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Chapter nineteen

Forest

T he classroom filled with students only a few minutes after Mrs. Auburn’s arrival, giving her little time to question just how long Fallan and I were alone. At some point in between silently letting my strokes consume my canvas and looking back at Fallan’s progress, my desk had gravitated a few inches closer to his.

It was enough for Rae to drag my desk back toward her once she sat down, giving Fallan her everyday unamused look of disapproval. I almost swatted her hands away out of annoyance for creating space I didn’t want. Josh is the last to enter the classroom, showcasing a small array of bruises around his nose he hasn’t treated with Cure-All yet. Fallan and I stare at him, watching how his head stays lowered while those around him continue to badger him.

“Is it true you’re the one who did that to him?” Raegan questions, grabbing my hand from its relaxed position under my desk.

She investigates the dry blood still lingering on my knuckles. Between pounding Josh’s face in and letting Fallan soothe me after the run-in with the Officials, I forgot to check my hands.

“I did it all with a smile,” I say confidently, half expecting her to smile along with me.

“I know it's Josh, Forest,” she begins, giving Fallan another sideways glance before returning to me. “But you couldn't save it for one of his kind?” she questions, nodding towards Fallan.

I untuck my shirt, showing her my side still coated in his nail marks.

“Courtesy of one of 'our people,'” I growl, throwing up quotations to address her arrogant comment. I can already tell Fallan is watching the exchange, observing the nail marks just as closely as Raegan, now able to get a complete image of how deeply Josh had scratched me.

“Look over here one more time, mutt, and I’ll have an Official on you in seconds,” Rae snaps toward Fallan, watching him lean back in his chair while he throws her an unamused look.

“Raegan,” I start, slamming my hand on her desk, receiving a few glances from those less entranced with their work, Josh included. “Your conversation is with me, not him. Everyone deserves to see what that asshat did,” I say, snapping my eyes toward Josh, who’s scowling at us from his seat.

Raegan’s head shakes. She creates distance between us by pulling her legs farther to the side of her desk. It’s clear she’s annoyed with me.

“If you're going to keep defending them, I suggest you find someone else to talk to for the rest of class,” she whispers, turning her canvas to the side. She faces away from me as she starts to paint again, waiting for me to flag her down with an apology.

“Did one of you turn my cameras?” Mrs. Auburn questions the room, giving me no time to try and think of something to disarm Rae’s less-than-pleasant attitude.

“I bet it was the Unfortunate. Who knows what his kind does when there are no eyes on them,” one of Josh’s friends says, causing a few to laugh, Josh included.

“Why don’t you come here and say it to my face?” Fallan questions, breaking his silence for the first time. Mouths fly open. Heads snap back toward our section of the room. I hear Fallan slam his hands on his desk, already forcing himself onto his feet. I follow his motion.

Josh is the first to move toward the back of the room. The man who said the comment is not too far behind him. I step in between the groups, readying myself for the world of problems Fallan has thrown us both into.

“Wanna repeat that, pig?” Josh hisses, pointing at Fallan. I hold my position.

“Josh, walk away,” I say, watching his eyes avert down to me.

“So that's what you are now, Blackburn?” Josh questions, ignoring Mrs. Auburn's plea to have him take his seat. His companions watch in anticipation. “Are you an Unfortunate loving whore just like your mommy?” Josh pushes. I’m enticed by the brief desire to see how many more bruises I might be able to give him today.

“Last time I checked, she isn't the one who said something outside of regulation,” Fallan says, stopping Josh’s walk toward me.

“You’re right,'' Josh begins, giving Fallan a soft smile, his hands fumbling at his side. “I think I should test my theory first,'' he finishes, pulling something free from his waist. The glimmer of metal passes over my vision. Rae’s manicured hand is the first to meet my back before Fallan’s rough palm shoves my lower stomach, nicking his hand in the process as Josh’s blade barely grazes my front. I watch the panic flood over Fallan’s face at the realization Josh just saw him touch me. His buddies are too preoccupied with keeping away prying eyes to make a comment. Mrs. Auburn finally notices how escalated this situation has become.

“I knew it,” Josh says with bared teeth, glaring between Fallan and me. “I knew I’ve seen this before-” he begins, enraging Fallan.

“Don’t you dare say another word,” Fallan yells. Did something happen that I don’t know about? Have they spoken before?

"Scared I’ll ruin it all?” Josh hisses silently, making Fallan take a step back.

