Chapter 2, Part 1

A student of the future faces overwhelming odds during a life-threatening tournament.

An announcement over unseen speakers declared 1930 (7:30 pm) to be dinnertime, and I admit that I was relieved, my stomach had been growling as ferociously as one of those fantastical animals from the field.

 

All 1,000 of us were seated across five tables, two-hundred students at each one. We were given the freedom to choose where we sat and who we sat with, which in itself felt like a minor victory. I placed myself second to the end of the center table, in hopes that I could communicate with the four other teens who were there. Unceremoniously devouring my food while barely tasting it as I inhaled the grub, whenever I paused for a moment to drink, I interacted with the others.

 

“My name's Jade.” I introduced myself to the four other teens at the end of the table. “It's a pleasure to meet you all, may we interact under more pleasant circumstances in the future. What’re your names?”

 

My expectations were met; none of the other four were as social or easy with words as I was. They were gifted because they were born with innate, unique abilities, at the cost of being able to socialize. I was gifted because I was determined to win at the game of Life, not because I was particularly special or smart. I was lucky enough to be able to think well and to communicate well.

 

The five of us struggled through conversation, though I was as relaxed and good-natured to them as possible. They began to warm up, and eventually I learned that the three boys were brothers, the eldest nicknamed JZ, the middle Kayden, the youngest Tyrone. The girl, Andrea, was the eldest of five children, and the only gifted one, thus the only one in the program. I learned their ages, which I won't bore you with till later, and where they lived in the United States before the program. I simultaneously devoured two courses and dessert, which I feel was another minor accomplishment.

 

When the four teens began speaking with each other more and needed me to facilitate conversation less, I took my plate and all of theirs to the sinks, rinsed them, and set them aside, all the while studying the students and faculty. At a head table that overlooked all of the room, five adults were placed, each wearing unique clothes that signified their upper status. I found my Warden, though he was sitting at the very edge of the table, furthest from the position of power, who sat in the middle, with the best view of them all. The man in the center seemed old enough to be the Warden's grandfather, and he was flanked by equally authoritative women dressed in different types of medical garbs.

 

The man at the very center of the table was even more unnerving than the Warden himself, for he indeed seemed very flawed, but as if he had clearly won a ranking competition for some unseen quality... He wore an all black general's attire with probably faux awards stapled over his left pec, and for a sixty-plus man, he seemed quite well built. Even I might have had a challenge in a brawl with him.

 

To the general's left, on the far side of the table, sat another young man that looked to be the Warden's brother; they appeared shockingly similarly, and although they wore a similar attire, they wore different colors, for my Warden wore black and gold while his companion wore white and blue. They both seemed equally jovial as they swigged from similar tankards and roared with laughter. I briefly entertained the thought that they were drunk, though I swiftly decided not to waste my thoughts on him. Mostly. Either way, it was at least a little uncomfortable.

 

My Warden caught me staring at him, and he smiled broadly and raised his glass to me. I chose to respond maturely, so I smiled, and raised a hand in peace back while lowering my head in a respectful nod. His doppelganger started slapping the table, he was giggling so hard. With deliberate grace, I sat with my new friends again, though every time I glanced at the Warden, it seemed he was already watching me. Smiling, smiling all along. I slouched slightly and crossed my legs towards my friends and away from him in closed body language, severing contact with him for the rest of the evening.

Author's Note

This is an old work of mine, written when I was fifteen, inspired by a dream that I had. I discovered the work recently and liked it, so I have decided to revisit it. I will likely do a lot of editing and may add on to the story, or I may scrap it entirely. I would love constructive criticism over every aspect that could be improved.