There were so many different things in front of me; I didn’t grasp onto any. They all looked so dull, so simple, so predictable, like life would start with one of them.

“Choose.” She said again, more pressing this time.

“I don’t want to.” I spoke my mind; surely it wasn’t as dangerous as they told me, or else I would be blasted by laser now. “None of them look interesting.”

“Think of something you like to do.” In her eyes there was more than wariness; there was something wiser, and therefore, more dangerous. She glared at me, hard, for a long time. “Think of your hobbies. What do you do to kill time?”

I don’t kill time, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. That felt like going too far. So I just reached out for the pencil, where it was at the edge of the table. It was plain and simple like the rest of the things, like the only process it had been through was being shaped and hollowed, then the lead was put in. Some of the splinters in it were rough, but I held it tight beside my leg.

“Good.” She remarked, raising her eyebrows with no certain emotion. “Go through that door on the left.”

Those doors, along the far wall… Maybe they weren’t there before, maybe they were. I read somewhere that our brains would literally turn a blind eye to things we didn’t want to notice. Like doors. Of course I didn’t want to notice doors… I didn’t want to leave this safe place. I wouldn’t call it home, but it was the safest haven I ever had for a long time, and giving up, leaving, walking through doors would be the last things I would ever do, living here.

But I wasn’t living here any more, and those things were going to be the last things I would do. The baggage felt heavier than before as I lifted it off the ground beside my feet, the black, tough material rubbed my hand like it was for the army, and the pencil in my other hand.

The door was a dull black colour, one that I liked, one that symbolised the safe things in my life. Not that I really had a life, but that wasn’t the point. It opened automatically as I stepped right in front of it, and for a moment when it was sliding open slowly I wondered about the other doors, where they led to- the military? Government Work? Sports fields? Training rooms? Medical centres?

Behind me there was no sound. I turned my head around briefly and saw that the woman was looking at me with her cold, stern eyes. Probably only one chooser could be allowed in the room at a time, and she was waiting me to get out and be done with it. I saw that on the table with the objects on it, a pencil that looked almost the same to mine was put in the same place.

I was already forgotten, replaced. But that wasn’t the reason, or the excuse, for myself to stay behind.

A long corridor stretched ahead. I glanced at her one last time, her expression unreadable and her eyes boring into mine, and I stepped across the door. It closed behind me, so quickly, but I had no doubt that it was the same speed it took to open.

The cold, metallic-looking corridor was lit from above, by big panels of unending white lights. The walls were grey and they almost reflected me as I hurried past. Under my feet, surprisingly, was carpet. Maroon or crimson, but definitely a bloody shade of red.

Occasionally there would be a way branching to the left or right, or some of them even descending as stairs into the corridor I was walking in. No-one appeared as I kept on walking, hurried for no reason.

My bag didn’t feel as heavy and my footsteps didn’t echo at the least; maybe it was because of the carpet, but what I was wishing for was the short length of the corridor itself.

I was right. Very soon I could see the end of the corridor, which was represented as a set of double black doors. They might be the very last things I would see, resembling my old life.

Again they slid, but to both sides, as I walked up to them. In front of me was a medium-sized room with wooden benches around the walls, most of them covered in various bags, some attended to and some of them with people sitting beside and looked after, others vacant.

None of them looked too old or young for my age. My eyes searched around, not sure about what to do when I finally spotted one familiar face.

“Samuel.” I said, not too loud so others wouldn’t stare at me; they did anyway, since I was the  newest guy.

He looked up. Now you must understand that being around Samuel wasn’t an easy thing. Ladies and pretend-to-be-ladies would surround him all day, literally, and do all their girly stuff. I was never a big fan of being surrounded.

And then there was a reason for those ladies to be around him. He was rich. He was relatively smart. Oh, so not just one reason. A lot of reasons. He had soft, cat-like fine light brown hair, he had beautiful electrifying hazel eyes, he had a dazzling smile and a small dimple on the left cheek when he smiled, and an appalling attitude, and everything else you could name.

And of course, that was why I never knew him that well.

“Hey.” He said, looking up from a book, and sounded relieved. “I thought no-one from Galinton would come. Honestly.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I looked around. Most of the people in the room ignored us after I settled with an acquaintance, but a group of five or so lured around the far corner and eyed us casually, an occasional snickering accompanying the looks. “Wellingtons. Urgh.”

Samuel sighed, “I know, right. What talent do they have? They should’ve chosen the chain-saws or something.”

I laughed; it wasn’t something I thought I would ever do if I talked to him. In fact, the only thing I thought I would do was nod to everything he said and fake smile. “Or the butcher knives.”

“Yeah, and the butcher knives.” He agreed, then stole a glance at the Wellington gang. “What did you choose?”

“Dah pencil.” I shrugged. “What about you?”

“Dah oil-painting blade.” He said, his index finger moving in to put the bookmark deepest into the book so it stuck, then looked up and threw the book onto the top of his bag. It was blue and a double-shoulder one. “Nice choice. Do you draw?”

“Just to kill time.” I juggled the words on my tongue and decided to try them out. Or maybe just to use the word kill. Just then a slightly older-looking man walked into the room, and it soon fell from quiet to silent.

“Who just came in and hadn’t seen me?” He asked. His hair was a dark shade of red or natural blue (Yes, natural blue is almost black, but I can feel it.), almost black, like metallic paint, and a faint white scar slashed slantly through his right cheek all the way under his mouth, disappearing at the jaw. “Come out and follow me. Leave your bags here.”

Slowly around the room, one of the Wellington population walked up. Seeing the boldest people appearing, I followed as second, and Samuel nodded and smiled. I wasn’t quite sure what was the exact meaning behind it- we had never known each other well except for the similarities in our appearances, the utter difference in personalities, the same suburb where we came from, and each other’s names.

The man- boy- whatever, left the room and the Wellington guy followed him first. I tried to stay in the illusion of safety and a couple of others trailed behind me, shuffling their steps.

We were led into a smaller room. It was only lit by four fluorescent white lights above our heads, and it was empty except for us. There was nothing we could look out, like a window, and the only way out- I presumed, if there was no secret exits- was the door where we came in.

“My name is Furoraker,” The dark-haired man/boy said. His voice didn’t sound as hoarse before, but the stillness of the air in the room was heavy and stuffed, although not at all hot. Our breaths felt like steam, but I couldn’t see any. “And lucky you, I will be your instructor for this process into the VAH, which stands for Visual Arts Headquarters. And that’s if you make it.”

Wellington guy grinned like an idiot. I just assumed he was. One of the darker-skinned girl smiled, baring the two front teeth. She was small in size and her fuzzy hair was in a bun behind her head, no extra hair in her face. That was the kind of person who would be intimidating, not grinning idiots. Literally.

That thought somehow made me feel better, but Furoaker kept on talking after the pause. “Today you will be doing nothing special, however I will be monitoring you. If this was in the Military Headquarters, you will be welcomed to spot the cameras and break them, but no.”

