Page 23 of A Mastery of Monsters

For fuck’s sake, now it’s a conversation? “Look,” I say. “I’m trying to get my books and get out of here. I don’t want to meet people. I don’t want to go to events. I want to get my degree and get out.”

Ever since they decided Mom was dead, it’s like the tightly screwed lid I kept on my life has flown off. And I can’t find it anywhere. Everything just spews out. All the messy shit that I would have kept hidden, now open and exposed.

Riley grins. “Wow, all business, eh?”

“No,” I say with a smirk, pointing up at the sign. “Psychology.”

“You’re not cute,” she says, her expression sobering.

I jerk my head back, my mouth ajar.

But then she smiles again. “I don’t know where you come from or whatever, but there are going to be some things that only other Black people are going to get.

We are trying to form a community within this place where you can feel safe to be yourself.

We hang out, we support each other, and we make our voices heard when the school inevitably does some racist shit.

All I’m asking is that you come for one mixer and see how you feel. ”

“You’re persistent.”

“I have to be, because a lot of kids here are from places that messed up how they experience their own Blackness. And not having support will make it worse. They don’t realize they need this.

” Riley watches me roll my eyes at her, unfazed.

“I hope to see you there. And at the very least, if you come, I’ll stop bothering you. ”

“That is tempting.”

“Oh, I know.” She turns and walks upstairs.

Most of the students in the bookstore are shopping in groups, but she was alone. Plus, she didn’t even grab any books. Did she… did she see me and come in here just for that? Okay, she’s persistent, but that would be too much. That’s literal stalking.

I finish collecting my books and go upstairs to the checkout, where I give the cashier the credit card. It’s black with both mine and the university’s name on it. As the woman at the counter puts the books in the canvas tote for me, she whispers, “Good luck in prelims today.”

I stare at her. She calls the next person in line, and I don’t have time to wait around. Corey was right about the society students being inserted around campus. I have no idea who that woman is, but she definitely knows me.

Hefting the heavy tote onto the shoulder not occupied by my backpack, I walk up University Avenue toward the ARC.

The one building that I know the location of.

Though when I enter, I make sure not to look in the direction of the Tim Hortons.

I never went back, but also never quit, so I assume I was fired.

I drag myself up the giant set of stairs to the second floor, only realizing halfway that I could have taken the elevator.

There was a time when I refused to take an elevator for anything less than four floors, no matter what.

Because I thought that was the clincher on whether or not I hit my goal weight for the week.

“Every little bit counts,” I used to whisper to myself.

When I reach the top of the steps, I have a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead.

I know it’s because I’m carrying new textbooks plus everything in my bag.

I wish I could not think about people watching me, but I can’t yet.

It’s funny how it literally doesn’t matter what you do when you’re fat, people will find a way to judge you.

The same people who would be pleased to see me taking the stairs are also judging me for sweating while doing it.

When I was thin, I could do whatever I wanted.

Instead, I took the stairs and still found a way to hate myself.

Corey waves at me from a table where she, Margot, and Virgil sit. I fall into a seat next to them, and Corey hands me a smoothie. “I didn’t know what you would like, and I know some people hate banana, so I got you peach mango.”

“Thanks.” I would never say it aloud, because I couldn’t handle being that cringey, but Corey might be an angel.

“She agonized over that choice for fifteen minutes,” Virgil says, staring at the drink.

Corey flushes and glares at him. “You didn’t have to tell her that.”

“She’ll appreciate it more.”

“I won’t,” I add. Now Virgil is narrowing his eyes at me. “It was a joke!”

“Oh, you got jokes now?”

“Focus, children,” Margot says. “The preliminaries are happening inside the athletics section of the building. The first will be the societal knowledge test, which you have studied for?” This with a pointed look at me.

“Obviously.” It’s ridiculous the sort of stuff they want me to remember. The names of all six Doctorates and when they graduated to the title, and who their children were, and who they married, and what contributions to the society they made, and so on.

Margot continues, “Then we’ll have monster affinity. Virgil will come in for that one. And then the physical endurance test. Make sure you conserve your ener—”

“Wait, what am I doing for monster affinity? That’s the one thing we haven’t been over.”

“We don’t need to go over it.”

“Um… I think we do?”

“No, we don’t. Because you’re not afraid of him.”

Me and Virgil lock eyes then and look away just as fast. I say, “That… that can’t be the test, just not being afraid of him?”

“You’d be surprised,” Margot says under her breath.

Virgil stares at the tabletop.

The one thing I’ve learned more than anything in studying the society is that monsters ain’t shit.

They have all these tenets about the importance of keeping them contained and preparing for this inevitable apocalypse, and still, monsters are footnotes in their own story.

The histories are of the first Masters and their achievements.

Not of the monsters they were paired with.

Or if they are, it’s very much like, Phillip was exceptional at handling the unusual underwater traits of his unnamed monster partner.

“You’ll do great,” Corey says to me before turning to Virgil. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, for years now. You’re entering the candidacy with a capable partner. Remember what Bernie and Dr. Liu and Henry have always said.”

“The hardest part of the process is finding the right partner.” Virgil looks at me as he says it.

His gaze is like shackles on my wrists. It’s Dad staring at me as he drops me off at school the morning of an important exam. It’s Mom pointing at the target as she puts a knife in my hand.

I look away as a chime goes off in the building. Virgil, Corey, and Margot’s heads perk up, though everyone else either looks around in confusion or ignores it.

I know what it means without needing to be told.

It’s time.