Chapter 4

I was starving, but what I really didn’t want to do was to go into the common area alone. I didn’t feel like I belonged on the thirty-sixth floor. Even though I never had trouble making friends, I was unlucky with keeping them. The kids who were willing to let me hang out at their houses seemed to always come back with an excuse why I couldn’t come over the day they had planned. It wasn’t until I was eleven when a kid blatantly told me that it was because I was parentless and their mother didn’t want her child hanging out with someone like me. After that, I stopped trying to hang out with the kids in my class outside of their education classes.

Even though class friendships were fruitless, I had some good relationships with some of the other parentless kids. There was Amy who I befriended from age seven to nine. However, she was adopted when we were ten. There was Tailyr, even though he was a few years younger, he and I used to live in our fantasy world together. Our friendship didn’t last long. Three months later, a family wanting a little boy came and adopted him as well. The last childhood friend I had was my bunkmate from age ten to thirteen, Nikee. Nikee had a younger brother who a family was interested in adopting. The nursers wouldn’t separate Nikee from her brother, so both of them went home with that family into a loving double dormitory. They got two new brothers and a sister was on the way. Nikee kept in touch with me for a year after she was adopted, but she never came back to visit me so eventually our conversations died out. After three attempts at friendship being robbed from me, I cut making friends out of my life since all it ever got was me feeling sorry for myself. Sure, there were some good memories, but looking back feels bittersweet since I know that I’ll probably never be that close with those people again.

My roommates kept changing after that. Most parents are not looking for teenage parentless kids, so I was bunked with plenty of sulky, sorry for themselves teenagers for the next four years of my life. They were friendly enough, but when the seventeen year-olds turned eighteen, they were moved out into a government loaned dormitory. I witnessed six roommates graduate from secondary education and move on to enter the workforce, and for the case of one of them, tertiary education as well. Even though the girls were always friendly towards me, I never considered any of them to be my friends.

My stomach rumbled. I really wanted lunch. Booker said that if I was late, then there won’t be any left for me, but I was too petrified of all the wielders in the common area to even step a foot out of the door. I sat with my back against my new bed, knees squeezed up to my chest. I looked at the time on the digital readout installed above my door, 14:51. There were nine minutes until the lunch hours concluded.

I closed my eyes, knowing that I couldn’t just sit and starve myself, and with a breath of forced confidence, I got up, took my map, and followed the zig-zaggity hall intersections until I arrived in the open room that I first saw with Booker. On the right side of the soundbooth that I entered earlier that day, about ten wielders were lined up, scooping food onto their plates. I slipped the map into the hem of my pants, took a reassuring deep breath, and entered the room.

I didn’t look at anyone as I took my spot in the back of the line. The first station was the plates, glasses, and silverware. Being most likely the last one in line, all the good ones were taken. Picking what appeared to be the most cleanly, I carried my glued together reusable plate, a cast nylon glass that somehow had a perfect hole cut through the side, and a cheap metal fork that was missing two of its prongs. I slid my heavily mistreated dishes across the countertop only to see that pretty much all of the food had been taken also. There was barely a scoop of beans which had obviously been sitting out for two hours, half a serving of the leaves of a salad dish, and a couple disconfigured green strawberries.

“Hey you!”

My gaze shot straight up, panicking at the attention. I was still tense when I realized it was the cafeteria worker talking to me.

“Hurry up, lunch is over!” the worker already had their hand on the door, ready to close up shop until dinner. I apologized and hurriedly scooped all the remaining food onto my plate. I poured myself a quarter of a glass of water as that was all that could fit in the holey cup without leaking and let the worker slam the door down. I noted that I would never wait as long as I did for food here ever again. What I had on my plate was the scraps of everyone else before me.

I eyed an empty table sitting against a wall, and tried to sneak my way across the great room without anyone noticing me. Before I even got past the first three tables, someone called to me.

