by Jason Letts
“Yes, of course. Please come right in,” Kevin said, and a moment later he returned to the living room. A tall man stepped through the doorway. Muscular, and of some age, the man had short blonde hair and a dollish face marred by a few scars on the left cheek. He wore a heavy overcoat, despite the heat, that clinked when he walked. No doubt there was a weapon hidden beneath his coat. When he spoke his voice sounded light, but it had a rough, insistent quality.
“Good evening to you. My name is Ogden Fortst.”
Mira might have guessed, but confirming his identity did force her to look at him in a more respected light.
“Welcome. Thank you for coming. This is my wife Jeana, and this is Mira,” Kevin said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jeana said.
“A pleasure, Ma’am. And yes, Mira,” he said, turning to address her. “I’m sure you know I’ll be your instructor this year, piping hot spoonfuls of knowledge into your head and generally being a helpful resource for you at all times.”
Mira nodded and they shook hands.
“If there’s anything special I can do to help you, anything at all, just let me know,” he said, looking down. “I just received your information today, and you have to admit, I mean, I was surprised, at least, about, you know. Is it true that you have no power?”
Mira had been watching him as he struggled to get out his thought. She found his manner both unnerving and endearing.
“That’s right,” she said. “No powers. What you see is what you get.”
“Really?” Ogden said as if he finally believed it. He looked her straight in the eyes. “It’s not going to be easy for you. I hope you know that. And I can’t be seen to give you any special treatment or assistance. Gotta keep things equal. It wouldn’t be fair to the other students.”
Mira nodded again.
“Of course. But there is one small thing you could do for me, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
Ogden gave her a suspicious look.
“What is it?”
“The other students don’t know about me yet. If we kept it a secret, perhaps I might be able to use that to my advantage. Do you see what I’m saying?”
Her parents gave each other an intrigued look. Ogden simply smiled.
“Some mind games, huh? I like it. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Can I get you a beverage or a snack, Mr. Fortst? Would you like to sit down?” Jeana asked.
“Thanks for the offer, but I must be on my way. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning,” he said to Mira. He nodded to her folks, and then he left. Mira turned to her parents, both of whom were smiling down on her.
“Got something up your sleeve?”
“Maybe.”
“Better make sure to get plenty of rest tonight so you’re ready for your big day tomorrow.”
“That, at least, is one thing I can count on.”
Chapter 5: The Tournament Trial
Feeling like a family of butterflies had nested in her stomach, Mira set out from her home to the schoolhouse. If attending a new school on the first day wasn’t hard enough, the pressure of having to compete against classmates she knew nothing about crushed her. Her only hope was that they knew nothing about her either.
Her mother, almost in tears, had told her to just try her hardest and never give up. Hugging her tightly, she accidentally put Mira to sleep.
“Well that won’t do!” Jeana moaned, shaking Mira awake.
Mira imagined if she just tried hard enough she might be able to find a way. Of course, she knew it wouldn’t hurt to be a little lucky, too.
Approaching the outpost, she saw other students wearing the same uniform as hers. They laughed and pushed each other, appearing perfectly comfortable. She watched them when they slipped onto the trail near the marble rock that she would walk down in a moment. Her eyes still on them, she almost collided with another boy as he entered the trail. This particular boy had reddish hair and very bright eyes.
“Hi,” he said, but Mira felt shy, so she only nodded. She followed him down the trail in silence, listening to the wind in the orange and red leaves and the echoing sound of laughter from other students.
Approaching the schoolhouse, a few students finished talking and ran inside. Judging by the noise, she could tell that everyone had already arrived. A sudden panic that she was late crossed her mind. Peeking her head through the door, she realized Mr. Fortst had not yet shown up and only one desk in the back was empty. Before she took it, she noticed several students had moved their desks as far away from one other student as possible.
She wondered why, but she soon became more focused on her new desk. It wobbled and a sizable crack in the seat meant that the bottom could give out at any time. Sighing, she gingerly sat down on the seat. No one paid her any attention and she just kept to herself.
Moments later, heavy footsteps approached the schoolhouse and all of the students immediately sat up straight, looked forward, and shushed. Still wearing the thick overcoat that reached up to his hair, Ogden Fortst took his place behind the podium with a twirl, gripping the sides with his big hands and leering down at the fifteen students before him.
“Hey you, kid!” he abruptly shouted. “Close that door. Let’s get started here.” One of the boys near the back ducked into the aisle and pulled the rickety piece of wood shut.
“Opening ceremony: check,” Fortst said aloud to himself.
Fortst and the students labored through a few intense moments of looking at each other.
“I’m going to be your teacher now. So you’d better listen to what I say or there’s gonna be trouble. We’re going to be working hard, and I don’t want to hear any complaining. Things could get very dangerous for you, especially with all that’s happening in the world now. I’ve been to the warfront and fought with our allies. I’ve seen the cruel enemy sun do the bidding of evil. Let me tell you, it’s not pretty! So you’d better be ready for it.”
