“There doesn’t seem to be any internal damage, maybe some light bruising of some of your intestines, but I don’t believe it’s anything more severe than that,” Doctor Adda said as he leant back.

I sat up, the paper on the examination table crinkling under me. My stomach felt slightly tender from Doctor Adda’s careful prodding, but I was relieved about his words.

“Are you sure?” I heard myself ask.

“I am. If you have any symptoms you’re concerned about, such as more vomiting or if you notice any blood in your stools, experience any dizziness, or anything that doesn’t quite feel right, come back to me straight away. We can get some x-rays and CT scans done to make sure you’re okay,” he said with a kind smile.

I swallowed nervously.

“Okay,” I said, a new worry starting to pull at me. “If I have to get an x-ray or something… will I need to leave the Academy?”

They had made it very clear that we were not allowed to leave the Academy during the induction period. If I did, I wasn’t sure what would happen. Would it be enough to be kicked out? That didn’t feel right, but I was still worried.

“No, no,” the doctor said, holding up a reassuring hand. “We have all the necessary equipment in the main building. It’s easier that way and means we don’t need to explain things to any pesky doctors. Obviously, we don’t normally let people leave the wing during induction, but medical emergencies take precedence.”

“Oh.”

I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help the small flare of hope in my stomach. Part of me, a tiny part, almost wished that it would happen. Then, I’d be able to see the rest of the school. I was so curious, so intrigued, and I knew there was no way I’d be able to see it for weeks otherwise.

My eyebrows drew together, and I pushed that thought aside. I was being stupid. Wishing for damage to my organs just so I got to have a look around the Academy a couple of months sooner was wrong. I had to wait. I would still get a chance to see the rest of the Academy; it would just take a little longer. That was fine. I could deal with that.

“Do you have any other questions or worries?” Doctor Adda asked.

“Um, no. That’s it,” I said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I would recommend you sit out of any physical class until you feel better, a week or so minimum, but after that, you should be fine,” he advised.

“Okay,” I muttered, feeling disappointment rush through me.

I didn’t want to sit out any classes. It didn’t feel right. I wanted to be able to join in like everyone else and not be in pain. Maybe I’d ignore his advice, I decided. I’d play it by ear and see how I felt.

“Great! Now, off you go to class. If you walk quickly, you should be able to get there before it starts!”

I stood immediately before saying a quick “Thank you.”

I hated being late to class. It made me so uncomfortable. The idea of walking in and having everyone turn and look at me, knowing where I had been, made my stomach drop. It was so awkward, so embarrassing. But it should be different in this world. I was confident there. Being late to class wouldn’t bother me as much as it would in real life. I could stroll in as late as I wanted and just sit down. The teacher probably wouldn’t even say anything to me either.

Even as I thought that I found myself walking towards the basics classroom quickly. It wasn’t too far away from the doctor’s office, luckily, so I managed to get there just as a few stragglers slipped into the room. I ducked in after them, my eyes finding the front of the classroom immediately.

Relief soothed my racing heart. The teacher wasn’t there yet.

“Grace!” Abbie called, waving me over to where she, Katie and Seth sat.

They were all watching me, concern on their faces. It made me feel a bit strange. I wasn’t used to so many people caring about me or being worried. I didn’t know how to react.

“So?” Katie asked. “Did the doctor say you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I told them as I dropped into the seat they’d saved me. “Apparently, it’s a normal reaction to being shot.”

Seth’s lips pulled up into a smile as Katie breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh, good,” she said. “I hope I never find out. You were so brave to go first!”

I opened my mouth, about to point out that I didn’t exactly volunteer, but the classroom door opened, and Rodgers limped in.

“Good morning, class,” he called as he walked to the front of the class. “How is everyone today? Good first day?”

Chatter started up as he turned towards up, leaning against his desk. I couldn’t listen to what was being said though. My attention was being pulled away. A door slammed in reality, and I froze. I listened, straining my ears to pick up any noise, but the house was silent. Well, not exactly silent. It was too old for that. It creaked and groaned, but there was no other noise.

