Page 16 of The Order

In a tone so quiet, I think I imagined it, I hear Fallan’s silent comment.

“I dare you to try.”

No cares, no fears for his actions. He gets a thrill out of our hate towards him. Everything about Fallan would make you think he has no respect for his role in our society.

“You’re close with her twin, right?” Josh silently whispers after a few long moments of pouting. His eyes are on Reagan, who is too focused on her painting to help me out of this situation.

“Yes…. Why?”

“He plays a role in determining who gets the next spot with the school's Student Advocates. I wouldn't mind having that title under my belt to appease my father and the Council when it comes time for my Judgment Day.”

I can't stop the laughter from leaving me.

“You seem to forget how much I hate you,” I snap, pulling back to my painting.

My stroke drags across the canvas at the feeling of his nails digging into my thigh. His hand encloses the skin, clamping down like the jaws of a bear trap. He watches me with no humor in his eyes. I can't move away from him without his nails leaving marks up my thigh. Without turning around, I know I am not the only one watching this scene unfold. Fallan silently watches, observing the power Josh tries to exert over me.

“You seem to forget you owe me,” Josh whispers.

My mind races back to that night. The night I try so hard to shove away from my mind. I see the Untouchable's cold expression. Several odd moments transpiring that night before he hit the pavement. Many silent seconds of staring over the edge of that roof. Many more seconds pleading for Josh to leave me out of the incident report. It all comes rushing back. Even now, the thought of that night turns my stomach.

“Talk to Max. I wasn’t giving you an option.”

The bell rings and Josh pulls away his grasp on my leg from beneath the desk. Casually, he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking away as if he didn’t just threaten me like he does anyone who has something he needs. Raegan finally pulls her gaze away from her work, showing me the vibrant canvas. I try to force a smile.

Students begin to file out of the room, leaving a flustered Mrs. Auburn a mess she has no interest in cleaning up. I linger behind, wincing at the dull pain in my leg. Raegan decides to stay with me, even organizing the canvases against the nearest wall. I half expect Fallan to acknowledge what he had seen from behind me as he walks by. Instead, he tosses his canvas under the sink, letting it land face down and away from prying eyes. Delicately, Fallan washes his brushes, putting them aside for another use, far away from the other supplies. Like a knife cutting skin, his eyes finally land on me. They’re a deep blue like an angry, ever-looming sea. His jaw is clenched.

Hate is the only thing that lingers in his gaze. Hate for me, hate for this school, and hate for the society his kind does not fit into. At that moment, that look was worse than any pain Josh could inflict on me. At least I know why Josh hates me. Not knowing why Fallan does is a considerably scarier feeling.

Chapter four

Kaiden

Studentsswarmoneanotherin sweaty groups of old gray tees and black shorts. Various blue mats coat the floor, ensuring none of the concrete beneath is exposed. The shirts used for Defense Class are too big for me. Despite Max being a year younger, his body is considerably more filled out than mine regarding mass. Even though I’m tall, the others in class would think he was in his final year, not the other way around.

The girls in the class stay pressed against the wall, avoiding any physical activity as best they can. The sound of student’s blades clattering together dies down with each shout from the teacher about “form” and “precision.”

My blade feels heavy in my hand. It’s an intense weapon that I still haven’t gotten used to. Students begin designing their own blades during the first two years at the Academy and, after it’s forged, we learn how to defend ourselves against Shifters during our last four years. Although extremely unlikely, the possibility of them making it past the ward and our military is something many still fear. I think that's why parents advocated for this class in the first place. It's a way to prepare everyone for a scenario none have seen happen yet. Years are wasted crafting and building silver blades to penetrate creatures no one has seen for eons.

The chips behind the ears of those wielding their blades blink green, linking each weapon to its owner. The blades immediately retract and close if not connected to the correct chip. Max’s blade is shorter than mine. His is meant for quick jabs rather than long slashes. He twirls it around in his hand, having a better grasp of the weapon than most.

Like it's nothing, he swings the blade at the practice dummy, slicing its most vital points with ease. His blonde hair is pushed back and out of his face. Sweat marks his shirt beneath his collar, a grin consuming his face.

I ready myself to swing my blade. Max corrects my form, adjusting my arms to get a better hit.

“Your sister kissed me today,” Max blurts. I miss the dummy, nearly slashing my leg in the process. My blade closes, clattering to the floor in a sheath of silver.

“Forest kissed you? Like without you asking?” I question, wiping away my sweat with a drag of my shirt.

Max raises his shoulders. His face is red, indicating this is still a sensitive topic for him.

“One minute, I was babbling on like I normally do around her, and the next, she’s pressed up against me and the Art Wing murals.”

I quickly try to erase the image of my sister in such an intimate setting.

“Did you both... enjoy it?”

The question rolls off my tongue unnaturally.

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