Early mornings: physical conditioning.
“You are soft,” Hickory said to me and Gretchen the first day.
“Despicable lies,” I said.
“Very well,” Hickory said, and pointed to the tree line of the forest, at least a klick away. “Please run to the forest as quickly as you can. Then run back. Do not stop until you return.”
We ran. By the time I got back, it felt like my lungs were trying to force themselves up my trachea, the better to smack me around for abusing them. Both Gretchen and I collapsed into the grass gasping.
“You are soft,” Hickory repeated. I didn’t argue, and not just because at the moment I was totally incapable of speaking. “We are done for today. Tomorrow we will truly begin with your physical conditioning. We will start slowly.” It and Dickory walked away, leaving Gretchen and me to imagine ways we were going to murder Hickory and Dickory, once we could actually force oxygen back into our bodies.
Mornings: school, like every other kid and teen not actively working in a field. Limited books and supplies meant sharing with others. I shared my textbooks with Gretchen, Enzo, and Magdy. This worked fine when we were all speaking to each other, less so when some of us were not.
“Will you two please focus?” Magdy said, waving his hands in front of the two of us. We were supposed to be doing calculus.
“Stop it,” Gretchen said. She had her head down on our table. It had been a hard workout that morning. “God, I miss coffee,” she said, looking up at me.
“It would be nice to get to this problem sometime today,” Magdy said.
“Oh, what do you care,” Gretchen said. “It’s not like any of us are going to college anyway.”
“We still have to do it,” Enzo said.
“You do it, then,” Gretchen said. She leaned over and pushed the book toward the two of them. “It’s not me or Zo? who has to learn this stuff. We already know it. You two are always waiting for us to do the work, and then just nodding like you actually know what we’re doing.”
“That’s not true,” Magdy said.
“Really? Fine,” Gretchen said. “Prove it. Impress me.”
“I think someone’s morning exertions are making her a little grumpy,” Magdy said, mockingly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“It means that since the two of you started whatever it is you’re doing, you’ve been pretty useless here,” Magdy said. “Despite what Gretchen the Grump is hinting at, it’s the two of us who have been carrying the two of you lately, and you know it.”
“You’re carrying us in math?” Gretchen said. “I don’t think so.”
“Everything else, sweetness,” Magdy said. “Unless you think Enzo pulling together that report on the early Colonial Union days last week doesn’t count.”
“That’s not ‘we,’ that’s Enzo,” Gretchen said. “And thank you, Enzo. Happy, Magdy? Good. Now let’s all shut up about this.” Gretchen put her head back down on the table. Enzo and Magdy looked at each other.
“Here, give me the book,” I said, reaching for it. “I’ll do this problem.” Enzo slid the book over to me, not quite meeting my gaze.
Afternoons: training.
“So, how is the training going?” Enzo asked me one early evening, catching me as I limped home from the day’s workout.
“Do you mean, can I kill you yet?” I asked.
“Well, no,” Enzo said. “Although now that you mention it I’m curious. Can you?”
“It depends,” I said, “on what it is you’re asking me to kill you with.” There was an uncomfortable silence after that. “That was a joke,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Enzo said.
“We didn’t even get around to how to kill things today,” I said, changing the subject. “We spent the day learning how to move quietly. You know. To avoid capture.”
“Or to sneak up on something,” Enzo said.
I sighed. “Yes, okay, Enzo. To sneak up on things. To kill them. Because I like to kill. Kill and kill again, that’s me. Little Zo? Stab Stab.” I sped up my walking speed.
Enzo caught up with me. “Sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t fair of me.”
“Really,” I said.
“It’s just a topic of conversation, you know,” Enzo said. “What you and Gretchen are doing.”
I stopped walking. “What kind of conversation?” I asked.
“Well, think about it,” Enzo said. “You and Gretchen are spending your afternoons preparing for the apocalypse. What do you think people are talking about?”
“It’s not like that,” I said.
“I know,” Enzo said, reaching out and touching my arm, which reminded me we spent less time touching each other lately. “I’ve told people that, too. Doesn’t keep people from talking, though. That and the fact that it’s you and Gretchen.”