Chapter 2

I stare in disbelief at the boy in front of me. It's impossible. He can't be here, the gym's in the middle of the city (we're literally centered around fighting), he's never made it more than twenty feet past the front gate, unless you're counting the local jail, where he's been on multiple occasions. It's their system, he breaks in, they lock him up for a day or two, then send him on his way. Until now, not a single thing has varied. I repeat, until now.

"Hey Alaina," He says, almost shyly. "Did you miss me?" I continue to stare blankly at him. I've seen him plenty of times before in the news, but I can't seem to process it. He's here. In front of me. Something about him seems different. Then I remember, the last time he broke in was two years ago. He'd been short and scrawny, awkward and pimply, Now he was much taller, an inch or two above six feet, and his skin was clear, except for the scars. He wasn't scrawny anymore, but was pretty sturdily built and had almost magically developed muscles. It was weird, to me at least. Taking in his face, I see that he might be very handsome if it weren't for a thin white scar running downward in a jagged line from his hairline to his eyebrow.

For a moment, I'm torn. Part of me, the part that's still the six year old girl who was his best friend, wants me to hug him as tightly as I can. The other part, the part of me that's a responsible citizen and the part that firmly believes that my dad knows what he's doing, wants me to round up the guards and have him taken away. After all, I knew him ten years ago. He could very well be a Castling spy. Unable to decide on one or the other, I let my instincts take over. Grabbing his hand, I flip him over my head and throw him to the ground, the pin him down as well as I can. He groans.

"Okay, first of all, ouch! Second, jeez Louise you're good at that. And third, what the heck was that for? I haven't seen you in ten years and that's the hello I get?" I glare and knee him in the side. He groans again.

"You know as well as I do what that was for!" I say. He shakes his head.

"Nope, completely clueless. Please, enlighten me oh Wise one." That remark earns him a thump on the head.

"You're a Castling! Probably a spy too. If I don't do this or get the guards, I'm committing treason. Not exactly the best way to get a job in Combat." He raises an eyebrow.

"You went into Combat? What are you suicidal?" I knee him in the side again. "Look Alaina, I'm here for a good reason. You really need to let me up." I snort.

"Yea, fat chance." He gives me a pleading look.

"Please, this is really important!" I decide to humor him.

"What's so special about this message that you're incapable of saying it from the ground?" I ask.

"Well right now you're making my ribs stab my lungs, so I really think it'd be easier to tell you about it if I'm alive." I loosen my hold on him just a enough that there's no chance of that. Believe it or not, they teach us just how to pin them in the way to make their ribs puncture their lungs, and I don't want to risk that actually happening. Like I said, I can't quite decide if I should trust him or not, and I'd like to keep him alive until I've made that decision.

"That better?" He nods. "Good, now tell me, or I swear I'll pop those lungs like a balloon."

"Okay, okay." He lowers his voice. "It's about the Protectors. Mr. Cast figured out-" he never gets to finish his sentence, because just then a shrill whistle pierces the air and the guards all come running. I jump off him quickly and allow them to yank him to his feet. Normally, he just goes limp and lets them drag him away, but this time he's not going down without a fight. He punches one of the guards square in the jaw and struggles to break from the grasp of another.

"Let me go!" He yells. "I've got to- listen this is important!" They continue to pull him towards the jail. He elbows one in the stomach and frantically tries to yank his arm away from them. "Alaina!" He screams. Finally, a guard pulls out a needle and injects it into his arm. His eyes roll back, he begins to sway, and then just collapses. The second he's unconscious, the guards continue to drag him away. I feel a hand on my shoulder; it's my dad.

"Are you all right?" I nod numbly.

"Yea, I'm fine. Go on and help them." He nods and disappears into the crowd that's formed around us. I watch as they drag my former friend away and shake my head sadly. "Oh Tyce. What happened to you?"

The next few days are fairly uneventful. I go to the gym, go to lessons, compete in a tournament, put another Tyce newspaper clipping in my journal, start the cycle over again. This time, they keep Tyce a little longer than his routine two day stay in our jail. He's reached the age where its possible he's got information, and they want to weasel it out of him. That, and attacking the guards isn't the kind of thing that can be let off so easily. This time he'll be around for about a week, maybe two.

It's been a few days since he was arrested now, and like I said, everything has returned to normal. As usual, I spent an hour this morning working out, and then during the five minutes I normally spend just sitting around waiting for the rest of the class to show up, I bandaged up my hands because I forgot to put on gloves when I was using the punching bag. That thing is killer on the knuckles! Class started just a few minutes ago, and we're reviewing for an exam we have tomorrow. Looking around, I already know a few people don't really have much of a shot- half the class is completely zoned out, staring at the teacher blankly as if he's speaking a foreign language, or not even here. We're required to go to regular school once a month, and I guess that must be where they're all off too. Most kids generally go in groups so they're not the only ones in the class.

"Okay, who can tell me the best way to ground an opponent larger in size than you?" The instructor asks what I'm sure must be the most basic question he knows. I glance around and see that everyone's still thinking. Looks like someone didn't do their homework. I raise my hand. "Yes, Alaina."

"Sweep the leg," I reply. He grins.

"Yes, exactly. Next question." He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with something good to ask. "Got it. Your team is up against a larger group. You're fighting two people and they already have the advantage. What do you do?" I raise my hand again. "Come on guys! What're you going to do if you're actually in a fight like this? Call Alaina and have her fix it for you." He scans the group and finds the one girl who is clearly paying absolutely no attention. "Lindsay, what do you do?" She looks abruptly away from the window she was staring out of and snaps back into focus.

"Um, right. Two fighters." She thinks for a second. "Would you…throw your weight back into one and use the momentum to bounce off and kick the other guy in the stomach?" She guesses, even though she already knows it's right. She says everything like it's a guess in case by some bizarre occurrence she actually gets it wrong. Our teacher, Mr. Bradley, smiles at her.

"Very good." He says. He picks up a notebook from his desk and begins looking over the page for something he could use for a trick question. We know he's found one the second his eyes get all big and his eyebrows do this weird twitching thing. It's the face he always makes when he gets even a little bit excited about something. "What would you do if-" Before he can finish the question, my brother runs into the practice room, panting from the mile-long trip from the grade school to the gym.

"Mr. Bradley? Mr. Jordan said to get you." Flynn says.

"Why does he need me?"

"They're calling a city council meeting. They need all the instructors and the upper-class students for it." He grimaces slightly. City council meetings always mean something bad happened.

"All right then. Class is dismissed. Alaina, Lindsay, come with me," Everyone runs out of the classroom and Lindsay and I obediently follow him out the back door in the direction of the city hall.

"What do you think this is about?" Lindsay asks me. I almost shrug, but think better of it. Shrugging still bugs me even now.

"I don't know. Maybe they got something out of Tyce, or figured out why he keeps coming back." I guess. She nods.

"Yea, that'd make sense. They've certainly had plenty of time to figure something out in the last six years." She replies. "I sure hope he's not a spy."

"Why's that?" I ask curiously. She grins.

"Well, he's kind of cute isn't he?" I roll my eyes.

"Nice Lindsay," I reply sarcastically.

"Shut up," she says, elbowing me lightly. We laugh and continue on our way to the meeting hall.

Yea, I know I said I wouldn't be updating this, but this is my way of appeasing my friend mchammer4, keeping her updating, and buying myself more time on update deadlines for my other stories. Yup. So what'd you think of Lindsay and Tyce? Tyce is hot, just sos you knows. Well, reviews would be nice people.