862a/n: Aah! Why did this one take so long? Why? I don't like editing. Or, well, it's not bad. Having a chapter outline is easy and takes less effort. I should try the whole planning-out-the-story thing in the future…
I like quotes. XD
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."-Eleanor Roosevelt
"Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he wants to do it."-Dwight D. Eisenhower
Angela waved her hand in front of my half-closed, unmoving gaze. "Ember?" My mouth grew slacker. "Ember!"
"Whuh?" I vaulted into the air. "Cale? What? Attack? Get 'em, kill 'em, diiieee…" My voice faded and I slipped back into unawareness.
"Ember."
"Aiee." My head snapped up again. "Huh?"
"You have dark circles under your eyes. Like…football player dark circles. Like jungle-explorer dark circles." Angela remarked, barely able to keep herself from laughing, as Sara winced and dabbed concealer on the puffy, bruise-like bags. "Like…dead people circles." Oh, my, what a stroke of brilliance, right there.
Concealer, I've noticed, is exceedingly uncomfortable and drying, but it is highly undignified for a leader to appear in front of her people with evidence of sleep-loss under her eyes, especially when trying to convert an innumerable amount of skeptical students to her worthy cause.
In my defense, it is not unusual to appear sleep deprived when it is the truth, and when you spent the whole of last night running away from a surprisingly speedy old lady with legs and ankles skinnier than my wrist. The embarrassing truth is that I, young and healthy (and wealthy and wise) compared to the Headmistress, was panting so hard and so exhausted that I had to practically crawl down the halls to escape her.
And had my knowledge of secret passageways helped me much? Why, no; funny that you ask. Because every single time I popped out of the most recent secret passage in the hopes that I could return to my room and pretend that I had been there all along, the Headmistress was tiptoeing around the corner, bright yellow flashlight actively seeking out all warm, moving bodies.
Was she psychic? I wouldn't put it past her.
My experiences last night were not improved my Cale's constant presence—I kept bumping into him as I frantically navigated the network of secret passages. He, on the other hand, was running away from the old janitor who (miracle of miracles) also happened to be psychic and must have some vestiges of talent left over from his high school track team.
It was horrifying. It was a nightmare come true. It was like living in the movie Saw.
I'd been sweaty. I'd been exhausted. I rarely engaged in extreme physical activity, so it had been like participating in the Olympics. I'd kept bumping into my mortal enemy as we both frantically tried to escape capture. And I was haunted by the image of floating, disembodied, bright pink lips that belonged to the Headmistress.
I was terrified.
Needless to say, by the time I finally managed to reach my room and my bed, my mind wouldn't allow me to sleep. And by that time I'd figured that it would be much easier to stay awake than to wake up.
And that was the reason I had dark circles the size of Australia under my eyes.
I didn't say that, of course, because the story was far too normal to believe.
"I wasn't able to sleep." I said with dignity.
"Yes, I can see that." Angela remarked acerbically. Sara made a half-hearted shushing motion at her.
Every ear in the cafeteria was turned towards us at that point, eager to catch some small fact that would put a smear on the pristine Ember's equally pristine reputation. A regular bunch of vultures they were.
.
Cale rubbed his eyes sleepily, emitting another giant yawn large enough to swallow the Space Needle as Daniel and Mac looked on incredulously, unable to stop themselves from peering down the immense cavern all the way to their friend's tonsils.
"Do you suppose that he has any whales in his family bloodline?" Daniel remarked curiously.
"Nah. Maybe he was just busy last night." Mac winked suggestively while Cale looked blearily back at him, uncomprehending.
Daniel rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He was a rather thin, spindly boy with plain brown hair and plain brown eyes and plain, light brown skin. There were many who wondered how such a nondescript boy had become best friends with two of the most idolized males on campus; what most didn't know was that he, Mac, and Cale had been best friends since…well, soon after the war between Ember and Cale began.
Soon after the beginning of time, that is.
Cale yawned again and reminded himself to stop stalking Ember, especially when there were unnaturally speedy staff members nearby. Who knew that a smelly old man could run so fast? Perhaps he was taking enhancement pills.
Maybe Viagra.
…Good God, what a vile thought.
Wearily, Cale allowed himself a small smirk that could be mistaken for one of happiness. Except that Cale was never happy because it went against his baaadass image.
Ember wouldn't be able to gather enough followers in time for the next battle. There were far too many complications. And Cale looked forward to her inevitable defeat, for he prided himself on winning first battles. It wasn't as if he needed the win, but he'd much rather prefer it went to him rather than to Ember.
