Strains
Chapter 22

I run my hands over the inscription before setting the pot on my kitchenette counter. I’ll definitely need a cup of tea to process my feelings on this. I place the kettle filled with water on the hot plate and fiddle with it until the burner is set to high. I don’t even have the brain power to try and figure out how Matthew managed to get this all hooked up.

Maybe it’s all magic.

I press my head against the wall next to the kitchenette. There’s some kind of wiring or piping situation going on back there, so I guess it’s not magic.

Imagining Matthew in a cloak reciting incantations makes me chuckle. I should have asked Caiden what the class was like. Why do I assume he would even know something like that? I guess he does always seem to have an answer for everything.

I wish he could tell me what I was doing here. It’s not like Matthew has even come close to giving me the answers Caiden has. Heck, I’ve learned more about Matthew the past few days while he’s been eating with the council and collecting apples.

The kettle screams from the other side of the room. I pour the water into a mug and set it aside. The water is too hot to make tea without scorching the tea leaves. Damn. I won’t be able to have a cup of tea before dinner after all.

Dinner is uneventful, and I’ll probably forget about the small talk we had by tomorrow morning. When I get back to my room, the water I left in the kettle is lukewarm. I turn on the burner, and this time I get the temperature just right for steeping a tea bag.

I take my mug and go to my desk. An apple is waiting for me. I think I’ll eat this one, Caiden did get yesterdays and most of the soup. Seems fair.

Looks like this one actually came with a note.

“See you tomorrow night.”

Night? Sheesh, it’s like he’s taking a vacation away from me. I take a sip of the green tea. Why is everything here so dang good? I wonder if that means he’ll be missing dinner again. That’d mean he were going to meet me here. I hurry to my kitchenette and put the items I bought with Matthew’s money in my closet. Maybe I could soften him up a bit by giving him a cup.

I set the empty cup on my desk and lay back on my bed. I am not looking forward to tomorrow. The anxiety of seeing Matthew again and dread of having to sit through Korma’s class is going to keep me up tonight. Why couldn’t this weekend just go on for one more day?

All weekend I have avoided fights and spent time with a friend. That’s all I want for my afterlife, well, the magic thing would be nice. Oh and an allowance. And maybe a strain so I could be in a real house.

Guess I wanted more than I realized.

***

Korma snatches the homework assignments from my hands. She must get a kick out of torturing us all this way. I have a new papercut on my finger, but by the time it’s healed, I might have a clue as to if those books Caiden loaned me helped at all.

It only takes ten minutes in Ceramics to replace out that the picture book “The Boy and His Pot” , while charming, does not make me anymore capable at forming a vase. Basketweaving goes better, I can only make a single plait but that alone puts me at the top of the class.

I’ll have to thank Caiden later. Maybe I could hang out with him before Hercules’ class. It’s on the walk back to my room that I notice some of the other students staring at me. Guys and girls looking me up and down. I don’t know what they’re looking for. My shoes have some clay stuck to them, but the eyes looking me over never go down that far.

Oh. I’ve felt this before.

I bring my hands up and grasp my backpack straps. I’m not a psychic, but I’ve felt that stare enough to know the thought process behind it.

I was blessed early in life. Too early. And being ‘blessed’ when you’re in the fifth grade earned you a lot of stares and more than a few ‘accidental’ dodgeballs to the chest. Stares turned to near touches and authenticity rumors in high school when I turned out to be more blessed than the other girls.

Boobs. I’m talking about my boobs.

I hid them under baggy sweaters during most of my childhood and teenage years; but the dress I’m wearing is something I bought after I got some self-esteem when I got to college. That self-esteem was quickly evaporating.

I hurry to my room and shut the door. Maybe I’ll just skip lunch today. I slip on my athletic shorts and pull up on the hem of my dress. I’m pulling it over my head when three quick knocks come from my door.

Crap.

“Don’t!” I’m hurrying towards the bathroom when my blindness sends my nose into the doorframe. My words must’ve been muffled, because I hear the door open. I turn my back towards the door and try to pull my arms back through the sleeves.

“Oh Princess! I- oh.”

What the hell? I hurry past Matthew and go into the bathroom. His note said I wouldn’t see him until tonight. I exit the bathroom fully clothed.

Matthew is leaning against my bed. He’s wearing black slacks, a black shirt and blood red tie. His hair is slick and combed to the side. His eyes glint up at me.

“Miss me, Princess?”

I feel my face get warm.

“Who are you calling ‘Princess’?” I say defiantly.

He saunters over to me and suddenly drops to one knee. He grabs my hand, which I promptly yank away.

“There’s no one else here,” he says in a low voice. He looks up at me and smirks, breaking the fantasy. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you call me the Prince of Darkness on a few occasions.”

He says that like I’ve vocalized it. He never lets me have a thought to myself. With that outfit on though, he does look the part.