“Did you come from MH?” Wellington guy asked.

“I grew up in an environment similar.” Furoraker shrugged, to my surprised and perhaps everyone else’s and answered the question. Then for a dramatic effect he tilted his head down a bit and said, “Wellington.”

“I think he’s cool.” Samuel said casually as we walked into the dormitory, “Furoraker, I mean. His name sounds cool. Like a tough nickname or something.”

Is this his attempt at starting a conversation? “Yeah.” I only said, since even raking my brain I couldn’t find something else to say. Then I walked around to check out all the bunk beds, finally settling one next to the ones that sat against the wall. Reason for that being, one, I didn’t like walls that much, and two, it’ll be safe enough since it could be called a “corner of the room”.

Just then one of Mr. Wellington’s friend pushed me and the force made me sat onto the one right beside the wall. “I like this one.” He said to his friends like nothing happened, and glanced back at me. “So you don’t get it, Galinton.”

He spitted the word like it was a disgrace. Samuel wanted to say something, assumedly something rich and intimidating, but I dragged at his sleeve, and his shoulders slumped.

“I’ll be above you.” He threw his bag over my head and it landed on the bare mattress with a thump. I only nodded with the smallest motion possible, thinking about the tough days ahead with a Wellington across the bed from me, when Samuel took his foot off the ladder and leaned toward me.

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m a brat.” He said, searching something in my eyes, and I meant eyes, as his went back and forth between mine they looked like they were shaking. I found it strange when people do that but, oh, I don’t know, maybe I did it too, unconsciously.

“I don’t.” I only said, leaning back a bit. His mint breath was getting in my face, quite a good smell that I was unfamiliar with.

“Okay. ‘Cause we have no-one.” He closed the conversation easily and went up onto his bed, then a few seconds afterward two shoes flied down and landed beside my legs. I put them together under my bed.

The Wellingtons sneered among themselves somewhere.

’Cause we have no-one.

He said that in such a sure tone I believed him. We knew what we were talking about- trust no-one, rely on ourselves, respect the intelligent, give time and patience to those that have a chance, and pay respect to those that don’t, learn things in one’s own way.

Our principals, our roots, from Galinton.

After the dormitory bed-choosing and unpacking, we had about one hour of free time. The second the Wellingtons heard this, they ran off in an instant, jumping and hooting around the grounds, and I laid on my back on my made bed, listening to the fainting noise.

“Kai,” Sam jumped off the second-last step of the ladder, “I’ll walk around.”

“Okay.” I said, looking at him. From where I was, it felt like looking down. “Don’t get bashed.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He smiled, and the room was suddenly all quiet, except for a few. There was about fifteen to twenty choosers here this year. Not bad for Visual Arts, I guess.

Being tired from what happened earlier today, I closed my eyes and gave away my thoughts to freedom. The studies I had done on the other suburbs…

Wellingtons weren’t so bad, but maybe these were a bad bunch. From what I had read, they were supposed to be willing to protect the weak, to be strong themselves, to value the elders and the survivors and those who could compete with them, to be willing to question authority and to help it with improvement of self, and act out of bravery.

Verallins were a bit like us. They were to value the opinion of those that were better and smarter than them, and such, become better person. But they wouldn’t follow rules blindly, and would comprehend and act rules with their own understanding of them- so they were rather free and a bit outlaw-looking. Usually they didn’t bunch up, or so I’d read. But in this place as new-comers, who knew.

I didn’t know I would end up with Samuel.

Alikens respected each other but often kept a safe distance. They were like people in cold armours, protecting themselves using politeness and etiquettes. Much about what they did was concerning the society as a whole and the upper-class, but usually were not part of the upper-class themselves.

Serteyns looked at the world most differently; they thought everyone was good and that they should trust everyone- oh my gosh, how could we have so much different people actually living on not so big a land- and that the world was made from flowers and honey and birds would sing everyday, and that they should help whoever was in need and if they do that, the world would be an even better place to live in.

That sounds like a cult.

After about ten or fifteen minutes of nap I finally chose to get up and walk around a bit. Right after I opened the dormitory door Samuel came up to me.

“Let me show you around.” He grabbed my wrist and didn’t leave any gaps for me to protest; if he did I would, but maybe rich people were smarter than what I thought. “This way is the canteen.”

It was a long walkway right outside, and to the left and right stood identical buildings, connected by the almost same-looking walkway we were in. In front where we could see out the wide panels of windows was a courtyard sort of thing with various plants and flowers and bizarre and random-looking objects in it. That must be the “Visual” part.

Canteen was beside our dormitory. On the way in I didn’t really see it. Inside the windows I briefly looked through were chairs and tables not exactly organised into any fashion, and a few ordering windows- that was me assuming- at the far side.

“In about an hour or so,” Samuel said as he dragged me along, walking in front of me, “We’re having dinner. So I’ve heard.”

“Where you heard it from?” I asked unconsciously, then realising my mistake; I thought it could have well been one. Here it wasn’t Galinton any more, and people would think that we were not trusting and, therefore, not trustworthy, and wouldn’t talk to us. Who knew what they were going to do to get the very best ones out of us.

Samuel only looked at me and somehow he saw those thoughts through my eyes, my face. “The Wellingtons.” He answered softly, and I understood why those ladies liked him; I always did. Those people like him deserved everything in the world and people would give him everything in the world and everything in the world would be given to him happily, willingly. “C’mon. They’re not so bad once you’ve talked to them.”

On the way to wherever we were going, Samuel pointed other things out; the main office, the compact offices, the operation centres, the art studios. He had let go of me then. I wouldn’t have been lost if I walked away from him, either; it was just a straight-on walkway all the way down, and the buildings on our right. Opposite the weird courtyard, another line of buildings faced us like a giant mirror.

After about ten, fifteen blocks we reached the end. It opened up to a wider, flatter ground with absolutely nothing but grass on it, and trees that seemed unending at the edges. A few Alikens were sitting in the shade under the trees and two were near edge of the walkway, hanging their legs down from the platform, where there was a set of stairs descending down to the ground.

“They call this the Nature. It’s probably forest all the way, Furoraker said.” Samuel walked off the stairs and I followed behind. One of the Wellingtons looked our way, and he turned back to the rest. Then he walked over. “That’s Tristan.”

Well, Tristan, headed our way and soon he was standing at a lower step. “Get up.” He gestured with his chin, which had a faint scar stretching across it. “I don’t like to sit in the sun.”

We got up and sat down with our backs against one of the buildings instead.

“Now, new-comer, what’s your name?” He asked when we had all settled down, me and Samuel sitting in front of him. He was in the middle of the walkway like he owned the place, but the way he talked… It was curious to hear, the way a Wellington could bend themselves to the shape of their surroundings. Now he was almost like a Galinton, with the cautious movements. I wondered whether they were unconscious, the copying and all.

“Merkaileves.” I said, “But you can call me Kai. Like everyone else.”

