Awkwardness filled the room, but Rodgers didn’t seem to notice. If anything, his grin stretched even wider.

“Well,” he said after a long pause, “I just came by to make sure that everyone’s alright after such a long and busy week. How’s everyone feeling?”

“Good,” I murmured along with some of the others.

“Um,” Abbie started. “I have a question.”

“Go on,” Rodgers said with a slight nod.

“Well… now that everyone has their specialisms, that means we’ll be starting classes properly, right?”

Excitement sparked within me, and I looked up at Rodgers, waiting to hear what he was going to say. I really wanted to be starting my classes. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed it up until that point, but the idea of beginning to study more specialised subjects pulled at me. I wanted to know what I’d be doing and to learn everything immediately.

“You will,” Rodgers said, and I felt myself grin.

“When?” Katie asked before adding, “I mean, will we be starting on Monday?”

“Mmmm, I’m not sure, actually,” Rodgers said, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Normally, you’d have your new timetables by now. I think they like to include them in the packs you’re given when you’re assigned your specialism, but it’s taken a little longer to sort out this year.”

His eyes darted to me for a brief second before returning to Katie, who was nodding. Confusion washed through me. Was it my fault? It must have been. My meeting was last, and it made sense that it could have been delaying things. Maybe they were waiting to work out what they wanted to do with me and whether they were going to assign me a specialism or not.

That could impact it. I was pretty sure Rodgers and Ms Brice had said I’d be doing all of the classes, and that probably meant they had to organise it differently to make sure there was no overlap.

“Why?” I heard someone ask, and I blinked before focusing on Rodgers again.

“It’s a difficult thing to manage,” he said with a shrug, his eyes staying fixed on Nina, who’d asked the question. “I mean, not everyone will be studying every subject. A lot of the subjects are universal and contain important information for everyone to know, regardless of their career path, but some can be studied at a lower intensity.”

“Like what?” Scott asked.

“Well, take physical fitness or self-defence. Everyone should maintain a good level of fitness and be able to defend themselves, but it’s more important for a field officer, so they’ll have more classes each week than someone who probably won’t be going on assignment,” Rodgers explained.

“That makes sense.”

“What’s it going to be like?” I blurted out before realising my question didn’t really make sense. “I mean, what are the new schedules like?”

That was phrased a bit better, but it still didn’t feel good enough. A blush started to creep over my cheeks, but Rodgers didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, it’ll be a bit different for everyone, depending on specialisms and current level of knowledge, but it’ll be fairly similar to your current schedules. You’ll have class every weekday from nine until four or five thirty, with a couple of breaks and maybe a free period or two throughout the day, depending on how many classes you’re taking,” he explained.

“Why are some people taking more?” someone at the other end of the table asked.

I felt myself tense. Everyone must have known by then that I hadn’t been given a specialism. I knew that people were listening in when I was talking to the others about it, but maybe they just wanted to hear Rodgers say it. Or maybe there was another reason.

“Well, there are a few different reasons, but one of the main ones is your current level of understanding. For those of you who are a little further behind in certain subjects, you might have more classes or private tuition.”

“That sounds like a long day,” Nina murmured.

“It will be,” Rodgers agreed. “But it’s nothing that you can’t handle. You’ve been doing long days since you got here, after all. It’s only an hour more than you’re currently doing, and everything’s analysed constantly, so if you start to fall behind or if it becomes too much, it’ll be changed.”

“Really?” Katie asked, her tone shocked.

I was just as surprised as she was. It didn’t seem right. I thought they’d be trying to push us.

“Of course,” Rodgers said. “You’re here to learn and thrive. That can’t happen if you’re overwhelmed or struggling. If any of you do start to find it hard to cope, you can just speak to me or any of the tutors, and we can get it changed.”

His smile was kind, but I wasn’t quite sure. I trusted him, but even if I was completely drowning in schoolwork and completely overwhelmed with it, I knew that I wouldn’t tell anyone. It would be better to deal with it by myself than to tell anyone and have them think that I might not be well suited to the Academy. They might think that I couldn’t handle it or needed to be assigned a specialism, and then I wouldn’t be able to study everything.

