Martin & Marcella

Eleven

Their hearts trembling with fear, the boy and girl prepared for their joining. Martin, though thin, was at least himself a male. Marcella, however, was nothing close to a warrior. She begged to be left on her own; she pleaded with her brother to worry only for himself, but he would hear none of her words. He would not leave her.

In a clearing protected by lavender thistles, high above the fields where the assembled army rested, Marcella knelt on a sheet of stone and covered her face while her brother drew his blade. The girl's dark locks fell to the floor in handfuls. Martin struggled not to show his own dismay. His sister's beautiful hair, as black and glossy as the watery-starred ocean at night, was no longer hers. It was buried into the earth, hidden from sight. When her shape was smoothed and her face made dirty, Marcella was near her completed disguise. Martin himself could not be proven anything other than what he was, but his sister was still vulnerable to interrogation. Nothing more could be done, though, so with their deception as flawless as they could have it, the two started on their way toward the ranks of the High King's army.

The following afternoon, Joel found his way to the Office of Extracurricular Activities. He'd been fuming all night, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Thoughts of confusion had run circles through his head, burned rings into the muscle of his brain. Had he really gone to the platform and accepted admittance to St. Raphael's Honor Society? Had he truly returned to his table to find Lysander congratulating him with a forced smile across his ruddy face? Had it really happened? All of it was such a daze that Joel kept telling himself he'd soon be waking from a bizarre dream. And he was furious. Furious because he wasn't sure this step was such a bad thing.

He was trying to prove that he wasn't losing himself, wasn't he? Wouldn't it help ease his mind away from his present state if he had a new agenda to attend to? Wouldn't being around other students help convince them that he was sane? And (Joel hated to admit he thought this) wouldn't his father be at least slightly proud? Maybe there wasn't anything negative about the St. Raphael's Honor Society. Now that the membership had been bestowed so generously upon him, Joel wasn't sure he didn't mind receiving it.

There was one thing, however, that he couldn't come to terms with. He'd promised himself that he'd watch over Lysander. If the two of them were apart, Joel couldn't be sure his friend was all right, and Lysander hadn't been admitted to the Society. Both boys were internally shocked at that, but Joel understood more about the ways of people like Sir Blackwell than others. He knew how money could power people. He knew how it could make men consider themselves indestructible. Still, Joel didn't want to be in a society of snobs without the only friend he had. He wanted Lysander in the Society, or he didn't want to be in it at all. This he had decided during his night of twisting and turning. If the Society wanted him so badly, they'd have to let in Lysander as well. Otherwise, Joel would tell them he'd go back on his acceptance, and he'd take all of the possible funding he had with him.

That's what he was determined to do, anyhow.

When he reached the office, Joel felt a shiver. He gulped heavily, at once unsure of himself. He'd never participated in an extracurricular activity; would they even know him in the office?

"I need to talk to Mr. Blackwell," demanded Joel to a young student seated at the office's front desk.

"Sir Blackwell is out of town," the irritated boy behind the desk replied monotonously. He was obviously annoyed to have been disturbed from the magazine he was skimming. "He left this morning. Besides, he only has a temporary office here. He hardly ever uses it."

Joel was braver, now, to see that it was only a student like himself at the front desk. If an adult had been there, he'd have been less bold. "Don't all of the different clubs and societies have offices here, though? Where's the one for the St. Raphael's Honor Society? Is somebody in it?"