Alex stared at the tray.
It had not been long enough for her to reach the cafeteria and get back. But there it was, rice and grilled chicken and steamed vegetables, still giving off a thin curl of steam, with a fork laid neatly beside it. He looked up at Kelly.
’She actually got me food.’
He had taken her sarcasm for what it was. A maid, she had said. He had not thought she would follow through.
"Thank you," he said. "Really. I mean it."
Kelly did not answer. She had already turned away and crossed to her desk, and she sat down and opened her book as though he had said nothing. She did not so much as glance back.
Alex blinked.
’Ok. Maybe she didn’t hear.’
He said it again, a little louder. "Thanks, Kelly."
Nothing. She turned a page.
He decided to leave it. Some people did not like being thanked. He looked back down at the plate, and the smell reached him, warm and salty and real.
Then, instead of eating, he opened the textbook and went back to reading.
Kelly noticed. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the tray sit there and slowly stop steaming. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. The rice went dull and the chicken lost its shine. Thirty minutes went by, then more, and still he had not touched it.
’Why isn’t he eating?’ she wondered. ’I brought it for him.’
She did not ask. It was not her business. She kept her eyes on her own page and let the question sit.
Alex’s stomach growled.
It was a long, low rumble, loud enough that Jerry, who had come back some time ago and settled down with his book, glanced up in surprise. Alex put a hand over his belly and pretended nothing had happened.
It growled again.
’Ok. Ok.’
He could not deny it anymore. He was hungry, truly hungry, the kind of hunger that had been sitting under everything else all day and was now demanding to be noticed. He had eaten nothing since the previous evening. He had slept the whole night and spent the morning reading. His body had been running on nothing.
But the Chapter was not finished. He turned the pages to see how much was left.
Only three more pages.
’Three pages,’ he thought. ’That’s nothing.’
Three pages of the Chapter, not the rest of the book. He was not stupid. The book was still huge, and every Chapter had another one behind it. But three pages was something he could beat.
He pulled the book closer and hyped himself up under his breath.
’Three pages. Then I eat. Come on.’
He read the first one. The words held for him, and the ideas slotted into place. He read the second, quick and hungry. On the third his stomach cramped so hard that he had to grit his teeth. He reached the last line and finished it and closed the book with a snap.
He pulled the tray toward him and dug in.
The food was cold by then, but it did not matter. The rice was soft and the chicken was tender, and he ate like a man who had forgotten what food was. Within minutes the plate was half empty. He drank the water in a single gulp.
When he was done he sat back and let out a breath. The ache in his stomach had gone. His head felt clearer, and the light in the room seemed to have softened.
He glanced at Jerry, who was still reading, then at Kelly.
"Hey."
She looked up. "Yes?"
"How many more textbooks do we have to go over to clear the written exams?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Like, is there a curriculum?"
Kelly closed her book slowly.
"There is one."
"Can I see it?"
"There’s no point giving it to you," she said. "You have no chance of actually finishing it in just a month."
The words landed like a small, cold pebble.
It was a definite jab. The tone was flat and the meaning was plain, and there was nothing gentle in it. Alex felt his jaw tighten. But he let it slide. He did not snap back and he did not argue.
’I’ll remember that,’ he thought.
He took a slow breath and asked another question instead.
"So who decides what we learn?"
"We do."
"We?"
"The students selected to coach you." She tapped her book with one finger. "I give you what I want you to read."
Alex stared at her.
"Wait. So does that..."
"Yes." Kelly leaned back in her chair. "Your chances are really just in my hands. I could waste your time with unnecessary texts. Or I could give you the real stuff. It’s my decision."
The words hung in the room.
Alex sat very still. A cold feeling spread slowly through his stomach, colder than the food had been.
It was a frightening thought. Not just for himself, though he felt that too. It went further than that. He looked at Jerry, hunched over his book, and at the empty desks around them, and thought of the sixty six people who had signed. Every one of them was a criminal. Every one of them had been handed to a student, and that student decided what they read, what they knew, and how prepared they were.
’They’re criminals,’ he thought. ’And it shows in how they’re treated. Their lives are cheap. Their fates could be sealed if one academy student wanted it.’
One student. One whim.
It did not matter whether that student was kind or cruel. It only mattered that they could choose.
Kelly saw his face change. She saw the color leave it, and the way his shoulders stiffened, and she sighed quietly.
"Relax," she said. "I’m not giving you some kind of guarantee. Just calm down."
Alex looked at her.
"We’re all adults in the academy," Kelly said. "We’ll be responsible. Nobody here is going to sabotage you on purpose."
Alex frowned.
"Adults?"
"Yes."
"Wait." He tilted his head. "So you’re not like sixteen?"
The room went quiet.
Jerry looked up from his book, then quickly down again, pretending he had not heard.
Kelly’s mouth opened slightly. Her cheeks went warm.
’Sixteen?’
She knew she looked young. She had always looked young, small babe with a face that people liked to underestimate. She had heard it a hundred times, from teachers, from shopkeepers, from guards at the front gate. But she was not a teenager. She had turned twenty just last week. She had a birthday cake to prove it, half eaten in the dorm at the academy.
She kept her face still and said nothing.
Alex studied her, a little more carefully now. He seemed to realize he had touched something, and he did not push it. Instead he asked, quite simply:
"How old are you?"
Kelly met his eyes.
"Twenty," she said.