Chapter 17 (redone)

In the morning, I awake once again to Ya’asa and Aiyamar moving around. “Morning,” we greet each other distantly as we struggle to reign in our Powers. I’ve discovered that the trick to it is tensing up, and then targeting your Power at something. I send a spark of energy towards the wooden door. The wood absorbs the electricity, just like I knew it would. I wonder how they got wood in outer space.

Today my Shifter—the white dresses that I was given in my “welcome package”—covers me from head to toe in a sleek, velvety black material. I’m wearing a tight shirt with three-quarter length sleeves, and matching shorts that go down to below my knees. They fit like my favorite pair of shorts back home; the ones I got in the boys’ section of Old Navy.

When we meet the rest of the Team outside our three-room “apartment”, Kyle stifles a laugh. I don’t have to read his mind to know that he’s remembering when I bought that pair of shorts. He teased me about being a cross-dresser, and I teased him back about being jealous that I was two sizes smaller than he was. Good times. I let a tiny smile creep onto my face.

…

Once we reach the cafeteria, the Team members all head off in different directions. I start to follow Kyle, but decide to visit the Chastan table again. It may or may not have something to do with me wanting to prove that I’m independent of him.

“Krys!” Aiyamar calls my name. I whirl around, startled and a little irritated. I hate it when people call me “Krys” without permission. “Come on over here!” she calls again. She’s standing with Astulad. I can’t tell which table they’re headed for, because there’s got to be at least three hundred tables here. Astulad steps forward and takes my wrist in his hand, and Aiyamar takes the other one. They propel me, hardly protesting, to a table on the other side of the cafeteria. I start to feel dizzy. The throng of people is loud for anyone, but way louder for me. All that Energy just bouncing around, vibrating off of the walls. It hurts my mind.

The new table is a little bit removed from the crowd. Above it, a banner says something in a script that I can’t read. I almost ask Aiyamar what it says, but then I see that it’s got the English translation written under it. “EGY-AF, EARTH”.

“Earth?” I ask dumbly. I know there’s already an Earth table. I can see it three tables down.

Aiyamar giggles and nods excitedly, delighted with my confusion. “Egypt, to be precise. I was so excited when we heard that there was another Manipulator from Earth. I mean, Kyle and Eyrad are cool and everything, but they’re guys. I wanted to meet another girl from Earth. You know, one who was…like me.”

Astulad grins and remarks “Aiya, no one’s like you. You’re special.” Aiyamar sticks her tongue out at her brother, and flips her hair haughtily. “Of course I’m special.”

It takes Aiyamar and Astulad ten minutes to decide what I should eat. When they’re finished, my plate is laden with fava beans, some sort of yogurt dish, a small helping of potatoes and mushrooms, and a cup of something Astulad called “Aiyran”.

We pass the table where the rest of my Team is seated. Aiyamar picks out a place next to Llare, and pats the seat next to her for me to sit.

“Actually, I was thinking that Krystal could sit with us today,” Astulad says before I can sit down.

Aiyamar looks dejected for a minute, but then cheerfully waves me off. “Let me know how you like the food!” she calls with her hands cupped around her mouth.

Astulad dodges around the people in the crowd with fluid movements. It must always be this crowded. He makes way for me through all the students. A few of them are still a little attitude-y, since we all just woke up. They send electrical shocks, freezing cold burns, and a few “accidental” rain showers our way. Out of nowhere, Lorik is by my side. I’ve got mixed feelings about seeing him again, especially since he’s looking especially stern. “Aerelhia,” he says to a tall, waif-like girl. “I don’t remember Death Spots being allowed. Particularly when practiced on other students.” His eyes narrow in anger. Kids all around us stop to watch.

The student begins to retort, giving Lorik a very rebellious look. Before she can, she’s interrupted by another student. “Hey, Lorik! What’s up?”

Lorik bows his head forward in reluctant resignation, his thick hair obscuring those deep gray eyes. “Hello, Darian.”

Darian looks tall for his age; he can look Lorik in the eye easily. His tawny brown hair is layered with much darker brown areas. It complements his light green eyes. “Death Spots, eh? Sorry ’bout that. You know how Rel is in the morning.” His eyes sparkle with charm. A few girls around me bat their eyelashes and smooth their hair. What’s really pitiful is that they try to look like they’re totally not flirting with him. He doesn’t even pay attention, though.

Lorik glowers at Aerelhia. “If I catch you giving Death Spots again, Kelsey will hear about it.” The crowd gathered around disperses quickly, apparently uninterested in us all of a sudden.

Aerelhia rolls her eyes. “Sure, Lorik.” Then, totally disregarding him, she comes over to me. “Hi, I’m Aerelhia Darkworth, Shadow Manipulator. I haven’t seen you around.”

She doesn’t offer her hand, so I don’t offer mine. “Hey. I’m Krystal Watema,” I respond. Then, as an afterthought, “Energy Manipulator.”

Darian crinkles his nose adorably. “You must be new, if you’ve still got an O.S.”

“O.S?” I feel like I should know what that is, but obviously, I don’t.

“Original Surname. The one you were born with. You know, the one you use back in your world. Here, we all get new last names once we’ve been attending a whole year,” he explains. “By the way, I’m Darian Brighthand.” He offers his hand, palm up. I hesitantly place my hand in his, and he raises it up to his lips, kissing it delicately. A small shiver runs down my spine. Aerelhia definitely sees it, because her face shows open hostility. I avoid looking her in the eye. Darian doesn’t seem to notice.