He raised his eyebrows. True, not everyday one would hear about an unusual name like mine. I was used to the questions, but he didn’t ask any, just continued on. “I’m nice enough to give you an overview about this place, since my older brother used to work as an instructor.”

I didn’t ask any questions.

“Gosh,” He smiled and looked down very quickly and up again. “It’s so hard to talk to you Galintons. I have to say everything you want to ask and answer stuff like we’re playing one-sided knock-knocks.”

“What’s a knock-knock?” I asked, just to prove that I actually would ask questions, but he just laughed more. “You don’t know what a knock-knock is?”

Samuel turned his head away. Tristan tried to put on a straight face again. He had a good-looking face, and in Wellington ladies would probably- oh, if they had ladies in the first place- crowd over him. Like a Wellington-version Samuel.

“It’s a type of joke. We’ll have to teach you that later.” He said, then the smug went off his face a little. Actually, little by little, then they were all gone. “Now we’re talking serious stuff here. I don’t think I need you to say that you’re all ears.”

I waited.

“So we’re in for two weeks, which is fourteen days. They’re going to pull tests on us and gradually add up the pressure so we would have to bundle up, which is why I’m talking to you in the first place.” He first stated, but the grim expression didn’t look like a joke. “My friends don’t know how serious the situation is, even though I’ve already told them. Looks like they have to learn it the hard way.

“Anyway, so, when there’s pressure and you’re working with people you don’t know well and- gosh, let me use a Galinton word here- trust, there’ll be problems. You’ll be the first one out if you don’t join others and,” He waved at Samuel, not unkindly, “This kid here had already solved half your problem for you. As for the rest, we will have to learn skills off each other. This is going to test the Alikens, since they don’t copy off each other’s papers as much as you do. And then-”

“Tristan!” The Wellington who got my bed yelled out, “You coming to assembly?”

“Yeah.” He said, quite loud, then turned to us. “Time to go. I’ll tell you more later. Actually, which bunk bed you’re in?”

“The one against the wall.” I said.

“That’s right, crammed up by Cal. I’ll see you later.” He said with a smile, then stood up and quickly walked away to join his friends without a good-bye. Not that I expected one.

Dinner was good enough. We lined up by the windows and the good smell of food made my stomach rumble. Samuel was lined up in another cue, just behind the Wellingtons, with Tristan immediately in front of him. They were chatting in a small voice, inaudible under the cover of the crowded canteen.

There were more than just us, the new-comers, but many other people too. Some of the just rushed in and bought a lunch-box in a set at one of the further windows and ran off. Some of them came in and went up the back, through the door that had nothing written on it except for a big graffiti tree. Whoever did that must have taken a lot of time.

I chose my meal which was simply chicken noodles and a few still wobbly eggs. A table next to the tree door was one of the only empty tables so I sat down alone. The noodles were steaming in my face, and my stomach growled louder.

Suddenly I wasn’t alone any more, but joined by a loud group of Wellingtons. Tristan sat opposite me and Sam next to me, and I was again in a corner.

“Guys, this is Kai. He has a full name but it’s so freaking long I don’t bother to remember.” Tristan said to the rest of the group, and I received various greetings from “Hey Kai” to “Hello peanut”.

“As I have repeatedly told you,” Tristan said and forced them to be relatively quiet, and it was then when I realised that even among a group of arrogant, loud Wellingtons, it was easy to spot that Tristan was, if not a leader, at least one of the leaders. “Be nice. This isn’t a game. We need all the help we got, and if you don’t listen and learn fast, you’re gonna end up worse-looking than anyone in the Hunger Games.”

Samuel seemed to know what they were talking about; maybe it was a rich person’s thing, but I had no idea. “What’s the Hunger Games?”

“Movies and books.” Tristan said, over the small snickers and food-eating noises created by his friends. “People in it often end up looking very bad. It’s good stuff, though.”

As I ate, the Wellingtons melt into a small chatter. Was that intentional copying, too, to be not as loud as they were often described to be, or was it done unnoticed? When I was half-way through my noodles and had eaten all the eggs, Tristan said something out of the ordinary chatter again. “Hey guys, Kai doesn’t know what a knock-knock joke is.”

The response varied from “Are you serious?” to “Oh, my, gosh!” to a long, rhyming process of words. It didn’t sound like a poem but there were words repeated.

Is a knock-knock joke like a poem?

Of course, I didn’t ask.

That night as we were all preparing our things to take a shower over the building opposite the courtyard and talking and stuff, I learned two things. One was that knock-knock was a type of jokes which can be quite funny if they were good, as I was fed up with them.

Second was that, despite all the loud noises and laughters they made, Wellingtons were actually quite nice, once you got to know them.

“Hey Kai,” The guy who was called Cal, turned to me and slung his arm over half on Samuel’s bed and leaned down, “You want your spot back?”

I was going to say, Nah, it’s okay, when the Wellington principles flashed in my head.

Question authority.

I didn’t know what they thought of themselves in the relationship with me, but if I didn’t know what a knock-knock joke or the Hunger Games were, it wouldn’t be too high. Neither did I know whether that made them feel better over me, but I was willing to give it a shot.

“Yeah, sure.” I said.

During the early night, the fans were on. Samuel swapped place so that he was next to me, by the wall. Furoraker had came by after light-out and said that we had to be up by seven tomorrow morning for “stuff we have to do”, then turned the fans off. He left us with endless Aliken talk, Serteyn laughter and Verallin chatter, and of course, not-so-quiet Wellingtons.

“Kai, are you asleep?” Samuel said at a point, softly like he was going to sleep himself.

“No way.” I answered. It was quite easy to follow the Wellingtons’ talk. They wouldn’t all talk at once, and if people from other suburbs joined their conversation, they would happily accept just anyone, if they could handle the topics. “I’m listening to them.”

“Yeah.” He curled up, facing my way, like a baby. I read somewhere that babies didn’t like facing walls, only insecure-feeling women. “Of course.”

There was a pause of silence passing between us, and among the Wellingtons as Cal-whose bed was above me- started to tell a ghost story.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked, seeing that there was no work to be done but ask the unasked. We couldn’t be like Alikens; in fact, what the Wellingtons were doing right now was trying to bunch everyone up well before our challenges arrive. If what Tristan said was true, then we were now questioning authority, and cheating, in a way, out of the survival.

“Mmm-hmm.” Samuel hummed.

“Two weeks.” I said, “And did Tristan tell you all about-”

“Hey guys!” Tristan appeared out of nowhere, “Which one’s Kai?”

“I’m here.” I said.

“I thought you were by the wall.” He sounded like he was still smiling, but his back was to the yellow light in the walkway, and that was through the curtains, so I couldn’t quite see. “Yeah, I swapped with Cal again.” I said.

“Shoo, shoo.” He waved with his hands, like he was chasing away a bird, and for a moment there I had no idea what he was doing, until he said, “Move over.”

