Chapter 12
Becoming Prey
Strands of my wavy curls fall to the ground, crashing past my shoulders like a tidal wave to the shore. My eyes stare at my night-colored hair. Jet-black hair—so dark, it could blind the light. Propelling my hands behind my back, I drive the hair dryer toward the flowing cascade of my hair.
Sun-colored feet approach, stepping into my line of vision.
“Zia, why are you awake?”
“Shantavia, where did you get this?”
Oh no. Pesh’s golden-camel sweater is in her hands. Crap. I sprint, reaching for it, but she bolts around the room, averting my reach.
“Is this your sweater?”
“I’m borrowing it. It’s not mine.”
“Uh-huh, borrowing it from who? It smells dangerously sexy and it’s huge, so I assume whoever owns it is way over six feet! Obviously a guy.”
“Zia, give it back!” I tackle her to the ground.
“Ow! You’re not answering my question, Shantavia. Who gave you this? Is it a Patron?”
“It’s none of your business!” I grab it from her, securing it inside my safe box. “Plus, I can’t say. I’m sworn to secrecy. But that’s beside the point. Why did you steal my key?”
“Just promise it’s not Zavish.”
“No! Puke, of course not.”
“Okay, okay, I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“Whatever! Just don’t go through my stuff.”
“You’re so full of secrets.”
“It’s just a sweater.”
“Whatever… but whoever it is must really like you, like an insane amount. That sweater is a limited, custom-made piece for the Common Elite. My dad bent over backwards to try to snag one, and he never did. It’s owned by Patron Lenon’s exclusive common brand.
Even Patrons can’t get a hold of one of those pieces.
I doubt Zavish even can, but someone in his family most likely can; they usually wear Vicuna wool though. Don’t ask me how I know.”
“What makes it so special?” I sit back down, eyes darting to the mirror.
“Well, first, it’s Patron Lenon. And second, it costs like two million dollars for one! The material it’s made from is also insanely rare and was only recently discovered. This one even looks like it would be worth five million, easy. Trust, I know stupid old money when I see it.”
“You’re joking!”
“No.”
Why the heck did Pesh give me a sweater that costs two million dollars... at least?
Good grief! I have to give this back.
“Anyways, it doesn’t matter. Back to your hair!” She grabs a hair straightener and unravels the cord.
“Zia, you know you don’t have to help me. I got it—”
“The only time you ever straightened your hair was in first grade, the day you met your sister for the first time. That was you and her thing. I’m not her.
But I’m sure you miss her since she’s doing the study abroad.
” That’s what everyone thinks. “And moreover, I’ve been waiting for this moment since the day I met you,” she admits.
“Doing hair is therapy for me. I can’t sleep anymore.
I keep having nightmares about my tests.
Here, I’ll take this side with my wand. You take the other.
Your hair is huge and long. It’s going to take more than one person to get it done in time.
” She drives her hands through my strands.
“Tell me about it. Good luck,” I reply, sarcastic.
“Why do you hate straightening your hair so much anyway?”
“I don’t hate it. I just… despise it.”
She bursts out in laughter. Suddenly, she covers her mouth with her hands.
“Shh, it’s 2 a.m.!”
“Sorry!” She takes a section of my hair and straightens it.
“Have you ever thought about going blonde?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Using my golden comb, I glide it through the middle of my scalp in a single straight path.
She takes the right side while I focus on the left, running fire through the dark ocean, smoke rising through the darkness, spiraling heat through my skin and rising on the top of my head like clouds.
Oh my gosh. She’s burning my hair! I direct her hands, splitting the section into two.
She stares, confused, seemingly snapping out of a daze.
“Oh, sorry!”
“You’re distracted. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” She flips her wrist, spinning it around to stretch. “I was just remembering the last time Zavish and I hooked up. He’s been denying me ever since. Urgh, I want him so bad! I would do anything to have that Lumiere last name, that’s all.”
“He should be the one doing everything to have you. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“I don’t deserve him. Do you know how powerful the Lumieres are? They only bow to Patrons. That’s how inconceivably powerful they are.”
“Not everything is about money and power.”
“It actually is. That’s what we’re here for—to be the greatest in the world, to literally rule the world. Everything is about money and power.”
