"You're not covering your left flank, Spero! Adjust!" Mr. Mallahoy roared. "Fletcher, keep that sword up! Hand up! Higher!"

"But she's so short," the boy responded, earning some laughs from his friends on the sideline. The Elementary Combat instructor gave a curt warning but otherwise didn't punish the insubordinate reply.

How am I supposed to adjust if I don't know the right way? wondered Alexa.

She was becoming increasingly frustrated. The pair had been sparring for over fifteen minutes now without a break. The scorching sun was directly overhead, beating down on them and making it difficult to concentrate. The cracked dirt beneath her shoes spewed clouds of brown dust every time she moved, choking her parched throat. Sweat beaded on her skin, making her hair and clothes cling to her body.

Retreating out of range for a quick breather, she reassessed her opponent. Jakob Fletcher was one of the tallest in her year, though he was decidedly scrawny. He towered over a foot higher than her, making the matchup obscenely unfair. Alexa was suspicious that the instructor had probably done this on purpose. Jakob locked gazes with her and gave her a nasty smirk. He was also part of the gang of bullies who tormented her on a daily basis.

Hoping to catch Jakob off-guard, she quickly lunged, feinting at his waist. The boy read her bluff and easily parried her sword. He quickly retaliated with a few jabs that she awkwardly dodged. Alexa backed up and wiped the sweat off her brow with a quick sweep of her hand. But her opponent was faster than she anticipated. She didn't have time to block the wooden sword that whacked her smartly across the shoulder.

"Spero! What did I tell you about guarding your left flank!" Mallahoy admonished. He grunted and shook his head. "I've seen as much as I can tolerate. Chrissen, Emiel! You're up!"

It was disturbing how harsh and derogatory teachers could be to their students. Alexa lowered her eyes and sat against the wall as the next two students strode into the practice ring with swords in hand. The wall offered shade, but the air was still stiflingly warm. Her peers scooted away from where she sat or simply pretended she wasn't there. Their actions were fine by her; being ignored was better than being picked on.

She watched the sparing for a bit, but soon lost interest. It was too hot to be outside. She wiped her face with her shirt, wishing they could be in one of the air-conditioned gymnasiums. But upper level students had preference for those facilities, so her class had no choice but to subject themselves to heatstroke and sunburns. Besides, being out in the elements builds character—or that's what Mr. Tucker, her year's advisor, told them. She could just imagine what classes would be like in winter.

To pass time Alex drew in the dirt with the point of her wooden sword. At first they were just random squiggles, but soon they shaped themselves into the symbols of the Cetran language that used to amaze and confound her as a child. In no way was she comparable to her father's linguistic mastery, but she did know a hundred or so simple words. "Dirt" followed "home" and "girl," and then the symbols for "sun" and "mountain." The Ancients loved writing ballads about how great the Planet was, so words for nature comprised most of her vocabulary. She scratched another symbol absentmindedly, fondly reminiscing about her lessions with her father.

She looked down at what she wrote. It was the character for "hope." Like its meaning, the shape was beautiful—a mass of swirls that twisted to form something she likened to a bird's wing, which was an allusion Alexa always loved. She traced it again more carefully, making sure every line was perfect.

A brown boot entered her line of sight, and before she could react it stomped down on her drawings.

"Swords are for killing people, not drawing in the dirt. Wouldn't you rather have some dolls to play with?" taunted a voice. The boot kicked a cloud of dirt at her, erasing all the symbols she painstakingly detailed.

Alexa raised her head and glared at the bully. The sneering face of her most hated rival loomed above her. Even after the strenuous workout, Stark Maverick's wave of platinum hair lay immaculately on his head without a single straying lock.

"Stop daydreaming Spero, or you'll miss Mallahoy's directions," Stark told her with an arrogant nod to the instructor.

She gave a start and looked over to where Mr. Mallahoy was issuing orders in a loud, no-nonsense voice. She had been tuning him out, believing he was only yelling his usual critiques at the boys who were sparring.

"—but save that for later. First off, you'll need to complete a circuit," he was telling the group. He gave them all a scowling once-over. "Well, what are you waiting for? Double time!"