“Hey Shae! Come sit with us!” It was the three boys from the soundbooth earlier that day. Happy that I had sort of friends who remembered my name on my first day, I kindly obliged and sat down with the boys. The first boy was lanky with red hair, freckles, and glasses. He introduced himself as Milton. The second boy with shoulder-length dirty blond hair shied away from me as he told me his name was Walker. The third boy had golden-brown skin, close cut brown hair, and a hook nose. “Ramiro,” he introduced himself proudly.

“I’m Shae,” I said.

“We know,” Milton told me nonchalantly, “We met earlier.”

“Right.”

Ramiro spied my sad plate of scraps, “Ooo, no bueno. You came a few minutes ago didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

Ramiro clicked his tongue disapproving of the dismal meal on my plate. I laughed and tried to get any of the food into my hungry stomach. I couldn’t get a single bite in, part from not wanting to, and part from struggling to use the deformed fork.

“Use mine,” Walker shoved his fork across the table towards me.

“Uh, thanks.”

“So how come you're moving in now instead of years ago?” Milton asked inquisitively.

“Oh, I- uh,” I remembered what Booker said about keeping my story a secret, but he said nothing about partial truths. Think of something and stick with it. “No one ever knew, I guess. I’ve lived parentless my whole life so there really wasn’t anyone around all the time to be able to notice anything different about me.”

The three boys nodded awkwardly, not knowing what to say. I felt guilty for making my only acquaintances on the thirty-sixth floor feel awkward to talk to me within minutes of formally meeting them.

“So you don’t have a family,” Ramiro concluded.

Milton shushed him, “Bro, don’t say that, it's offensive!”

“It's alright,” I consoled. I thought back to the truth that I was given last night. My parents are terrorists. I addressed Ramiro, “You’re right, I don’t have a family.

“Ah, man, lo siento, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

I downed the last bites of my food, but my stomach still yearned for more. I poked my fork at my empty plate.

“You want more?” Walker asked me.

“I don’t think there is anything more, I was the last one through,” I told him ruefully.

“Nah, with Walker here,” Ramiro bragged, “there’s always seconds and thirds and, if you want them, bonita, fourths.”

“What do you mean-?” But before I could finish asking, Walker closed his eyes, and a freshly made tuna sandwich materialized on my plate. “Woah.” Walker had summoned some food from who knows where.

“Now eat it up quick before one of the workers demands their lunch back,” Milton advised, giggling mischievously under his breath.

“I don’t want to steal someone’s lunch,” I protested.

“Please, they hoard the good food in the back. Serves ‘em right to get it taken from them time to time,” Ramiro snorted, “Dig in bonita. It's a welcome to Apex present.”

“Apex?” I inquired.

“It’s what we wielders call it way up here,” Ramiro explained.

“It's better than ‘the wielder floor’ or ‘Floor Thirty-Six’,” Milton added, “We put our own spin on it, I mean, it's us who live all the way up here right?”

I laughed, “Yeah, I guess so.” Somehow being around these three guys really settled my nerves. I didn’t understand why I thought it was such a scary thing coming out of my room. In this chapter of my life, I concluded, my friends might just be able to stick around.

Although the boys told me I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I still didn’t feel good about eating someone else’s lunch, but, looking at the perfect sandwich, I gave into the temptation. The sandwich did look much better than two hour old beans and leaves. I took a bite out of the tuna sandwich, and it magically seemed to be the best fish and bread I had ever eaten.

“Wow, this is good,” I admitted, “Thanks Walker.”

Walker blushed happily at the mention of his name and, wanting something to talk about, Milton launched into a conversation about the best rock band of the late twentieth century. He argued that it was by far Queen since they had some of the most iconic hits, but Ramiro disagreed. He said he preferred Cafe Tacuba’s sound much more than Queen. I chimed in supporting Milton’s argument, while Walker kept saying it was the Backstreet Boys.

“They weren't even a rock band!” Milton exclaimed.

“Ramiro said Cafe Tacuba! No one has even heard of them! At least we all know who the Backstreet Boys were.”

