Page 55 of The Order

Josh squirms, trying to grab my sides again, but his blood obscures his vision.

“Stay down,”I whisper silently in my mind, feeling a flood of energy pass over me.

His hands drop to the mat, pressing down firmly in place. I watch his eyes widen as he struggles to move. He looks perplexed, as I straddle his defenseless body. Slowly, the Officials move their hands away from their devices, going back to monitoring the rest of the room as if they weren't ready to drag me away from him. I hear the loud yells of students beginning to count down for us. Josh remains still, watching my jewelry dangle between us.

Turning to look at the crowd, I watch Fallan’s back move farther away from the group, leaving Valerie behind so she can watch the scene in front of her.

“If I go for her necklace…”Josh’s voice echoes in my head. It sounds distant; quieter than usual.

I turn to look at him, watching his fingers wiggle as he continues to struggle to move in the position I have him in.

“Your hands aren’t getting anywhere near my neck, you coward,” I whisper next to his ear, hearing the final countdown completed. Josh looks petrified by my response, kicking out and away once I move off of him.

He grasps his chest, looking at me like I’m some sort of monster as his friends help him back to his feet. I wipe his blood from my hands on the top of my compression shirt. His friends begin to tease him for being defeated by a girl. He doesn’t engage with any of them. Instead, he shoves them away, lowering his head out of frustration before moving away from the crowd. I look again for Fallan, watching him scan the room one last time before slipping away. A few Untouchables begin cheering at me, joining me on the mat. They seem content that someone was finally able to take Josh on and actually win. Something they’ve wanted to do for a long time, apparently. I think we agree there. The few Officials watching over the class look amused, some more than others.

“Looks like Markswood has competition,” our teacher bellows, as the painful cuts from Josh's nails finally begin to register. I feel drained, the start of a headache forming at the sudden feeling of adrenaline leaving my system.

I shove past the crowd that’s already chanting on the next pair of students on the mat. It only took a few seconds to find myself moving closer to the doors Fallan had managed to slip through to get out of class unnoticed. I listen to the crowd get riled up once more, doing my best to avoid the gaze of my peers and the Officials as I realize just how many minutes of class are left. The smell of Josh’s blood fills my nose with hints of copper, drawing my nauseous stomach closer to release as the memories of the night of the movie screening begin to resurface. I do my best to shove them back, hitting my shoulder into the door and stumbling into the empty hallway.

Fallan continues walking away from me, burying his hands in his pockets as he weaves closer to what I can only assume is the art room. He’d been watching that whole time, looking unamused every passing second of the fight. I continue forward, forcing my clean shirt over my body, not bothering to remove the dirty compression shirt. Fallan continues to stride quickly ahead of me.

I turn the corner down the art corridor, watching his body disappear behind the colorfully painted art room door. I don’t think he’s realized yet that I've followed him. I jog forward, ready to confront him about why he even decided to talk to me today in the first place.

My steps falter as I see two Officials working their way closer from the other end of the hallway, twirling Re-Regulation devices as they look forward.

I turn, noticing their attention is focused in my direction but expect them to pass me on their way to deal with some Unfortunate student that must be nearby.

But they aren't heading toward an Unfortunate.

They’re heading straight towardme.

Chapter eighteen

Forest

Itrytocontinuemywalk toward the art room, keeping my head down, watching my feet, hoping more than anything they will look past me and keep walking. They both move past the art room, where Fallan is concealed behind the door. I watch his eyes pass over the men’s devices, only widening momentarily as we finally make eye contact. He presses his hand to his chest, signaling me to breathe once he realizes who the two men are targeting. I take his advice and slowly allow the first full breath of air to enter my lungs as I ready myself to move past the Officials. Taking another deep breath, I feel them brush past me.

I’m almost in the clear.

A firm hand grasps my arm, stopping me from moving any farther. I pause where I stand, turning my head away from Fallan. I try to narrow my eyes at him, hoping he takes the signal to move out of the doorway before they stop him too.

One of the men is ready to turn around at my gesture. Quickly, I grab his free hand, stopping him from being able to turn, giving Fallan a chance to conceal himself more thoroughly. Fallan looks confused as to why I’d help him. There’s no way for me to tell him I need a witness for whatever is about to happen.

“Is something wrong, sir?” I question, motioning my eyes to the man gripping my arm as harshly as Josh had that day in art class. His nails dig into my skin, making my eyes flood with tears.

“You’re not in uniform, Ms. Blackburn,” the man says, motioning to my overly baggy clothes I hadn’t changed out of yet. I recognize his voice. He’s the one who inputs the code for all of our chips on the night of the screening.

“I wasn’t feeling too good, so I decided to leave class early,” I admit, trying to sound as convincing as possible given the men’s already confrontational demeanors. Fallan watches silently, gripping the edge of the doorway with a tense hand.

“May I ask why you felt the need to grab me so aggressively?” I question, pulling my arm back toward me, allowing myself to step away from the man, only to be met with the body of another Official now closing in behind me. I hold my arm to my body, feeling the sweat collect on my forehead with each stolen glance at the pistol attached to the Official’s sides.

“Pardon me, miss, sometimes I don't know my own strength. People get hurt without me meaning for them to,” the man says, his tone making my blood run cold.

“Well, I still need to change, so if you'll excuse me-” I begin, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from them as possible.

“Why were you and your brother snooping around the grounds this morning?” the man questions, yanking me back by the collar of my shirt.

So, this is why they came for me.

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