So I squashed further. He sat down on my bed comfortably, and kicked his shoes off and leaned on the board on the other side of the bed, where it was closer to the walkway. I sat up and bundled the blankets around my legs. “I’m here to tell you more about the tests, so listen well.” He smiled.

At this point, sleepless Samuel sat up too. The ghost story was reaching (one of) the climaxes, and many held their breath, and our talking seemed to be abrupting. None of the listeners cared, though, as they all pricked up their ears toward Cal, who was pausing for a dramatic moment.

“Where was I up to?” Tristan asked, and before I could tell him he smashed his hand with a fist. “Ah, that’s right. Alikens out. So, after that, there will be a lot of work about helping others and stuff. And-”

“With that it’s a double check with Galintons and test for Wellingtons.” I added, because I wanted to ask a question. “Why do we get two but you only get one? And how do you know that anyway? Isn’t this cheating?”

Tristan froze. His feet were shuffling the bedsheets as he talked before, but now it was just stone silence from the other side now. The situation was made more awkward when the ghost story listeners screamed of fright.

“We either cheat, or hell knows where we end up.” He leaned forward, finally after what seemed like ages, and I could see his eyes. “We have the advantage that Furoraker might turn a blind eye on us because we’re Wellingtons, and he’s a Wellington.”

I leaned forward then, not knowing nor sure. “Is? But he left, didn’t he? He’s now one of the Headquarter now.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Tristan looked down, and again his feet froze. “They’re free to do whatever they want. They can ask leave for holidays. It’s easy in here, since my brother sailed through everything. He taught me how to organise people.”

I waited; again, it was in my blood and root and I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t bring myself to ask an obvious question to make him keep talking. I’m a Galinton; I will always be.

“We are not just loud and stupid people, Merkaileves. We have brains. And most of us don’t bother to use them. But they’re big enough to fit so many things in, no-one needs to save up that space.” He smiled, and I almost shuddered by the cruel beauty, forced to bow down to the beauty of nature, someone like him. “And with people like you who can keep your head cool, we are bound not to just survive, but win this.”

Later that night I thought it was one o’clock, but when I lit up my watch it read two. Many were asleep, but Samuel kept shuffling left and right I knew well that he wasn’t.

“I don’t feel like sleeping.” He finally sat up and flip the blankets away in a single motion. “Let’s get out.”

“What? Where?” I found my shoes and stood on the edge, snuggling my feet in. “We don’t even know whether we’re allowed out or not.”

He was already down the aisle to the door, so I followed him out. Instead of going anywhere at all he sat down against the wall, where it ended as a wall and started as rows of windows. I sat beside him.

“It’s just a small act of rebellion. Everyone needs one of them sometimes.” He was sitting there in the chill mid-night air, and I felt so awake by the cold breeze. “I think there’s something… Up with you.”

I wondered what could be possibly up with me, to the point that he would notice.

“Hey,” I protested, “We’re not best buds. I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded. “I feel like I don’t belong in Galinton sometimes. Maybe Serteyn.”

I looked sideways at him. “Are you serious?”

“Why would you walk to me in the first place? You recognised my face. Why would I talk to you in the first place? I recognised your face. But what kept us talking was that I trusted you and I didn’t think you’ll stab me in the back. That was a small trust, easy to do, but it was there.” He shrugged, trying to make it sound light, but it didn’t. “I still think something’s up with you, though.”

“Not wrong?” I asked, out of pure boredom and interest. “Just up?”

“Yeah, just up.” He confirmed. “Is it about Tristan?”

I considered whether to answer that question at all, or maybe I could walk away. Or I could answer it, say no or say yes, and then walk away. Or I could-

“It is, isn’t it?” Samuel’s voice was always calm, but now it was wobbling a bit, like he was singing high notes. “He’s a bit like me, don’t you think?”

There was amazement, and it was somehow showing on my face, as when he turned his head to look at me he smiled. “Yes.” I managed to say, but avoided more eye-contact. “The ladies magnet.”

“Is that what you think of me?” His eyes widened and looked almost funny, like one of those cartoon characters you just laugh at for no reason. “A ladies-?”

“Kai, Samuel, you should be asleep. Inside.” Furoraker came out of nowhere and said, “Shouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir.” Samuel said, “Of course, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir’.” Furoraker said, scrunching up his nose. “Eww. I’m only a couple of years older than you. But you should be asleep.”

I talked; I probably shouldn’t have. New at all these talk thing, I still hadn’t had a chance to learn when to and when not to talk in a hard way, or constructive way. “I can’t.”

“Well, you’ll need it, so if I have to stick you in bed with glue and whack your head, I would.” He demanded, and I had to stand up and open the door and walk in and pull my feet out of my shoes and lay down and get tucked in by Furoraker.

I let him.

He felt like something… Odd. For a Wellington. Or maybe I was just being weird- this day was like Alice in Wonderland, except for the bit where everyone thought I was mute when we were sitting at the dinner table.

“Good night.” Furoraker leaned down to kiss my forehead. The only thing my helpful mind processed was, He smells like a rose bush.

He ignored Samuel almost instantly after we walked into the dormitory again.

“What was that, your long-lost sweet boyfriend?” Samuel asked. He sounded like he was joking, but you wouldn’t say that kind of thing if you didn’t mean them, at least a little.

“No.” I said, short and sharp, because I was confused myself. “I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Of course it was.” He said it slowly, then exhaled. “Ah. Gosh. Gotta get some sleep… Damn, we only have four and a half hour’s sleep.”

“Night.” I said, but laid awake for some time. Once the Wellington who was grinning in during Furoraker’s first talk turned to me and said, “I’m not gonna be like Tristan and be like a Serteyn to all of youse.”

Reighter- that was his name- was on the other side of me, and I didn’t even bother to turn my head to reply.

“I’m not either.” I said.

“Wake up wake up wake up wake up.” Furoraker’s voice was the first thing I heard in the morning; I must had been too tired to wake myself up and to hear the birds sing. He didn’t even let me to snooze a little, as he reached my bed and walked in and leaned down and whispered right beside my ear. “Good morning, princess.”

I struggled to open my eyes, expecting to see a very angry, frowning, annoyed face, but instead I saw a grinning, happy face, almost idiotic.

Samuel stared; I could feel his gaze boring into my face.

On the other side of my bed, Reighter hooted and yelled. Furoraker straightened up a little and looked down at him. “Training begins at quarter to. Make sure you have breakfast first, though.”

I sat up once he had left the dormitory, still in the morning daze, when Tristan walked up to me, fully-dressed. “Princess? Is that how close you are?”

“I don’t know.” I said, shrugging, then again thought about the Wellington principles. “He’s nice, though.”

Something flashed in his eyes, maybe it was evil, maybe something else, but he just inhaled and raised his voice. “First one, Merkaileves!”

Suddenly all the Wellingtons were hooting and applauding, and among the noise Reighter laughed and yelled, “I said so!”

Samuel looked at me blankly as he put some socks on.