It was probably just the front door. It sounded like it. Mom was most likely going out for a cigarette, I realised, glancing at my phone. It was getting late, mid-afternoon already somehow. She’d either gone out for a smoke or to get dinner. Both were equally likely. She probably would have said something to me before going out for food and leaving me behind, but it had happened before.

I didn’t mind too much though. It meant I’d be free to stay in the other world, my fantasy or whatever it was. I wouldn’t have to keep some of my attention on reality at all.

“Great! So, I know you’re probably all wondering why you have basics again this morning… and tomorrow morning and the day after,” Rodgers said with a grin. “I was meant to explain that yesterday, but… obviously, I got a little off-topic. I would apologise and say it won’t happen again, but I would be lying.”

A few people laughed, and I found myself joining in. Rodgers had such an easy air about him. It was just a conversation rather than him actually teaching us. It made it easy to pay attention; I wanted to hear what he had to say.

“So, you have basics every day at first, as you probably know from looking at your timetables. It’s intentional so I can give you all the base-level information you need about the world in general and how the Academy works before you get started on the more specialised classes,” he explained. “And, most importantly, it gives you all the chance to ask questions.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abbie start to raise her hand before lowering it. She clearly had something to ask Rodgers but had changed her mind. Luckily, he’d seen the movement.

“Yes, you,” he said, pointing at her before smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry. I promise I will at least try to learn your names. What’s your name, and do you have a question?”

Abbie’s face turned a dark shade of fuchsia. I could see her mind working fast, as if debating whether or not to speak.

“I’m Abbie,” she said. “And… um, I was just wondering… why is it important that we can ask questions? Sorry if that’s a stupid question, it’s just…”

She trailed off, not quite finishing her thought. Her eyes were fixed on the desk as her cheeks became even redder.

“It’s not a stupid question at all, but I understand why you added that,” Rodgers said with a shrug. “I think you’re forgetting that I was just like you. I assume most of you were curious kids who were often told things like ‘you don’t need to know that’ or ‘that’s not on the syllabus’ when you asked a question in school. Or maybe you just learnt not to ask questions because you knew you would get the answer. Show of hands, who’s had that exact experience?”

My hand shot into the air. It was weird that he’d mentioned it, but I used to ask questions a lot. I didn’t so much any more, but I remembered doing it in primary school. Teachers hadn’t liked that. I’d been told to stop asking questions; it interfered with the lesson.

I’d completely forgotten about it until that moment, but I remembered being moved to a table by myself. I was disrupting others with my questions. But it was clear I wasn’t the only one who had been told off for that. Almost everyone held their hand in the air.

“Exactly,” Rodgers said, looking around. “But that’s not how things work here. We don’t view curiosity as a negative. In fact, it’s part of the reason you all were chosen. Inquisitiveness and a thirst for knowledge are great things, especially when channelled in the right direction. You will never be told off for asking too many questions. Trust me, I know that from personal experience.”

He broke off, looking down and chuckling under his breath. I felt something wash over me. It was jealous, I think. I longed to be in a place where I was treated like that, where I could ask the questions I wanted rather than ignoring them. It was such a small thing, so unimportant, but I wanted it so badly.

It made me a little sad too, but I was glad I had that in one world, at least.

“In my first few weeks here, I was certain I was going to make every single one of the tutors hate me,” Rodgers explained. “I really pushed the whole ‘questions are good’ thing. But, I was never told off, and do you know why?”

He looked around at us expectantly.

“Because questions are good?” someone behind me guessed, parroting Rodgers’ words.

“Because it’s the only way to get the information you need. And, without that information, how are you meant to make a good decision? You can’t. The only way to make a well-informed decision is… well, to be well-informed. You can’t do that without asking questions,” he explained with a shrug.

He was right. It made a lot of sense. But that made me more confused. Why were teachers so quick to dismiss it in real life, then? Did they not want us to have all the information we needed? Why not? I wasn’t sure, and based on the silence that had settled over the room, neither was anyone else.

“Learning to ask the right question, however, is a skill that takes a bit more practice. It’ll come in time, though,” he told us. “And there aren’t that many decisions you’ll have to make in the induction period that’ll have too much of a lasting impact on you, so you do have time.”