That wasn’t exactly the end of the world. I was going to have to choose at some point, and then my classes would be changed, but I didn’t want it to happen. Not yet, at least. Not before I had the chance to experience them properly. They seemed too fun and interesting for me to miss.

“Any other questions?” Rodgers asked, looking around at us. “No? Okay, great! I’ll be in my classroom sorting out some paperwork for the next few hours if anyone does need anything.”

He smiled at us again before turning and walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Abbie called, causing him to turn around. “Umm… I was wondering if you could help with something.”

“I’ll try my best,” Rodgers said with a smile as he came back towards us. “What’s up?”

“So… I was wondering about observations. The class,” she clarified. “I realised that me and some of the others are really bad at it, and we wanted to start working on it before the classes start, but I don’t know how.”

Rodgers nodded thoughtfully.

“Ah, that’s an important and somewhat difficult thing to work on,” he said.

“It is?” Abbie asked, her tone panicked.

Anxiety bubbled in my stomach. I hadn’t even considered that it would be hard to be better at observations until that moment, and it worried me. What if I was so bad they kicked me out of the Academy?

“Yes, but it’s definitely possible to improve,” Rodgers reassured her. “That’s why they focus on it so heavily during the initial training periods.”

“Okay,” Abbie said, nodding to herself. “So… where do we start? Is there a textbook or something I can read?”

Rodgers cocked his head to the side, thinking about it.

“There is,” he said slowly, “but actually, there’s better. If you log onto the computers in the library, there’s a whole collection of mini-classes, and I’m sure some of them focus on observation skills.”

“They do?” Katie asked.

“Yeah, I think so, at least,” Rodgers said. “Let me have a quick look.”

I watched nervously as he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it. I’d seen the classes on the computers and had completed a few, too, but I didn’t think I’d noticed any on observations. But then, I might have just been too distracted by the other, much more interesting-sounding ones. It was hard to want to look at boring classes when options like ‘poison’ were also there.

“Is it there?” Abbie asked, staring at Rodgers’ phone and clearly wishing she could stand up and have a look too.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Mmmm… oh, there it is! It’s in one of the sub-folders,” he said, his eyes still fixed on his phone. “Why was it put there? I’ll move it out and put it on the main page for you.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“That’s alright. There are quite a few different options there for you to have a look at. Most of them focus on things like how people act, both those who are trained and untrained, when they want to be unnoticed and some other similar topics, but they’re a good place to start,” he told Abbie.

“Fantastic!” she replied eagerly.

“Thank you,” Katie added with a relieved smile.

“No worries,” Rodgers said, looking around at the rest of us. “Any other questions?”

There was a pause before I saw Scott open his mouth. Dizziness rushed over me, and his question came out distorted. I couldn’t quite work out what he was saying or what it meant before the world faded away.

I was sitting on the floor and staring at my reflection. I blinked a few times before looking around, trying to work out what had pulled me out of that world. Nothing. I didn’t think there was anything, anyway. There was nothing obvious that could have pulled me back that I could see. I was just sitting on the floor in my uncle’s old bedroom at my grandparents’ house, straightening my hair. It was exactly what I was doing when I’d left the world.

My eyes found the hair straighteners in my hand. They were still on. I’d been straightening my hair on autopilot, not even paying attention to what I was doing. That was so stupid of me. I could have burnt myself or fried my hair without even noticing. I scanned my face carefully, searching for any marks or burns, but there were none. It didn’t hurt at all, which was good, but panic started to build in my hair as my gaze moved to the floor.

I half expected there to be a clump of singed hair just sitting there, smoking lightly, but there was nothing on the floor. Well, there was. My hairbrush was right in front of me, and my clothes were scattered around, but there was no hair. Even so, I was still worried. I switched my straighteners off quickly and dropped them on the heat-resistant mat before pulling my hair over my shoulders.

