THE CAPTURE THE FLAG SCENE FROM FOUR'S POINT OF VIEW
The evening meal that night is more tension-filled than usual; an unusual feat, as something is nearly always heating up between us for some reason. Eric eats nothing; he stares at the table, studying the grain of wood, and tapping his fingers lightly to an unknown rhythm. I know him, and I know that he is close to being nervous. He wants this evening's win so bad. I doubt, however, that he wants it as much as I do.
I look over at the Stiff's table. She still bears the bruises of her encounter with Peter two days ago, however they are yellowing. I know that can't have affected her too badly, though, as she dealt with Myra swiftly, and maturely too; she didn't drag it out for as long as others would. I'm glad I persuaded Eric to pair them together. She needed a lift.
I move my chair back noiselessly to clear my plate, and as I stand, a heavy hand falls on my shoulder. Zeke.
"Keep and eye on my brother tonight, Four," he says, a mild glint in his eyes. "Don't want him to get too carried away with those paintballs."
"Don't worry, Zeke," I say, although both of us know that Uriah is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. We talk for a few moments more before we part ways, with Zeke promising to be there to send us off. As I head back to my room, I watch Eric stalk coolly away. His arrogant streak of competitiveness always annoyed me; perhaps because it partly mirrored my own.
We don't round up the initiates until 11, so I stay in my room until then. As I change, I catch a glimpse of an old grey shirt that hangs in my wardrobe. I had barely thought of my old faction until the Stiff arrived here; now I think about it every day. And the thoughts aren't all bad, either, I think to myself, surprised.
I join Eric and the others at the Pit. Although Eric and I are the only ones actually going on the challenge, many others are deeply invested in the tradition and love to see us off.
"Ready, Four?" Eric asks, his tone not quite jovial enough for me to believe that he sees this only as light-hearted competition.
"As always," I say. "Let's hope your awareness levels are better matched this time around."
It's a shallow dig at last year's challenge results; one of our initiates managed to climb the tree under which Eric was hiding, along with the flag, and lowered herself from one of the branches upside-down to snatch it, literally, from Eric's clutches. I know that Eric is still sore about this. But all he says is, "We'll see," before raising his voice to let everyone know that it's time.
I always enjoy surprising the initiates on challenge night. They drag their heavy limbs to sleep, only to have them harshly torn away again. And while I have little respect for Eric, I admire the way he wakes them up.
A group us, including Zeke, Shauna and even Tori, wait silently outside the dormitory. Several people hold flashlights.
"Ready?" Eric says, grinning widely. He throws open the door loudly and we barge in, flashlights swinging, destroying the silence.
"Everybody up," Eric roars, his voice deep and authoritative. The bodies in the beds stir, sitting up, some suddenly, others more slowly as they sus out what's going on. I see the whites of their eyes, terrified, staring wildly around. They all look so much more vulnerable when they have just woken up.
I look around the room and find the Stiff's bed. She is sitting up, her eyes on me as well. I stare levelly at her, wondering what she is thinking. From above her, Christina jumps down, her long legs bare.
"Did you go deaf, Stiff?" Eric snaps, and she quickly looks away and jumps out of bed. I hope Eric didn't notice that I, also, jumped slightly. I chide myself, but can't help but sneak one last glance at her.
"You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks," says Eric. "We're going on another field trip".