"Ember looks just as shitted-out as you are," Mac's voice broke through his lethargy.
Cale glanced quickly at Ember's table. Oh, right…he hadn't been the only one running away from ancient folks on steroids last night. He'd actually run into Ember quite a few times in the secret passageways. And to be honest, he never understood why Ember kept insisting on accusing him of stealing those dratted blueprints, when he had won them fair and square. It was really her fault for leaving them out in the open, and she knew it.
Matter of fact, Ember accused him of a lot of things that were untrue. At least, partly untrue. And they were untrue, most of the time. Really, they were.
…They were.
Cale nearly gagged as he shoveled another spoonful of Styrofoam-like scrambled eggs (made from powder and 100-percent unnatural products) into his mouth.
Ugh, it was horrible here.
.
"What are your plans?" Sara asked as we all attempted to swallow the sodden lumps of pseudo-food that seemed permanently lodged in our throats.
Taking a fortifying swig of hot chocolate—it was just about the only non-toxic food substance here, and most people chose to live off it and it only rather than submitting themselves to whatever was on the menu when they couldn't buy themselves something decent—I answered with a scrunched smile that was hard to repress in the face of my glee, "Yes."
Silence.
"Well? Care to share?" Angela asked impatiently, whacking me on the head.
God, I had such abusive friends…
I rubbed my head and couldn't help smiling a little wider. "Because of Cale's popularity, especially among women, it is understandable that at least 65 percent of Cale's followers are girls that are hopelessly in love with him, yes?"
They clearly had no idea where I was going with this. Angela muttered sourly, "I hate it when you answer a question with a question."
I decided to have pity on them. "If we take that 65 percent away, Cale will be very short of ranks and ours will be rather enriched."
"How?" Sara asked quietly, drawing her hand through gold, aggressively curling hair.
I shrugged, as if I found the answer obvious. "We invoke the age-old war of the sexes."
Angela immediately combated that with, "You do know that if you do that, a good portion of your own followers will go to Cale, as they happen to be male?"
"I do know that. But if you've been reading any magazines or newspapers lately, you'll have read somewhere that females outnumber males in terms of population demographics."
"But our school doesn't represent the whole world, in case you hadn't noticed."
I huffed, irritated. "Sara, can you check school databases then?"
I begged some deity up there to allow me this one. Just this one year to win. After this year I'd probably never see Cale again—unless by some sick, cruel irony we ended up attending the same college—and…and I just had to win this one. I didn't think I could bear it if I lost. And if I did…
Well. It would hurt so badly—right from my split ends to my chipped toenails—that I could probably hear my heart breaking.
"Checking school database, Ember," Sara gave a long-suffering sigh, smiling slightly, and took out her laptop and typing at lightning fast speed. "You are very lucky that you corrupted my morals a long time ago and so I feel no guilt at hacking into various computer systems of the world."
Um. Hell yeah. I was very lucky.
Angela, peering over Sara's shoulder as I concentrated on chewing on a particularly rubbery piece of sausage, suddenly said, "Ember, you should see this."
"What is it?"
"Male population, excluding teachers and staff: 272. Female population, excluding teachers and staff: 273." Sara whispered in awe.
I paused, and then shrieked, "GODDAMNIT!"
Or I would have, had Angela not instinctively raised her hand to muffle the scream of frustration she had sensed was coming
"I can't believe this." I listlessly flicked soggy eggs onto an empty table opposite us. "I could have sworn that there were more of us…"
"Well, there is." Sara tried to offer. "…one more…"
I snorted. "Like that really makes a difference in the grand scheme of things?"
"Hey, if it wasn't for that one girl last year, Cale wouldn't have been forced to withdraw from the battle because of a certain false doctor's report…he wouldn't have gone through all that panic trying to figure out whether he had herpes…" Angela grinned. "Vindictive exes. Wonderful stuff."
I had to laugh at that.
"So what's the plan?" Angela sat down next to me again; Sara closed her laptop silently, concentrated. "Do I get to kick some monkey bum?"
"Depends." Grinning slightly, I looked both of my friends in the eye, concentrating just a little bit more on Sara, as she was the best motivational speaker of our group and had very nearly convinced the Headmistress to give us free dress last year. "Up to being inspirational?"
"Do I have to cry?" Angela deadpanned.
"No."
"Then I'm in."
.
Over the next few hours, Sara and Angela passed out pamphlets to every single girl in the school, and stuffed the papers into the lockers of any other girl they didn't manage to assault. By lunch, everyone who wasn't an adult and who didn't have a certain extra addendum had read it.