My fingers combed through my hair frantically, searching for a burnt lump or something that felt wrong, but surprise started to build within me instead. My hair wasn’t damaged at all. In fact, it looked great. It was shiny and perfectly straight, much straighter than normal. Usually, I’d get bored halfway through doing it, and one side would always end up looking better because I’d start to rush or just give up, but that hadn’t happened.

I turned my head slowly, pulling my hair over one shoulder and staring at it. I was impressed. Somehow, despite not paying any attention to it or even being in the world, it looked perfect. I couldn’t help but toss it back, admiring the way it moved and shone in the sunlight streaming through my open curtains.

A smile appeared on my face as I started to stand, stretching slightly before looking around my room. I needed to get ready for lunch and start packing, but I wasn’t sure where to start. Indecision built within me before my eyes fell on my bedroom door, and I felt my eyebrows pull together as I thought.

I hadn’t brushed my teeth or gone to the bathroom. I normally did that first thing in the morning, but I hadn’t. It didn’t even cross my mind. I just got straight up and started doing my hair, and that felt wrong. Mom had distracted me too much. She’d been rushing me, and I didn’t even think of it.

That made me feel stupid, but I stepped towards the door before pausing. I listened carefully, trying to work out where my mom was. She’d walked away from her room before, probably going towards the kitchen, but I wasn’t certain. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she was waiting in the corridor to jump out at me, sure that I was wasting time or doing something I shouldn’t be.

I couldn’t hear her out there, though. I strained my ears, listening as hard as I could. There was a faint noise from somewhere in the distance. A quiet squealing of a chair being pulled across the tile floor. She was in the kitchen. Relief washed through me, and I stepped out into the hallway before another thought hit me. It was either her or someone had broken into the house.

My step faltered, and I paused, holding my breath as I listened. I was being ridiculous. It was just a stupid fear, and it wasn’t real. No one had broken into the house. Why would they? I pushed the thought from my mind with a shake of my head, trying to ignore the anxiety that bubbled in my stomach as I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I needed to stop thinking about that, I told myself as I sat down on the toilet. It was making me paranoid, and there was no need for it. No one was watching me, and even if they were, they wouldn’t want to break into my grandparents’ house. There was a lot of art and probably pretty expensive things there, but also we were there. If they were planning on stealing anything, they’d probably wait until we’d left. The house was empty for the majority of the year, with just the gardener and housekeeper on the grounds, but they weren’t there all the time. If they just waited another day or two, it would be easier for them. The thought made me feel a bit better, but I still glanced out the window and scanned the grounds as I stood up and washed my hands.

“Where did Rodgers say it was?” I heard Abbie ask faintly as I started to brush my teeth.

The other world hovered at the edge of my mind. I could feel my mouth opening to answer her, but I didn’t want to go completely. Part of me wanted to stay in reality, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just anxiety continuing to pull at me, but the appeal to go back wasn’t quite as strong. I was content to just watch, not fully experiencing it, as Abbie searched through the mini-classes on the computer for the observation section.

I did want to watch the videos, though. It was a really useful skill; I knew that, and Rodgers had said it, too. It would probably be helpful in real life, too, and I could feel Seth sitting right next to me. That made me happy but also nervous. I wanted to say something about what had happened the night before. About our kiss. And I wanted to kiss him again.

I really did, but I had no clue how to do it or even what to say. I was worried too, though. What if I did try and say something to him about it and he completely dismissed me? What if he regretted kissing me, or only did it because he was dared to? My face started to burn, and I pulled myself away from the world, looking around my room.

It was a mess, and I knew that I needed to pack, but I didn’t want to. I had loads of time. Ages. We weren’t going to be leaving until the afternoon or evening, I knew that. There would be nothing for me to do all day except just wait for my grandparents to show up, but they never would. It would be a full day of sitting there, doing nothing and being on edge because my mom would be in a terrible mood. I knew that I could spend the time packing, and then I could just get ready for lunch without having to rush to do everything.