A gentle touch makes startles me. “You coming?” Astulad inquires. “Yeah, let’s go.” I shake my head so that my hair covers my face. The way Aerelhia looks at me is uncomfortable.

Astulad pulls out a chair for me at a table full of people. Hanayni, Madara, Mrs. Jameson, Lorik, and a lot of people I don’t know are already seated.

I sit next to a very pretty woman. She looks so…delicate. Thin, and pale as a ghost, her stark green eyes are slanted upward. Her eyelashes are ridiculously long and perfectly curled. They touch her arched, black eyebrows, and fan out around her eye perfectly. She looks like a statue of a Roman goddess.

I observe that I’m not the only one taken with her. Lorik, of all people, looks like a teenage boy on his first date. It’s hilarious!

“Aoife, this is my new student, Krystal,” Lorik says. He pronounces her name “EE-feh.”

Aoife turns around in her seat, and offers her hand to me. She speaks, her voice light and clipped with a British-esque accent. “Hello there, Krystal. Lorik here has told me all about you. My name is Aoife.”

I take her hand gently, afraid that my clumsy, rough hands will break hers. “It’s nice to meet you. Is your name Irish?”

She smiles, pleased with my knowledge. “Yes, actually it is. Though I am not from Earth.”

“Are you from Lorik’s planet?” I ask innocently.

The others at the table laugh awkwardly. Lorik answers hurriedly for Aoife. “No, she is not.”

What’s the deal?

Our planets have fought with each other for millennia.

Oh. Who started it?

This is not the place for a history lesson, Krystal, Lorik responds tersely.

Grumpybutt.

“Hello, Krystal,” says Madara. She’s sitting across from me. “Hey Astulad.”

“’Morning, Maddie.”

Madara’s already finished with her food. Whatever it was, she really liked it. Her plate is completely spotless. A mug of coffee sits next to her hand. It’s really pale, topped with a healthy amount of whipped cream.

Ooh, coffee! I LOVE coffee.

Lorik hears that. He looks me in the eye, his thoughts written on his face even if he didn’t speak into my head.

Definitely not.

I deflate in my seat. Meanie.

“What’s wrong, Krystal?” Madara asks

“Lorik’s being mean,” I blurt before he can stop me. He shoots me a dark look.

“Sweetie, Lorik is always mean,” Astulad interjects. That sends chuckles all along the table.

“I felt bad for you once I had actually met you,” Hanayni contributes. “Usually only the special cases get Lory,” she adds, indicating Lorik.

Lory?!

Lorik rolls his eyes and grumbles to himself. It’s sort of satisfying to see someone so grumpy get ribbed a little for it. I know I’m not exactly one to talk; I’ve been known to have my moods.

“We know, Astulad, but how exactly is he being mean this time?” Madara asks me.

“He won’t let me have any coffee,” I complain, realizing that I sound childish.

The Battle Instructor throws an astonished look at Lorik. He doesn’t look up. “Where I come from, children drink coffee all the time. And Krystal is certainly not a child,” she scolds him. She waves her hand over the table. Under it appears a mug of coffee, topped with an insane amount of whipped cream. My mouth falls open, and Astulad taps my chin, an amused grin spread over his face.

Madara pushes it towards me. “Espresso, lots of sugar,” she announces, smiling sweetly at Lorik. Mrs. Jameson reaches around Aoife, and pats his shoulder. “If I can deal with her like this, then you certainly can,” she says without a trace of sympathy. I gasp in mock indignity. “What do you mean, ‘like this’?” Even as I say that, memories of caffeine-powered “study sessions” with Kyle every Saturday. We rarely got any studying done, but we got damn good at quoting Monty Python.

Mrs. Jameson tosses her head back and laughs. Her beautiful blonde hair, streaked with the slightest traces of gray, falls out of its bun and cascades down her back.

“So, how’d you do that?” Madara sits back and crosses her feet as if she was waiting for me to ask her.

“My Power is Sculpting. I can make anything I want to, seemingly out of thin air. Really, no one knows exactly how it works, but as long as I know what I want, I can make it appear.”

“So, you can transport things? Or you make them?”

“I make them. If it was transportation, I’d be a Telekinetic.”

“That is so. Freaking. Cool.” I gush. “Back home, you could take over the world!” Madara smiles the kind of smile that one uses for cute children who don’t understand anything.

“All of us could. Here, our mission is the opposite,” Aoife interjects. Her voice is hard to describe. It’s like loud silence. “Every time someone takes over a world, it ends up in chaos and suffering.”

“Your Napoleon was an Inborn,” says Madara. “So was Hitler.”

“But not all of them were bad,” Mrs. Jameson reminds her. “Hercules and Sir Gawain were Inborns as well. They actually attended the School.”

“Right, but there lies the difference,” Madara counters. “Hitler and Napoleon were untrained. They refused to become students in order to harness their power. All of the untrained ones end up as killers.”

“Now, I think that’s a little harsh. And going to the School certainly doesn’t guarantee a noble character.”

Silence fell around the table. There’s something I don’t know. Again. Welcome to my life.

“So, that’s why the School exists?” I question. “To teach people not to do stuff like that?”

Everyone nods solemnly. “That’s the short version of the story, anyway,” Astulad amends. “Is anyone ready for seconds?”