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Chapter 18

Luke had long since come to terms with the fact that people would never wholly enjoy his company. Even the grading monitors malfunctioned when he walked past them sometimes.

He didn't care, because in the long run it wouldn't matter. He wasn't a bitter person by nature, and he wasn't studying to make friends. Any connections he could make would only be temporary and take away valuable time that could be better spent prioritising the things that would last.

However, nobody else ever seemed to see his perspective. In fact, it had got him called more names than he could remember, so he'd resolved to stay quiet and stop trying to explain himself. It'd been over a month since he'd turned eighteen, and his apprenticeship was only a few months away now. It wasn't long until he'd be able to leave the childish reality and become a person of worth and respect. He'd spent his whole life preparing, with more intensity than anybody else could be bothered to have. He'd always thought it was only a matter of time before he proved everybody wrong, showed them who he was and what he could do. From a young age, he'd found them frivilous and irritating, and he'd known that one day they'd wake up and start agreeing with him.

Then they did.

He'd seen some suspicious activity when he'd last waited after hours to archive some names, but he hadn't been able to draw any real sort of conclusion from it. It had to be connected, though. He'd studied enough case files in the past to know to never ignore blatant signs that something suspicious was afoot.

He'd tried talking to Quinn about it after she'd been taken in by whatever was controlling the chaos, but there was really no point anymore. She couldn't take anything seriously. Evidently she was one of those people who thought anything could blow over if you just found a way to avoid it. It was pathetic, but it seemed to be her philosophy. He wasn't sure if he could do anything to improve the situation, but he was almost certain that she couldn't either.

He took a note of which corridors were closed off, then looked around for something to do.

The lunch breaks seemed to be getting longer and longer, and the screaming and yelling of the people on the outside never ceased to grate on him. But, to their credit, today at least they were silent. Usually at least some kids were eating indoors or something and he could report them, but everyone was suddenly very well-behaved.

It was the middle of November and every single person was outside.

Eventually he turned a corner and noticed someone inside. It looked like a girl, a few years younger than him. She was turned away, but he could see her inky hair pushed over her shoulder.

"Hey," he said loudly. "You know you're not supposed to be in here, right?"

"I am exactly where I should be." Her voice was surprisingly low. "You're not supposed to be here."

Luke was taken aback, but he managed to hide it fairly easily. People had said much worse to him. Clicking his fingers, he continued. "That's very funny, but unfortunately I do have a liscence to be here. And... You do not. So sadly I'm afraid I'll have to report you for this."

She didn't look up or move, so he took a step towards her and knelt down beside her. "You know what, you're young. You're still learning. So do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to give you five minutes to apologise for it, leave, and if you do, I'll pretend that I never saw you here. Deal?"

He extended his hand, and she turned around at long last, revealing a scarred face, swollen veins across her forehead, and pitch black eyes. "You need to leave."

Before he could do anything, she raised her hand and he felt his head crack against a wall and a surge of dizziness washed over him. "Be grateful I didn't kill you."

He scrambled back, still staring at her.

"Run along now. That's a good boy."

He did as he was told.

He didn't notice where he was going. He only cared about putting distance between himself and that thing, so much so that he didn't notice anyone else until he crashed into them.

"Watch it, Michaels," Jem snapped.

"You didn't just see that?" He gasped, turning around to the door which was still wide open. The girl had vanished.

Jem glared at him.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am." He took a step back, raising his hands in self-defence, hating the panic in his voice. "I wasn't looking, and... What if we just forget that this ever happened? I won't report you for being indoors, you..."

That was the moment when a fist collided with his jaw.

Stumbling, Luke doubled over. Jem grabbed him by the collar and dragged him outside, before throwing him down into the first patch of mud he found. Luke's back hit the brick wall just behind him, and the knuckle on his left hand grazed the floor. Holding his clipboard away from the dirt, he felt blood raw on his arm.

"Next time look where you're going."

"Of course," he muttered, struggling to his feet. He wiped the mud out of the graze on his hand, determined not to show any pain. Trying to regain some sort of dignity, he tilted his head slightly and said, "I'll send the report to your form room, alright?"

Back in the mud he went.

He waited until Jem turned the corner before standing up and wiping some of the mud from his arms and legs. His hand was bleeding. If the comments he'd overheard from him in the past held any weight, it shouldn't have been a surprise, but Jem was hardly atypical in his threats, and everybody else had always restrained themselves in the past. It was one of the few things he almost respected them for.

A lot of people had changed. He'd read a significant number of case files in the past, but none of them resembled his current situation. Even the cult cases from centuries ago had had significantly more personality. It was bizarre.

For a moment, he just sat there, trying to find the motivation to stand up again. The bottom of his jeans had come uncuffed. He cuffed it again. Then a voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Having fun down there?" Quinn said, smirking.

"No... No." He exhaled. "Look, I'll level with you," he managed to speak coherently in spite of the situation. "I don't like you and you don't like me, but can we maybe... Can we put that aside for five minutes? We really need to talk."

"What about? Mud?"

He looked down at his clothes. "Something like that."

"Sure. Can't wait to hear all about it." She wiped some of the mud off of her shoes against the wall and tilted her head, still smirking. "Bye."

"No, wait..." She walked off just as the bell rang and he looked down at his mud-soaked shirt on defeat. "Oh... Bad."

He'd never had a late mark before, but he needed to get perspective. He was already taking weapons and equipment off the premises. It didn't matter anymore. He could make up for it later. It wasn't necessarily a serious issue if it was for a valid reason, which - hygiene-wise - it was. Plus the mud felt too rough against his skin, and the texture made him desperate to claw it off.

Hesitating, he took out his clipboard, wiped the mud off of the screen, and gave himself a late mark, and his attendance rate slipped from a hundred to ninety-nine percent. A part of him considered changing it back, but he just switched it off and put it back into his bag. He'd always held himself to the same standards he held others; it was the one thing he prided himself on.

He swallowed, kept his head high, and walked back to his locker.