Chapter 6 #2
I can’t imagine what she went through. She seems to have experienced a traumatic side effect from the test. I can’t remember what happened to me, but I feel fine in my physical body.
I wonder if that will help my test score?
I will not find out my results for six weeks. But I don’t have six weeks to waste.
I’m sure Pesh knows my results and if they are good enough.
I must talk to him to find out what the study abroad program really is, if there even is such a thing.
And moreover, I have been in The Commons now for a week and have only taken one test, but my suspicions about The Commons have already been confirmed—it is a controlling monster seeking to devour my mind.
Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic, but wouldn’t you be dramatic if you had been freakin’ drugged up for 24 hours and woke up knowing nothing?
My thoughts flash back on how, during the Cognitive Test, a part of me began to feel like finding Levon was a part of me finding myself. It was so easy for me to replace her with myself in that test—like if I failed her, I would fail me, and if I lost her forever, I would lose me.
She was always there to give me direction and tell me what’s next. That’s when I have an odd thought, one I’d never thought of before—if I don’t succeed in this, what really can I succeed in?
I roll out of bed just as the dorm alarm clock goes off at our usual 4 a.m. wake up time. That’s when I remember—it’s O week. It is time for my Oratory training classes and for me to learn what the Oratory Test will entail. It is just class, not a test, so it shouldn’t be so bad, right?
I approach the Oratory Building. It is an O-shaped building made of transparent glass.
I enter and walk through the white-colored hallway with silver and transparent flooring that reflects my image.
Everyone around me is focused on walking to class in tranquil silence.
That is the way of The Commons; however, as I go further into the building, I begin to hear more whispers than I have ever heard in any building at The Commons.
I can’t discern the words I am hearing but I look on the white wall beside me to see an inscription: Only Silent Speaking Allowed in the O Zone.
Silent speaking? Is that what I’m hearing? Lost in wonder, I am trying to notice every detail around me. I’ve only had one test, and I already had to relive my darkest nightmares.
I turn to the side and there’s Pesh. My eyebrows rise instantly at the sight of him, and I stare. He is wearing a black shirt, slightly unbuttoned, with sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing his muscular arms. Zia was right—“he is ripped AF.”
My eyes drift to his black pants with sharp lines tracing his thighs and down to his obsidian-black shoes with dagger-like inscriptions that entrance me.
He is walking alone with his special golden Patron tablet in hand. His eyes lock with mine.
As I start to look away, I notice he catches himself too. I turn away, terrified of another demerit. Except this time, it won’t be for his finger. It will be for his face, and I am not ready to face his wrath.
I try to find a backway to get to my class, but I am unable to. Why did I stare at him? Gosh! This place and its rules. What am I to do?
Eyes down, I arrive at a dead end and turn away from the wall.
That’s when I see him, standing right next to me.
Flustered, I instantly turn to the side to avoid eye contact and draw back against the wall.
I can’t help myself, I say, “Are you here to give me another demerit for looking at you in the eye?”
He stares at me, saying nothing.
I realize he’s not going to respond. Without thinking, I try to ignore his daunting glare, blurting out, “So, now the C test is over, will you at least answer my question or am I doomed to provoke your wrath forever?” That was a bit much.
He doesn’t even acknowledge me. Humiliating truly.
Blandly, he responds. “There is no study abroad in The Commons, but that does not mean that there is no study abroad. I believe I don’t have to tell you twice not to ask anyone else a question like that, ever.
That’s if you are not in fact trying to get into trouble. ”
Eyes on my feet, I mutter, “Why would I be?”
“Good question, why would you be?”
“Like I said, I’m not. I didn’t mean to look at you. Either time.”
“What did you mean to do?” He draws near, making me nervous, making it hard for me to pretend. His intense presence causes my legs to draw back against the wall.
Why does he come so close to me? And why do I like that he does?
Why does it feel like we are accomplices of some sort?
Why is this feeling causing me to contemplate opening up to him?
His boiling breath lingers on my neck, and I want to touch my flushed face to stop the steam from entering into my fluttering stomach and all over my simmering skin, but my hands can’t afford to even acknowledge it to my mind, let alone to him.
This is the guy who threw you off a moving plane, Shantavia. Well, commanded his minions to do so.
