Friday, September 3rd, 10:00a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
I think I might be getting it together.
I don't know how, why, or what caused it to happen, but - maybe out of sheer desperation - I've figured out how to throw again. The thirty-minute warmup we get before they set up the training room is almost over and I'm slowly starting to be able to hit somewhere on the actual target. Of course, my old consistent reliability to hit right at the center every time remains to be long gone, but at least I'm no longer hitting the walls.
For once, the training room is dead silent except for the squeaking of sneakers against the tiled floor and the sound of blades colliding with the various dummies and targets. During a typical warmup, people will try to practice and talk and just plain fool around all in one, but not today. Today everyone's so focused on sticking with their plans (which, still, unlike me they probably have) and by all means not slipping up that it's somehow pulled off a miracle and driven them to silence. It was strange at first, but now I think I could get used to it.
Trying to take advantage of the peace and quiet, I train my eyes on the target in front of me and pull out my last knife. Gripping it tightly and widening my stance, I hurl it above my head and forward, watching it fly right onto that center dot - just like it always did before the chaos started.
I've done it. I'm back. And about time, too.
If I can just hit the center a few times within those three minutes of my Assessment, it'll be just enough to muster up a decent score - maybe even a good one. So long as that works out, I'll have a plan. And for now, that's the best I can hope for. Now all I have to do is pray that no one will go breaking any records.
Suddenly, the door to the training room flies open again and in waltz Aria and Janus, both carrying the same clipboards they'll use to evaluate us once the Assessments kick off. I stare longingly at the target ahead of me and sigh, as this signals our warm up is over. Out of pure habit, everyone begins making their way to the center of the room. Begrudgingly, I join them, not even bothering to put any of the knives back onto the weapon cart. As usual, we slowly form a circle around where the two trainers stand. Across the circle from me, I spot Lena pushing past multiple people to ensure she's right in between Zoë and Cato.
"As you all hopefully know," Aria begins. "Today is the day we'll be holding Primary Assessments, in which you'll be called in one by one to demonstrate whatever skill or skills you choose, and you'll then be provided with a score from one to ten. Now, I have a few words to say before I send all of you out."
I catch the sight of Cato turning to Lena and lowly muttering something into her ear that - whatever it is - causes her to smirk triumphantly. My stomach lurches, although I can't explain why, when I realize her hand is wrapped around his shoulder. I force myself to snap my head back towards Aria and Janus.
"As usual," Aria continues. "We're going to need a moment to prepare the training room before we begin calling each individual in. It shouldn't take more than half an hour, however, we do encourage you to stay close by in the meantime. Once Assessments begin, you are to all wait right outside in an orderly fashion. Until then, you're dismissed."
And that's when everyone heads for the door. So much for figuring out how to keep hitting the center. Because as far as I know, that was just a lucky shot.
Friday, September 3rd, 10:40a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
There has never been a tenser thirty minutes of my life.
I mean it. And that's saying something, considering quite a lot.
I try to focus on watching Aria and Janus drag a number of new weapon carts into the training room, placing them in an orderly and easily accessible fashion. Most of us are sitting on the benches near the plexiglass window showing the inside of the training room. That is, except for Lena, Zoë, Cato, and - come to think of it - probably Blaze, who have all mysteriously disappeared somewhere. But I'm sure they'll all be back in time. Not that I care, which I obviously don't, but I'm also not saying it wouldn't be nice if they all lost track of time and missed their Assessments. Then maybe I wouldn't have to worry about getting the lowest score.
Which definitely isn't an option anyway.
Honestly, what I would like to know is when it got so cold in here. It must have dropped at least twenty degrees since they sent us out of the room. Maybe someone turned on the AC by mistake. That's got to be it. Although I must say that whoever that is, they must have really been messing around because normally our AC doesn't even work. And this is supposed to be the only building in District 2 that actually has it. I just hope they figure out how to get it back off, because I don't think it's a good idea for us to be holding our Assessments in these conditions. I'm thinking of everyone here when I say this, but maybe we ought to postpone them until we sort this out. I can't be the only one experiencing this. Can I?
Oh, now I'm just making excuses. Everyone always says excuses are just one surefire sign of fear and weakness. And now is no time to be exhibiting either of those things.
"What are you doing here?" I hear a masculine voice inquire from behind the bench that I'm sitting on.
At first I worry it's Cato, back from wherever he went with a fresh scheme or two, but I turn around to see it's Blaze. Not much better, but still. Strange. I don't think I've ever seen him alone before. As he stands there, he loudly munches on another bag of crackers that I don't even know where he got, and still manages to look at me like I've sprouted an extra limb.
"I go to school here," I deadpan.
"Mm, fascinating," he replies with a mouthful of crackers.
