smiled and then looked up at her. She looked away.
“Here you go,” said Frank. He held out a scythe, resting it on the ground. Suzie looked up at the immense blade.
“This is a beginner’s scythe?”
“Yup.”
The handle of the beginner’s scythe, a pole of polished black wood, stood six feet tall, rising well above her. A two-foot arc of silver extended from the top of the pole. A small red flag hung opposite from the blade.
“It’s enormous,” she said. “It’s bigger than I am.”
“It’s regulation,” said Frank. “Supposed to be bigger than you.”
“But, I can’t use that.”
“Suzie,” said Frank. “You can do this. You’re ready.”
“Go on,” said Billy. “Hold here, like I showed you on the trainer.”
Suzie counted down from the blade, placing her hands where she had practiced. Frank held the top of the pole.
“Little lower with the left,” said Billy. “Bigger pole, but same idea. Try holding higher with your right, and keep the left hand low.”
Frank let go, and she lifted the scythe on her own.
“It’s light,” she said.
“That’s the idea,” said Billy. “This blade is only ten percent mortamant. The rest is a light plastic. The pole is pure ash, but ’Mentals do something to take the weight away. Give it a try.”
The handle of the scythe was cool in her hands. The wood tingled as she moved it through the air, as if hiding some great power. She lifted the blade above her head and lowered with a hesitant swing. The blade caught on the air and jerked backward. She stumbled and dropped the scythe.
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