Don't Forget

17. This is Not a Joke.

Shar had a black eye. It was barely noticeable, the swelling gone and the color fading. But he had a black eye-and I had given it to him. I couldn't remember the exact details on how it happened. I seemed capable of thinking about only one thing.

            I think in the final round of sparring, while both of us were distracted and off our game, I managed to throw a well-aimed punch at his face. It hit his eye, he stumbled back, and he put his hand over his injury.

            "You did it." His voice had yet to rise above a whisper. "I guess we don't need to hold any more private lessons." And then he disappeared from the room, ghostlike.

            Back in the dorm room, Maion complained about how short the weekend had felt and the amount of homework she had to get done by the next day. I responded distractedly, trying not to blush or give anything away. She didn't seem to notice my absentmindedness.

            To my surprise, I fell asleep without effort and slept soundly. I didn't dream, I didn't stir. My alarm had to rouse me awake in the morning.

            I forgot about it when I first got up. In fact, I didn't remember it had happened until my first class of the day. And once the memories flooded in, my face and ears burned. I couldn't look anyone in the eye, afraid they would see it painted on my expression.

            I couldn't tell anyone about the kiss. I already knew what my friends would say if they found out: "He's manipulating you." "It's some sort of trick." "Don't associate with him anymore, okay, Amy?" I didn't want to stop associating with him, I didn't want to think it was just some sort of ruse. I wanted to fool myself a little longer.

            For the third time in the past five minutes, Professor Arek Norsta pinned me to the ground. She released a deep sigh, a frown on her face and disappointment in her eyes. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder, she said, "I had hoped you'd practice on your own, but it's apparent now that you didn't."

            My lips jutted into a pout. "I'm sorry, Professor Norsta. I just have a lot on my mind."

            Her yellow eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. "And you think I don't? I am the disciplinarian of this school, I'm a member of the board, and I'm a professor. I have plenty on mind. But I don't let it affect me in battle." A pointed brow arched, and I curled away from her. "I suggest you do the same."

            I let my head hang. "I'm sorry."

            "I'm ending class early today." She turned to the door. "If you don't improve by tomorrow, I will be dropping your grade to a D. Come prepared, Amy."

            "Yes, ma'am."

            My grades in my personal training class had never been stellar. Sometimes a C, other times a B. This year, I had been sitting assuredly at a B-but now it could fall to a D. It had never been that low before. I needed to get my head on straight.

            I needed to stop thinking about Shar.

            Somehow I ended up in the E building. My footsteps took me to the third-level library: shelving that reached the ceiling, beanbag chairs in the center. The books lined the walls of the room, rather than free-standing shelves. It left the room open for the students to spread out to study or leisure read.

            My eyes trailed the titles at eye-level, which ranged from nonfiction about dealing with powers to essays about super-human politics. These books and anthologies couldn't be found in human libraries.