He extended a scrutinizing glance to the students and took stock of the impact of his words. He seemed satisfied.
“Inspiring words: check.”
After another prolonged pause, Fortst continued.
“You may be wondering who I am. Well, let me show you.” He pulled out a clear glass container from behind the lectern and set it on a nearby table. Next, he pulled out a bottle from the folds in his coat and poured some water into the glass.
“You, girl, what’s the temperature of this water?” The girl in the front row stood up, leaned over, and put her hand against the container.
“It’s cold.”
“OK, can you please come up here?” Fortst gestured to the boy whom the other students had avoided. Though a large, stocky boy, he was not as tall as Fortst. The boy got up and stood next to the teacher, who immediately put his hand up to his face to shield himself.
“Wow, that’s warm. I’ve got a feeling you’ll have a lot more friends come winter. What’s your name?”
“My name’s Dennis,” he said.
Fortst put one hand on Dennis and the other in the bowl of water. The students watched, and after a few seconds bubbles formed in the water. Gradually the water came to a full boil, his hand still inside the bowl. Finally, removing both of his hands, he gave a short bow and the students clapped.
“Thank you, thank you. All right. Here’s the plan for today. First we’ll have a lecture, and then we’ll decide your ranks based on the results of a single-elimination tournament,” he said, while pouring the water back into his bottle. The mention of the tournament piqued everyone’s interest. A few students threw up their hands and asked questions about the format of the competition. Fortst waved them all off.
“No, no, no. This one’s a surprise. You won’t know until you get there. We’ve got a lot to cover first.”
The students leaned back in their chairs, while the teacher roused himself for his first lecture.
“The most important thing I can teach you is to know your surroundin
gs. You’ve got to know everything about where you are at all times or else you could be in serious trouble. You’ve got to understand it. Look out the window here. What do you see? Trees, the forest, uneven terrain, and brightly colored leaves. But, who can tell me why the leaves change colors?”
Fortst stood near the window, gazing over the silent students before him. He waited patiently, making it clear that he expected an answer. His pupils, however, remained motionless. Feeling it was silly to stall the class when she knew the answer, Mira raised her hand.
“Yes, you in the back.”
“Leaves change colors because they have less of the green-colored chlorophyll, which turns water and carbon dioxide into food for the tree. Because there is less light and water in the fall, trees make less chlorophyll. The colors come from the food, called glucose, and the wastes that remain in the leaves.”
Fortst stared at her blankly. Some of the students had turned to look at her, their faces equally blank.
“I was just going to say because it gets cold. OK, then why don’t those trees with the needles change colors or become bare?” he asked, pointing to an evergreen, and clearly trying to save face.
“Those kinds of trees, called coniferous trees, are better suited for colder climates, and so they have needles that use less energy and keep them all year round. They still have chlorophyll and turn the gas into food, in a process called photosynthesis. Trees with big leaves that change colors and fall are called deciduous trees, by the way.”
Now all of the students had turned to look at her. Fortst was obviously speechless.
“What kind of tree is that?” he asked.
“It’s a pine tree.”
“What about that white one?”
“That’s a birch tree,” she answered, even though she couldn’t see it.
Flustered, Fortst returned to his podium. He leaned down over it with his face in his palm.
“Well, that was my whole lesson, so just give me a minute to think of something else.”
The students began talking to each other again, only this time Mira thought it was a fair bet they were talking about her. After some time, Fortst looked over at the pile of teaching materials in the corner. He pulled out a large map and hung it on the wall over the blackboard. The weight of the map caused one of the wallboards to crack. It dangled at a slight angle.
“OK, would the pearl of wisdom in the back of the room please tell me where Martyr’s Fjord is on this map?”
Mira leaned forward, struggling to see. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Perhaps that was too difficult,” Fortst smirked. “Where is the border that our warriors are defending from the heathen, bloodthirsty, marauding Sunfighters at this very moment?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, feeling defeated. Some of the students had turned around to look at her, and Fortst cast a quizzical glance.
“Just one more question: where are we?”
Mira looked one more time at the map, made up of landmasses she had never seen, and then lowered her head. No one in the classroom made a peep.
“That’s why you need to know your surroundings,” Fortst trumpeted to the class. “You never know when that information could be used against you or save your life.”
The morning slowly passed. Fortst was grasping at straws, making up his lesson as he went along and taking plenty of generous breaks. This may not have been such a bad plan though, considering the distractions his students faced with the upcoming contest. When the time finally came for them to begin their test, they leapt out of their chairs, ready to do battle on the spot.
Fortst lead his troop deeper into the forest. They came to a clearing that had a very distinct and perfect rectangular shape. Waiting along the edge in a line, the students watched the instructor stride onto an open field of short grass.
“Let’s begin the Tournament Trial to decide the class leader and all their rights and privileges. As you know, your rank is the proof of your accomplishments in this academy, and people everywhere are gonna judge you accordingly. You’d better use all means available to you, but remember that you’ll have me to deal with if you get too rough and rowdy.”
He strode around the field, inspecting the various parts of the setup while he spoke.