I shoot him a look and roll my eyes. Neither of us say anything for a few seconds.
"What's the academy record for most targets taken out in a minute?" I demand suddenly before I can stop myself.
"I don't know," he shrugs, looking at me strangely again as he reaches for another handful of crackers. "Why? You looking to break it or something?" The way he says it and grins practically screams that he doesn't think of me to be in any condition to do that.
"Sure," I return dryly, for the mere sake of humoring him. "We'll go with that." I really hope he'd go and get lost, now that he's blown his chance of being of any informational use to me. "Shouldn't you be with the others?"
"Well, apparently I lost Lena's arrows," he states boredly. "They're off trying to find them or something."
"Ever thought that maybe it should be you trying to find them?" I ask, in hopes that might give him a good reason to go off and leave me alone. I really can't stand him sometimes. "Considering - oh I don't know - you're the one who lost them?"
He stifles a laugh, as if what I said was a joke.
"I think they've got things covered," he says with a smirk, before stuffing another handful of crackers into his mouth. "Now if you'll excuse me, I was sitting there."
"When?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. After we were let out of the training room, I made a brief stop at the locker rooms, but then came right here to find this seat empty. If he was sitting here, he must've been gone a long time. Besides, I realize, looking around, it's not like there's a major shortage of seats around here anyway. And the fact that he doesn't answer right away, and instead just stubbornly stands there with his arms crossed, makes me even more suspicious.
By nature, every part of me wants to pick a fight and make some sort of huge statement of refusing to budge, but I force myself not to. I can't afford to make a big deal over a seat right now. Not when I've got so much else to worry about. So I roll my eyes again and stand up.
"You know what? Fine," I say. I peel a red academy jacket off the bench that had been sitting next to me all this time and carelessly ball it up and toss it over to him, not caring that I missed by a few inches, causing him to have to dive over to the left and fumble with it. "I'm assuming this is yours."
Then, I walk over and take a seat at another empty bench even closer to the plexiglass window. I quickly notice the training room looks much closer to being ready than I would like for the moment. And worse?
Somehow, it's gotten even colder.
Friday, September 3rd, 10:45a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
Wait. Hold up. So Aria said we had half an hour, right? Fifteen minutes have passed since they sent us out. That's half of half an hour. Our half an hour is halfway over. That can't be right. It was only 10:40 just one minute ago. How can five minutes be a minute? Hang on a second. If five minutes feels like a minute, and we have fifteen minutes left, then that means it'll only feel like three minutes before Assessments start.
Wait. What?
I'm not ready for this.
Friday, September 3rd, 10:50a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
That's it. I'm about ready to punch whatever idiot turned on the AC.
Friday, September 3rd, 10:55a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. They just came through the hall now - and with two entire minutes to spare! I think this deserves an applause. They have the arrows and everything. I think they all should get medals. Just for that.
Friday, September 3rd, 11:00a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
Janus just called the first person.
Just now. He walked out of the training room, opened the door, and shouted a name. And someone went in. And now I think their timer just started. And it's still freezing in here.
This isn't good.
Friday, September 3rd, 11:20a.m, Travertine Village Training Academy, Top Floor-
Magnus Gibbons. That's the name Janus last called in. We're in the Gs now, which doesn't even make any sense. They must have skipped someone. Only - what? - five or six people have gone? And we're almost in the middle of the alphabet? This is why alphabetical order is a corrupt system. I mean, at this rate, there must only be another one or two people before they get to K.
Lena went just a couple minutes earlier. It seemed she managed to get the order of what she was doing figured out, because she seldom missed a target the entire time. And at the end, Janus was smiling. Janus doesn't smile. It just isn't something that happens. Except it did. Because of her performance. And now I have to live with that.
I focus on watching Magnus Gibbons complete the second minute of his Assessment through the window. He doesn't seem to be doing too terribly himself. He's working the bow and arrow, and so far he's hit center at least ten times. I peek over at Aria and Janus, both sitting at a small table in the corner and meticulously scribbling notes down on their clipboards. After he's used up all the arrows in his sheath, he places the bow back on the weapon cart and switches to the sword. And that's when things go a bit south for him. He must not be much of a sword expert, because even I can tell he's holding it wrong.
Magnus walks over to where the dummies stand and immediately starts going at it. Anyone can tell his aim is off by a small margin every time he swings. I notice Janus rolling his eyes as he scribbles something else down on his clipboard. It's not long before the timer ends and Magnus puts the sword back onto the cart. Aria quickly dismisses him before he makes his way out of the room. Soon, he comes in through the door, his expression emotionless, and seats himself on one of the benches farthest from the window.