I looked at him blankly as I wasn’t doing anything else.

“Let’s go. It’s five past already.” He said.

“Okay.” I answered.

With a cup which somehow miraculously contained a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste and a face towel I walked into the bathroom. It was on the other side of the creepy arty courtyard. Although I was here the night before, the fuzzy memories and relatively dim yellow light didn’t make me remember well.

It was a big space designed for at least ten people, toilet stalls on one side and shower stalls on the other. Just in front of me when I walked in was a row of mirrors and washing basins, with an additional platform just in front of the mirror where we could temporarily put our stuff, and as this was an unisex bathroom, girls could use up a lot of space.

Just saying.

I set my cup in front and started working on trying to pull the towel out; it was stuck in there firmly. I didn’t realise that it was that tight when I packed. Oh, whatever.

“You need a hand there?” Samuel looked at me and asked through his mouthful of foam.

“Yeah, probably.” I past it to him. The toothbrush dangled from his cheek dangerously as he gently tucked at the edges of the towel and it fell right out. He past it back to me and caught the toothbrush right on time.

“Wow.” I filled my cup with water. “How did you do that?”

He spit the foam out, and some of it dribbled down his chin and made him look like junior Santa. “Do what, getting that towel or catching the toothbrush?”

“The towel. How did you find the edges?” It was put onto the platform, still in it’s wrinkled form, and since it was a morning when I put it in it wasn’t completely dry, the towel still had a bit of a cup shape. It made me smile.

“The trick is,” He washed his mouth, then continued. “That you poke at it first. Then the edges pop up.”

I was still brushing when Samuel walked into one of the bathroom stalls. There wasn’t a line because most people took a shower the evening before. I almost finished washing my face when Tristan and Furoraker both entered behind me, and I saw them with the mirror.

“I heard that you made an impression this morning.” Furoraker said, then with a louder voice he announced, “Another ten minutes and you should be having breakfast!”

“Yeah, he did.” Tristan said and set down his gear beside me, a big, ladies-magnet smile plastered to his face. “I don’t think he even know what it means.”

“Are you guys talking about the random whooping and stuff?” I asked, stuffing the towel in my cup again. “’Cause that was just random.”

Tristan stopped his cleansing. “Oh no, Kai, that was far from random. It was a sign that you are brave, and all the Wellingtons should value you, at least a bit more now. It’s just Reighter to go, actually.”

Furoraker was leaning against the wall, and Samuel walked out with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“And don’t forget to bring the thing you chose yesterday at quarter to. We’re meeting at art room number two, next door on the left.” He added as the announcement, then out of nowhere he started to talk in the small voice again. “I remember when I received the recognition twice, once in Wellington and another one here. When I was choosing.”

Tristan eyed him with raised eyebrows, and the only thing I could think of was a song that lured in the corner of my mind, one that I heard somewhere… Maybe in the mall.

Lust in your eyes… I’m addicted to you...

I shook that thought off. No way.

“Really? That’s nice. I only got one. So far. ’Cause my friends all know, and I don’t think anyone else knows about this.” Tristan remarked, then sighed. “Will I get one here?”

“Probably.” Furoraker said, and looked at my expression and looked down and chuckled. “You have no idea, do you?”

I shook my head with big eyes.

Tristan smiled and turned to Furaker. “Is it my place to tell him?”

“You might as well.”

“Nah. You do it. I’m going to brush and it won’t be pretty.” Tristan shrugged as he filled up his cup with water. Samuel walked up to me, putting his head through the shirt.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He mumbled through the fabric. Furoraker walked out in front of me and I followed, but Samuel was like, “Oh man, I’m stuck.”

“The recognition is where you admit that you like people of your own sex.” Furoraker said.

“Da wuh-?!” I jumped aside and almost fell onto the ground, “Buh ah-!”

Samuel just laughed. “Gosh, you don’t even know?”

I turned to him, and if this was an anime or manga I would have those completely white eyes, like big circles, staring at him. “Buh dah-!”

“It’s not that big a deal, actually. Especially with Wellingtons, since we do like… Those that can compete with us.” Furoraker had one of a hellishly dazzling smile, “And you can’t just say to people that you are who you are. It must come up in a conversation naturally, and the most and the hardest recognition was the one you received- you don’t even know yourself.”

Now they sound like a cult.

“Good morning, rise and shine, new-comers.” Furoraker smiled at me one last time as we stepped into the canteen, “Get some food in your stomach, and we shall be in art room number two by the bathroom at quarter to. Get to work.”

The line wasn’t that long, and I soon got food and sat down with the Wellingtons: Tristan, Cal, Reighter, Querea and Urie.

“Hey! Look who’s here,” Reighter smiled and greeted me, which was a first, and nodded to the rest. “Our first recognised here.”

“I’ll never get one.” Cal shrugged like it wasn’t big deal.

“Why?” I set my plate and started to eat, but my eyes were fixed on Urie, who was sitting opposite me: the long, neat, straight hair, almost shining blue eyes and the pale complexion. He was pretty.

Why is every single Wellington so pretty? That’s not fair.

“I have a girlfriend back home.” Cal smiled and put a spoon near the mouth, and I whipped my head around quickly to look at him. “She’s a beauty.”

Reighter rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right.”

“Oi,” Tristan interrupted, “Work together. That includes respect others.”

“I just don’t think Shana’s hot.” Reighter protested.

With that Cal hurled his head up, “She’s not. She’s smart.”

“I agree with that.” Reighter pouted, and Cal and Tristan sat down.

Samuel soon joined us. For the first time here, I felt like I was respected and treated equally, and that the recognition- whatever it was- really earned me some recognition, without me even meaning to do so. That was just luck.

And what did I say to make the recognition anyway? I tried to recall, but Furoraker called for last warning of time, so I stood up and stacked my plate on top of everyone else’s and went to grab my pencil, which Furoraker reminded us again of.

On the way to the art room, I finally remembered.

He’s nice, though.

The room was the normal size of a classroom, and there were drawings and paintings hung up around the walls, some of them finished and some of them weren’t.

“This is a room about the basics of everything.” Furoraker waved in general. “And there are specialised rooms.”

“Like what?” A friend of the girl from before spoken up. Her name was Penelope and she was from Serteyn, but I only heard people call her Pennie.

“Drawing, painting, those are the basics. Then there’s sculpting and jewelcrafting, engineering and photography.” Furoraker shrugged. “Feel free to look around.”

I was standing next to him with Samuel and the Wellingtons. He turned to us. “Although I personally don’t think photography is worth it.”

“They should be like, another thing.” Tristan agreed, then smiled. “I see no photos of art in this room.”

“Exactly.” Furoraker agreed, then turned to me, his eyes were almost blazing with the bright morning light. They were so light, if one missed it, they would think all that was in his eyes were a dark circle and an iris with no colours on the pupils. “What do you think?”

“Jewelcrafting?” I asked. Then he did something just as bizarre as the things he did before; he wrapped his arms around my waist and murmured.

