Chapter 7 – Hard Feelings

Brodrin brought his sword into Jarrett's rib cage and he let out a cry as if he'd just been murdered. Though likely, it was just the pain of at least one broken rib. With that, Brodrin earned his place in the final round of the Emulate. The crowd cheered from above, throwing fists and screams of excitement.

Kaylor stood on the ground floor, close to the door of the Prep Room. He wasn't a career, but he still had permission to remain with the rest of them instead of joining the balconies littered with students. Thus, he could see the action up close.

A melancholy had draped over most of the other careers, male and female alike.

"He thinks he's so special," one said.

Another murmured, "Cocky asshole."

Kaylor enjoyed the other careers being in such a fit. He flashed a grin at Scruff, who stood just a few feet away.

"Brodrin will regret today. This will cost him," he said quietly so that only Kaylor heard. "This isn't his personal play area."

Death wasn't exactly uncommon for the Emulate, though it had been several years since the academy had witnessed a fatal casualty. Still, everyone understood that death remained a potent risk. The Emulate had to replicate the games as closely as possible. The careers used much lighter weapons during normal training, but that presented some issues. Several of the less impressive careers could hang with the top ten when it came to training weapons. But with real weapons, it was a different story.

"What's the difference between if Brodrin swings the sword or someone else?" Kaylor asked, leaning on the wall behind him.

Allexin gave a hard glare at nothing in particular. "One day he'll understand the rare luxury of choosing who you kill," he mumbled.

"Scruff, what the hell are you talking about—"

He then looked at Kaylor, as if he had just returned to the real world. "Jarret hung in there until the end."

"The predatory instincts. To take those hits and get tossed around like that," Kaylor said, looking at the ground. "Remarkable."

Allexin appeared as if he would respond, but then he seemed to change his mind, replying only with a polite nod.


The rest of the preliminary matches went on with few surprises. The winners for both the girls and boys stood as the favorites. Not that it mattered much. It had been six years since a career moved on from winning a preliminary match and won the whole Emulate. Quite consistently, a career that ranked high enough to initially earn a place in the Emulate's final round usually won. So Brodrin technically would be an oddity if he won the Emulate, though admittedly, he was the favorite from the beginning.

One girl did break her collarbone, and another boy nearly lost his eye. It had fallen out of the socket and dangled across his cheek like a pendulum. Then, even the toughest of the audience let out cries of horror and shock. Lucky for him, putting the eye back in wouldn't be much of an issue.

So as they carried the temporarily one-eyed career to the Rez Deck, Brodrin strolled past. Kaylor found it difficult to tell if the career had even noticed his presence as he walked by.

A few minutes later, the careers for the last of the preliminaries stepped onto the starting platforms. A few of them struggled to stop their legs from shaking. A few brave ones gestured to the crowd in a successful attempt to fuel the roars and cheers. But the fights ended the way they always do. One feeling on top of the world, with the rest left emotionally and physically broken. Their life's work brought to an abrupt, painful end.


Kaylor stuck around after everyone left. When the massive hall had silenced, he began cleaning the floors surrounding the Cornucopia. He wheeled out a large bin of towels, mopping up the discolored water that had once been artificial snow.

The empty balconies made the gigantic space feel sacred to him. He couldn't fight the urge. Suddenly, he began swinging his imagined blade around wildly. His enemies attacked from all sides, but he parried and dodged, speeding around the Cornucopia.

"There's simply no way. Kaylor can't possibly get out of this one. He's finished. But somehow he's fought off the tributes from districts 1 and 3!" he said in his best commentator's voice. "Is it possible that against the odds he can survive? He's doing it! He refuses to stop his onslaught of attacks." He jump-kicked off the wall of the Cornucopia. "It's now just down to Kaylor and the mongrel from District 1. Truly a splendid show of sword mastery—"

A slippery spot he'd missed turned out to be his downfall. With a slick screech, his legs swung out from under him and his back hit the ground hard. He groaned, staring up at the glass ceiling. The sun, high in the sky, effortlessly shined through. He loved the transparent ceiling. There was just something about being enclosed, yet seeing a route to escape.

"Was that your new fighting style? Interesting strategy."

Kaylor recognized the voice, languidly picking himself up. "Yeah if you could never acknowledge that this happened," he said, trying to slow his breathing as quickly as possible. "I'd appreciate it."

Allexin chuckled. "There's only about an 85% chance that I'll tell everyone I possibly can."

"I guess that will have to do."

"I have a reason for interrupting your role-play though," Allexin said, still grinning. "Otherwise I would have let you finish defeating the mongrel of District 1."

"How thoughtful," he said dryly.

"I noticed you trying to speak with Brodrin today during lunch."

Kaylor decided not to answer. Instead he pretended to inspect the Cornucopia. He did design it after all.

"I'm not making judgments here," Allexin said.

Yeah right. Kaylor knew exactly what he was thinking. He thinks I'm being just some dumb, desperate kid, trying to make a friend.

"Thanks for understanding Scruff. I've got some more role-playing to do so…" he said, preparing to make his escape.

"Neither of us has that kid figured out. That's all I'm saying," he said. "Just be careful. Some people just carry danger with them like a bad odor."

He bridged the distance between the two of them. Allexin was taller than him, but not by much. Kaylor considered his options carefully before speaking.

"You remember when I dislocated my shoulder?" he asked.

Allexin paused for a moment. "Listen, about that, I understand if you blame me for not breaking it up sooner," he said shaking his head slowly. "I've had my eye on Rex ever since."

"A month later, Brodrin dislocated his leg. Another three weeks and his wrist was fractured in three places thanks to Brodrin's handiwork."