I take the opportunity of the two men’s focus on one another to grab my blade from my bag. Feeling it pair with my chip, I swipe toward Josh, giving him a good blow to his stomach with my foot once he avoids the blade. The swipes force him to provide us with the space we all need. With a few uneven steps, he backs into his companions, all of them ready to brace him from falling.

Tensions in the classroom are at an all-time high. Paint cups and brushes are scattered on the floor. Mrs. Auburn’s hands are twisted in her curls out of frustration.

Another figure enters the classroom with a wide grin, clapping his hands sporadically like a gleeful child about to get a treat. The claps are loud and distracting, causing the boys to turn away their focus on each other. I back myself into Fallan, letting my body shove him as hard as I can to get him away from the group and closer to the back. His body is strong against mine, barely moving. He eventually picks up on what I’m trying to do, giving him the one way past these men that won't end in us getting into a full-on brawl.

Rae’s head pulls away from the class's front door. Watching Fallan and I move, I silently beg her to go along with what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, angrily getting to her feet and forcing herself to take my extended hand. I urge her to move with us, past the now-distracted group and into the empty space of the classroom.

Max stands in front of the classroom, looking over before landing on our group. Fallan is back to his normal seat a few feet away, now far away enough from Josh and his friends that none of them can continue badgering him. Even then, Josh and Fallan watch one another like wild animals. It doesn't take long for Max to finally speak up.

“What could you possibly say right now, Mr. Vega?” Mrs. Auburn questions, clearly annoyed at the state of panic in her classroom.

“There's an Unfortunate flogging happening in the dining hall,” Max says excitedly, not allowing anyone to respond as he moves out of the classroom, taking several enthusiastic students with him.

I look back at Fallan. Grabbing Rae’s hand, I seize the opportunity to follow a few students out of the classroom to observe the chaos. We stride out into the hallway with the others, letting our walk turn into a run once the group's pace becomes frenzied. Fallan is not too far behind us, staring dead forward in anticipation of the horrors that await us around the corner.

Officials surround the young Unfortunate transfer student, holding down his hands with bands meant to keep his wrists down on the floor. The bands are solid metal, tightening each time he tries to escape the humiliating position the Officials have forced him into. I watch the tears roll down his cheeks in between his pleas for mercy. His voice makes my stomach writhe. Max is pumping his fist toward the front of the crowd, letting out shouts that only work up the students around him.

I grab his shoulder, pulling him back toward me, leaning into his ear.

“Max, what the hell did he do?” I question, growing more uneasy at the sight of the Officials pulling free their light sensor prods from their sides.

Fallan lingers in the back, panning his eyes from the Unfortunate to Josh’s quiet figure only a few feet away. Rae has found herself beside my brother, trying her best to speak to him. He looks over the group, no doubt trying to pinpoint me in the wave of gray uniforms.

“He was stealing extra portions of food and sneaking it back to his sector for his folks. He gave the Officials some lip, even threatened one!” Max explains, barely finding the time to give me any eye contact. He seems feral at the idea of violence.

The men begin tearing away the top layer of the boy's uniform, revealing a very worn, thin shirt meant to stay beneath the already-used uniform. He can’t be any older than a third year, yet his back is already rough from the marks of prods that have met his skin countless times before, just like Fallan’s.

Just like all the Unfortunates.

In one way or another, they all bear scars from my people.

“We just throw away all that extra food,” I begin, watching the Officials taunt the boy with slow drags of their prods down his back. The students roar to life, encouraging the behavior.

“Maybe this will teach you to stop stealing from our sector!” one of the Officials, the man who touched me up my front, yells, waving his hands to get the students to begin cheering more.

Max grabs my elbow, finally making eye contact with me.

“Someone needs to teach them where they stand amongst us, Forest,” he hisses, regurgitating the same bullshit everyone always says.

I yank my arm away. I don’t even recognize my childhood friend in front of me right now. His blue eyes, which I always saw as comforting and grounding, now seem wild and unpredictable. The light-hearted smile I thought I always loved is now menacing. The pain in my head flares to life again the longer I watch this situation unfold. My feet begin to back me away from the group, motivated by the crowd's noise that keeps growing into something feral and unruly. I don’t need to turn around to know that Fallan is only a few steps behind me. We both watch the Official’s hand raise, ready to bloody the child's back with the light sensor prod.

The minor haze of a blackout comes over me, threatening my vision, tearing me away from my reality in the blink of an eye.

“No. Not now,” I whisper, clutching my head so hard that I can feel my nails dig into my scalp.