The idea was tempting, but it wasn’t worth it. If my mom saw that I hadn’t even started to sort out my room before we went out, or if she came to check on me and I was doing something else, she would get annoyed at me. She would already be in a worse mood than normal and more likely to shout at me. I didn’t want to add to it or do anything that might trigger her, which meant I just had to pack. I couldn’t put it off.

A sigh slipped out of my lips as I looked around my room again. It felt like a big task, and I didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t so bad before, but after my mom had searched my room, it felt worse. Everything was scattered about. There was no order, no organisation. It had been kind of messy before, but it was nowhere near as bad.

But it didn’t really make that much of a difference, I tried to tell myself. I’d need to empty out my suitcases to repack them anyway, so, if anything, she kind of helped by messing it up. It was an obvious lie, and it felt flat, but I clung to it as I moved some clothes out of the centre of the room with my foot.

I dragged my suitcases into the empty space before stopping. Actually, I realised, it made more sense to get dressed first. Mom said she’d be going out in about an hour or so, but she could easily change her mind. She might get hungry or bored or just want to leave earlier. I needed to be ready, just in case.

Looking down at the clothes littered around my room, I chewed on my lip before stepping towards the wardrobe. There were a few dresses in there that I hadn’t worn yet. I’d barely paid attention to anything when I was packing, and that meant that I’d brought too many. That was good, though. It would be better to wear a dress; that would annoy Mom less.

She preferred me to wear a dress instead of leggings or jeans. She said jeans made me look like a boy, and leggings made me look slobbish, and that made me want to wear them even more. Stubbornness built within me as I stared into the wardrobe, my eyes fixed on one of the dresses. I did want to wear it, but part of me wanted to go against my mom. It was stupid, though. A bad idea that I had to ignore.

I grabbed the dress and pulled it off the hanger, feeling a slight flare of disappointment in myself. It was easy to dismiss when I saw the dress, though. I’d bought it last year, but hadn’t worn it since for some reason. It might have been one of the ones that had fallen to the bottom of my wardrobe, and I’d forgotten about. It was pretty, though, I thought as I pulled it over my head.

My eyes found my reflection, and I couldn’t help but stare. I looked nice, and that caught me off guard. I was pretty sure I’d kind of liked how the dress looked on me when I wore it before, but something was different. I was different, but I couldn’t work out what it was exactly that had changed.

I turned slightly, my gaze moving up and down my body as I tried to figure it out. Had I lost weight? Maybe. I wasn’t exactly big before, but perhaps I was thinner. I looked a bit more muscular, too. My arms had slightly more shape than I’d noticed before, and so did my chest. It was actually filling the dress and making the fabric stretch slightly. It didn’t look bad, though.

It was shorter. The dress was shorter than when I’d worn it the year before, I was sure of it. It came to the middle of my thigh, and it hadn’t before. Had I grown? Or had it shrunk in the wash? I couldn’t work it out. I hadn’t noticed myself getting any taller, but then, I wasn’t sure that I would have. Was that a thing that people noticed, or did they only realise when someone pointed it out?

I stared down at my legs, trying to work out if it was too short. I didn’t think it was; I’d definitely worn shorter dresses before, but Mom still might say something about it. Part of me felt like I should get changed into something else. I had other dresses that were longer and clung to my body less. It was probably a better idea to wear one of those, but I just didn’t want to.

I liked the dress, and I looked nice in it. I didn’t want to get changed just because I was worried about what Mom would say. It didn’t matter. What I thought and how I felt should have mattered more, and I knew that, but it was still difficult to ignore the small voice at the back of my head that begged me to change, just to make things a little bit easier for myself. My stubbornness stopped me. It made me stand taller and look at my reflection again. I looked good.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up, scanning the messages from Phoebe.

God, I am so hungover, read the message that she’d sent twenty minutes before. And fine, I won’t bring a lobster home with me, but I don’t think it would count as smuggling. That’s more for people, right? How are things going there? Only one more day!!

A smile came over my face as I started to reply.