He wanted to follow them out. He wanted to make an excuse for them to stay, but at this point it would be obvious that he was trying to waste time. All he could do was watch them leave.

He skulked out of the club, hands buried in his trouser pockets. He supposed he could hang out with Reginald and the others until his exam started. He had managed a couple of steps into the outside world before he collided with Roger's massive frame. He peered up at the much taller student. The only thing that William noticed immediately was that Roger was not smiling. The second thing he noticed was that Roger was glaring. This would not bode well.

"You said you'd talk to her," Roger's deep voice rumbled. "You said, you'd convince her."

"Yeah, when I saw her. She's a fucking first year!" William snapped and instantly regretted his tone. The much bigger student's arm lashed out, his fist connecting with the display next to them. Roger's meaty fist pulled at William's collar, forcing him against the display. William squeaked, "she was in first aid training all morning." William scanned the street for security to make an appearance.

"No, she wasn't," Roger rumbled. "I saw three other captains talk to her this morning after I finished my morning routine. She was at the freak show cafe in the military tier, eating fucking food cubes." The heat that had bottled up in his face drained from him. 'Seriously?' His brain chimed. That girl should know better than to be seen eating food cubes. Who in their right might would want to eat that sawdust unless they absolutely had to? And last he checked, Astral didn't have to.

'Great...' William fumed. Not only did Seth want her, but every other team at the school seemed to want her too. How did this become his problem? William ducked under the larger student's arm. "Next time, why don't you just piss on her leg. That'll let her know that you call dibs." He yelped as Roger restrained the back of his jacket. How is it security wasn't picking up on this? "Look, nothing I tell her now is going to change her mind. You came on just a 'little' too strong. Now she's just going to jerk you around for shits and giggles," he told Roger.

"Is that right." Roger rumbled as his massive paw patted William on the shoulder as his scowl transformed into a grin. He gripped William's shoulder and squeezed, the grin on his face distorting with a mix of rage and pleasure. "Looks like you're not going to be able to make the team this year. Shame about that." William buckled under the pressure and bit back against the pain. If he screamed, Squad IV would bully him relentlessly until they found a better target. "Stop!" William cried out when he couldn't take the pain. "I stopped her from reporting you! That's got to mean something!" Roger's death grip left William's shoulders. The student fell backwards, leaning against the digital display, trying to stifle his whimpers. He wiped the tears from his face.

"You should have said so," the larger student rumbled. There was no trace of sympathy in his eyes. The only thing William saw reflected back at him was: 'You deserve this.'

*****

He told no one. Who could he tell? If he told and Squad IV found out, he'd be a dead man, figuratively speaking. He hoped that he could work through the pain. He hoped that if he didn't baby himself, his body would just give up on the idea that he was injured. Initially, as he didn't feel a thing as he began his warm-ups.

It wasn't long into his push-ups that his arm flared up as though burning from within his bones. He bit back against the pain until his fingertips went numb, and his brain chose to cut off all signals to his arm with the exception of the blinding hot pain. He struggled to lift himself. He felt tears slip from his eyes, dotting the floor.

"Is that all you got Mathers?" his partner barked.

If he draped his arm across his chest and hung onto his shoulder, it hurt a little less. "No," he whimpered, hoping that it sounded like he was just winded. He could handle being accused of being out of shape, but being caught crying during the first round of six exercises. He'd never live it down. He lifted his body with his good arm. It wouldn't get him far, but it would be better than just quitting.

He was relieved to swap placed. He hoped that the small rest period would give his nagging injury the opportunity to reassess its priorities. "Don't give up," he cheered his partner on. He had never seen this kid in his life before today. All he had was his name: Sean Hurst. Sean was nearing his limit at thirty push-ups, fifteen more than what William had managed."You planning on joining the games this year, Sean?" William crouched down by the student's head.

"Yes," he replied as he sucked in air to push himself up again.

"You think everyone else in here has managed thirty push-ups?"

"Thirty-three," Sean counted, as was required. "Top score is 200. Thirty-four. Need to be able to do the others too. Thirty-five. Need to pace myself." He gasped, giving up. That was it, was it? Just do enough to get by? Don't bother even trying to beat the top ten percent. Do just enough to maybe get noticed. Why not? That was sort of his plan. Do just enough to beat Astral, there was no point in trying to impress anyone when she would be so easy to beat.

Sean nodded to him. "Record the score." William nodded, taking Sean's tablet. He slid the number of push-ups to the right number and pressed his thumb to the allocated box. His name appeared next to the partner heading, signalling that he was responsible for the results recorded during this test.

Sean took his tablet from William, thanked him, and proceeded to the row behind them. William moved to the row in front, shaking hands with his new partner. "You go first," William offered, rubbing his forearm.

Sit-ups at least wouldn't require the use of his arm, specifically his shoulders. He could keep both arms draped across his chest, and no one would be the wiser. "Come on, you can manage more!" William encouraged. "Those squads aren't going to choose you if you don't give it your all." He told his new partner who glared at him. He was a chubbier guy, sweating heavily under his arms and around his neck. The bitterness in his glare told William what he already knew. This guy would never be chosen because he lacks the ideal physique. Being large was good, but having excess fat suggested more than just lack of interest in fitness. "Prove them wrong," William encouraged. "You just got to do five more and you're in the top thirty percent. Looks like you did really well on the first set too." He didn't mean to sound so impressed.

"Five more," the student grunted. "Four more..." Finished, the student lay on the ground a moment to catch his breath. "You think I'm doing well?" he asked William.

"You really are," he smiled, registered the results, and allowed his imprint to scan in.

"Give me a minute," the student breathed. "I need another minute." William was all too grateful to give him that time. The instructor's whistle sounded, signalling the partner switch; the top scorer must have given up.

William assumed his position. He arm felt like a lead pipe had been pressed to his chest. HIs injury complained every time he rose though not as badly as during his push-ups. He didn't care. He pushed himself for as long as he could manage, knowing that the next set may cause him distress.

When the exam was done, William reviewed his scores. It was normal for results to decrease with every exercise. Still, he expected to do better. He probably shouldn't have pushed so hard on the sit-ups.

He reminded himself that it was his intention to fail the tests. In a few days, after giving his shoulder some time to recover, he'd be able to do the re-take. With scores like these, he'd have no choice in the matter.

His injury flared, promising him to rob him of a peaceful night's sleep.

*****

In the quiet of the night, William sobbed into his pillow. Sensing that he was sound asleep, his arm complained, telling his brain that it had been set on fire from the inside. His fingertips felt the prickling sensation of numbness but only served to increase his touch sensitivity as they brushed against the heavy fabrics of his blanket. He stifled a sob, turning over to offer his injury some release from the pressure he imposed on it. He prayed to whatever God was listening. He pleaded with his body, promising to sleep on his other side if only the pain would go away.

He'd have to visit the doctor tomorrow, he'd have no choice. He needed to get some sleep if his body was going to recover at all. He wasn't sure if he could endure two more days of testing. Tomorrow would be far more brutal than what he had to endure so far. Tomorrow he'd have to endure twelve sets of target muscle strength tests. He cried. There was just no way he could do it.