To the entire female student population of Westfield SOB:
Are you tired of being treated like dirt by the opposite sex? Are you tired of being ridiculed and discriminated against simply by right of your gender? Are you tired of the so-called disadvantages of your femininity being pointed out again and again, and your worth unrecognized, by the same men you profess to be devoted to?
Then come to a preliminary speech today in Dorm 3 at 3:05 pm, given by Ember Briar. It is time to determine whether your fate will lead you to stand…or whether you'll be stepped on. And you don't know where those shoes have been.
In case you didn't know—yes, you—to inform anyone not invited to this talk is to betray me, to betray your friends, and to betray yourself. In other words, don't tell anybody who is a male and who is a staff member, or Angela will hunt you down and she is a brown belt, for those of you who have, thus far, not been subjected to her wrath.
(Refreshments will also be served.)
Sara and Angela had written the pamphlet, just for your information.
I was pretty certain that the mention of free, edible food would entice almost anyone to come. I was also fully aware that there would be leakage of information despite the rather graphic threats outlined in the pamphlet, but I was hoping that the intel wouldn't reach Cale until it was too late.
Too late to stop it or combat it, that is.
How wrong I was.
.
"Cale?" One of the messengers ran in, panting. "Cale, there's some new news that you probably hear…"
"Well, I always knew that new news needed to be heard, but who knew that this news was this new to require such panic from a newbie?"
"Shut up, Mac. Sorry, kid…go on."
Hesitating, the fourteen-year-old boy bent over and whispered something into his ear. Cale's eyes widened, returning to their normal size with some effort before he relaxed. "There seems to be a change in plans." He grinned in anticipation. "Ready to gather a whole new type of army?"
.
How. Much. Could these people eat? I thought it was only teenage boys who had bottomless pits instead of normal stomachs.
Not…not preppy teenage girls!
It was actually a very revolting sight. I mean, I ate and ate and ate…
But they ate and ate and ate and ate.
I couldn't really blame them. The food at Westfield took the meaning of 'toxic' to Olympic levels. I wasn't sure when the Health Department people last checked in here, but it must have been a looong time ago.
"Ahem." I cleared my throat for attention.
The attention that was rightfully mine was instead given to the so not infinite pile of food that everybody kept stuffing their face with. At the rate they were going, I was so very lucky that the guy at the pizza place was my sort-of friend (acquaintance…that I didn't know the name of…alright, an obliging person) who was good at climbing up walls to reach windows so he could deliver the pizza. He was very dedicated to his job, apparently.
I had no doubt that this dedication was fueled by a desire to see and make ga-ga eyes at Angela, who shamelessly flirted back.
"Excuse me!" I finally shouted.
All movement stopped as they turned to face me in one smooth motion. They reminded me of clones, and it was kind of scary.
My mouth pressed in a thin line, I began to speak. "You are all aware why you have been summoned here today. And if you do not, you are either an idiot, illiterate, self-seeking, or all three." Sara pinched my arm and I jumped. Right. Play nice, Ember. "For centuries men and women have fought a war for equivalent rights. We have reached, in recent years, what many do quaintly term as equality. But here at Westfield, females have not been given the respect that we deserve.
"Perhaps some of us," I looked meaningfully at the most obsessed of Cale's stalker club, "have not given them reason to grant us that consideration and esteem. And this had led to a condescending, patronizing attitude towards even the best of us—an attitude that is especially perpetrated and advocated by Cale Seranden.
"You are all, of course, aware of and involved in the war between myself and Cale." There was some inane giggle from the back of the room, hurriedly hiccupped back in when the performer realized how idiotic she sounded. "And for the most part, it has reached a point of stagnancy—a…a tie." I grimaced. What a painful piece of information to reveal. "But this year…this year is not merely between Cale and I."
Liar. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
It's only a half-lie!
"This year is about respect. This year we are going to fight for our pride as women and as human beings. This year, we are fighting for our dignity, our honor, and for ourselves!"
My voice rang dramatically through the room, my face slightly raised towards the ceiling in admiration of my own vocal prowess, and…
There was silence.
I could not believe it. They were still eating. They weren't even paying attention to my speech, and for an improvised one it was really, really good! Grumbling, I handed the microphone to Sara and plopped my rear end onto a very uncomfortable chair. "Over to you."
Angela hollered for quiet and this time, everybody obeyed. Nobody screwed with Angela.
"Your speech was fantastic, Ember, it really was, but I need to put this in terms that they may relate better to." Sara whispered earnestly. I nodded wearily, and she began. "Who has had their heart broken by a heartless jerk of a man?"
There were a few confused murmurs of assent.