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

I didn’t realize my arms had crossed themselves high up on my chest, as if I were giving myself a hug. I sigh, no point in lying to him.

“Just the usual thing,” I shrug my shoulders. “Everyone hating me, you know.”

He looks me over.

“I have another meeting to get to, but I wanted to give you this first.”

He holds out his hand, it’s completely empty. I look into his eyes and he motions to my left hand. I cautiously set it in his. He reaches into his pocket. I close my eyes and take a breath. What is he up to?

A shiver runs up my spine as something cold hits my wrist. I look down as Matthew affixes a gold watch to my arm. It’s thin, with a small watch face and intricate floral detailing.

“Good, it fits. I was worried, your wrists are so small. Do you like it?”

I nod. “It’s beautiful, sir. But.” His slight smile shifts into a frown.

“But?”

“Isn’t it a little delicate for me to wear out and about?” I say, looking for an excuse not to wear it. It’s gorgeous, but it’s also going to be another reason for everyone to hate me.

“I had the best horologist make and set it for you. He assured me it was fit to last a hundred lifetimes and wouldn’t get damaged by water or anything else,” he stands and looks me up and down. “Yes, I think it’s perfect. And as long as you know how to read a clock, you shouldn’t embarrass me with your tardiness anymore.”

Of course this is about him. My mouth presses into a thin line. “Thank you, sir.”

He taps me on the chin.

“They’re just kids, Elizabeth, try to cut them some slack.”

I dart my eyes up at him.

“You can’t be freaking serious.”

“Watch your attitude.” He takes my arm and twists me around until I’m facing the bathroom. The door is still open, and I can see our reflection in the mirror ahead of us. “Try and remember that, biologically speaking, you’re the oldest student here. You’re a grown woman, with a body to match. That’s something your peers will never attain. Their jealousy will eventually pass, but until then, I expect you to act like a respectable adult. Understood?”

Suggestive comments aside, I understand, sort of, but I don’t like it. Those kids are merciless. He pats me on the shoulder.

“Good luck in Hercules’ class. I’ll see you tonight at dinner. Make sure you’re on time,” he says with a wink. Then he takes off.

He was in a good mood. Weird. He must not have heard that he owes Flynn some money. Or maybe he does know and doesn’t mind. I really hope that’s it. Would he regret getting me such an extravagant gift it he knew? Maybe I should have told him. Maybe then I wouldn’t have a target wrapped around my wrist.

It’s so pretty though, and I would hate it if he took it away. The detailing on the clockface is just like the gold embellishments on my dress. Like it was made to match. He really goes through too much trouble. Not enough to justify whatever jumping or heckling I’ll probably get, but I probably shouldn’t think of it that way. If the students are going to hate me for things I can’t change, I should just ignore it the best that I can. I glance down at the watch.

Where the heck did the time go? I don’t even have time for lunch at this rate. Why do I go so spacy whenever Matthew is around? I can’t keep track of the time correctly.

Whatever. His snarky comments aside, being able to actually know what time it is will help. I’m tired of having to fast walk everywhere and being last or first to class gives me more attention than I need.

***

The steam gurgles as I step over the bridge. I look off in the direction of the garden. Guess I’ll have to see Caiden after class.

Wish it could be before, but hopefully I won’t get too sweaty in class. I get to the field. According to my watch, class should be starting now, but the field is totally empty. Crap, what if they’re already at the lake?

Wait a sec.

There’s a rule for this, right? Only my facilitator can punish me for being truant, and he’d have to catch me himself.

I hang my head in defeat. Who am I kidding? Hercules is the only professor on campus that could get away with bending the rule.

My dread is interrupted by a loud clang coming from the field house. The door flies open and I see Hercules throwing some javelins outside.

Not that again.

I walk a wide circle around the field house door, careful not to get hit by a stray spear.

“Uh, professor?”

“WHAT?”

The response thunders throughout the air and rings my ears. Hercules pokes his head out of the doorway.

“Oh, it’s you, Squirt,” he says and steps onto the field. “Couldn’t wait for your first official day of class so you showed up early, eh?”

“Do your students usually not show up on time?” I ask.

Hercules looks at me flabbergasted. “Of course they do. There’s hell to pay if you’re late to my class, no matter what the damn handbook says. They still have another fifteen minutes, then it’s go time.”

What? I glance down at my watch. Class should have started five minutes ago.

“Mr. Hercules, what time is it?”

He looks up at the sun. “Fifteen till, no doubt about it.”

I groan inwardly. I trust his methods a lot more than I trust Matthew not to set my watch twenty minutes ahead. Damn him. I could have grabbed a snack in that time.

Hercules notices me grimacing at my watch.

“Another gift from Matthew?”

Apparently, it’s more of a curse, but I don’t tell him that. I just nod.

“That man spoils you too much.”