Rodgers laughed again, and a few people tittered nervously.

Across the room, someone lifted a hand.

“Yes… you? I want to say your name is Derrick?” Rodgers said, pointing at them.

“Uh, Dean,” they corrected him.

“Ah, so close. I’m sorry. Yes, Dean? You had a question?”

“Yeah, um, I was wondering what you mean,” the boy said. “Are there decisions that we have to make that can have a lasting impact?”

His tone was panicked, and I completely understood why. I could feel myself starting to worry too.

“Oh, no, no, not really,” Rodgers said, his tone reassuring. “It’s all fairly light stuff for now, nothing irreversible. I was mostly referring to when you finish induction and choose a specialism, but that won’t happen for a little while.”

Abbie’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Abbie,” Rodgers said.

“What kind of specialism can we choose, and when does it happen?” she asked.

Rodgers laughed slightly.

“That is a much bigger question than the… twenty minutes we have left,” he said, glancing at the clock. “But I’ll cover as much as I can. Basically, not all of you will become field operatives.”

A whisper shot through the room at that. People seemed surprised by that information, but I wasn’t. I had a vague recollection of someone telling me about the other officers at the Academy. Ms Brice, maybe?

“Don’t worry,” Rodgers said loudly over the voices. “You all have the option to become field operatives. You just might not want to. As part of your education here at the Academy, you’re trained across many different areas. Your specialism will depend on which area you enjoy the most and where you excel. It may be the physical side of things, like actually being in the field, or it could be more behind the scene intelligence work.”

Worry started to build within me. I wasn’t sure what area I'd do best in. My first hopewas actual field work, being an intelligence officer, a spy. But I doubted that would happen. Rodgers had said we’d need to excel in a certain area, but that wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type of person to do particularly well at anything. I was average. I am average. Even my grades reflect that.

What would happen once the Academy realised that? Would I be kicked out? Or would they be able to find something for me, some area where I did okay? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t really want to find out. I could feel myself withdrawing slightly from the fantasy as I mulled that thought over, trying not to panic too hard.

The front door slammed shut again, ripping me out of the world, and I forced myself to take a deep breath as footsteps started to come up the stairs. I looked down at my book, knowing Mom was coming to see me. I needed to look normal, to not give her any reason to be suspicious of me. Not that I was doing anything suspicious, not really.

“We’re going to have pizza for dinner,” my mom said as she threw the door open a little too quickly.

Her eyes darted around the room before landing on me, and I knew she was searching for any sign that I hadn’t just spent all day in my room reading a book. It was ridiculous. When we were in Scotland, my mom generally spent most days reading and doing little else, but somehow she found it hard to believe that I could do the same.

“Great,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Her lips pursed slightly.

“We’ll be going out in a few minutes to pick it up,” she told me.

I noticed she’d just assumed I’d be going with her, and considered refusing to go, just to be petty. There was no point though, and I knew that. I didn’t mind the drive anyway. I’d spent all day inside, so it would be nice to get some fresh air.

“Okay,” I replied.

My mom continued to look at me, her expression expectant. I met her gaze, of unsure what she wanted me to do. There was clearly something, but I didn’t know what. I was already dressed, so I just needed to go downstairs and put my shoes on.

After a few seconds, she spoke again.

“We need to leave soon,” she said. “Are you not going to do something about how you look?”

The question was a rhetorical one. There was a correct answer.

“Why?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

Irritation flared across her face.

“Have you not looked in a mirror today?” she demanded. “It looks like you were dragged through a hedge backwards. At least brush your hair or something.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head.

The urge to roll my eyes at her was so strong that I almost couldn’t stop myself. It might make me feel better, but it wasn’t worth it. It wouldn’t last long, and then I’d need to deal with her being even more irritated.

I started to get up as she turned and walked back down the corridor. I didn’t even look that bad, I realised as I stared at my reflection. I’d undone my hair at some point when I was in the streamee fantasy, so it was down, but it wasn’t that messy. A little frizzy, perhaps, but not that bad.

