I stand, swaying a little. Another weakness. I blink, fight through the dizziness. Luckily, no one pays attention to me, all eyes are focused on Sean trouncing an insensible boy. I step forward to stop him and drop, falling to my knees. I don’t reach him before an instructor is there, tugging Sean away.
“C’mon, O’Rourke. He’s finished.”
He’s finished. Meaning Sean finished him. Not me. Disappointed in myself, I watch Sean as he climbs off Tully.
His gaze scans the crowd, searching. For me, I realize. As though he needs to see me and satisfy himself that I’m okay. His gaze lands on me, and his shoulders seem to relax, the rigidity slipping away ever so slightly, water through a sieve.
For a moment, something unfurls inside me and lightens. A loosening in my chest. A flutter in my stomach. And then I remember myself and what I am. What I’m supposed to be. . . .
Not some girl who swoons when a boy flexes his muscles. Not someone who should be letting her heart feel anything. In this place, feelings, sentiment, will only bring me down.
“O’Rourke?” The instructor faces him, his expression annoyed. “Why did you abandon your assigned activity?”
Sean says nothing. The instructor follows Sean’s gaze, glancing back at me and I resist the urge to cover my face. I can feel the warm blood trickling down from the gash in my cheek. He surveys me from head to toe with a quick sweep of his eyes. His lips quirk, amused. The instructor nods as if he understands perfectly. And I’m sure he does. Everyone does. Sean fought my battle because I made a mistake and dropped my guard.
The instructor sighs and shakes his head. “It’s critical for your training that you prove you can follow directions.” That said, he pats Sean on the shoulder, glancing down once at Tully on the mat. He snorts at the pitiable sight of him.
Sean might have broken away from what he was supposed to be doing and interfered in my training, but he demonstrated his strength. Apparently, that scored him some points today.
Just what I was trying to do.
Sean’s gaze locks on me. He’s slightly winded, but as far as I can see there’s not a scratch anywhere on him. His eyes are bright, alive, and alert in a way they never are when he’s his usual stoic self. Which makes me wonder if this isn’t the real him. More beast than man, reveling in breaking someone else down.
The instructor is at my side now. Something in his voice heightens my sense of failure. “C’mon, Hamilton. Let’s get you to the infirmary so they can clean up your face.”
The infirmary. Where no one has managed to come back from yet.
“I don’t need to go—”
“Your face is bleeding. C’mon.” He grasps my arm. There’s no refusing him.
I look away from Sean, who stares at me searchingly. As I’m marched out of the gym, I keep my eyes straight ahead, determined to meet no one’s gaze. To give no one the slightest clue of what’s going on inside me. That I’m not screaming inside, panicked that I’m not strong enough for this place, that I’m stuck with this imprint on my neck forever. That I just put myself one step closer to a detention camp.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers ..................................................................
* * *
Dear Davy,
They said we could write to you. I don’t know if you can write back, if you have the time, but I’ll keep sending you letters. It’s enough to know that you’re getting them and you know that we’re thinking about you. We’re so very proud of you. They’ve quarantined San Antonio like so many other cities now. Things are bad. Since the mandatory testing, more and more carriers are being identified and they’re running. Not that there’s anywhere to run. They’re trying to get to Mexico, but anyone caught crossing the border is shot on sight by patrols in Mexico. They might not be screening and testing over there yet, but they don’t want our carriers, either. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re safe, that you’ve been spared. That you’re safe. You’re going to be great at whatever it is they’re training you to be. . . . You have to be. . . .
Letter sent from Mitchell Hamilton Never opened Destroyed upon receipt at Mount Haven