I laughed, knowing that my knowledge in music was nowhere near the level of Milton, Walker, and Ramiro. My attention glanced around the room, taking in as much as I could and my eyes landed on a familiar face. His chestnut brown skin and contest-winning smirk stood out to me just as much as it had the previous night. It was the male wielder who saved my life. He was much more handsome than I remembered and because of that, he seemed more intimidating now other than the scary demon I thought he was last night. It was a wonder how different someone can see a person when they know more about them. His left arm was carelessly hanging on the pull up bar, while he was chatting away with a couple girls who couldn’t be older than fifteen.

I had a sudden desire to thank him for saving my life. I didn’t know where it came from, but I wasn’t going to overthink it. As I learned today, overthinking is just going to make it worse. I excused myself from the three boys, who were so lost in their friendly debate that they barely took in my gratitude for letting me sit with them. I put my dishes were all the other dirty dishes were carelessly stacked and headed out towards the gym portion of the common area. I didn’t smell the sweat from where I ate, but as I got closer to the workout equipment, I realized that it was an underlying scent the entire common area shared. The smell of sweaty trainees was fresh and I wrinkled my nose, unwilling to ever get used to it.

I spotted my goal. He was still conversing with the two girls, who were giggling flirtatiously. As I got closer, planning on introducing myself and thanking him for saving me last night, I could tell the girls were also talking about his part in the BWTF, or the Burke Wielders Task Force, the night before. He was telling them about all the great things he did, and how tough he was for fighting three grunts at once.

You only fought two and you almost lost. I shook my head. Forget thanking this guy, he already had enough ego to deal with. I took a sharp right turn, almost tripping over a bench press. I decided that the best way to play my intentions off was to sit down at a random machine and use it for a while, then return, embarrassed, back to my room. I sat down at a machine with a bar attached to a pulley above my head. I gripped the bar with both hands and tugged on it gently at first, but when it didn’t even budge, I pulled harder. I couldn’t move it. Deciding that the bar didn’t move, I started doing reps of pulling myself from a seated position up to the bar using just my arms. Wow, this really hurts my shoulders. How do people do this?

As I started my fifth rep, I heard a chuckle behind me.

“You’ve never used this before have you,” a low, modulated voice noted behind me.

I turned around, embarrassed for the mystery thing that I had done so obviously wrong. When I turned I was stunned by the strong body that stood behind me. He had fluffy dark curls on the top of his head, shaved unevenly on the sides which showed he obviously did the cut himself. His eyes were dark, coffee brown, full of amusement. His weight was shifted to the side and his sculpted arms were crossed, but the defining features that made me recognize him was his chestnut brown skin and dazzling smile. I gulped.

When I found my voice, I replied, “Uh, no I haven’t.”

He laughed breathily once, then offered, “Here let me show you.” He gestured for me to get off of the worn leather seat and when I did, he took my place. He scrunched his fingers a few times, and popped his neck to both sides before reaching up to grab the bar for himself. He effortlessly brought the bar down behind his head and controlled the bar’s desire to go back up. He did a full set of twenty reps before he let go of the bar, allowing me to sit back down. He made it look so simple. How helpless am I?

“Now you try, babe,” he said. I reached for the bar, and uncharacteristically the boy interjected boisterously, “Wait!” He pressed and held a subtract button for a few seconds and I heard air whizzing out of somewhere in the machine. “There you go, that should be easier for you babe.”

Under my grasp, the bar grew less resistant, and, in fact, when I tested pulling the bar again, it moved. I copied what I saw the boy do as well as I could.

“Pull both sides evenly,” he would comment as I pulled the bar down and guided it back up, “Good. You’re doing good babe.”

When I reached twenty, I turned to the boy, a gleeful smile forming on my face, “Thanks,” I said.

“No problem,” he answered, brushing off my gratitude. He focused on me a little harder. “Have we met before? You look familiar,” he asked, his eyes squinting.

My thoughts flew to the events of last night. I didn’t want him thinking I remembered him. “I don’t think so, no.” Technically it was true, we never met, we only saw each other across an intersection.

A mischievous smile grew on the boy’s face. His grin showed flashes of crooked teeth. It shocked me that someone so beautiful could have such horrible teeth, but as I studied how they looked in his grin, I noticed that I didn’t mind so much. Crooked teeth didn’t work for everybody, but somehow the boy’s confidence made it work for him.