Even so, I brushed it quickly and threw it up into a bun before squinting at my reflection again. I looked tired. The bags under my eyes were a little darker than they normally were, but there wasn’t much I could be bothered to do about it. Make-up might help cover them up, but I didn’t want to put it on. No one would really see me anyway, just the people in the pizza shop.

I shrugged and turned away from the mirror, making my way downstairs. Mom was waiting by the front door, typing rapidly on her phone. She didn’t even look up as I approached and put my shoes on, waiting until I was ready to go and waiting for her before putting her phone away.

“Let’s go,” she said with a sigh, shooting me a disgusted look.

Again, I was gripped by the desire to roll my eyes at her or maybe sigh as well. I wasn’t sure what it was that had annoyed her quite so much, but she was definitely irritated. She probably wanted me to have put make-up on or something.

But then she would have definitely been annoyed that I took too long. There was no winning. She just liked to complain. Even if I looked perfect, there would have been something that she’d pick at. My hair would never be neat enough, or she’d call me fat. Or tell me I was too thin and hard to look at. There was always something.

“What about the missions?” I heard faintly from my fantasy.

I didn’t even hesitate as I slipped out the front door, opening my eyes into the classroom.

“What about them?” Rodgers asked with a smile.

“What are they like?”

“I’m pretty sure I asked the exact same question,” Rodgers replied. “And now I’m going to have to give the same answer my tutor did: I can’t really tell you. Until you pass the induction period, the amount of information we can disclose to you about the Academy is limited because there is still the slight chance you may not stay with us.”

Concern shot around the room. Any time any of the tutors mentioned being kicked out of the Academy, that happened. I could feel a change in the atmosphere. It was no longer relaxed. Now, everyone was on edge. Everyone apart from Rodgers, who continued to smile at us.

“I know, I know, it’s not fair. I felt the same way,” he said. “But once you’re all definitely staying, I’ll be able to tell you more. For now, I will say that the majority of missions you’ll be going on, especially at first, are fairly local. Generally, you don’t leave the country for the first year or so.”

“Really?” someone asked.

“Truly. I’m pretty sure I mentioned it in the last class, but it’s worth repeating. There are spies everywhere. It’s not quite as bad as some other countries, like America and Russia, but the UK does still have a surprisingly high number of international intelligence agents living in its midst,” Rodgers told us. “I doubt we’ll ever be able to find them all, but they’re there.”

“Why?” someone else said.

Rodgers smiled.

“There are so many reasons. Some are fairly innocent, perhaps they’re just living here in between missions because they like the country, but others are more… concerning. You’ll learn all about them in your classes though,” he said. “In fact… man, I am not good at teaching at all. We’re out of time, and I’ve barely covered anything I was meant to today. Next lesson. Next lesson, I will stick to the syllabus. What class does everyone have next?”

“We have fitness,” Abbie said.

“I have firearms,” another girl replied.

“Okay, great. In that case, I’ll leave it there, and tomorrow I will tell you all about…” Rodgers trailed off, reaching behind him for a piece of paper that lay on the desk and reading it quickly. “Oh, oof. Tomorrow we’re discussing the current political landscape both within this country and internationally. I will be reading up on that tonight.”

He laughed, and a few people joined in.

Abbie’s hand lifted timidly into the air again.

“Yes?”

“Um… do you not already know about that?” she asked. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but it just seems like something a spy would need to know about.”

Rodgers’ smile grew.

“I do. It’s drilled into us a lot, but we’re going to have a bit of a history lesson, and I’ll be completely honest with you. I’ve not thought about a lot of those facts in… well, probably about four or five years. I’m probably a little rusty, and I wouldn’t want to tell you the wrong thing,” he explained. “Any other questions? No? Okay, off you go to your next class!”

I started to get up as the car jolted to a stop. Faint dizziness washed over me as I looked across at my mom.

“It should be ready by now,” was all she said.

“Do I need your card to pay or anything?” I asked.

She sighed heavily.

“No, I’ve already paid,” she replied, her tone making it clear that I should have already known that, even though there was no way for me to.

She sometimes paid on the phone but not always. I’m not sure why not. It seemed to be pretty random.

“Okay,” I said as I pushed the car door open and climbed out.