Trainer Prescott's cold blue eyes flit from Nikolas to me. I try not to flinch. Trainer Prescott just has that effect on everyone. He's an intimidating man, only three years older than me, but he is a soldier to the core.
"Soldier Somerset," Trainer Prescott growls. "Why did you punch Soldier Nikolas' nose?"
I force myself to straighten up, lift my chin up, and try not to cower under his cold and calculating blue gaze. "S-Sir... He slammed into me purposely, and when I asked why-"
"You didn't ask why, Somerset. You screamed at me-" Nikolas says loudly, but I cut him off and throw him a death glare.
"My point is, Trainer Prescott, he slammed into me to get my attention," I say, mentally counting to fifty to calm my nerves. I catch Mercedes' eye and give her a small nod or she'll start having an attack. God, if they find out Mercedes has anxiety issues, they would-
"Soldier Somerset, I expect better from you," Trainer Prescott says through gritted teeth, snapping me out of my thoughts. "How many times do I have to repeat myself before you truly, truly get it? Control yourself."
Nikolas seems to be mocking me with his dark eyes. Silently laughing at me. A few soldiers suppress smirks and giggles. Damn them. They're doing an excellent job. They know it isn't the first time I've got in trouble for my impulsiveness.
"Y-yes, Trainer Prescott..." I say, forcing myself to sound like I actually give a shit and I'm not scared. To be honest, Trainer Prescott scares me a bit. He seems to be like a machine with no feelings and a handsome face.
Trainer Prescott, to my absolute relief, turns to Nikolas. "And what do you have to say for yourself, Soldier?"
Nikolas removes his hands from his still-bleeding nose. "Somerset punches hard, sir," he says. I take a step forward.
"Oh? If you think I punch hard, you have never felt how hard I kick. Want to sample? I-"
"Enough!" Trainer Prescott bellows. "If this you two were in the war zone you'd both be DEAD! Stop bickering like bitches already!"
I fall silent automatically. I want to say something to Nikolas, like, "Your brain is smaller than your ego" but I can't seem to open my mouth. Nikolas is silent, too, is nose still gushing blood, and he makes no attempt to staunch it.
"Soldier Cavallo! Heal Soldier Nikolas' nose!" Trainer Prescott snarls. Kyle Cavallo, a tall, brown-haired fifteen-year-old steps from the crowd, then touches Nikolas' nose with a look of disgust on his face. Nikolas looks just as happy as Kyle, who immediately wipes his hand on his pants the minute Nikolas' nose is healed. Kyle throws a dirty look at me, as if he is saying, "Did you HAVE to give him a broken nose?"
"You both will be punished. During your vehicles class, come directly to this field. I will be waiting for you. You will do a five mile run. Not a five mile jog or a five mile walk. A five mile run. For every time you stop or walk, you will do an extra mile!" Trainer Prescott says savagely. He draws in a deep breath and shoots me a dirty look. He turns and walks off. "Get in your positions for your second sprint!" He calls. As if nothing happened.
I stand there, shocked. I've done a ten mile run before, but Trainer Prescott let us jog. My fellow soldiers all whisper under their breaths, some shooting me and Nikolas pitting or sympathetic looks, but most of them snicker or chuckle.
I walk up to Nikolas - like, right up to him. He smells good, like soap and sweat and some cologne. I try to ignore that. Nikolas looks at me, cocking a dark eyebrow. "You do something like that one more time..." I growl. Then I take out my hunting knife that's always sheathed at my waist. "I'll show you how deep I can cut." I violently slam the knife back into its sheath and stomps back to the START line of the indoor track.
An hour later, I sit at a table in the mess hall, fuming and seething with anger. The mess hall is a giant room dotted with small tables that seat four and a line for the food towards the back. The biggest table that holds all the Trainers are in the very front. There are twenty trainers, all at least sixteen years old. The oldest is twenty-seven.
Kyle, as usual, is being his stalker self and staring at me and Mercedes from across the mess hall. The other fifteen to sixteen-year-olds in my class mutter and whisper more than ever. That is unusual, because the mess hall is usually bustling with life from their relentless chatter. But then again, today has been quite unsual. The Nikolas part, that is. My impulsiveness is normal.
The other groups sit and laugh and joke but they are quieter as well, when they realize there is a new Aberrent in the room. The message is clear for Nikolas: Welcome to hell. Sorry you had to come. Try not to die.