“ Control it,” I hear Fallan’s voice whisper.

Unlike the slight brush of others' voices against my ear as they whisper, his voice sounds different. I turn my head, expecting to see him next to me, ready to tell him to get away before he’s caught being so close. My throat goes dry once I realize he’s still several feet away from me.

I’m losing it.

I watch the Official lower his arm, heading directly for the boy's back. I let out a shaky gasp, extending my arm out toward the Official holding the light sensor prod. My silent word trails off my tongue.

“No,” I hiss to myself, doubling forward with pain I can't control.

My mind's dull headache is now lethal. The Official blinks rapidly, his prod swinging away from the boy's back and slamming directly into his leg, clamping down the hand that had touched me earlier against his thigh. The prod begins to burn his skin, searing away whatever it touches. The other Official, who was in the process of swinging at the boy, is now clutching his hand. The soft skin of his palm is mangled, burnt from grabbing his own prods' active exterior.

Both men, ready to beat the boy bloody, double over to the floor. Their knees hit the concrete at the same time mine do, as we all go down in unison. They somehow manage to control their cries.

Fallan wipes something away from his nose, looking me over with a wide-eyed expression.

My hiss of pain turns into a scream each time I try to shove back the blackout. People begin to back away as my agonizing cries continue. The heat behind my ear and on my mark grows and is unbearable.

My hands clutch my head, trying to silence the noise dancing around my mind. I feel the need to let it all out, wanting to twist the necks of all of those who have shed innocent blood in the name of “order.” I feel my shirt ride up as I writhe, my body seizing up as the cool touch of outside air kisses my mark. My hands feel stuck to my head, my mind rushing to hold back whatever unknown energy creeps within it. The chip behind my ear feels so hot that I think it might melt the skin. Vivid images pass through my mind, all leading back to a single sound. A single tune, lost in the spiral of mind. A noise hidden away, not meant to be found.

It takes everything in me not to shove Fallan away once he kneels next to me, letting his hand drag down my shirt, giving my lower stomach a long look. A few students gag at the exchange, unable to see the mark given how quickly Fallan inserted himself into the situation.

I let another scream leave me as the pain continues to grow. I wanted nothing more than to keep him kneeling there next to me. I watch a few students, Max and Josh included, drag Fallan away and onto his back. They scream at him for getting near me, both of them kicking him while he’s down on the floor. My scream morphs into a yell at the sight, my eyes begin to roll to the back of my head. I hear his pained grunts as they kick him again and again. Even from here, I know how afraid he is. My back arches in response to my loss of control over my body. All I can do is listen, unable to control what is happening.

“She’s having a seizure,” my brother says, kneeling next to me, both his and Rae's hands touching my body. “I thought we got rid of these years ago,” Kai finishes, speaking to what I can only assume are more Officials.

“Hang on ,” I whisper in my mind to no one in particular.

Forcing my eyes forward, I unleash the pain within me, letting it filter away from my vision through my blood. Finally, I get a clear look at the two boys ready to deliver Fallan another blow.

Max and Josh pause once an Official claps, enabling Fallan to sit up, releasing a mouthful of blood in the process. My body is drained, unable to focus on my brother, who tries to get me to look at him. Fallan’s eyes meet mine through the crowd. Rubbing his fist over his chest, he signs something to me with his hands. Signs I somehow understand.

“Are you okay?” h e gestures, looking past his bloody lip and bruised side.

I stare at the countless Officials now filling the eating area, some letting the boy free from his shackles, others working closer to my brother, caught in a frenzy, still begging for a med kit. I give Fallan a nod, feeling the energy within me surge at the thought of the raven-haired brute getting away from all of this. I think of his strength now, wanting to give him anything I can to get out of here.

In an instant, all of that energy, all of that adrenaline, and all that pain fade away, making it easier to slump forward into my brother. I see the spots in my vision, unsure if I imagined the image of Fallan being able to pull himself to his feet and grasping my bag with my sketchbook in his hand, before very slowly slipping away from Max and Josh, who are now focused on me.

I try to stay conscious, unsure of what clarity darkness might bring. It feels comforting for once, the quiet that unconsciousness promises to bring.

"Was it you?” I question the void of my mind, feeding into the delusion someone is there.

There are several moments of silence, and my consciousness threatens to fade away at last.

“It always is. That's my hell,” a voice whispers back, clearer than ever.

No, not just any voice.

Fallan’s voice.