“Yeah, jewelcrafting. It’s very interesting if you have the talent.” It was quick, a kiss on the temple, then he let go. “Alright, class. Let’s start on the basics.”

Samuel looked like he was slightly troubled. I remembered that he picked an oil-painting blade, and now he was having problems drawing lines with the same pressure, using a pencil.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s a bit… Crooked-looking.” He examined the paper, then kept on scratching. “Once I get the pressure right, I go too slow and the lines aren’t straight.”

I was having no problem at all.

“Good work.” Furoraker’s voice was gone as quick as it came, behind my back.

“What was that about?” Tristan was on the other side of Samuel, and he leaned forward to look at me. “Are you and Furoraker something?”

I unconsciously pressed my lips together. “I really don’t know, okay? I didn’t know about this before.”

Tristan chuckled a bit too loudly, and it went around the room. “What, that being homo is a privilege?”

“Let’s keep the conversation at that and keep up the work.” Furoraker then said, “Has anyone finished filling up the page?”

I raised my hand. He came over and nodded.

“Good. You can moving onto watercolour painting.” He gestured with his chin. “Over there.”

I stood up and got a palette. “What am I supposed to do?”

He stood next to me all of a sudden, filling a container with water. “Fill up a page with as much colours as you can, but they must blend.”

I didn’t think I would be good at this. Gradually everyone stood up around me and got to the next stage. Samuel now looked as if he was at ease, sitting on a hill and looking down at life, and at one stage he even started to hum the Serteyns’ favourite song, “Life is Wonderful”. Some of the Serteyns joined in.

“Shut up.” Reighter said with annoyance on the left side of me. “I hate that song.”

“Everyone hates that song.” I added. If you wouldn’t believe me, just listen to the lyrics.

Life is wonderful/ when you hear the world singing/ waking up everyday/ finding yourself in one piece

Life is beautiful/ when you still have food to eat/ your eyes could see/ every little beauty…

“Really Samuel?” I was almost sweating by now, since my colours were looking like crap on the page. “Really? Do you have to? Oh, or maybe you can help me.”

“Yeah?” He looked at my page, then reached over to my brush. I past it to him.

“Thou shalt stroke, like thus. Too much water. The paper’s gonna be in chunks.” He demonstrated, “See? Dry, and then red, and then orange, and then red again. If it doesn’t work, less water. If it looks strokey, more water. It’s that simple.” Sitting back where he was, Samuel shook his head. “Although I much prefer acrylic or oil.”

I was getting a bit better with the brush now that everything looked normal enough. I wasn’t the first to finish, but when I showed Furoraker my piece of paper he just smiled and took it, saying, “Good enough.”

One wouldn’t realise how much time it took just to paint a page. It took me forty-five minutes.

“Class, by now you should all know where your weaknesses are, if not your strengths.” Furoraker paced the front of the art room. “But really, if you’re here, you should know where your strengths are. Anyway, we now have started on drawing, painting with watercolour, which is about the easiest painting there is, except for finger painting, and we have sculpting and jewelcrafting to go.”

“What about photography?” Shana raised her hand.

“In our own time. You will allowed access to a few rooms at mid next week.” He looked down then up again, and I found that a certain Wellington thing. “All in good time. Now, do you want to take a break, say go and get something to eat, or keep going on sculpting?”

“Can we do oil painting?” Samuel asked.

“If I’m in the room, yes.” He answered.

To my surprise, the votes were even. Maybe I just imagined Serteyns to be laid-backs and slack-offs, but apparently some of them wanted to work.

“Very well. Ty to monitor you if you go outside, but I’m staying in here.” Furoraker said, “Stay seated. Just a moment. I’m gonna make a phone call.”

I stayed in the room, and so did Samuel and the Wellingtons. A few stayed back, too, like the minorities- two Kayians, one Verkberre and two Phitequers.

“Princess,” Reighter called, and apparently he was calling me, “What are you doing?”

“I was just wondering whether we can take a sketch-board and go outside. There’re really weird things in the yard.” I said, trying to sound polite. Furoraker only looked up from the Varkberre’s work and pointed at a stack of sketch-boards in the corner.

“Don’t go too far.” He said.

“Thank you.” I tried not to add the “sir” at the end, since he told us not to call him that, and took a board. Samuel had a few tubes of colours in his hand and had just laid out a giant square of newspapers, about to paint.

“I’ll leave you to that.” I said, and he nodded without looking up.

Earlier I saw Reighter’s drawing, after he finished the lines. Little machineries and robots, electronic devices, killer lasers and the sort. He was scribbling on the desk. Each Wellington took a board and went out the room, sitting down at the edge of the walkway, dangling their legs. I joined them.

“Nice drawing.” I said to Reighter.

“I know. You too.” He squinted and frowned at the same time.

“Why d’you call me ‘princess’?” I asked, after a while.

“That’s what Furoraker said.” He smiled. Tristan was sitting on the other side of me, and on his page were these curled-up lines that seemed to go on forever, like they had life and had gone off the page.

I decided to say what I think. During all these time I was with them, it wasn’t like they bit me because I spoke up. It felt good and… Rebellious. “So you Wellingtons aren’t as aggressive and arrogant as I thought.”

“Of course we’re not.” Reighter squinted again, trying to look at the thing he was drawing more clearly. To my perspective, it was just a random pole, but on his page half of it was peeled off and there were cogs and machines inside. I had to admit that he was pretty cool. “You know what, there’s this Serteyn I once knew, right, and he’s heaps aggressive, I always thought he’s like, swapped at birth or something.”

“Yeah, like the Wellington who did that would love to have a Serteyn baby.” Tristan laughed.

“So what did you think we’re supposed to be like?” Querea asked.

“Like, when I first saw Reighter, I thought his IQ level’s zero.” I smiled as he punched my arm, “No offence, but you were like a grinning idiot.”

He just laughed, and his laughter was loud and crisp, like those of a movie star’s when one was during an interview, when they hear a funny joke. “At least now you know that I grin because I’ve got talent.” He waved his board.

“Does anyone want to do jewelcrafting?” Furoraker came up behind us, although I couldn’t see him, and one of his legs was against my waist, rubbing my shirt. “I’m just about to do a simple demo.”

“Yeah.” I tried to stand up but almost fell off the edge. He came up behind me and grab hold of my upper arm, near the shoulder, where it was soft.

“Oops.” He smiled and it was melting and it shone right into my eyes. “Careful there.”

“I think he’s in love with you.” Tristan did a little finger thing where it went around circles, in the rough direction of Furoraker and me. I rolled my eyes.

“You wish.” I helped him up.

“...And this, is how you hold a piece of metal against a stone without breaking.” He lifted it up for all of us to see. The metal wire was wrapped around the irregular stone like a spiral, and was densest at the bottom and the top.

“That’s pretty.” I exhaled.

