Page 11 of The Order

And what is he doing in the Untouchable sector?

Chapter three

Forest

ThecommutetotheAcademy is no more than fifteen minutes. One of the biggest promises New Haven’s founders tried to hold to when deciding to eradicate most sources of transportation throughout the city was convenience. All of New Haven was built around the idea of functionality and schedules. Each person plays a part in the flow of order that goes into maintaining a functioning community. Maintaining order is so important that Josh would have received more punishment for delaying than the unauthorized assault on an Unfortunate. Like clockwork, and despite our delay, the tram rolls to a dead stop in front of the massive Academy building at 7:00 AM on the dot. The Unfortunate tram driver must’ve sped to make up for lost time. I wonder in that moment if he is punished when he can’t pick up the slack for mishaps like the one Josh created this morning.

I ignore the feeling of the Unfortunate’s eyes gravitating back to me. As quick as lightning, I move off the tram, hardly giving the driver enough time to swing open the doors. The cool metal collides with my forearm, causing my body to spill onto the even-cut grass. The Academy’s front lawn is no longer the vibrant green it once was during the hot summer months. It’s now sprinkled with dead pieces and quite brittle beneath the weight of my body.

The Academy’s large building consumes the entire plot of land it sits on. It’s considered the beating heart of New Haven, housing all the community’s growing minds. It resides in the middle of the Untouchable sector, taking up the most space out of any other building within its vicinity. Its walls are made of concrete and stone. The roof is nothing more than glass panes, all pushed together to create a point. Wood trim decorates every side of the structure.

A variety of plants, trees, and several koi decorate the grounds, consuming the grassy areas in bursts of dull color. Students work in and out of the massive double glass doors. I notice the teachers chattering amongst themselves, some casually repositioning their maroon blazers that help set them apart from the student body. Groups of students linger around the more scenic portions of the lawn. Even in the hottest months, the school's glass ceiling can stow away the warmth completely. Like most other buildings in this sector, color is hard to pinpoint on the structure. Even the flowers are dull, like the Academy’s gardeners purposefully chose the most boring colors to accent the space.

Kai and Raegan move past me, barely acknowledging my presence. They are deep in a conversation about their positions on the Student Advocate Council. Raegan holds Kai’s forearm close. In many ways, it's easy to see why he continues to pursue her. She’s safe. No one would ever question why they chose one another. It’s as if everything in Kai’s life has always just made sense. He hasn’t had to question anything.

He’s always just known where he belongs.

My body becomes tense again at the sound of the Untouchable's quiet conversation behind me. With a casual shift of my body, I observe the raven-haired asshole quietly conversing with the bus driver. With his head raised, I can vaguely make out how old the tram driver is. Possibly ten years older than my father, maybe even more. His head is no longer lowered as he speaks to the other Unfortunate. The two men converse with a great deal of familiarity. Working in a sector where you bus around silent Untouchables all day, I can imagine that any familiar, dirty face would liven your spirits.

The Unfortunate leans into the bus driver, whispering something in the man's ear that warrants a shift in his demeanor. The bus driver looks frazzled, the whispers between them containing something not meant to be overheard.

“You coming?” Max’s voice questions, breaking my curious gaze toward the two men.

He keeps his arms crossed, eyeing Josh and Colton as they move by. Unlike Kai and Rae, he isn't hiding the fact that he’s noticed my sudden shift in attitude. Like a guard dog, he waits for me, even allowing me to take a moment to stare down the Unfortunate in the same way everyone else had for most of the ride to the Academy.

“Yeah, thanks for waiting up. I’m just struggling to understand why one ofthemis onourschool grounds.”

Max gently smiles, holding his head high. The Unfortunate steps off the bus, waving to the driver, before pulling away. Just like he had when he entered the tram, the Unfortunate ignores everyone around him. Even his walk would have most convinced that he knows where he is going.

“The transfer program. Don’t you remember how desperately our dads tried to shut it down?”