“These two metal posts on opposite sides of the field are goals. This ball will start exactly half the distance between them. Contestants start in their goal and try to return the ball to that goal to win. Simple enough?”
Fortst took a moment to admire the students who stood before him and mumbled something about the importance of this occasion in their lives.
“Last year’s rank will work as a seeding system. That means the good students will go against the bad students. Vern, you’re up first and your opponent is Mira, since she doesn’t have a rank. Take your places and let’s get started!”
The students scattered, taking up spots in the nooks and branches of the trees. Fortst found a good vantage point along the sideline. As they walked to their starting points, Vern and Mira glanced at each other.
“No place to hide now. I hope you’ve got something good to show us,” Vern said.
Mira’s heart raced in her chest. She couldn’t have said anything if she wanted to. Placing her front foot just behind the line, she looked up to see the gangly boy across the field and the white ball sitting on the grass between them. She focused on her game plan and looked over for the signal to start. Vern adopted a ready position.
All of the students looked on as Fortst raised one arm high into the air. He whistled and the match began. Both competitors immediately sprinted toward the center. A few steps in, Mira let out a shrill and harrowing scream, causing Vern to look about in a frantic and confused manner. After a moment, when nothing happened, he raised his hand and a strange sensation came over Mira.
Pushing her legs as hard as she could, Mira suddenly felt like the Earth no longer pulled her down. Instead, her body began to fall forward and for a second she floated above the ground. Once her body had been completely swept into horizontal motion, Vern lowered his hand and let Mira’s body drop to the ground. She fell flat on her face.
She looked up just in time to see Vern scoop up the ball and jog it back to his goal. The reality of what happened made her wince. Mira shut her eyes in frustration as cheering and hollering of students rang around her. She grabbed at the grass and tore it out. She wanted to scream into the dirt, but instead she got up and started running. Within moments she had left them behind completely.
Vern had a smile on his face as he rejoined the other students. He threw the ball out near the center of the field for the next match, and sat down assuming a relaxed and comfortable posture, as though he were at the beach.
“You idiot! Why didn’t you just attract the ball?” Aoi shouted, snapping him out of his effervescent arrogance. But Vern complacently lounged on the forest floor, paying little attention to the other students’ matches or to the people around him. He rolled through his next match as easily as through his first. He nodded off for a minute, believing that it exuded confidence if he appeared relaxed. Aoi once again had the pleasure of stomping on his leisure.
“Get off your butt! You’ve gotta go against Roselyn now,” she laughed. A sour and disappointed frown immediately formed on Vern’s face. This wouldn’t be fun at all. Getting up and walking onto the field felt more like removing a splinter than an exciting competition.
He eyed at the girl with blonde curls standing at the other end of the field. Roselyn had an air of contentment mixed with just a hint of timidity.
She called out to him. “I’m sorry for what I’m going to do to you. I promise I’ll make it better after.”
Vern tried to numb himself to what was coming. It put a bad taste in his mouth and he cringed. “Yeah, just do what you gotta do.”
He posed with one foot forward, ready for action, while Roselyn stood flat-footed, her hands together. Fortst dropped his arm to signal the start of the m
atch.
As soon as Vern took off, Roselyn opened her mouth and began to sing three rising notes. Vern reached for the ball, which left the ground and rapidly began moving in his direction. But he struggled to bring his hands up to catch the ball. He just didn’t have the energy to do it.
Roselyn’s three notes, hanging and swooning in the air, repeated over and over again. Holding the ball, all he had to do was turn and toss it into his goal, but that seemed so hard. It lay just a few feet away.
An overwhelming sadness swept over him. He didn’t care about the competition anymore. It just didn’t matter now. He held the ball loosely in his hands, but he couldn’t think about anything except the big empty world and his purposeless life. This miserable feeling made him wonder if this were all a terrible waste of time. He should just quit.
“Give me the ball,” Roselyn said. She appeared a foot away from Vern, and reached out to take the ball. From the break in her singing, Vern felt his intractable apathy give way to the slightest emotion, the mildest impulse. Mustering himself in the most minimal way, he dropped his arm back and let the ball roll out onto the ground behind him.
He felt worthless and regretful, and he began apologizing to Roselyn. She watched the ball roll behind him and stop just inside his goal. Shifting her attention back to Vern, she again sang her notes. The life returned to his face and soon he felt normal again, like nothing had happened.
“Congratulations,” she said, showing no emotion over the result. She quietly walked off the field. Expelling a sigh of relief and resuming his smug behavior, Vern relished that he had made it to the finals and his goal of retaining his class leadership was within reach. A tinge of nerves tightened his chest and he made fists with his hands.
Fixing his eyes on the other semifinalists, he watched a match between Aoi and a boy named Will, who had short, light-brown hair and a boyish face. Vern’s hopes were dashed when Aoi stuffed the ball into her own goal. It became obvious at the end that she had been toying with Will. Egging himself on, Vern stalked out onto the field, ready for the match he knew would come all along.