Young Writers Society

Everywhere I go whispers follow. Most are cautious, quiet enough that I cannot make out a word. The rest are just loud enough to reach my ears. As if the kid went to extra lengths just to make sure I could hear it.

“Think this will finally knock her ego down?”

“All that talk about making the agency. Everything that’s come out of her mouth is a joke.”

“Guess she’s just like the rest of us after all.”

It doesn’t quite bother me. There is a piece of my heart that aches with every insult, but how could there not be? These kids that I see in the hallways, in class, at training, everyday have turned against me. All because no one really knows what happened during the VQ. I can thank Colton for most of the rumors started.

Four weeks have past since the test. Classes have seemed more pointless than ever. There’s a pile of unfinished homework back in the dorm. We’ve had six exercises, all individual, and I didn’t complete a single one. Colton has finished first of our class in them all. He seems to be really milking this.

My poor performances earned me a trip to Caddarick’s office last week. I also might have gotten into another fist fight with Colton. For once he didn’t do anything to deserve it. I just kind of unloaded all my frustration on his face. He fought back this time so I wasn’t able to land most of my punches. I felt a hell of a lot better after though.

Normally Caddarick would yell at me for everything I had been doing. But that day he was more concerned about other things.

“Have you been reading it?”

I didn’t need to ask for clarification. There was only one thing he could’ve been referring to. “Just a few pages. How’d you end up with it?”

He waved his hand through the air. “That’s not important. You need to keep going through it. The more you know the more you’ll reveal about yourself.”

Great. Another cryptic message for me to decipher. I was getting tired of all the things I didn’t understand. Will is helping me go through the codes, but we have yet to find anything that makes sense.

We’re in the library again, thinking there might be more resources to help us decipher the code. Nothing. No books, no relevant case files.

“There’s no real pattern,” Will says, dropping the bomb after four hours of trying to figure it out. Of course that’s going to be the answer. “I’m starting to wonder if this is even a code. I mean, it obviously is, but I think your parents are the only ones who can identify it.”

I tried to call my mother the day after we first went through the journal. Merith had been suggesting it every few hours. I only called to get her to shut up. Each time I tried though, the phone would ring only for an automated message to tell me that the phone number had been disconnected. I tried her work number and I got the same message. That didn’t make me feel much better. Not only is there a chance that I might not even get into the agency, but now I can’t get in contact with my mother.

I reach out to brush my fingers across the tattered pages of a book in front of me. The librarian brought them for us, thinking we were working on our history project. It wasn’t a total lie; we do have to get it done. But this journal is much more important than any dumb grade.

“Look.” Will pokes my arm before pushing the journal across the table. I look down to see he’s circled a word at the top. Cardinal. “This is on more pages than not. It has to mean something.”

“Got any ideas?”

“No,” Will admits. My heart sinks. “Besides the obvious, I mean. A cardinal is a bird with red feathers. There’s not much to salvage there.”

“You’re telling me.” I feel a yawn coming on and I try to hide it behind my hand. But Will notices.

“When did you go to sleep last night?”

“I didn’t.”

“The night before?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t slept right since that damned test.” Every time I close my eyes I relive every mistake I made. It’s a perfect opportunity for my mind to play the “what if” game. And as much as I fight it it just doesn’t go away.

Will stares at me in silence, studying me as if he’s trying to pick my brain. The look makes me squirm. I wish he would look away. The longer our eyes stay attached the harder it is for me to pull mine away.

Nothing has happened between me and Will since we were attached at the hand. Everything has stayed the same. Neither of us has brought it up again around the other, much less to anyone else. But I can tell that it’s still on his mind. Occasionally I’ll catch him looking at me, as if debating whether to bring us together again. Thankfully he doesn’t. I don’t know how I would react.

He’s been by my side since the moment we stepped into Vido’s. At least, that’s what he’s told me. I’m still fighting to bring back those memories of first level. He’s told me stories of times when we got lost or stayed out past curfew. We became partners, friends. We built our relationship on the only thing we could draw from: two kids being forced from their families and into the most dangerous job field possible.

If some stupid feeling screws that up for both of us I’ll never forgive myself.

“You need to sleep,” Will says finally. “No wonder you’re not doing well in those exercises.”

“Thanks for bringing that up,” I grumble. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“It’s the truth. You’re off your game. Exhaustion is stopping you from making decisions you’d normally make.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because we’re partners.”

“So?”

Will sighs. “We’ve spent almost every single day together for the past five years. I know you. My job is to know you. I have to be able to predict your next move before you make it.” He pushes away from the table and picks up one of the stacks of books. “I’ll tell everyone you’re sick. Sleep for as long as you need. Who knows when we’ll get another shot at the VQ.”

I scoff. “If we get another shot. None of the professors seem too keen about it.”

“Just get some sleep, Bryn.” Will doesn’t even bother to turn back when he says it. He’s already deep in the labyrinth of bookshelves. It would be a waste of time to go after him. This table is in the only empty space between the shelves. I’d get lost before I could meet up with him.

My eyelids are heavy as I trudge out of the library. The hall is full of kids rushing about. I look in the direction of the class I'm supposed to be in now, History V with Professor Clemet – convenient that it’s right next to the library. The door is shut and the blinds pulled down.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to go to class. No use missing any more class. Sleep will come. If Will is right and we’re going to get another shot at the test, I have to keep up my image. Maybe Clemet will give me a break for being late.