A/N: Well, finally! Here's chapter three! I just want to thank everyone for all your reviews. I love hearing your feedback and it makes me happy to know you still like/read this story. I'll try to update again soon!
I wasn't kidding when I promised revenge on Cleave. He obviously showed off on purpose, and chances are, that was just a lucky shot. There's no way a puny pre-adolescent boy like him can really throw a knife like that. It defies all logic. I'm going to get to the bottom of him and his little secret, whatever it is. Mark my words. And today, I might just have the perfect plan for that.
The lunch lady slops a pile of god-knows-what on to my plate. Don't get me wrong—I love the academy, but you'd think they would have a better catering system. It's the best school in the district. Not to mention the lunch ladies are sour as lemons. No matter how hard you try, you can't make them laugh. I speak from legitimate experience.
One day, Thresh and I thought it would be funny to stick a 'kick me' sign on the back of Marvel's shirt. Marvel's our friend, but he's really easy to manipulate or pull pranks on because he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. So naturally, he didn't notice the entire day—until lunch, that is. That's when Thresh and I realized we probably took things a little too far.
The three of us stood in line with our trays, Marvel ahead of me and Thresh. We kept silently snickering to ourselves about the little sticky note posted on his back. No one had actually kicked him yet, but the day was still young.
We got our wish when a huge guy from our training group passed by and saw it. He stopped and read it out loud, "'Kick me…' Well, all right. If you insist."
Before we could stop him, he kicked Marvel in the back, but not hard enough to be considered emergency-room-worthy. Marvel groaned in pain, holding his hand on the spot where he was kicked. At that point, the whole lunch room was laughing. No one, not even the lunch ladies, bothered to ask what was wrong or rush to help him. But they didn't laugh either. They stood there in silence, wearing their trademark poker faces, and waited for the next person to hold out their tray.
So, I guess you could say they're a bit heartless. I wonder if they were hired on purpose solely for that reason. Here, at the academy, we're trained to be stern and let nothing stand in our way and never show any weaknesses. It's harsh when you're first starting out, but once you get the hang of it, it's actually kind of fun, especially when you're the trainer's favorite. Well, one of them at least.
Brutus's other favorite just happens to be the guy who kicked Marvel in the ass-Viktor. But besides the obvious strength and ability to kill anything in his path, I don't see what's the big deal about him. His brain is thinner than a toothpick, and that's even worse than Marvel. If you're going to be a good fighter, you need skill, not just strength, and unfortunately for him, he's lacking in the skill area. He's so stupid that he'll pick up a club fast enough to hit himself in the head with it. But does Brutus give a damn? No. I swear, if Viktor wasn't around, I would be the top of the class all by myself, no competition. Thresh and Marvel are pretty high up there though.
After grabbing a few napkins and a plastic fork for whatever this glop is, I carry my tray over to where Thresh and Marvel, and a few other guys from our class are sitting. Thankfully, Viktor isn't here yet. All he does at lunch is show off, and really, what is there to boast about besides the fact he's the size of a blue whale? The only thing worse than having Viktor sit with us would be Cleave. It hasn't even been a week, but the guy is driving me nuts, and I have the right to judge since I'm the one sharing a room the little punk. It's like he tries to annoy me; I hate it. Although, I have to admit he's improved from the first day he arrived. He seems to be getting used to the academy. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
As if right on cue, Cleave slides in between me and Thresh. "Hey, guys!" he says in that awkwardly high-pitched voice of his. How can he be seventeen and still sound like a pipsqueak?
"Hey, Cleave…" Thresh says none too enthusiastically.
"What brings you here?" Marvel asks.
Cleave looks at him skeptically, as if wondering why he would ask such a question. "What do you mean? I'm here to hang out with my main men!" He throws his arms around Thresh and I. We flash each other understanding looks. Everyone else at the table stops what they're doing and looks at us questioningly. I can read their minds: 'Dude, why are you friends with him?' Well, I don't really have a choice. He's my roommate. I may be able to avoid him during the school day, but I can't for the rest of the night. I'm stuck with him.
"Ha ha! Very funny, dude." Cleave punches him playfully in the arm then takes a spoonful of the glop. It only takes him a second before he spits it out, disgusted. "What the hell is this stuff?"
"Whoa!" I look at him with widened eyes. "You just sounded really girl there for a second."
This seems to make him nervous because he stutters. "Huh? What? No! I just have a really high-pitched voice when I eat something gross."
"Okay…" I'm still not convinced but a shake it off and stare down at the glop on my tray. No way in hell am I eating this stuff. Who knows what's in it? If I had to take a guess, I'd say cow manure because that's what it smells like.
