The Institute

by Kayla Howarth

  ***

  Classes are finally over for the day, but the fact I have to do it again tomorrow makes me want to throw things in frustration.

  We’re walking back to the elevators when Chad says, “Do you want to do more practice at lunch tomorrow?”

  “Sure, I guess,” I say flatly. I feel beaten down, and I don’t want to do anything tomorrow.

  “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, Tate asked to see you tonight, if you could.”

  “Oh, when did you see him?” I ask.

  “This morning, before I came to get you.”

  “I was going to try and see my brother tonight, patch things up with him. He’s not happy that I was stopping him from being trained, he doesn’t see how things really are in this place, and the lies they spout in our classes aren’t helping my case to make him see.”

  I do want to go see Tate though.

  “Maybe you should take him with you, show him what he’s fighting with you over—give him some perspective,” Chad suggests.

  I think that might just work.