FORTY
Ethan is already sitting in the cafeteria, eating his lunch, when I enter the room. What is going on with him? He looks perfectly normal as he eats his perfectly prepared meal for his perfect physique. He avoids my curious stare, as I walk by him with my tray of food. Unfortunately, I can’t sit at his table, because it’s not allowed until dinnertime. My eyes remain with him the entire time we eat. Still, he doesn’t return my gaze. He eats with his head down, talking to no one.
When Ethan stands to leave, I stand as well. I follow him out of the building and into the manicured pathways. I open my mouth to call his name, but he cuts me off. “What do you want, Mena?” He stops dead in his tracks, but he doesn’t turn to look at me. He stays facing forward like he can’t bear for me to see him weak or defeated. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.
I grab his hand and drag him behind the concrete building of the training facility. I grab his chin and make him face me. Then I kiss him. It’s a soft kiss—just a peck.
This kiss catches Ethan’s attention, and he finally looks at me. He leans in close to me, softly brushing his lips to mine. They linger there as if waiting for something. Then he moves his mouth a little deeper against mine. It’s a nice kiss that sends warmth through my body, down to my toes. I like Ethan. He’s my rock.
I pull away and ask him, “Where were you this morning? Why weren’t you at breakfast?”
Ethan puts his hand on my shoulder and looks down at me. “I was on patrol. I volunteered to take one of the injured trainee’s time slots. Ever since Az got me with his ax, I feel like if I stop moving, I’ll never be able to start again. Like if I sit down for too long, I won’t be able to stand back up. I can’t explain to you how it feels. It’s just awful.” He shakes his head and drops his arm from my shoulder. “And I just have too much on my mind. My parents aren’t very accepting of my poor performance and neither am I, to be honest. I can’t believe Az beat me. I have to finish first in the Third Trial. If I fail, I won’t be able to live with myself. And neither will my parents, for that matter.” He’s never told me this much about his family before. It’s not something Exalted really talk to each other about, unless someone does something of recognition.
I am so grateful my parents never put that kind of pressure on me. They never pushed their second place status on me, but maybe first place Uniteds are different. Maybe parents that are on the Pump are different.
“Ethan, you will place first in the Third Trial. Don’t worry so much about it. You know that you’re so much smarter than Az. He’ll be lucky to come in fourth.” I exaggerate a little to make him feel better. It doesn’t work.
“Come on, Mena. We both know it’s either him or me.”
I try to joke with him. “Well you better win, because I am not being United with Az.” I give a little chuckle, but he doesn’t return the sentiment. I lower my voice even more when I say, “Look, I wanted to tell you that if you decide to leave the Republic, Ryker told me their village is called Toledo Lake. He said it’s a five days walk northeast of here. They’ll accept you there.”
“I already told you I’m not leaving. I’m not running away from this,” he says firmly. “I want to be here Mena. The Republic is my life.”
He’s clearly not happy that I offered him an “out”, so I change the subject. “What are you doing the rest of the day? You should stop by the infirmary and see Val. I told her you would.”
“Maybe. I’m going try to go get some sleep first. I’ve been patrolling since midnight. I’m trying to run myself down, so my body will have no choice but to sleep. Hopefully, my legs will work when I wake up and my head will still be attached to my body.” Ethan gives a sarcastic smirk and leaves me standing there alone.
We never addressed the kiss. It’s like it never happened.
* * *
After taking a nap of my own, I head back downstairs to visit Val again. I stop off at the front desk to ask if they have any strategy games. The medical citizen on duty opens the door to a tall cabinet. It’s stacked with duplicates of the same three games. They are all in black boxes with white lettering. She waits for me to tell her which one I want.
“Battlefield, please,” I request.
The silent woman hands me one of the boxes and sits back in her seat, all without looking directly at me. I can hear some of the pieces sliding around inside as I walk down the hallway. Val is not alone when I enter her room this time. Her mother sits in the chair beside her bed with a severe look on her beautiful face. She has no sympathy for her daughter’s pain. They both look at me when I enter. It makes me feel like I should apologize for stopping by.