Alexa jumped to her feet, biting back a groan. A circuit was over four kilometers long, following the perimeter of the Academy complex. Her limbs already felt like lead, and she ached from the sword bashing. Nevertheless she took off after the others, hoping this time she wouldn't finished too far behind.

And I don't even know what to do once I finish. Alexa was too tired for a full-out panic, but she wasn't particularly looking forward to the finish line. She decided to watch the other students when the time came and hoped they wouldn't try to trick her.

After that resolution she pushed the distressing notions from her mind and got into the motion of the run, trying not to think about how much farther she had to go.

xxxxx

The female locker room was little more than old storage space connected to a refurbished janitor's closet. Alexa stepped into one of the two showers and attempted to ignore the stench of cleaning products that still permeated the place. She had learned from experience to always wear flip flops while bathing and to not tug on the curtain too hard or else it would fall. At least the water was hot.

Alexa raised her head so that the water hit her directly in the face. It had been a long day. After the run, the students had to perform a series of core-strengthening exercises. It didn't sound so bad when they started, but in their already fatigued states it took a real effort not to fall flat on their faces.

I may never be able to hold my hands above my head again, Alexa thought as she struggled to rinse the shampoo from her hair.

She finished washing and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body. It was slightly creepy being in the locker room alone. Alexa was the only girl in her year and one of only eight in the entire student body. And since there was a better washroom on the upperclassmen level, there was little chance she would be interrupted here.

Alexa dressed in silence, wincing as she touched a few purple blemishes in the array of new and fading bruises that dotted her body. She wrapped the towel around her damp hair and gathered her things. After a surreptitious glance out the door, she exited the locker room and took a right. This would take her the long way to the Fodder-level living quarters, but at least she could circumvent most of her classmates' rooms.

The trip to her room was without incident. Closing the door with an audible exhalation of relief, she locked it behind her and flicked the single switch on the wall. The mako-fueled lighting brought the tiny cubicle into harsh relief. The only pieces of furniture besides the bed were a shabby wooden desk and tiny wardrobe. Alexa threw her dirty clothes on the floor beside the wardrobe, followed by her toilet kit. After kicking off her wet flip flops she walked over to her desk, where her small collection of books stood in a meticulous line. She ran a hand down the worn bindings, wishing she could just read the night away. Her father had given her this small assortment of stories and poems as a going-away present. They were a source of comfort in this cold, friendless place. But every day was so grueling she had either been too tired or too afraid to waste precious time reading like she wished.

Don't worry Dad. I'll find time to read, she silently promised. Somehow. With her new life, leisure was nothing more than a distant fantasy.

The image of the ailing scholar seemed to rise from the shadows cast by the bright ceiling light. Alexa wished she could see him or even hear his voice, but any form of communication with the outside world was forbidden. It was yet another reason to hate this place. Did Shinra think the students were spies from the company's enemies sent to infiltrate and steal intel? She wouldn't have been surprised.

President Shinra is a scheming bastard, Alexa decided as she removed the towel from her head and raked her fingers through her hair in a makeshift comb. Already her brown locks were drying into disorderly ringlets. She sighed and looked in the mirror. She always wished she could do something with her hair, but that wild mane never listened to her.

She brushed off the annoyance and returned to her previous, more important concern weighing heavily on her mind. The man who owned the Shinra Power Company had nearly made her father get on his knees and beg until the president agreed not to forgo funding. Alexa had been the deciding factor. Dr. Spero was allowed to remain in Mideel so long as his only child attended Shinra's special training facility. If Alexa continued to meet the Academy's standards, her father would be provided for. Iif not, both of them would be completely cut off. Her father was no longer in the best of health, so they needed the continual financial support. The downside to excelling was that she could end up working personally for the heartless executive she so despised. Either way, the outcome of her life was in her own hands.

She turned off the lights and settled onto her lumpy mattress to sleep. The flood lights outside filtered in past her window shades, creating stripes of light and shadow across her wall.

And there's my jail cell, Alexa thought bitterly. How was she going to survive four years here?