The Legacy of the Rose

By: Ammendiana

Chapter Three

The morning dawned bright and golden. Mariemaia awoke to the sound of her obnoxious alarm clock and Milan's gentle snoring. She hopped down from her bunk like a cat, making barely a sound as she hit the floor.

"Hey, Milan, wake up!" Mariemaia prodded Milan with a long toe.

"But it's Saturday, mommy...there's no school," Milan mumbled as she flopped over to her opposing side.

Mariemaia snorted with mirth and gave Milan a good, sharp prod.

"AH!" Milan rolled over and sat up straight so fast that her head smacked against the bottom of the top bunk. "OW!"

Mariemaia doubled over with laughter, and Milan gave her a withering look.

"I don't like you anymore, Marie."

Mariemaia stood straightened up and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, "Oh, you're just saying that to make me feel better."

The start of a smile sprouted on Milan's face, and it quickly grew into a torrent of laughter.

Mariemaia walked over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and said brusquely, "Come on and get dressed, we have to go up to the cafeteria to eat, and then we have to get to our first period."

Milan made a disgusted face and sighed, "Well, we all knew that dad was a bad influence. It's all his fault, you know!"

"Hn. I think you need to get dressed, missy. "

Mariemaia pulled on her gray sweatpants, and then her gray tank-top over her white sports bra. Then she started on her hair, which she braided into five braids and wound them around her head, giving her the appearance of having a fiery halo. Then she pulled on her short black boots.

"Hey, Mariemaia, do you know when we get our schedules?" Milan said as she pulled on a similar tank-top.

"They were supposed to tape it onto the door..." Mariemaia walked over to the door and pulled it open, letting in a blast of cold morning air. The paper on the door flapped and she pulled it off.

"Here it is. It says we have conditioning first. Who teaches that?"

"Trowa Barton and Catherine Bloom. They're supposed to be really good," Milan grunted her answer as she laced up her boots.

"Isn't that kind of pointless?" Mariemaia asked.

"What, the boots? Yeah, but its all about appearances," She grunted as she gave the double-knotted shoe laces a final tug. "They would probably skin me alive if I came to class with slippers on."

"You're probably right." Mariemaia slipped on her watch and lifted it to her ear to hear its ticking.

"Of course I'm right. Now let's go eat."

"Mmmm-mm. I wonder if they'll have eggs sunny-side up," Mariemaia let her tongue hang out of her mouth and made a groaning sound. Milan chortled, "I don't know, but right now I'm hungry enough to eat you! Now," Milan took on a regal tone, "You will push me to the eating chamber!" Her hand shook with suppressed laughter as she pointed towards the door.

"Yes, your Majesty!" Mariemaia's laughter painted a picture of hilarity as she pushed Milan out of the room, making sure to lock the door behind her.

The walk down the labyrinthine corridors of their floor was interesting, and they met many people in the process. Mariemaia could not help but feel anxious over the possibility of someone shouting out her identity, like Milan had so suddenly. The likelihood of that became less and less as the time passed on, however.

They arrived in the cafeteria about fifteen minutes after they left the dorm room. It was almost impossibly crowded, with the people squished in so tightly that they seemed to be one giant, many limbed hermaphrodite. The thought of a giant hermaphrodite made Mariemaia giggle to herself.

A big, heavy, wet something hit her in the back.

"Oh, move, you bitch!" A shrill, nasal voice swore from behind her.

Angry, she turned on one foot to face the voice.

The voice was attached to a tall, emaciated girl with long blond hair and forked eyebrows.

"I said move! You made me spill my drink all over you!" She repeated in the shrill voice.

"Move yourself, you klutz," Mariemaia retorted.

The girls face flushed with the anger of a person who is used to bullying people and succeeding. Then she drew a deep breath and spoke in a firm, condescending voice, "Do you know who I am?"

"No, and I don't give a rat's ass, either."

The girl's voice contained a growl, "I am Emma Catalonia-Spencer, and you would do well not to cross me."

"Well, my name is Marie Une, and," Mariemaia grabbed the girl by her tank top and pulled her close, so that their noses were almost touching, "You would do well not to cross me, little one." Mariemaia's tone was dangerously quiet, and contained an unspoken threat.

Mariemaia threw Emma from herself, her fingers hurting from her iron grasp. Emma was shaking from fury and alarm. Then she stood up straight, positioned to give either the impression of being ready to fight or flee.

She looked at Mariemaia's steel expression and choose the latter.

"I think you might have made an enemy, Marie," A deep voice said from behind her, "Emma doesn't like it when people stand up to her."

"Alex, one of these days you're going to have to break that habit you formed." Mariemaia felt her facial expression transition from a scowl to a grin.

"What habit?"

"That 'let's sneak up on Marie' habit!"

Alex chuckled and said, "I've only done it twice and it's already a habit!" He gestured to her with one hand, "Come on, I'm hungry! They have eggs!"

"Sunny side up?"

"Hell yes!"

"There is no way you're getting there before I am, mister!" Mariemaia laughed and gave Alex a firm push, then started squeezing through the crowd.

Yawn, Mariemaia thought as she tweaked one of the laces of her boots. She was full and tired, even though it was still early and she hadn't done anything except eat. A lot. Too much, probably.

Trowa Barton stood tall next to his sister, Catherine. His hair fell in front of his face, covering one of his soft eyes and giving him a mysterious appearance that, Mariemaia had heard, made many a student cry herself to sleep. Trowa's wife, Melantha Riley, had died just the year before. Mariemaia could see the pain written in the crow's feet that framed his eyes, it was so like her mother's own. Catherine Bloom stood there, looking vulnerable but determined at the same time. There was a steel in her kindness that few people ever noticed, seeing her as only a kind, gentle woman with gray-shot reddish hair and a ready smile. But Mariemaia's sharp eyes noticed the way her muscles moved underneath her skin and how all of her movements seemed to be like water, so graceful and adept were they.