“Mena,” Val’s mother sourly greets me.
“Hello. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I do apologize.
Val’s mother stands and smooths out her black pants by brushing her hands down the front of them. She straightens her almost black hair and very curtly says, “No. You didn’t interrupt. I was just leaving. Goodbye, Valesca. I will see you at the Third Trial banquet.” She departs, leaving a trail of ice in her wake.
I sit in the unoccupied chair and place the strategy game in my lap. Val’s face is expressionless, which is hugely frustrating for me. “What did your mother have to say?” I inquire.
“Just that she expects more of me. She said that at the rate I’m going now, it looks like I’ll finish third of fourth. That would be completely unacceptable to my parents. It would be unacceptable to me,” Val admits this with no emotions behind her words.
This conversation sounds too much like the one I just had with Ethan. It makes me sad for her—sad for Ethan. I try to give the friend before me some positive words. “It’s not over yet, Val. Everything could change after the Third Trial. Who knows, Kinah could come in dead last on that one.”
“That’s what I told her,” Val agrees. I notice her coloring looks better. She has a fresh head bandage and she seems a little more alert this afternoon. She’s sitting up straight in the bed so she can see out of the window. The curtains are open, letting the sun filter in. Rays of sunshine dance across Val face, as the trees sway and flick the light around. I want to smile.
“I brought a strategy game. I thought you might want to practice in some way, since you’re stuck here. I’m still feeling too banged up myself for anything physical today. What do you say?” I slide the game across the small table that swivels over her lap.
Val looks at it, and then back at me. I suspect she would be happy right now if it weren’t for the Pump. It’s a good thing she was still on the drug when they brought her to the infirmary. With all the testing they most likely had to do on her, they surely would’ve seen the deception in her blood work.
“You’re right; I do need to do something.”
I take the game out and arrange all the pieces. I swivel the table up closer to her so she doesn’t have to reach far. We play until about 30 minutes before the evening mealtime. I let her win. How very un-Exalted of me.
* * *
Ethan is sitting on the boy’s side of the cafeteria when I arrive. His blonde hair is disheveled, and he hangs his head over his tray. He’s oblivious of the world around him.
I sit next to him and whisper, “Did you get some rest?”
“I tried. I kept having nightmares. It was a good thing my roommate wasn’t in there with me. I’m not going to be able to sleep with him around. He’ll know something’s wrong,” he whispers. Then he lets out a sad sigh.
I notice he’s that still sweating and his eyes are bloodshot. My heart is breaking for him. I want to help him, but I don’t know how. “What can I do to help?” I ask with sincerity.
“Unless you have something to knock me out, nothing.”
I grab Ethan’s hand under the cover of the table and entwine my fingers with his. His hand is warm and strong, but sweaty like his forehead. I give it a squeeze, ignoring the dampness. “It’ll get better, Ethan. It just happened. I’m sure you won’t feel like this forever.”
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“Well, at least it’ll help me out in the Third Trial. I won’t be able to sleep, so I won’t need to stop as often.” I should be happy that he’s seeing something positive in this dismal situation, but I’m not happy at all.
FORTY-ONE
The week passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Even though I’ve enjoyed the company of the beautiful horses while on patrol, and having Val back, the week’s end seems to be teasing me.
Val returned to our dorm room the day after I let her beat me at Battlefield. Today, she’s finally allowed to remove her head bandage for our ceremonial send-off. As we get ready for the big event, I try to helping my friend hide the shaved portion of her scalp where they stitched her head up. It’s not easy with her hair being so short.
The banquet is one of the only two occasions when the female Exalted wear a dress, the other being the United Ceremony. It’s customary for us to wear a fitted, black dress that hits about mid-thigh. Its provided to us by the Republic. The material reminds me of our nanosuits from the Second Trial. It’s a little stretchy and very clingy. The short length shows off the muscles in my legs, and the thin straps show off my toned arms and back. The top dips to display a subtle hint of cleavage, while the back hugs my body. I feel like a stuffed sausage.