Each school year, a few Unfortunates are granted the ability to learn on the same level as Untouchables to give them more skills to keep the businesses and economy in their sector functioning. Without the Unfortunate's aid in growing crops, we would have no food and without us, they would have no safety. A ward surrounds New Haven, keeping away the ash and toxins floating around the air beyond the city. Some other regions adopted by Sanctum are spread across the continent, but we rarely hear anything about them. New Haven is all there is for miles. Only ash and a once vibrant society remain buried in the Earth's ground.

“They seriously went through with it?”

“Clearly,” Max scoffs.

We push past the large glass doors, fumbling in our pockets to retrieve our IDs for the woman at the front desk. Her black hair is wound so tight atop her head that I’m convinced it’s the only thing able to pull her face into the half-assed smile she has plastered on. Her long, colored nails tap her desk, not once stopping, even when students try to speak to her. Her lips are thin, set in a straight line. She wears a pair of blue light glasses, shoving them higher up the bridge of her nose to make it look like she is reading whatever is on her screen. We approach her desk, scanning our IDs and watching the system's light shine green.

“Almost late, you two,” she coos with a finger wag.

“Don’t blame us,” Max starts, leaning his arm over her desk, working his charm while flashing his baby blues. “Blame the sewer trash our upper leadership allowed in here,” he finishes.

The tingle returns down my spine, the pulse in my wrist proliferating. Stepping away from the scanner, I feel the Unfortunate’s eyes pull away from the back of my neck and onto the front desk. Her head rises completely once she notices his presence. Her once partial attention to us is now a full-fledged stare at him. I try to get a good look at his ID, but it’s facing away from me. It goes through the scanner, flashing green like our own. The front desk woman's mouth almost hangs open, showcasing her perfect set of teeth. The Unfortunate shakes his head, pulling away from the desk before scanning over a small note removed from his pocket.

The woman at the desk wipes down the scanner's surface with disinfectant repeatedly, as if his one swipe was enough to contaminate the scanner after one go. In terms of an Unfortunate, he isn't the worst thing to look at. Although calloused, his hands are clean. His uniform isn’t new and has had some years of use, but, unlike Max, his tie is folded with great care. His wild black hair isn't kinked. In fact, it looks soft. Although rugged, many of the details on his face are easy to get lost in, even from afar. The scar under his cheek is deep, possibly deep enough that even the Cure-All couldn't fix it. His eyes are blue, but not light blue like Max’s. His are dark and soft all at once. Someone spent a great deal of time on the genetic code responsible for the details of his face.

Unfortunate or not, he is beautiful in his own, terrifying way.

Even now, as he moves further away through the crowd of students, I can see how much his height towers over most of the others around him. I know his size was intimidating, even to Josh. I scan the outline of his pockets once more, looking for any sign of the small vial in one of his pockets. My head moves with my body, trying to get a closer look.

Pulling his eyes away from the note in his hand, the Unfortunate’s gaze meets my own, and my stomach fills with sudden anxiety. Trying to play off my eye's blatant exploration of him as nothing out of the ordinary, he pulls his gaze away, ignoring me and Max entirely.

Stepping back, I watch his broad shoulders move through the crowd of students parting the way for him like he carries the Earth’s next deadliest plague. I can almost swear a smirk is lining his face at the sight of the other students' disdain toward him. Some physically turn away from him in an attempt to pretend that he isn’t there. I hold my bag close, feeling my sketchbook press against my side.

“I would love to see him crumpled on the ground like the woman from this morning,” Max says.

We both begin to move as the Unfortunate rounds the corner at the end of the hall. Students begin moving back into the walkway, whispering with wide-eyed expressions. The layout of the building is straightforward. To the left of reception are all the elective wings, and to the right are all the primary classes. Anything toward the middle of the school revolves around dining and athletics. Max walks with me as I take a sharp right toward the elective wing of the school.

---