He scrunched his eyebrows together, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"There was also the time I insulted Ayla Fortap by asking her to have lunch with me." He let out a self-mocking chuckle. "I had memorized my lines word for word. I could still recite them to you perfectly right now. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to ask you out just yet."

Allexin jokingly just waved his hand in a way that said, 'Fair enough.'

"Well she said she'd be glad to if I could beat her in a sparring match. I misinterpreted it for flirting, but when she introduced her foot to my temple the misunderstanding was cleared right up," he said. "A few weeks later she suddenly found herself excommunicated from the popular crowd. It turns out there were several rumors that Ayla had been making attempts at Amarra's boyfriend."

Kaylor had doubted himself time and again once he had started to notice the pattern. But Amaren had convinced him. The career had acquired the habit of tripping him whenever he walked with Ella in the halls, acting like a jealous 8 year-old. Brodrin's training incident with him a few days ago seemed too convenient.

"How come I never noticed your undercover guardian?" he asked.

"Same reason it took me this long. He was really patient about it. He put so much time between his moves so that no one would notice the pattern," he said. "I never figured out the details of how he got the rumors to stick."

Allexin just stood there staring at him. "Jarrett would like to see you. He's in the Rez Deck."

Kaylor headed for the door. "Or maybe it's all just coincidence," he shouted back to him.


Kaylor reached the Rez Deck in no time at all. The doors of the glorified infirmary stood tall and wide. The left door had the word "Rest" imprinted on it, while the right one picked up right where the other left off with "oration."

Once in the room, an empty desk greeted him. The nurse who usually inhabited it must have been off bustling around. For the Emulate, the academy tripled the staffing of doctors and nurses.

But even with so many patients the room didn't sound any louder than a normal classroom. Anyone who normally might howl with agony received a nice shot of painkillers to settle them down. As the guides always told the classes, 'Order creates safety.' So if you feel unsafe, just take drugs, Kaylor thought to himself.

As he headed down the single aisle, rooms on either side flanked him. Bland white walls quartered off each room. But the large doors that faced him were made of glass. Privacy wasn't anyone's main concern in the Rez Deck, and the transparent walls proved helpful in his search for Jarrett.

Still, whenever Kaylor found himself in the infirmary, he felt his face getting warmer as he tried to fight the urge to stress-bite his lip. He'd spent too many days here, broken and battered. He remembered how during each visit, he just wanted to feel invisible. But instead, he felt like he was on display. The glass doors showed him to the rest of the academy, for everyone to observe and laugh at.

When he found Jarrett's room, it was not what you would call a blissful image. The wounded career laid across the bed, his body rigidly spread and unmoving. He stared at nothing and clenched his fists so hard as if he was using them to crack nuts. The door slid open horizontally, and Jarrett finally escaped from his stupor.

"Kaylor?" He seemed surprised that he'd actually shown. "I'm sorry if it seemed like I was summoning you or something. I would have come to you but I'm not really feeling my best," he said with a nervous laugh.

Kaylor didn't return the polite chuckle. He let the silence do its work, cementing the awkward mood. Despite his anger, the resent-filled stare didn't look very good on him. He was very aware of it, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"A one-on-one with Brodrin isn't the worst way to go," he said. "Smart move, joining up with Brekk."

It wouldn't have mattered if Brekk were partially responsible for Jarrett's loss or not. There was no way you were going to win.

"Brekk didn't even matter. Brodrin slaughtered me. Either way, I was an afterthought," he paused and let the tears fall, "to everyone."

Kaylor hadn't anticipated that the loss would hit him this hard. "Come on Jarrett. You had to know you were going to lose."

"I know I wasn't going to win. But that's my fault. If I was stronger or…" more tears fell, "or maybe quicker, things could have been…" He let his hands rise and then fall back onto his bed.

He let the dream live too long. He had probably imagined himself winning the games so many times that it must have transformed into a personal prophecy.

"I can tell you aren't happy to be here. I get it. I have one sentence for you. Just one. Anything after that doesn't need to be said, though I would like to elaborate."

"Sorry, I've got places to be. A couple careers and I are going to beat up some little kids later. Maybe grab a coffee while we're at it."

He chuckled. "I miss that sarcasm of yours. I really do."

Kaylor simply gave him an impatient look.

Jarrett nodded his head. "I betrayed you when you needed me most, and I will never forgive myself for that Kaylor," he whispered. He clenched his jaw so hard it looked painful and his eyes welled up.

"So you finally know what it means to feel aimless, with no purpose or dream left to chase, huh? Well, join the club bud."

"I'm so sorry Kaylor. I know I don't deserve this, but I need your forgiveness. I know I can't ever be your friend again. But—"

"I thought we agreed on one sentence? Never was that good at math but…"

Jarrett closed his eyes, giving a defeated nod.

He headed for the door; unable to reach the handle fast enough. Then he turned his head to the side, allowing Jarrett to enter his peripheral vision. "You should have gone for his legs. He still does a bad job of protecting them."

"Goodbye Kaylor," he murmured, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

Kaylor stopped only once down the walkway.

A career had been strapped to his bed. He screamed, trying to wrestle out of his restraints, constantly throttling his head backwards into his pillow. Two nurses hurried past. One of them had a syringe in her hand.

Kaylor recognized him. He was 18, so this was his last chance at the Emulate, just like Jarrett. "Kill me!" the boy yelled. "There's no point anymore! There's no point!"

It only took a few seconds for the injection to do its job. Then, just like a toddler after playtime; the boy dozed off, fast and sudden.