I slide my feet into black pumps with two-inch heels. Almost immediately, I wobble over onto my bed for support. They should have made walking in heels part of our training. Hopefully, I’ll make it down the stairs without breaking an ankle or any other body part. It would be excruciatingly embarrassing to be taken down by shoes and not another trainee.
I stand in front of our only mirror in the bathroom, tugging and adjusting the skintight dress, fluffing my hair, and pinching my cheeks for some color. With one last look at myself, I silently hope no one laughs at me. I guess they can’t though, can they?
Val and I head for one of the buildings that border the Ambassador’s square. It’s used every year for the banquet and the two floors above it are the living quarters for Dr. Fredericks. He will be in attendance at this event as he is every year, presumably to get a good look at his precious protectors before they’re sent out to prove they’re worthy of defending the Republic. I’ve never seen him before, but I hear he is a middle-aged man with a scrawny body. Physically speaking, he is clearly someone in need of protection.
We make it down the hall in one piece, but I’m not willing to risk the integrity of my ankle the night before the Third Trial. I slip my heels off and take the stairs two at a time with ease. Val chooses to keep her heels on, so I end up waiting several minutes for her at the bottom of the stairwell. Her shoes click all the way down.
Several parents and a few other trainees follow us out into the night. There are some ahead of us who are already disappearing around the corner of the building. The night is clear and the stars are abundant, speckling the sky like freckles.
I find myself excited about the banquet, even though I look completely ridiculous. One last night of “childhood” before life as an Exalted truly begins. This is really it . . . Tonight after the banquet has come to a close, the trainees will be ushered to a holding room where we will take a sedative. In the morning, we will wake up somewhere beyond the Republic’s walls. This is when the Third Trial begins. We are supposed to do whatever we have to do to make our way back to the Republic. Will I?
I set my shoulders straight and hold my head high. I want this; it’s bred into me. I can’t help wanting to be first—to be respected amongst the other Exalted.
Upon entering the building, I see that the tables are arranged according to parent rankings. Gold vases with elaborate sprays sit on each table as centerpieces. In the center of each spray is a golden rod with a single hoop or multiple gold hoops that tell us the table’s ranking. I’ll be joining my parents at a second place table. They are already waiting for me.
I leave Val and make my way through the sea of Exalted parents and instructors. Most of them are clustered in small groups of similar rankings. They’re chatting about the Trials. A few times I hear Ethan and Az’s names, but it seems my name is dominating most of the conversations. Most of them stop talking about me when I squeeze past them. They watch my every move. It’s unnerving.
Entertainment is not provided at the banquet, aside from the customary speech from Dr. Fredericks. His speech is the highlight of our meal. I can hardly wait.
I stop myself from leaning down to hug my parents. Instead, I sit in my designated seat and nod a simple hello to them. My mother is a vision in her own black dress. I’m a little envious of the extra fabric she is allowed to have because of her United status. My father is looking very dashing in his crisp, black on black suit. It’s strange to see them so dressed up.
I wonder what it was like for them when they were in my place. Did they compete as everyone else did and end up together purely based on results? Or did they place based on each other’s results, knowing they wanted to be together? It must have been based on results, since they were under the influence of the Pump at that time.
Will the Exalted ever be in control of their lives? Why aren’t we?
My parents and I keep our faces emotionless while we speak in the presence of the other Exalted trainees, their families, and the instructors. My father begins the conversation at our table. “Good evening, Mena. We’re sorry you’re stuck at the second place table, since you should be among the first place winners.”
What a typical United parent thing to say. He shouldn’t be apologizing to me for his ranking. I shake my head, “Don’t apologize. You are both high ranking, and you should acknowledge that.”
“Yes dear, but we are honored by your performance.” My mother tries to clear the air.
“Well, thank you.” I mutter.
