I sit in the 'outdoor' classroom, hoping for the lunch to come soon. Monday isn't too bad, because we don't get homework, but I'm praying for a different reason. I need to read up on who Linda is, and Institute History, the class after this one, is the perfect place to find out who she is. There has to be something about her in one of those huge textbooks. Don't get me wrong, survival training is the most hands on class, which really helps me keep interested, and I feel the need to pay even more attention now that I know I may be thrown to my death against who-knows-what, but I need to know what this all means for my future.
I couldn't do it yesterday because I knew there was always someone watching. Various Mentors would just meander around the rooms I would hang out in, threatening to pull closer to me as I made attempts to speak with Lance. If they knew I knew about the trials, I'd be dead. So I kept quiet.
Time ticks slowly on until we are dismissed by a soft 'ping' that rings through the school after every class. I rush through lunch, not stopping to talk or think, just eat, drink, then run. I arrive a bit early to class by following Mr. Patel from a bit of a distance. I walk into the room after a couple minutes of trying to look like I didn't come early on purpose and sit in one of the shiny stools. The one I sit on is a bit wobbly, so I spend time wiggling back and forth with my legs on the feet of the tall chair. I finally stand up and grab a book, calmly flipping through it.
"Is there anything I can help you look for, Ianthe? I would suppose it is something you can't find with your head, am I correct?" The teacher with the slightly balding brown hair remarks. I ignore the sarcasm by simply not responding. I get a few pages into reading before I totally miss the technological ping that shutters through the building, and students begin to flood into the room. Mr. Patel takes the book away from me and put it on top of the shelf, then begins teaching. Well that didn't work.
I guess tonight will just have to be one of those nights.
Outside this place must be so much better. The distinct smell of chemical clean air will be replaced with the scent of soft yellow daisies. Instead of tip-toeing quietly down the hall hoping no one will send me back to my room at night, I'll be running under the twinkling stars over the rolling hills. I want to go home, but I don't know where home is. This has been my only home for as long as I remember. Here at the Institute, freedom is assumed, not promised. We are told that we have "Free Time," but that's just a better name for the Mentors breathing down our necks while we munch on healthy granola bars that sit in the cafeteria for us to grab. I sit on my bed, close my eyes and search for a better place. A place where grass is not only greener, but there actually is grass that you can roll around in and smell and relax.
This place may have a perfect balance of healthy diet and exercise matched with a top notch education, training to be the best we can be, but there is undoubtably something off about it. I am barely able to find things online other than spotless descriptions stating that "The Institute is a wonderful place where 'Prodigies' can thrive in a comfortable habitat." They call us prodigies? I'd say freaks. Don't forget the occasional inconsistent conspiracy pages that throw around ideas of the kids who graduate from here being executed and them raising us for world domination. From the eerie feeling this place gives me at night, I wouldn't say it's too far off from some sort of evil labyrinth. But I guess that's a going a bit far.
I wait until everyone is asleep to slip out of the shared dorm, but not before shooting Lance a glance to make sure he's asleep. Thankfully, he is. He sleeps like a kitten, curled under the heavy covers and lightly snoring. I'd stay and watch, but there's work to do.
I stride quietly down the hallway, worried I'll be seen. I step up the stairs, by feet making a 'pat pat pat' sound that echoes through the dark white corridors. At the top of the staircase, I look to my right with hope of remembering where the Institute History classroom is. This place is a maze during the day, so you can say it's near impossible to navigate during the night-time.
"Aiden, help me," I say to him, hoping to catch his attention.
"Only if you ask nicely," he responds in a jokingly patronizing tone.
"Aiden I swear to god this is not the right time for this. Where's the Institute History classroom?" I yell, which only comes out as a whisper because I know they'll have my head if I'm caught roaming the halls during the nighttime.
"Take a left then the first right. Third door on the left,"
I nod and walk to the left, then take a right at the first white hallway and open up the third unidentifiable white door. The words "Comfortable Habitat" don't exactly describe the Institute, but I guess they're good for marketing.
I walk up to the pale blue shelves that line the wall under the whiteboard, my fingers brushing the spines of countless textbooks before finding the right one. If I can't find anything on the internet, I'm going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Let's do this.
"So I don't even get a thank you?" he teases.
"Not if you keep making me want to rip whatever part of my brain you are out of my head," I say without missing a beat.
"Admit you'd miss me if I were gone," he says. I guess he doesn't realize the seriousness of the situation.
"I would, but I know there's no way that's happening," I mention before pulling the book off the bookshelf and flipping through the pages. He's silent for a while as I read, knowing that he's paying close attention too.
After reading about six textbooks front to back with the much needed help from Aiden, I carefully place the book where it was when I found it. So from what I know so far, the Institute was founded in 2018 when scientists discovered a new generation of people who were not fitting the 'norm' of the time. They were taken in and were humanely tested, but they wanted it into be taken to the next level, they wanted a better environment to be able to practice their newfound powers. The woman who made this into reality was Addison Scott, who happens to be the grandmother of Linda Scott. She even looks like Linda, which explains why I thought she looked familiar. Apparently, the Scott family created all this new technology to assist them in monitoring the Institute, which explains why they have accessible audio in the most private room there is. They must be super proud of the progress they've made. All I know about the trials is what I heard the people whispering about in the back room, and now I feel like I hear it everywhere.