Glancing across the table, I catch one guy take a bite of it. I almost cringe just watching it. Normally, I'm not this squeamish, but this stuff is just plain gross. I don't see why anyone would want to eat it.
Since there's nothing else edible, I take a bite out of an apple. For a few minutes, the table is silent. It's not usually like this, but whenever Cleave sits with us, it is. It's plain to see that no one likes him or thinks he's 'cool.' But really, who wouldn't think that? He looks and acts like a twelve year old besides the strangely accurate knife skills. I still have to figure out where he's getting that from.
"So Cleave," I begin and he looks at me. "Where did you learn your incredible knife skills?"
Now all eyes are on Cleave and I. Not everyone at the table is in the same training session as us, so they must think I'm crazy for saying such a thing.
"What do you mean?" Cleave asks.
"You throw a knife pretty well," I say, and he seems taken aback by my compliment. It's not in my nature to say nice things, so I make that clear by adding, "I mean for a girl."
This infuriates him. He pushes himself up from the table and glowers at me like there are daggers in his piercing hazel eyes. "WHAT DID YOU SAY, VULCAN?"
I look at him eyes-wide. Cleave can get pretty moody, especially when we're alone in our dorm, but I've never seen him his angry or upset before. What's the big deal? It was just a joke.
"Calm down, man! It was a joke."
"He was just kidding, Cleave," Thresh defends me, but I don't need any help if things fly south. I outweigh Cleave by nearly one hundred pounds.
"Yeah, I'm sure he was!" he spits. "Is that how you always talk about women? Because I can assure you girls are very good fighters, too. It's not just guys! In fact, my sister could probably fight ten times better than you can!"
"Ooh!" all the guys pipe in simultaneously.
I shoot them all glares to shut them up then I stand up and meet Cleave's gaze; we're face to face only inches apart.
"I'd like to meet her. Then we can really see who's the better fighter, Tarragon."
What have I gotten myself into? I shouldn't have been so defensive. It's just it really seemed like he was in fact referring to me as a girl. That would ruin everything. I wouldn't be able to come back. I'd be shunned at my other school and at home, not that I care. I always go too far when I'm defensive, and it finally paid off. I don't really have a sister, but if 'she' doesn't show up to fight Cato, he's going to think I was lying, and I certainly don't need him laughing at me again. It's my turn to be the last one laughing. And I have the perfect plan to do so.
I grab my set of knives and head to the training room. The fight, in which the news has already been spread all over campus, is this weekend. That should give me plenty of time to think the whole thing out.
Brutus glances over at me as I enter; everyone else has already started. Why is it that I'm always late even though I arrive on time? Maybe I should start coming early.
"There you are, Cleave." He pats me on the back. Brutus seems fond of me because of my 'extraordinary knife skills,' but I think it's just because he's never seen such a small guy do things like that. So, maybe he doesn't like me per say, but he's merely interested in me. "You can go ahead and start."
I nod and head over to the area where I usually train. I unsheathe my knives and turn away from the targets. Taking a deep breath, I whip around and throw all of the blades one by one, each of them hitting the direct center of the target. I can't help but smile to myself. I never miss—I never have, and never will. Knife-throwing just comes naturally to me.
"Nice," I hear someone say. I turn around rapidly to see Cato standing there with a smug look on his face, his arms crossed. I narrow my eyes, glaring at him.
"You wish you could do that," I snap.
"Yeah, you're right. I do," he says sarcastically with a smirk.
"You're just jealous."
"Sure I am."
He gets on every single nerve in my body. Couldn't I have had a different roommate? He's selfish, greedy, cocky, cruel, and on top of everything, Cato Vulcan is just a plain asshole.
"So did you just come here to make fun of me?" I ask, mimicking his gesture.
"Precisely," he says.
I roll my eyes and retrieve my knives, but he follows me. What does this guy want? I'm starting to think he just likes to annoy me; it's a hobby of his. I wish he would find someone else to bother because I'm actually starting to dislike him even more, and I didn't even think that was possible.
Just then, a ditzy-looking blonde girl comes running into the training room, arms open wide. "Cato!"
I look from her to Cato as she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. I half expect Cato to push her off of him. He doesn't seem like the type of guy who likes hugs. But instead, he just holds her arms and smiles at the mysterious girl.
"Hey, babe."
Babe?
"Who's this?" I ask curiously.
Cato seems satisfied, like he wanted me to ask that question. "This is my girlfriend, Glimmer."
A/N: Oh, god. This can't be good. I bet you all weren't expecting Glimmer to show up in this story, but there you go. Aren't cliffhangers the best? How do you think Clove is going to react to all of this? Well, that's it for this chapter. Don't forget to review! If you don't, Clove will throw her sharpest knife at you.