There's always a few seconds in between the time one person exits and the next person is called in, mainly so that the trainers can finish scribbling down their last few notes. The amount of time that takes seems to vary with each person's Assessment. This time, however, is fairly decisive. Before long, Janus gets up from his chair and curtly walks over towards the door. I hear it click open as he pokes his head out and shouts the next name-
"Cato Hadley!"
Hang on, what? Shoot. Of course. H comes after G, so it would only make sense. But that also means I'm next. Because - as I had previously learned the hard way - no one else's name comes between us alphabetically. So now there's really only three minutes left before I'm called. Not to mention the fact that us going back to back means our performances can easily be directly compared to one another.
I turn my head around to watch Cato get up from his seat, which was just one row of benches behind me. Blaze, who he'd sat down next to, mutters something to him that I can't make out. He briskly nods before walking past the rest of the benches making a hasteful beeline for the door.
He strides into the training room with purpose, his eyes fixed on the large timer in the front of the room. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched in utmost determination - so much determination that it's actually a bit scary. I wonder if that's how I look when I really want to throw at just the right spot on a target. Or if I really want to beat him for that matter. Aria gives him a curt nod from her seat at the table before his timer immediately starts counting down.
Cato starts with the spears, just as Lena and Zoë said he would, grabbing at least five from the weapon cart before pulling the entire thing a few feet back so it stays nearby, within his reach. He begins standing about thirty feet from the row of eight targets that stand before him. He gets that much done in about ten seconds. Then, he starts throwing. By the time he's twenty seconds in, four have hit near-center. Not daring to take his eyes off that target, he quickly reaches for more before throwing two, three, four more into its innermost region.
By the end of his first minute, twenty spears are wedged into the center area of two side-by-side targets, just as promised.
That's when he goes for the sword.
Now at the other side of the room where the dummies are located, it's clear he's tactfully saved the best for last. The instant he starts swinging, the motion is seamless. Even Janus stops scribbling notes for three-tenths of a second to stare up. By this time, it seems that a bomb could be blasting off behind him and he wouldn't even flinch. Every movement of the blade is deliberate and calculated. For those last two minutes, he's one with the sword. It's a part of him just like any other. And as much as I hate to admit it, I sit here glued to my seat, finding it increasingly difficult to take my eyes off of it.
Once the timer ends, it's dead silent. All the typical restless movement and whispering that had been going on around me has come to an abrupt stop. Aria, seeming to be the only one able to maintain a calm composure, gives a polite nod, giving Cato the okay to see himself out. He comes bursting through the door seconds later, breathing heavily as he makes his way back to his seat next to Blaze.
Then I remember again - I'm next. I'd almost forgotten. Maybe if he'd bombed, this would feel a heck of a lot easier. I peer through the plexiglass again to ensure Janus hasn't gotten up from his seat yet, and to my relief, he's still taking notes. I should have at least a minute.
"Hey, not bad," I hear Blaze tell Cato from behind me. "Twenty targets. That's the record, right?"
Liar. He said he didn't have a clue.
"Is it?" Cato responds. I can't tell if he's faking it for whatever reason or if he really doesn't know.
That's it. Unless someone tracks down an academy record book, I officially give up.
"Who knows. It could make top of the class anyway," Blaze remarks casually.
Before I even think, my head quickly whips around to face them.
"Your timing was off, you know," I hear myself snarl at Cato, without even knowing the words came from my own mouth until they've already come out.
Blaze's mouth first gapes open, but then emerges into a satisfied smirk. He probably can't wait to see how this will unfold. Cato's expression, however, doesn't change one bit.
What am I saying? His timing was perfect. Painfully perfect. If there was anything wrong with his performance at all, it most certainly wasn't timing.
"That's right," I continue anyway, because clearly my mouth has a mind of its own. My tone is about as flat and blunt as it gets. "And you could really use some work on your stance. I thought you were going to fall over at one point. And two minutes with the sword? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that's getting a bit old?"
I'm basically making things up now.
Cato opens his mouth to say something, but I immediately cut him off.
"There's no way you're making top of the class," I state cooly, defiantly staring him straight in the eye. However, from him, this only earns an amused grin.
Stop it, Clove. Stop it. You're doing it again.
"And what makes you say that?" he replies calmly.
"Because I will."
Too late now.
Blaze, still watching this as if it were some sort of theatrical performance, stifles another laugh. I feel my face burning with anger as Cato shoots him a look. He turns back to me, still with that all-too-familiar grin on his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Janus walking over towards the door. My name should be called any second now.
"Bring it," Cato says placidly.
"Clove Kentwell!" I hear Janus's voice yell, before he lets the door slam.
I stand up from my seat, still glaring his way, and, one way or another, I allow two words to slip from my mouth:
"Watch me."