I sharpen my knife, glowering around. I had just eaten breakfast. Mercedes watches me, sighing once in a while. She hates it when I'm mad. It's a miracle she's my friend at all because I get mad easy. Once I was so enraged it mad Mercedes mad and she screamed, "Sometimes I think anger is the only thing you feel! Anger and hate and bitterness!"
If only she knew my story she would understand.
"You throw a good punch," someone says from behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I jump, startled, then after seeing who it is, I slam the knife into the table violently, the handle sticking up.
"You serve as a good target," I snarl to Nikolas, who stands behind me, smirking.
Nikolas seems unfazed. He nods at the empty space next to me. "Can I sit?"
"No."
"There's plenty of room."
I swing my legs up onto the empty space on the bench. "Not anymore."
His dark, stormy eyes glisten with amusement. Then he walks and sits next to Mercedes, who, to my extreme anger (and something else I don't want to say), blushes and suppresses a smile.
"Why are you smiling? Stop blushing! Get away from him, Mercedes!" I say, yanking the knife out of the table.
Nikolas swings an arm around Mercedes' shoulders. I make a sound of annoyance at the back of my throat and tighten my grip on the handle of the knife.
"Chill, Zoë!" Mercedes giggles. This is wrong. She never giggles. I point my knife at Nikolas' throat.
"What are you doing to her! Stop it!" I say with steel in my voice. "Go away!"
Nikolas laughs. "I'm not doing anything, Somerset. You already know my little... Gift. It's super speed, not make people love each other. I'm just so sexy girls can't resist me."
I try to resist the urge to slit his throat.
It works, unfortunately.
I sheathe my knife before any of the instructors could force me to do a five mile run or worse. I've heard punishments have gone as far as being locked inside a room as they play all your fears and worst regrets. The last boy had his sanity completely shattered.
I sigh and glance at the Trainers' table. Then I see a twenty-first member sitting at the table, a petite thing in a black bodysuit.
"Who's that?" I ask.
Nikolas turns. He squints. Then his face registers with pure shock for a moment, then he turns away. When he turns back, his face is a mask. "I don't know. I have never seen her before."
I narrow my eyes. "You're lying." Why would he lie?
Mercedes, still in a happy state, looks at him. Then the happy slips away. "Who is she? You know her, don't you?"
Nikolas' face is still a mask. "I don't know her, I swear."
"Stop lying, Nikolas."
"I am not."
"You know her. Who is she?"
"I don't know her. I don't know who she is. I have never met her."
"Jeez! Stop lying!"
"I'm not lying!"
Ugh. I scowl but decide to let it drop. Mercedes is still regarding Nikolas with cautious eyes. I watch Nikolas with a careful expression. He does know her. That I know of... But he was not expecting to see her.
After breakfast we are told to head towards a new training room. We shuffle through a maze of blank grey hallways under flickering fluorescent lights. We walk into a room I have never seen before. The ceiling is high, bright LED lights shining down on us. There is a net dangling from the ceiling. Off to the side are a whole bunch of gymnastic bars and nets and rings. In one corner are a whole bunch of dark, tall poles.
"Welcome," a voice, definitely feminine, says.
A small figure steps from the shadows of the poles, making us all jump. Then I realize it is the new instructor that sat at the instructors' table. She's very attractive, with black hair twisted up in a braid, high cheekbones, a flattened nose bridge, dark brown eyes, and full lips. Her dark brown irises are rimmed with a little red, which I find weird. She's small but curvy, and you can tell she has years of training just by the way she stands.
I look at Nikolas, but he has an excellent poker face. The girl instructor sweeps her gaze over all of us. She has an excellent poker face, too. She remains expressionless and her gaze does not linger on Nikolas or even gives away the slightest indication she knows him.
"I am Trainer Wang. I will be training you in stealth and agility, something you were not trained before," she says. "And yes, I am an Aberrent. I can make people fear. I manipulate fear. I gave you a little taste of what I am capable of doing this morning."
I don't like the calculating look or the glint of steel in her eyes.
Then I register what she is saying. I remember my nightmare, and how it struck my weakness: my past and how I am quite incapable of moving on.
I swallow hard and force myself to meet Trainer Wang's eyes. There's a new glint to it, and it scares me.