I glance around the room. People are starting to take their seats. Ethan is with his family, on the other side of the room. They rigidly stand facing one another. Ethan’s father is inches from his face, talking at him—not to him. I can only imagine the pressure he’s putting on Ethan to be stronger, to be the best. It’s probably the same as most of the other parents here. I feel lucky not to have that pressure along with all the other issues that I’m facing.
With all of the emotions that are surging through me, it’s strange to be immersed in such a stagnant atmosphere. People are mingling and talking, but it’s the same talk as always. Their conversations only consist of the Trials, the United Ceremony, the rankings, and so on. There is no celebration here or crying for fear they’ll never see their loved one again. There’s not even camaraderie amongst the trainees. I would be locked up or worse, if I were caught patting Val on the back and cheering her on. I’m not sure what I expected of this evening, but this isn’t it. Life here is becoming more frustrating by the minute.
Once everyone has taken their seats, an Exalted I have never seen before takes the stage. She is an aged woman with cascading gray hair. It shines like the stars in the sky outside. Her face is withered and her muscles have long ago wilted, but she stands tall and proud like an Exalted should, no matter what their age.
The woman stands behind a podium with a microphone, at the center of the small stage. “Welcome trainees and families to the Third Trial Banquet.” She adjusts the microphone up a little to accommodate her height. “We expect great things from our trainees and have been very impressed thus far, although there is always room for improvement.” Her voice is raspy with age, but controlled.
Looking around the formal faces of the room, the woman briefly stops on mine. She continues on before it becomes obvious to anyone else. “Tonight we shall feast, for tomorrow you will be hungry and alone. It will be up to you and you alone to complete your Third Trial. You must make it back to the Republic and take your place amongst the Exalted. We are the protectors of our society. May strength be with you all.” The crowd stomps their feet. I join in willingly.
When the thundering dies down, the silver haired woman makes an introduction before leaving th
e stage. “Please welcome Dr. Fredericks.” Before taking her seat at a nearby table, the woman adjusts the microphone back down for someone much shorter than she.
The crowd is stomping louder and louder as they wait for their leader’s grand entrance. I look around, trying to catch a glimpse of him. I am eager to see whose orders we obey.
From behind the stage, a dark curtain parts and a small middle-aged man emerges. He smiles at his audience. Smiles! He’s mocking us! I can hardly believe my eyes. And then he waves. I look sharply at my parents who remain expressionless. My father catches my dumbfounded look and jerks his eyes forward, motioning me to play it cool and stop looking around like a gawking moron.
Dr. Fredericks approaches the podium, takes a sip of his awaiting water, and then clears his throat. I take a good look at him. He’s short and boney with thinning hair and a pinched face. Wire-rimmed glasses rest on top of his sharp nose. He’s dressed immaculately in a pressed, white tuxedo with matching white shoes. He’s like a bright light shining in the center of a dark tunnel. All of the Exalted fall into the background as soon as this snake-like little man walks into the room.
I compose myself so as not to give myself away.
“Thank you for that enthusiastic welcome, my beloved Exalted,” Dr. Fredericks greets us with a clear and assured speaking voice. He’s charming the audience and hypnotizing them with every word. “And thank you, Drucilla, for that lovely speech.” He’s even using words like “enthusiastic” and “lovely.” He continues to openly mock us. No one here is accustomed to hearing these kinds of words. What game is he playing?
“I’ve been monitoring the Trials thus far and am pleased with some of the stand out trainees.” He looks to Az and then to me. I freeze under his cruel glare. “In the Third Trial you can expect to use all of the skills you have learned in training. It will be difficult and some of you may not make it back, but those of you who do, will have the honor of participating in the United Ceremony. You will protect the Republic’s citizens and our way of life. You will be gods amongst mortals. Make us proud!” He revels in his audience’s praises. The Exalted stomp their feet to show their devotion. Thunder echoes throughout the space, expanding and contracting like it has a life of it’s own—breathing victory over the waiting trainees.
EXALTED (An Exalted Novel) Page 19