“You’re that girl from last night, the one who was running from the Others, aren’t you babe,” he needled, “That’s why you were coming over to thank me.”

“What! How did you… How did you know I was going to do that?” Had I really been that obvious?

He laughed teasingly at my confusion. “I’m a wielder, I know things,” was all he answered with.

“But… but that never happened,” I insisted.

There was a short pause, his gaze was concentrated on something just over my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder to try and see what he was so focused on, but there was nothing except a wall there.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. His brows furrowed analyzing me, “You have no idea who I am, don’t you Shae.”

“You know my name? How! I haven’t even told you that my name is Shae.” This guy went from a self-absorbed meathead straight to a creepy stalker. I was starting to be frightened of him.

“But you just did I. Don’t you see? Your future is my present.”

That was it for me. I didn’t want any part in the creepy voodoo vibes this guy was putting off, so I got up off the seat and started to leave.

“Wait!” his voice was urgent and apologetic, “I’ve scared you babe, I’m sorry. It's just fun when someone doesn’t know what you can do for once. Let’s formally meet, alright?” His eyes were pleading. I decided to give the creep one last chance. I sat back down.

“Hi, I’m Angeles. Angeles Torres,” he introduced, “and you are?”

“Shae,” I said, “Shae Vincent.”

“Nice to meet you Shae Vincent,” Angeles smiled a friendly smile. Something about knowing his name and seeing his warm smile made me feel more comfortable around Angeles Torres. Although he creeped me out, there was something kind and friendly behind his eyes.

“So,” Angeles started, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you one of the residents downstairs?”

“Yeah I was,” I began, “I-” I didn’t even get a sentence out before he started talking over me.

“No one except some Booker guy knew about your asset. Huh, interesting,” he interrupted, “Ah crap, I did it again, I’m so sorry, force of habit.”

What amazed me was the precision of the wording that he used. It was pretty much what I was going to say, although I would honor my promise with Booker and call him ‘Leader’ instead. I wondered how the hell Angeles knew what I was going to say. Then it hit me.

“You see the future, don’t you?” I exclaimed. His creepy, knowing everything I was going to say, behavior made a lot more sense now.

“Well damn Shae, you spoiled my big reveal,” he teased out of the corner of his smile, “but yes, I can see the future. But only ten seconds ahead, so nothing huge. Still extremely useful though.”

“That’s amazing!” I wanted to test how good his predicting skills are, so I challenged, “What word am I going to say in the next ten seconds?” I thought of a word to say, and the word honesty popped up first.

“Well it doesn’t work like that. I can only see the most likely future. You could change your answer at the last second to anything, and I could never guess it,” Angeles informed me.

Not taking his answer as an excuse to end my fun, I continued counting. When I finished my count of ten, both Angeles and I both said ‘Honesty’ at the same time.

“Huh, you stick to your word, I admire that,” he said.

“That's really cool,” I complimented, “How’d you know I’d say honesty?”

He smirked, pausing a moment to allow for his incoming joke to have its intended effect, “I’m a wielder, I know things.”

I rolled my eyes. He was funny. Maybe I could make a friend in Angeles yet. I smiled back at him.

“Oh! Sorry, Briz is mad I’m distracted from my training, again, got to go,” he told me. As he turned, Angeles told me one more thing, “Meet me outside the Apex commons at 17:50 for dinner, I’d like to get to know you Shae Vincent.”

I blushed. I was flattered that he would offer to spend more of his time with me. Of all the eligible girls in the room, he would pick me for a dinner date. Wait, is it a dinner date? How would I know, I’d never gone on a date before.

While I was wondering, the female wielder from the night before approached Angeles and lectured him about getting distracted again instead of training. I laughed, Angeles yet again predicted his immediate future. He smiled fondly back toward me, then went off to continue his strictly enforced training regimen.

His words repeated themselves in my head, I’d like to get to know you Shae Vincent.”

“I’d like to get to know you too, Angeles Torres,” I whispered to myself. As I said it, I realized that it was ten seconds after he had smiled back at me. Angeles had heard me. He’s really going to keep me on my toes.