I reach for a new book when I hear the door swing open. In the doorway stands a man whose lab coat sits a bit lopsided. He is out of breath but still has the energy to point at me and sternly motion be over. I take a deep breath and slowly trudge my way over to him.
"Let me guess, I left the camera on," I say, not knowing what to expect from him.
"Actually, your downfall was the camera being off," he notes, taking recovering breaths between every few words.
"Believe me, that won't be my downfall," I lip. He grabs me by the arms and practically drags me down the hallway. The stairs rush by quickly and instead of being brought to my dorm where I can sleep the night off, I am stood in front of the conference room. Lance leans against the door frame and looks at me in both annoyance and empathy. I give him an apologetic look and he just nods. I am taken into the room and sat down on the cold chair that I met earlier. It feels different now. This time, I'm more than anxious. I'm scared.
Lance walks in and sits down in the chair next to me. Linda and three other adults stand in front of me.
"Oh Ianthe. What are we going to do with you?" she says, shaking her head is disapproval.
"I think you already know," I say under my breath.
"Ah, so you've heard..."
"Heard what?" Lance asks, skeptical.
"The Trials," I say. Lance has an uncomfortable look on his face. He directs his stare back and forth between me and Linda.
"You know about that? Ianthe, why didn't you tell me? You're gonna get killed!" he interrogates.
"I didn't think you knew about them! I barely know anything about it," I defend, suddenly realizing something, "Why didn't you tell me about them? I thought you cared about me!"
"I haven't known about the Trials for long," he says in a weak attempt to defend himself.
"How long is that?" I demand, growing more irritated by the second. I don't realize I'm standing until I see him looking up at me.
"About a week..." Lance mumbles.
"I can't believe this," I say, leaning back down into my chair, my arms crossed over my body.
"I didn't realize they'd throw you into them yet! I didn't want to scare you,"
"This isn't something you keep from me! I can't believe you!" I loudly accuse.
"Settle down," Linda says, interrupting our, or should I say my, yelling match, "We need to figure this out."
"Whatever you say, I'm not listening," I claim, my head turned away from her.
"Suit yourself, but you may want to know what's happening to you," she reminds me.
"Whatever," I roll my eyes, anger building up in my clenched fists.
"Now, I'm not anymore in favor of this than you are," she comments.
"Speak for yourself. I, in fact, am overjoyed with this decision," I reply bitterly.
"The next graduation is in two weeks," Linda continues, attempting to ignore my remark, "To avoid further noncompliance, we're going to sedate you until the next Trials begin." She talks about it like she's scheduling a doctor's appointment, which is what I hope it is.
"You'll be at a bit of a disadvantage to the others and therefore an easier target. Perhaps we could let you in a bit earlier so you have more time to get to know it before they begin?"
"Yeah, sure. What am I trying not to get killed by?" I ask shakily.
"The Program," she states, "If you're the first to complete the set task, you will be able to choose one other prodigy to... Set the Program after." I shudder. Am I going to have to kill them too? Their powers are so much stronger than mine, how am I going to compete with that?
"Anything else you can tell me?" I ask, able to tell she's already told me too much.
"Not really, sorry," she responds
"No you're not," I add.
"Could you just trust me? For once? It wasn't my idea!"
The room is silent, everyone looking at each other. I want to lay my head down on Lances lap, but I'm so angry with him right now... Oh, who am I kidding? I need him. I have to say goodbye
"I know," I quietly respond, "Then why did you choose it, Mrs. Scott? Oh, forgive me. Mrs. Scott is your mother."
"Okay, you caught me. It's our last choice. Are you going to be this difficult during the Trials?" she asks, exasperated.
"Likely," I proudly announce, crossing one leg over the other.
"Just a fair warning: It isn't going to get you anywhere," Linda threatens.
"That isn't stopping me," I say with a exaggerated shoulder shrug.
"You have five minutes starting now," Linda declares, almost yelling. I would be too if I had to put up with myself.
I turn to look at Lance who's jaw is dropped wide open. We share a short, quiet look before I lean into his arms, taking in his scent. It was one of the small things that helped me get by here; it was so different than the man made air that bombarded me when I tried study. He smells... Natural. Like a human, because, let's face it, no one here is. He holds me for a moment before pulling away and looking me in the eyes.
"I'll be waiting for you on the other side," he promises.
"You say that like I'm making it to the other side," I sigh, shaking my head.
"Don't say that. I'm going to be there and so are you," he says. He's so full of hope. He should know I'm not coming back. I nod, emotions pushing against my eyes. I bury my face into his chest.
We sit like this for a good six minutes. He strokes my back, calming me.
"Times up," Linda says. I pull away from Lance's embrace and wipe the tears from my cheeks with my palm. I stand up and sarcastically salute Lance, receiving an eye roll from Linda.
"See you on the outside," I only half-sincerely promise him, not sure about how I'll do. I walk out the door and down the blindingly white halls next to two men who escort me, taking in one last smell of the headache-inducing scent of disinfectant.