Page 44 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

People are starving. I am not the only one. But where I once looked at them from a position of privilege my powers and monthly allowance afforded me, now I have a new appreciation for the people who so valiantly fight to live on. It’s especially heartbreaking to think of the young mothers whose husbands are on the front and who not only have to find a way to feed themselves but also have to feed their younglings.

From that point of view, I am still a little privileged.

Doing my best to forget about my empty stomach, I march forward. It takes me an hour to get to the location, which I realize is a military base—the headquarters of the Air Force. Well, if that’s the case, I suppose they should need a lot of nurses, no? That should be to my advantage.

Or…not.

There is a long line of females stretching all the way outside the military camp. As I get to the end of the queue, I ask if this is the line for the nursing position.

“We are all waiting for registration. There isn’t much information yet,” a female tells me.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

All right. I shouldn’t get discouraged about the almost fifty females here for the same position. They should have plenty of spaces to accommodate most of us, no? It’s war, after all, and they need all the help they can get. And I need all the food they have available.

I don’t do well when I’m hungry. And I don’t mean physically. I also mean that I get very, very,veryangry.

Calm down, Minerva! Everything will work out in the end.

And then my brother will be forced to admit that I amnotweak—despite having no powers. I can make it and Iwillmake it.

I just need to be a little bit resourceful about it. And that involves keeping my ears wide open to the discussions around.

“You went to a three-year program?” someone asks, her voice dripping with awe.

The other female nods.

“I wanted to be a nurse before the war, too.”

“I only did the two-year program since it was cheaper and I could help the war effort faster,” the girl replies.

I narrow my eyes.

What’s this talk of two- and three-year programs?

“Excuse me?” I put on my best smile. “What do you mean by a two-year program?”

The girl in question turns to me, blinking in confusion.

“The nursing program, of course.”

“Nursing program?” I repeat slowly.

She looks at me askance.

“You’ve completed a nursing program, no? That is the minimum requirement for a nursing position.”

“Ah, yes, I have. Of course I have. Fromwaybefore the war,” I lie.

She nods thoughtfully.

“You’re lucky. Those with more experience are likely to get priority in consideration.”

Uhm. Right.

I smile at her and end the conversation.

Inside, I am panicking. I ambeyondpanicking. I barely know what nursing is about and these females have completed two- and three-year programs? How am I going to get the job if that’s what I have to compete with?

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