My eyes stay down. I’m not sure if I can trust him with my secret. Actually, I know I can’t. “Nothing, I was just lost in think—”
“Tell me the truth,” he interrupts. “Why are you asking me questions? What or who are you trying to find?” he demands.
I look at him, intrigued at his choice of “who.” That tells me he definitely knows more than he’s giving away, so I decide to ask him directly, but in a diplomatic manner.
“My sister is enrolled here. I thought that when I came, I would see her. She’s my best friend. But I haven’t seen her anywhere. When I… when my parents called, they said she was in the study abroad program, so I was just wondering if she’s back or if I could do the same thing.”
“There are over seventy-thousand acres of Common Property,” he notes drily.
Feeling bolder because he is talking to me about it, I ask, “And if she was here, you would know, right? Because of your position as a Patron?”
He draws back. “Would I?” He smirks.
There’s nothing worse than knowing someone knows something and they withhold it from you for their sheer pleasure.
Urgh. I feign a smile to control my annoyance. “Would you?”
His fingers play on my open hand, tapping it. What is this thing he’s doing to me? “If I did, why would I tell a person who doesn’t trust me?”
You threw me off a plane, I wonder what could have given me reason not to trust you? He flicks his finger off my skin just as his eyes look up at me.
My eyes look away to act like I didn’t notice it and it didn’t send shivers through my insides. I cough against my mind’s reflexes, but what do I say? Should I say I trust him? I can’t lie, he knows I don’t trust him, so I bluff, speaking softly, “How do you know I don’t trust? I mean…”
He stares so nonchalantly. All must be so perfect and calm in Patron world because he stares like time is of no essence to him, nor is speaking or replying or solving any single problem in this entire universe. “Is that a real question?” he says with a smirk in his eyes.
My eyes blink. It’s a stupid question. Even I know it. I open my lips to think of anything to counter, but he cuts me off.
“I’m bored. Your impression on me has expired.” He’s bor…
He begins to walk away. “And by the way, don’t ask any questions in your O class. Not every Patron is as nice as I am.”
He thinks he’s nice? I wait for him to leave, then look around, to make sure no one has seen me.
My hands scroll over my palm casually, but the warm sensation stays, and my skin has already been filled with his fragrance so much, it almost thirsts for another heating.
But my mind is stronger, so I shake it off with a frown.
My heart is beginning to annoy me. I really wish I could stay away from this guy.
But I know he has more in him, and he’s dangling it in front of me like bait to the fire.
And I wish I could say I’m not tempted, but he knows something more about Levon.
And sometimes, I wonder… if he knows something more about me.
I search for the door that leads to my class. All of them are O-shaped. They look like entrances to a spaceship. I find the door with Oratory 1001 written on it in small gold letters.
I enter the classroom. A circle pendant of lights is on the ceiling and there are white lights on the curvy edges of the long glass chairs that hold about five people each.
I look around and see Zia in the second row.
I walk toward her, but then turn away when I see she is right next to Zavish and his friends, Jordan and Tin, along with my curly nemesis, who leans on Tin’s shoulders, stroking his red hair in a flirtatious manner.
I give Zia a courtesy smile and find a seat in the third row.
Before I can take out my books, the door slams shut.
Everyone turns. In the same instant, I notice a being in black and silver.
This is a Patron. The entire class bends their heads, and I hear Zavish’s friend Jordan whisper, “That’s Patron Lenon. ” Fantastic.
“He’s my flippin Hero!” Zavish says. “He’s ruthless. Dangerous. I’ve heard some Patrons are scared of him. It’s rumoured no one has ever defeated Patron Lenon in a fight but Patron Pesh! They are untouchable. Pesh’s moves are lethal and Lenon’s—deadly!”
Two people are walking behind the Patron, like bodyguards.
Zavish whispers, “She’s a Sachi, and that boy’s a Lerod.”
“How do you know?”
“An educated guess, dumbhead. It is rumored Patron Lenon selects the most Lerods.”
“Yeah,” Zia interjects with a flirtatious look at Zavish. “But I heard he recommends the least Patrons, so that’s anticlimactic.”
“Shut up, Zia. Don’t act like you know more than me.” He ignores her and stares at the front.