“You try. Everyone else can get a piece, too. In the centre table. We’re doing this after the break, which ends in ten minutes, then sculpting, but it’s always good to do a little practise before hand to get into the zone.” He stood up and I sat down in his seat, feeling like something special, seeing the whole room from the front and middle.

But when the wire got into my hand, it didn’t look as graceful as it was when it was in Furoraker’s, and it was just awkward. And it didn’t fit the stone.

“Did you not see what I did?” Furoraker reached from behind and pressed the head of the wire against the stone with his thumb and went along the edge. “Like this.”

“Thank you.” I murmured, and he moved onto the next person.

Somehow- and I swear I didn’t know how- Tristan was sitting on my right after the break. Samuel was on the other side. I turned to him and whispered quietly, so Furoraker, as he was organising people to come in and sit down and not to talk, wouldn’t notice me.

“Why is he sitting next to me?” I asked.

“Thought you might like a bit of eye candy.” He replied.

“No offense, but you’re an eye candy too.” I tried to look angry, but he just laughed.

“Tristan, you heard that? We’re both eye candies.” He leaned forward and said. Tristan smiled and hugged me on the side, rather awkwardly and quickly.

“Eye candy’s hug.” He grinned, and his face was so soft and perfect it looked like a marble sculpture, and my heart did this little flip-a-loop thing, and landed and was like, Ow, my leg.

It was worth it though. And I smiled back. And Samuel hugged me too, and he said, “Eye candy’s hug number two.”

I was just sitting there feeling so happy, but realised that Furoraker was looking at me. I sat up straighter.

“Let’s set the intimacy aside and do some classwork.” He said, looking at the class. Oops, now someone’s angry for no reason. Okay, maybe a bit of reason, but I couldn’t name it. “Everyone get a bit of marble scrap.”

We received stone bricks on our table, in front of us. They were all irregular, like chunks of mold cheese someone had cut the mold out.

“Try to make a cube.” Furoraker simply instructed, and we all got a chisel and hammer, and were set to work. His eyes scanned around the room. “If that’s too simple for you, try a ball.”

“Who the hell can make a ball out of this shit?” Reighter complained; a corner of his brick was already chipped, and he was cursing under his breath.

Tristan looked a bit tense, but he was moving his hands slowly. “Just be careful. You’ll get there eventually, if the whole thing hadn’t break apart first.”

Furoraker came behind us, and I said us because he wasn’t directly behind me. “None of you is going very well. Look at Shana for a demo.” He said, then lightly walked past like he just made a joke and we were all now laughing.

But we weren’t. Shana wasn’t making a ball or a cube; I would say that she was making a mess, but that wasn’t exactly true. It was like a bowl sort of thing. The curved outside was already roughly chiseled out.

Half an hour into this sculpturing, and I was getting nowhere. Samuel had a side of the cube cut out, and so had Tristan and Urie, but Querea’s brick was kind of falling apart, and mine was almost untouched.

“Can’t we do this in clay?” Querea mumbled, “I’m good with clay.”

“Clay gets messy and muddy and looks disgusting after they dry.” Furoraker pointed out, like he had detecting radar, despite the fact that he was sitting at the front of the art room and nowhere near us. We had our back to the walkway windows, and the yard outside. So you could say we were sitting on the left, and right side of Furoraker.

I pouted unconsciously. Usually, back in Galinton, I wouldn’t let half of these emotions leak. But I learned that it was okay to do it here, and no-one would notice, and it was good to let them out. “But this is impossible.”

“It’s not, actually.” As we were the only ones talking in the room, it was pretty easy to hear our conversation. Shana looked up. “I don’t think so anyway.”

Hers was finished; it was a round ball, although the chisel marks could be seen pretty clearly, it was way better than mine. Mine looked like it was just out of the eggshell.

“Long way to go. You can move onto jewelcrafting, Shana. Congratulations.” Furoraker’s voice sounded cold somehow, but I wasn’t so sure. “Just put your ball over there by the corner.”

She stood up, and this time I wasn’t mistaken. Her glance was cold toward us, and especially me and Samuel and Tristan. At the break she probably stayed inside, too, although I didn’t bother to check.

“Oh my gosh.” Tristan exclaimed under his breath, “Does she have to be so bitchy?”

“She can be smart. That’s fine.” I muttered in agreement, “But glancing like that is just going too far.”

“Tristan, Kai.” Furoraker said, and a chill went down my spine. “Do you have anything you wish to share? Nice conversation going on there.”

“No sir.” Tristan said. Furoraker pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Do you know,” At afternoon tea break, Samuel tucked at my shirt as we walked toward the canteen, across the courtyard, “That our stuff are getting marked?”

“How did you know?” I asked as a reflex, then seeing Tristan raising his eyebrows at me, knew that it was another Galinton root that I might or might not get rid of.

“That Varkberre told me. His name’s Xanga, short for Kermaxangis.” He pointed his thumb at the guy, who was on the other side of him.

Someone has been making friends quickly.

But I could see, even now, that if there was a chance, they wouldn’t stay friends. Even if it was just a shred of chance; from Tristan’s face I could see him suppressing (one emotion I was familiar with) his inner chatter to gossip it with me.

The rest of the Wellingtons were in front of us, already in the line, with Reighter squinting at Samuel and Xanga and back and forth and repeat. Even dah-straight-person knew what was going on here. Kermaxangis nodded at me, “Hi. You’re Merkaileves, right? I’m Kermaxangis, but you can call me Xanga.”

“Long name buddies.” Tristan blabbed.

“Oh yeah.” I shook hands with him, “Nice to meet you. Call me Kai.”

Since I was feeling so nice with the cute morning breeze and the cupcakes I was waiting in line to get, I felt like not taking Samuel’s potential crush away from him, just to examine a bit.

He had long eyelashes that looked genetically and biologically impossible to have, dark, smooth brown hair and a low fringe, the perfect nose that I always wanted to have (with a little bump at the joint of cartilage and bone- I didn’t have one), and relatively high illuminating cheekbones.

Tristan finally laughed when Samuel and Xanga left with their cupcakes and drinks, and punched me lightly in the ribs. “My gosh. He’s awestruck.”

“Who, Samuel?” I nodded at the girl who gave me my cupcake and smiled. “Yeah, he is.”

We went on to sit down with the rest of the group. Urie and Querea are exchanging words in historical record small voice, and Samuel and Xanga sat next to each other, trying to not let the conversation die. Reighter’s occasional snickering didn’t help, so I decided to jump in.

“So, Verkberre,” I asked before biting onto my cupcake (It was chocolate, which was good.), “Which way did you choose?”

Being one of the minorities, Verkberre along with a couple others didn’t really have their distinctive mottos. Generally they could choose a path of Galintons, Wellingtons, Alikens and the rest. (You saw what I just excluded, but there were more, so the happy smurfs couldn’t complain. By the way, I have nothing against the smurfs.)

“Wellingtons.” Xanga replied, and without the second syllable being finished, the corner of his mouth already smirked. The Wellingtons hooted a little, even some of the ones weren’t going through new choosing right now, and he added, “But I think you Galintons are nice, too.”