"Who here has been subject to the never-ending insensitivity and immaturity of the guys at this school?" More head nods; louder mutters.
"Who here has had their intelligence compromised and dignity devastated by those very same people?"
"Who has been driven to tears by a guy at this school? Friendships ruined? Grades dropped, self-confidence blasted to nothing?"
And it went on. And on. And louder and louder the mutters of discontent grew, and angrier and angrier were the faces, and then Sara topped it all off by singing (off-key) into the microphone:
When I, thought I knew youThinking that you were trueI guess I, I couldn't trustCalled your bluff, time is up'Cause I've had enoughYou were, there by my sideAlways down for the rideBut your, joy ride just came down in flames'Cause your greed sold me out of shameOh. My. God. She was singing to Christina Aguilera, Number 2 popular perpetrator of musical girl power, right after the Spice Girls. And everybody in the room was getting up and singing along with her. Oh my God. Was this hell? After all of the stealing and cheatingYou probably think that I hold resentment for youBut, oh no, you're wrong'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to doI wouldn't know just how capable I am to pull throughSo I wanna say thank you'Cause it makes me that much strongerMakes me work a little bit harderIt makes me that much wiserSo thanks for making me a fighterI shifted in my seat in agony. Believe me when I say that there is nothing worse than being trapped in a room with nearly a thousand pumped-up, angry girls, ages fourteen to eighteen, all caterwauling to a song that was full of rage, pain, and anti-male sentiment.Made me learn a little bit fasterMade my skin a little bit thickerMakes me that much smarterSo thanks for making me a fighter…A few more choruses and verses, and then they got to the end of the song…and then repeated it. I almost died.
Faces had grown redder (and looked more constipated) and voices were hoarse from shouting and singing and a combination of both. It was not a pretty picture. In the unlikely event that a male had been present, he would have tucked his tail between his legs and bolted in terror. These girls were serious and out for blood.
Sara finished with a cheap rip-off of my speech. "But we will not submit! We will not be doormats!" Her voice grew louder, her voice echoed; it rang above the shouts and cheers of the other excited, incensed proclamations in the room. I found myself looking for the special effects people of this strangely movie-like atmosphere. "WE WILL FIGHT!"
The room erupted and people applauded deafeningly loudly.
See what I meant? The girl could charm the whiskers off a cat, and cats are quite possibly the vainest beings in the world, right after humans, which come right after Cale.
.
Cale smirked at his kingdom. Every single male student was gathered in this room. Had Ember really thought she could get away with stealing nearly all his followers and that he wouldn't notice or combat the action?
…All right, so she had very nearly succeeded. But two could play this game, and Cale was simply going to make her pay the fiddler's bill.
Ember and her new followers were going down into the dirt. His new group of followers were infinitely superior, in intelligence and sophistication and maturity and, you know, everything else that counted.
Someone with greasy, pimpled skin began to pick his nose and scratch his armpits (simultaneously), letting out a whiff of B.O. in the direction of his neighbors, who didn't seem to notice, having long built up a toleration to various unpleasant smells.
It was lucky that contrary to stereotype, most guys were reasonably concerned about their hygiene and physical appearance. Cale chose to ignore one of the exceptions' display, but was glad that Ember wasn't there to witness it. The brat would probably rub his nose in it (not literally, hopefully) with that stuffy, stuck-up expression on her face and the snarkiest words known to mankind.
Cale wrinkled his nose, but hastily unwrinkled it when he remembered that wrinkly noses did not fit in with his carefully grown reputation, which consisted of such labels and talents like:
1) Girl magnet, baby.
2) Brilliant student with equally brilliant intelligence, matched with godly leadership skills that he did not have to go to camp to develop.
3) A really attractive piece of manflesh.
4) A repertoire of blistering insults matched only by Ember's implausibly sharp wit and equally diverse inventory of defamation.
Naturally, he had only heard the first three. The fourth was the only one that he gave himself, of course.
It was rather pathetic, really, how equally he and Ember were matched. As a result, it was near impossible for either of them to beat each other at anything, and when it did happen, it was often a very close win. As Cale was hoping for the last victory before he went to college, this year he would have to be extra sharp.
The girl was really quite irritating. She just wouldn't (couldn't) let him win and wouldn't (couldn't) give up—although goodness knows any other normal girl would have simply surrendered, gotten bored, drifted away, at least fallen prey to his charm.
Ember wasn't normal. She was far from normal.
Ember was a mosquito. Ember was a mosquito who kept biting and biting and biting and just wouldn't die, no matter how many times Cale swatted at it.
