Fractured | The Portal Series book 1

Chapter 8 - Jessica

6:20 a.m. SET – 7/19/341 U.M.

6:20 p.m. BTS – 7/18/341 U.M.

On Monday, Tess and I make our way to the training room, which I am informed is nicknamed "Boomerang", due to the fact that it is where everyone reviews and perfects techniques.

When we enter, we find three instructors; a woman with wavy brown hair, tanned skin, and golden eyes; a man with closed cropped black hair, well–muscled arms, and an olive complexion; and Zarek.

"Ah, Tess, on time today," Instructor Zarek says mildly, nodding approvingly. Tess reddens slightly as the other teenagers in the room snicker. They don't look necessarily mean at first glance, but there is a chill in Tess' eyes nonetheless. "Jessica," Instructor Zarek says, turning to me, "This is Instructor Georgia," he gestures to the woman, who raises her hand in greeting, "and Instructor Lio," the man nods. "Class, please greet Jessica, Tess' new teammate."

There is an unenthusiastic round of "Hi, Jessica", since the students too busy giving me appraising looks. I see Haya, and a few other students I recognize. But the rest I don't. Tess never came to this class during the short time that I spied on her.

Then I notice a girl my age with bushy, sun–bleached, blonde hair, who looks the most cynical. Her jade eyes are narrowed slightly.

It takes several moments for me to realize that I have stopped breathing. Wave after wave of horror crashes over me, drowning me.

Not Pamela. Please, don't let it be Pamela.

I think wildly. I haven't spoken to or seen Pamela in three years. This shouldn't be a surprise, she's a year older than I am and in a different age group.

I swallow bile.

"Alright," Instructor Zarek says, clapping his hands together, "Split up."

Pamela joins Jan and two older boys. They go to Lio, and the other four students follow Georgia, leaving Tess and I with....

"Zarek," Tess says, "What are we doing today?"

"Bit of everything," he says in his authoritative voice, "We'll start with martial arts, and end with a trip to the gun range." He doesn't say if there will be anything in the middle of that. "Warm up," he commands.

Tess leads in a series of stretches, which have a few things that I am not used to. My nerves are piling up as the minutes pass. I can feel Pamela's gaze on me. Hatred floods my veins.

When the warm up ends Zarek simply says, "Gear on." Tess moves over to the equipment lockers, but I stay.

"Um, sir," I start.

"Your gear has been brought up," he says, before I even voice my concern.

"Oh." Swallowing, I turn and follow Tess. I am sure that if I cared to look up the word "intimidating" in the dictionary, I would find a picture of Instructor Zarek.

——

I decide that I hate Competition Class. Tess is so much better than me at everything. She is the first person that I have sparred that has been able to beat me. She is also the only one that can spin a bo staff quicker than I can.

Breathe, Jessica. Breathe. This is just a challenge. You will soon be the best again.

It's hard to believe myself when Pamela is snickering at me from the other side of the room. To help my bruised ego, I remember the glimpses I caught of Pamela training. I smirk humorlessly, wondering how she got to Competition Class.

"Alright," Zarek says loudly, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention, "clean up! We're heading to the gun range!"

The gun range.

Without looking at the mirror, I know that my face lights up. I quickly rearrange my expression back to its somber state, but inside, I'm throwing a party.

For five years, I have broken into the gun range every morning. I spend at least an hour training every single day.

I have always prided myself in my shooting.

We troop across the glass bridge into the courtyard, and from there head down to the gun range.

I find the familiar form of my FL–42 in the usual locker, and grab it before joining Tess, feeling ready to prove myself to Pamela no matter the cost. Tess has the same make and model of blaster that I do, but hers is distinctly more battered. My determined pride falters. This doesn't bode a good omen for my desire to be good at shooting compared to the other teens, who, for the most part, have had years more of experience under their belts.

Once we are given the go, I turn off the safety and carefully aim the blaster at the holographic target across the range. Here at the Floating Isle, we have a sort of game, where the rings of the target equal different points when you shoot through them. The closer to the center, the higher the points. The bullseye is ten points. You get a hundred shots, because that is how long the charge will last.

I have never been so motivated to beat my high score.

One glance at Pamela's smug little face tells me that I need to let loose and get the best score that I have ever gotten.

952. I need to beat 952.

Before I can fire a shot, though, Tess pokes her head over into my area. "I notice that you and Pamela seem to have been at odds all morning," she states.

I grunt in reply.

She chuckles. "Feel free to totally smoke her."

Tess disappears into her section with a mischievous grin on her face. I turn back to my target.

I raise my arms, and fire. Again, and again, and again. Each shot gives me a surge of adrenaline and pride. I have 120 points, 170, 240....

The nearly silent shots of the blasters seem to meld together in the bursts of light from every station.

450... 520... 630....

As the minutes pass, my score climbs higher and higher.

800... 810... 840... 890....

I feel a pure flood of grim satisfaction as I beat my previous record. I almost expect to run out of power as I reach 960 points, and falter.

"You still have juice," Zarek reminds me from behind.

I don't reply, and just return to shooting. There is a surreal moment as I reach 970... 980....

The amount of light passing by starts decreasing at this point, the other students running out of power. Finally, it is just me and Pamela down the line.

990... 1000.

Out of habit, I click the trigger again, but nothing happens. Satisfied, I turn on the safety and put the FL down on my station.

Perfect score. How many can say they have gotten a perfect score?

I twirl around to leave, satisfied at my beating my old high score so spectacularly, to find the entirety of the class staring at me with shock, especially Tess.

"Congratulations, Jessica," Zarek says mildly, penciling in all the results before resetting the screens, "You just earned yourself a new school record."