“I guess… not to me though.” My eyes drift down, lost in contemplation. “Whatever, that’s all you were thinking?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I was just thinking about how hot Zavish is and my game plan to secure him. Per usual!”
“You had me worried there for a second.”
“Shantavia, you always worry too much, especially about other people. That’s your problem. It’s everyone for themselves in The Commons. Don’t forget that.”
“Whatever! Are you sure you’re not gonna burn my hair again?” I deflect with a smile.
“Yep, I mean it’s not rocket science.”
“No. It’s not rocket science. It’s more like the Chemistry Test. A death sentence.”
She bursts out in laughter.
“Shh,” I whisper, noticing the girls around us turn in their beds.
“I’m shutting up, sorry. Stop being funny. Stop making me laugh.”
“Okay, okay. I can’t help it, it’s in my DNA.”
“Shantavia!” She shoves me as our eyes collide in the reflection of the mirror. Behind us, the girls wake up and begin getting ready for the day.
Spritzing hair spray around my hair emits a glowing sparkle, like stars falling in the night in perfect unison.
Zia rubs her hands through the silky shine of the glowing night of my hair and smiles like I’m her work of art.
Morning announcements jar her head to the right, and she rushes into the shower.
I stay silent. Steps surround me. But I’m silent. Shower sounds precede. But I’m silent.
Zia was right. This moment reminds me of my sister too much, but I can’t afford to let myself be this emotional… I... A drop of rain drizzles down my cheeks. Who am I kidding? I miss my sunlight. I miss Levon.
I tighten my jaw in sudden anger upon remembering why I did this to myself, and my reminiscing turns to feeling trapped.
I grit my teeth, curling my hands in a tight fist, and a cloud of dread consumes my chest. I am afraid of who I am becoming.
I hate being forced to do things, especially to myself.
To me, taming my curls is like taming a powerful woman to be weak or taming a lion in the wild: It is like training a parrot to shut up or forcing the sun to stop shining.
And that’s exactly what The Commons intends to do to me.
But I am not going to let them. Sure, I will straighten my hair, but deep down within me, I know—they will not straighten me.
“Let’s go, Zia. Ready for the next Observation Test?” I comment as I slip into my pants.
“Hmm, let me see, why is your hair so curly still?” she responds sarcastically.
“Shut up!” I joke, then recall: Observation Test Four where I had to fight human robots. “The test with the mirots was crazy!”
“Oh, please don’t remind me.” Zia shudders, walking away.
I proceed back to the library to rush through the book I started reading in the morning, before my next Observation Test. The librarian’s eye cuts mine with a wary look just as I am leaving. I really hope she’s not suspecting that I’m up to something.
Tosh strikes 8:80 a.m. in the dome shaped hallway surrounding me.
8:80? This Observation Building must alter the time. Tosh must be playing mind tricks on us. Probably to test which one of us would be observant enough to notice it.
I gravitate toward the door with “O5” inscribed on it. It is Observation Test Five. I step into the room just before the clock strikes 8:88 a.m., ready to conquer this test, but I am shocked upon looking up. My feet vibrate backwards as if to flee upon instinct. What the devil is this?
Seven transparent water basins surround me, and a crocodile devours a student’s foot in one of them.
Oh God, help me.
Horrified, the hairs on my body jump up, numb with shock.
The basin is a giant covered bowl, half-filled with water and mud.
The student is screaming, his blood is gushing as the crocodile continues to grasp onto his leg.
Patron Brik throws a yellow bomb-like substance into the water.
The crocodile struggles, then faints in a pool of blood.
Patron Brik opens the cover completely, and a nurse runs to carry the boy out on a stretcher as he continues to scream.
Okay, just breathe, Shantavia.
Control your thoughts.
Keep calm.
Assess the situation again.
There’s a crocodile in a basin. I am about to enter a similar basin. The boy before me was bitten. Yep. You’re gonna die.
I tilt my head, uncomfortable, but I force my chin to stay up.
I have to be brave.
I am so close to the finish line, to finally getting the book of secrets. I can do this. All I have to do is survive till then. God help me.
Despite my racing thoughts, I propel my feet forward.
I am approaching the basin as Patron Brik’s grassy gaze looms over me.