And, surprisingly, the instructor who spoke first was Trowa. His voice was soft, conversational, "Welcome to the morning. I hope you will all be more punctual after today." Two girls walked into the room, giggling. Trowa gave them a look, and their faces almost instantly became the models of contriteness.

"This class is called conditioning. In this class you will tone your bodies to fulfill the standards of this academy. During the next two weeks you will all be put to a series of tests to determine your physical fitness. Then we will create an exercise regimen that will fill in your weaknesses. That will last a month after the preliminary exams. After that, you will all be assigned a regimen that has been developed for bringing your fitness up. If you work hard in this class, when it is over, you will be in the best shape of your life. If you do not, that's not my problem.

"But I will tell you this: There is a gauntlet that is put on at the end of the year. If you cannot do everything on that gauntlet, in the amounts specified by this school, you will not be allowed to leave this class. Those who can, however, never have to see my face or Catherine's face again. Isn't that great?"

The two girls who walked in late giggled at something said to them by one of the boys.

Catherine spoke, her soft, light voice echoing steel from the rafters, "Did you have something to say?"

The boy looked at her disrespectfully and said haughtily, "I was just saying that it can't be as hard as you say, since a bunch of clowns designed it."

Catherine's move was so quick that the boy didn't see it coming as she grabbed him by the ear and hauled him up to his toes with no apparent effort.

"Well, let me assure you that it is, even if a bunch of clowns did design it," Her voice dripped sugar-sweet venom, "And that, unlike the prep school teachers who taught you, I can kick your ass anytime I feel like it. So watch your mouth." She let him go, and he stumbled, almost falling.

"Do you know who my father is?" He asked impudently.

Mariemaia seemed to have heard that silly attitude more than enough that morning.

Catherine just scoffed at the boy's insolence and turned her back to him.

He went for her like a rabid dog. But Mariemaia was faster, and she shot at the boy like a bullet, tackling him. He tried to throw a punch at her, but one well-aimed right hook to the temple stopped him. Completely.

Catherine gave Mariemaia a grateful look. "I didn't expect him to do that. I didn't think he had the guts."

Mariemaia rose from his unconscious body and looked at it scornfully.

"Hn."

Milan wheeled over the Mariemaia and looked at the guy.

"You didn't kill him, did you, Marie?"

"No. Hopefully I knocked some sense into him."

The rest of the class went smoothly as students were called in alphabetical order to undergo the first test. Mariemaia judged that it was weight-lifting, because people were walking out of the gym trying hard to rub their abdomens, arms, and legs consolingly at the same time. She looked at her watch as she laid herself down on the mat, and it told her that she probably wouldn't be called today, considering that her last name started with a U. The class was about an hour and a half, and they got all the way through the N's before the bell rang. Milan chattered about how they had said she had the best upper body strength in the class so far. Mariemaia didn't mind, though, because getting praise for her physical prowess was obviously something that mattered a lot to Milan, because she didn't get it that often.

"Well, that's likely, because of all the things you have to do with your arms," Mariemaia answered distantly as she examined the schedule.

"Great way to steal my thunder Marie," Milan stuck her tongue out good-naturedly in Mariemaia's direction.

"I didn't mean to belittle you, Milan."

"I know."

"Looks like our next class is Mechanics...Hey, I didn't know that your parents taught here!" Mariemaia gave Milan a surprised look.

"Oops. Well, I thought you knew... all the Gundam pilots teach here," Milan gave the near-fainting Mariemaia a penitent look. "Sorry."

"It's ok." Mariemaia forgave her as she recovered, "Hey, did you ask Alex what his classes were?"

"He has Mechanics with us...so does Elisa."

"Elisa? Oh! She's that one you were talking to during the dance, right?"

"Yeah. Oh, look, there's Alex now!" Milan pointed in the direction of her brother, who was looking particularly good in her tight white tank-top and army pants. He was also wearing nice leather boots that had been meticulously polished. Mariemaia noticed that he had big feet.

"Alex, you loser!" Milan cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted at her brother. Alex turned, sending his braid flying and causing the light to make it flash like a bolt of midnight lightning.

"Milan, you runt! Marie, you-- you---Uh," Alex put his pointer finger to his chin as he tried to think of something to call her.

"Sexy bitch?" Mariemaia supplied mischievously.

"You sexy bitch!" Alex shouted.

Then, of course, he realized what he had just said, and turned bright red.

"You're damn straight I am!" She yelled in reply.

Then she and Milan doubled over in frantic laughter.

The mechanics room smelled slightly of motor oil, gasoline, and, strangely, kitty litter.

A crunch under Mariemaia's foot explained the kitty litter.

There was a group of about 60 chairs lined up in neat rows crowding the middle of the room, which was about the size of an airplane hanger. A large sliding door let the yellow sunlight pour into the room, letting most of the smell out and giving the entire room a more friendly appearance.

Mariemaia looked about her curiously, wondering where Milan's parents were.

"Where do think your parents are?" Mariemaia asked Milan and Alex. Alex shrugged, but Milan pointed to a control booth in a darkened corner.

"They're probably in there, making out."

Alex promptly swatted her head. Playfully.

Milan shouted and rubbed her head. "Do that again and I'll run over your foot."

"My apologies," he gave his sister that impish grin that Mariemaia was beginning to become very fond of.

"You know they're in there! Go fetch them!"

Alex made an eloquent face. "Do I have to?"

"If you don't want a maimed foot, you do."

"Yes, master!" Alex walked over to the booth reluctantly.

"Do you really think that they're in there?" Mariemaia asked curiously.

"Think? Hell, no. I know that they're in there."

"Oh, dear."