He wasn’t talking to me but Samuel. A very smart person, wooing his recognition, and it was coming naturally at him like a gigantic flood bent to his will. Furoraker joined in, too, in the corner of the canteen, sitting alone by himself. But at that very second, he looked like he was here, right beside us, and seeing a brave act happening. Xanga may or may not have planned the recognition on his part, but the bravery was all the same.

Samuel only looked down briefly, adapting our new friends’ habit, and patted Xanga’s shoulder. Reighter only smiled a little, but Querea in particular was laughing hysterically; all the Wellingtons were a mess, in one word.

If I called the conversation a bonfire, then that was where  the greatest piece of wood was lit up, and the party was cooked. The rest of the day, me having a slight encounter with jewelcrafting, we sailed through. Although one big contribution was still Xanga, because I thought his recognition had put Furoraker in a good mood.

“Furoraker,” I caught up on him just after he dismissed us to our daily schedule, which was a free hour to spare now. “I want to ask you something.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He closed the art room’s door and looked at me.

“Is there a library here?”

“What for?”

“I was… Just interested in some of the Wellingtons’ behaviours.” I almost stuttered on the words; somehow it was harder to look at his face when the day was at dusk, where his features were almost soft and coloured-pastel-looking. “Is there a book for that?”

His lips trembled so slightly and I knew that he was going to look down, and he did, and I mentally gasped. “Yes, actually there is.” He already started walking, but not very fast. I caught up with a few messy steps, out of rhythm, and the next second his hand was on my back. I thought people called it the “small of the back”, but I wasn’t so sure- the place where it dipped in, above the pelvis.

We walked in slow steps, but steady, toward wherever he was taking me. We walked the other way from the Nature. This far in, the sky was no longer clear but with the occasional skyscrapers and car noises, and I wondered what was on the other side of these blocks. The air no longer smelled like grass and fresh flowers and things. The courtyard was still there though, longer, but the stuff in it was equally bizarre.

All the way Furoraker didn’t say anything. I felt awkward, but the Galinton of me (which was most) forced my mouth shut. And I was grateful.

“This is the library.” He finally said. One of my habits were looking at the ground as I walked, so when I looked up I was startled.

Located at the very end of this place, it was big, with a set of gigantic double doors that were glazed with some half-precious metal. And also very old-looking.

Furoraker walked straight toward it, and I hopped to follow. His expression was nothing, but stern if any, with the eyebrows locked and corners of his mouth turned down.

Inside, it felt even bigger. Wall to wall there were books and more books, true shelves with ladder-holding points, and ladders too, everywhere. It was at least three-storey of books, and very long to the left and right; there was only one single room, relatively narrow and stretched. On the other wall there were windows, showing pedestrians who were normal-looking, going on their daily business, and cars driving by. Between the windows there were more shelves, forming a chain of upside-down “L”s along the wall.

“It’ll be here somewhere.” He said, already walking ahead. We walked into one of the “L”s on the left of the entrance and he started up a ladder. I looked at the side banner of the books, and it read “History”. And I was thinking, What does that has to do with anything? But I didn’t ask. As always.

Soon he came down again, with a book in his hand. On the ridge there were a few gold letters in twisted slant form, “Looking Deep- A Close-up Study on the Suburbs”.

“Why is it in history?” I took the book over. It was heavy and hard-back, almost looked like it was hand-written. It was that old, but I didn’t think it’ll break, because apart from the yellowish tint, the pages looked new.

“I put it up there.” He said, like that explained everything. The soft, almost silky feel in his eyes were gone; they were there… What, this morning? Before the break? I didn’t know what happened. And I guess I looked sad, like, really sad, but my face wasn’t doing anything deliberate. Maybe my mouth was turning down, but I didn’t know and didn’t feel and I thought I looked alright although I wasn’t thinking about it until he said something.

“You look so sad.”

“I’m not.” I protested. This book was a bit dusty, but not too much. I wondered how long it had been up there. A week? A month? What’s the use in wondering anyway?

“Look,” His fingers trailed up along my face, around the muscles that I was trying to relax, “Here. Tense. Loosen this. And here. And here.”

They were tapping on my face, like spring and the ice cracked along the stream as if someone was opening them intentionally, at the certain places, like they always had. The fixed spots that I felt so tired, my lips were pressed together without me noticing, and my eyebrows locked at a rate where I wouldn’t feel, but they felt sad on my face even when Furoraker pointed the each of them out.

“I don’t care.” I said, and was surprised that I said the truth. “No-one ever looks at my face anyway.”

“Weren’t you popular?” His pupils shuddered, the muscles tensed up and relaxed so his irises went bigger and smaller and back, “With a face like this. Like Samuel’s, actually.”

“Yeah.” I looked down, and with a sudden small fear I realised that I didn’t intend to, at all; this was the Wellingtons taking in on me. “I know we almost look the same, but not related at all, and I wasn’t close to him, like at all, and he’s popular and I’m not.”

I didn’t look back up then. His gaze was on me, and I could feel my face burning hot.

“Your language’s not organised any more.” His fingers were now under my chin, lifting it up, and he looked into my eyes and it hurt to look back at him. Every breath I took was cold. Oh, forget that; I forgot to take any breaths at all.

Furoraker leaned down, and it was only natural, and it felt natural to lift my head up myself. His fingers left my chin in a stroking motion and instead went to the back of my neck. Our lips only touched for a split-second when he tilted his face to only kiss me on the cheek.

“Not so fast,” He murmured against my face, his lips soft and moist and warm and so was his breath, “Kai.”

I was shuddering. Or I thought I was.

Furoraker leaned slightly away, then looked down and I followed his gaze, at the book. “Make sure you read it, though.” He led me away from where we were standing toward the entrance, stopping at a wide, wooden desk. One thing I was conscious of was that he was holding one and only one of my fingers, dragging me along.

“Ty, this kid wants this book. Can you give me a form?” He said to the guy behind the desk.

“Sure.” He responded. That was the guy who was supervising the people out on the Nature during today’s break. He had a blond surfer dude’s hair, reaching just below the neck, and skin tanned to a shade of almost bronze. Quickly drawing out a piece of paper and a pen from under the desk somewhere, he past it to Furoraker.

“Thank you.” Furoraker already started to frown at the paper as he chewed on the end of the pen and said.

“’Tis a pleasure, Rae.” He replied casually, ready to get back to work on the computer, or whatever.

“Have you met my friend Ty?” Furoraker looked up and his eyes were looking straight ahead and unfocused, looking like Holmes when he was thinking then, and asked me, “Kai, This is Ty, short for Tylor. Ty, this is Kai, short for Merkaileves.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you” almost came out as a whisper, out of my respect to libraries since early childhood.

“You too. Nice name.” He winked.

I didn’t know when exactly, but Furoraker had already gone to one of the desks on the right side of the doors.