His green glare upon me is like a scorpion that stings.
Without even looking, I can sense it sizing me up like a hunter to its target.
Before I know it, I am standing in front of Patron Brik at another basin.
How did I get here?
Patron Brik now fully turns in my direction with an aggressive glare on his rock-like face. “Patron Brik is the name because I will break you.” He hands me a device with a single button.
“What’s the aim of this test?” I manage to ask.
“Don’t get killed. Or hurt substantially.
We’ve put a rare chemical in the liquid-mud mixture that makes the crocodile invisible to the human eyes, until it is ready to attack.
The moment you enter, it will stop moving.
It’s a special breed found only in Commonda.
You must keep moving in the water to stop it from attacking you.
However, we will not permit you to leave the glass basin if it does not move at least once.
The moment you think it has moved, press the button or scream and we will throw this substance in, which will immediately repel it.
We will then open the basin and pull you out, in whatever state you are in.
When you are attacked, here’s a trick—poke its eyes.
You should also know; this special breed of crocodile has a fondness for eating humans. ” He pauses with a gratifying smile.
I look at the basin, then take a deep breath.
Okay, Shantavia, what’s the best approach to this? Just survive. Screw passing the test. Just don’t die.
“Let’s see how you do on this one, smarty pants,” he whispers. I turn, confused at his patronizing look, wondering what I had ever done to offend him. I proceed to enter the glass basin.
I feel the water on my pants, hold my breath, and listen intently for movement.
But instead of moving to avoid the crocodile’s movement, I stay still.
I straighten my legs and relax my hands outside the water, holding tightly to the alarm.
I figure there is no need to prolong my potential suffering.
I look around the water, eyes sprinting in every direction to spot movement.
I see bubbling in the water.
Fear flares up in my eyes and I press the button instantly.
I look to Patron Brik, and he shakes his head, indicating that it has not moved yet. Eyes like silver lightning, I continue to look at the water with intense focus.
Again, I see bubbling, then another, then the third one. The crocodile jumps out the water and in the same instant, I press the button and submerge myself. Underwater, I hear loud whispers from behind the basin.
“Are you gonna put in the chemical and let her out?”
“No. She needs to be scratched a little, or she’ll get a big head.”
“What do you mean? That thing could kill her in the next second. You know we can’t kill on the tests!”
“Not death. It’ll bite a foot or so.”
I see the crocodile turn my way underwater and open its mouth to attack. A flash of terror freezes my brain, my mind completely numb.
I will be eaten by this crocodile. There is no way out. I will be torn into pieces.
Horror courses through my veins, gnawing at my insides.
I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What do I do? Oh God!
The only thought in my head is so stupid. Why am I thinking this?
The only way to avoid being hurt is to appear like I am about to be killed by their lack of action. Suppressing the panic surging through me, I turn my head in the direction of the crocodile’s mouth.
“Oh my God. She’s gone headfirst!”
“Put the damn chemical in!”
“I’m on it! I’m on it!” Patron Brik hurries.
The moment I hear their voice and legs scurrying, I start to flip in the water.
And just as the crocodile is about to rip through my stomach, I see a yellow substance fill the water and the crocodile turns away from me, struggling, choking.
I barge out of the water and jump out of the open basin as Patron Brik moves the cover away.
I realize the other voice was from Patron Suzandrik who is right next to him.
I am infuriated. But I control myself.
Head bent, I expel my breath in a whoosh. I give a tight-lipped lackluster smile to feign calmness, then I storm out. Behind me, I overhear their voices.
“It’s either she’s suicidal or she was playing me with putting her head out to that animal like that,” Patron Brik says.
“Maybe. But you cannot afford to let her die. De Londe said hurt her on this test, not kill her. Only bruises. He would kill you if you let her die.”
“Well, he’s gonna bruise me now for letting her walk away unscathed.”
“Sorry, man! But we need to watch out for her. She’s a snake,” Patron Suzandrik responds.
Catching my breath, the door slams behind me.
Oh God, that was a stupid thing to do.
But it worked.
And what was even worse was their comments.
Patron De Londe is trying to hurt me.
My goodness—what am I gonna do?
I just became the prey, and The Commons, predator.
Blood on my hands, I realize it didn’t work. The crocodile bit me.