How the heck could he say that when ‘that man’ is the same reason that I ogle everyone’s dessert every day? I could probably manage to get these things myself if he gave me an allowance like he’s supposed to. I shrug my shoulders.

“Anything I can help you with, sir?”

“Don’t need it, but I’ll take it. Come here, I’ll show you what we’re doing.”

Hercules is not the most creative when it comes to class activities. Today’s assignment is a variation of what we did last week. The only change is his choice of weapon.

I was fortunate to have a sneak peek into what I’d be dealing with. Hercules and I loaded up a tote bag and take it to the starting line. To shake things up further, Hercules had hidden the bag under some canvas just before the other students had begun to arrive.

Crap.

Damn Matthew. He doesn’t realize that me being early for class may impress the professors, but only reinforces the rumors going around about me sucking up (and some think literally) to the staff.

I distance myself from Hercules and take my starting position at the edge of the forest. No matter what everyone else thinks, or how well Hercules and I get along; I know for a fact he isn’t going to cut me any slack today.

If I don’t give it my all, he’ll kill me, and this time he won’t hesitate. If it wasn’t a threat to my very existence, I’d be tempted to let him. At least the rumors would quiet down. No, I can’t think like that now. Everyone is here already.

Hercules explains the goal for today. Make it to the lake. Same as last time. Hopefully Matthew and the council isn’t waiting for us again.

Damn Elizabeth, get your head together. I’ve made it down there before. I can do it again. Hercules pulls a canvas bag full of shots from under the tarp. He slings it over his shoulder, as if the black spheres weigh nothing.

I am intimately aware of how heavy they are. Each one was hand crafted by Hercules, so while imperfect, they still weigh twenty pounds each. I had helped him load them into the bag, and he had told me how he broke boulders against boulders to make them. The set of twelve had apparently taken the better part of an afternoon to make, so he even gave them names. But knowing there was a ‘fluffbutt’ among the deadly spheres didn’t make me fear this assignment any less.

“Go!” Hercules shouts, and I take off.

Everyone must’ve been seriously freaked out by Hercules’ weapon of choice today, because, besides the Sock students, I’m a good distance ahead. This is perfect. Hercules only has twelve chances to hit us, so I am at a definite advantage.

My heart pounds through my chest as I hear a shot burst through a tree trunk on my left. I jerk and begin to run diagonally to the right. Another shot comes through the trees, this one landing in front of me. My feet studder, and I glance down to get my bearings. The shot is covered in blood.

Trees don’t bleed, do they?

I don’t have time to think as the tree snaps at its wound and begins to fall above me. I jump over. Hercules is a barbarian, one that can decimate an entire forest with twelve shots.

Or kill a class of twenty.

I catch my breath and begin navigating my way back to the lake. The ground beneath me shakes as more trees are felled and the only noise that permeates the air are splintering wood and screams. It’s like a war simulation, one I wasn’t built for. I try and cover my ears, but it doesn’t drown out the noise, it just knocks me off balance. When I scramble to my feet, it’s quiet.

“Anyone left?”

I hear Hercules shout, but he isn’t far. I can hear branches snap under his feet.

What the hell do I do now? I can’t be far from the lake, but judging by the way he phrased his question, it doesn’t matter. His aim and deadly precision makes distance a non-issue. At least for him, it’s a definite issue for me.

I huddle down, sliding my body underneath the shrubbery of a fallen tree. Hercules is getting closer to me, and if I keep moving underneath the brush, he’ll hear me. If he comes this way anyway, he’ll likely check to see if I’m really dead.

Not good.

Only my right leg is exposed, maybe he won’t notice. I get ready to close my eyes and accept my fate when I notice a bloodied shot just a few inches away from my nose. The coppery smell alone is enough to make me want to throw up, but my adrenaline keeps my mind focused on survival.

This is it.

I grab the shot and use all of the muscle I can muster to haul it next to my right leg. I feel the wetness of my classmate’s blood smear onto my leg. I fall back to the ground and go still.

Footsteps approach me for a second, then stop. It feels like he’s towering over me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Hercules kicks at my shoe gently.

“Sorry, Squirt, but I had to pay you back for last time.”

I hear him walk away.

What the hell? Was he targeting me on purpose? Whatever, I gotta finish the class before he comes back for his shot. I count to three hundred and slowly make my way towards the lake. When I make it to the forest edge, I can just make out Hercules lecturing the surviving students. There’s about a hundred yards between us.

Could Hercules throw that far?

He probably could.

The beach is so close, probably twenty yards away from me. Just get ready to run. I take a few hesitant steps before a Sock notices me and glances in my direction.

Hercules turns, and I can see his bag sags with the weight of at least one more shot.

I take off, lurching for the water. Hercules throws, and I throw myself forward like I’m trying to steal home plate.

“Shit!”

The sand to my right erupts, sending the fine particles over my head but are rinsed away as I pull my head out of the lake.