Page 29 of Fractured Fates

Winnie leads me down the corridor to the communal bathrooms, passing several other dorms as we do. As we pass one, I notice a bow tied around the door handle, and loud moans coming from within.

“Looks like Pen and Juan are at it again,” Winnie mutters. “They are permanently on again, off again.”

“I thought there was a strict no-boys-in-the-dorm rule.”

“Oh that.” Winnie waves her hand through the air as the moans from the room become louder and more high pitched, “Everyone ignores that rule. The teachers never enforce them. It’s simply for show – this is an elite academy after all. They don’t want people thinking the students are humping like rabbits rather than training to become the future protectors of our country.”

A female voice screams out accompanied by a low male grunt and Winnie peers at the door.

“Sounds like they’re done.”

“Everyone’s humping like rabbits?” I ask, feeling a little sick.

“I wish,” Winnie says whimsically. “Sometimes it feels like everyone else is and I’m the only one who isn’t.”

I glance at my new roommate. She’s unwound her braids this morning and her dark hair flows in waves down her back. She’s also lost the retainer. If she can’t get a date, then there is no hope I ever will. Which is a good thing. Those two men set my hormones in a dizzying cartwheel and I am happy for them to calm the fuck down now and leave me in peace.

The bathroom is as moldy as the rest of the building, with water that’s barely lukewarm.

“It’s not too bad,” Winnie insists, as she braces herself and ducks under the torrent, a flowery shower cap balanced on her head. “Besides, it encourages short showers which is better for the environment and student relationships.”

“Sure,” I mutter, ducking under as well.

When we return to our dorm room ten minutes later, me with dripping wet hair, there’s a full college uniform hanging on the wardrobe door.

“Oh,” Winnie says, “that must be for you.”

“I’m not wearing that!” I say glaring at the tartan pleated skirt, thigh-high socks, white blouse, blazer and matching beret. It looks like someone typed in sexy school girl to the internet and had this delivered – although I have to admit the material and craftsmanship are obviously of a high quality.

“Why not?” Winnie says, opening the wardrobe door and pulling out an identical, if more worn, uniform from within and stepping into her clothes.

“Because I’m a twenty-year-old woman, not a six-year-old girl.”

Winnie shrugs. “It’s mandatory and anyway I like it,” she says. “Green isn’t so bad which is some kind of miracle considering it could have been maroon or scarlet.”

“I don’t care. There is no way in hell I’m wearing it.”

I pull out my jeans, a plain t-shirt and my hoodie as Winnie examines my uniform more closely.

“Looks like you’re in Venus House,” Winnie says, pointing to a small, pink badge pinned to my blazer.

“I’m in a house?”

Winnie smiles. “Of course you are.”

“No one told me!”

She points to her own badge. “I’m in Neptune.”

“Hence the blue. Are there seven houses, then?”

“No, five. Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Neptune and Mercury. All the Roman gods.”

“Why was I put in Venus?”

She shrugs. “They do it before we get here. Apparently they look at your academic records, fitness scores and social profile and decide which house is the best fit.”

I don’t have an academic record, fitness record or a social profile (that I know of), so why the hell did they put me in Venus and what does it mean?