Sighing, he turned back to the matter at hand. The matter being the collection of new followers as his old ones (his female ones, at any rate) had deserted him for Ember. Not that he knew this for sure, but Ember had a sort of…compelling personality that drew people to her like moths to a flame—ha. That was ironic. Ember; flame. Haha. He cracked himself up.
The girl was aggravating indeed.
.
It's monumentally unfair.
While Sara charms without knowing it (because of her stupid gold hair and stupid blue eyes and stupid niceness), when I try to do the same, people:
a) Give me strange looks and slowly back away with their hands in the air, convinced I'm about to incinerate them,
b) Are unaffected (Like Mr. Anal, who, I am convinced, will loathe and despise me until the day I am buried—providing he's still around, you know, but maybe he'll hate me from his seat in hell),
c) Think I'm eating magic mushrooms, since I admittedly don't go out of my way to be friendly, or
d) Whip out their cellphones and call the men in white suits to lock me up in a nice white room with padded walls.
See, I didn't happen to have that candy-corn appeal that Sara has, or even the whole mysterious, Humphrey-Bogart-esque-but-with-good-looks-so-the-whole-package-is-magnified-ten-times-more charisma that (sadly) Cale possessed. To be truthful…I'm not sure how I've managed to rake up so many followers when Cale enjoys so much more allure.
…Maybe they just didn't like Cale so they joined me as a last resort?
Ha! I wished. He was the Golden Boy. Everybody adored him. Females of all sorts, bestial and human (and sometimes a cross between both), are putty in his hands. Males work towards becoming Cale clones. Even Mr. Anal sent Cale a valentine this year.
I guess I was just a part of the strange few that Cale has failed to enchant. Perhaps I've been around him so long I've built up a natural immunity…
.
He was different, Cale mused distantly. He did win people over, and easily too, but it was the result of years of experience and training.
Cale's parents were rich, after all, and high up on the society chain and therefore high up on many people's Who To Disgrace, Smear, and Publicly Humiliate lists. There were plenty of occasions and events where Cale had to turn on the 1000-watt smile and help his parents get the deal, whatever the deal was. When he was five, he was adorable. At thirteen, he was precocious. At seventeen…well, now he was mature and likeable and charming and a virtual married-woman, widowed-woman, grandmotherly-woman, and single-woman-in-general attracter.
His social talents were to one's advantage, certainly. He just wished, sometimes, that Ember's didn't come so damn naturally to her.
Cale hated her, but he wasn't blind.
Why, exactly, did he hate her? There were reasons. There were many reasons. There were an infinite number of reasons, and some of the more easily understandable ones were the fact that she had destroyed his favorite toy car, his pride (those stupid baby pictures), his dignity (how she had managed to get pictures of a certain embarrassing bed-wetting incident when he was fourteen, he would never know), and…his pride. And pride was one of the most valuable, crucial, and essential things to have to survive in life.
Quickly replacing his redder complexion with his customary sneer, Cale looked in shrinking optimism at his peers gathered in the room. Perhaps what health teachers said about girls maturing faster than boys was true. …Were those two guys acting like…gorillas?
Ember had, of course, added to Cale's quick maturing in character, and Cale to Ember's. After all, one couldn't conduct a proper war if one screamed for one's mother every two seconds and indulged in frequent temper tantrums and were amused by hissing, "Penis!" to one's friend on the other end of the room.
Most certainly not.
Without bothering to take a deep, calming breath (because he really didn't need it), Cale prepared to deliver his Inspiring Speech. Which he was going to improvise because he had been too lazy to write one down. And he was Cale Seranden, and Cale Seranden didn't fail at anything, so it didn't matter in the long run.
He would rather miss having a weekly girlfriend, though.
.
When everyone had finally dispersed, still humming 'Fighter' and looking eager and determined to see this thing through, I marched back into my room…
And collapsed.
You would be exhausted too. It's hard work, gathering 973 followers in the space of one hour. However, collapsing in fatigue was a behavioral aspect unbecoming to a Leader, so when there was a knock at my door, I forced myself up, grabbed a book, and schooled my face out of the pooped-out expression and into one of calm alertness.
"Yes?" I called.
"It's us." Angela replied from the other side of the door.
I sighed with relief and allowed myself to relax. "It's unlocked."
The door opened and Sara and Angela walked in. "You need sleep." Was Angela's decided, flat observation upon seeing me in my pitiable, unenviable position curled up on my bed.
Oh, never mind. It was enviable. My bed had never felt this comfortable…
"You noticed." I said sourly, burrowing my head into my pillow and stifling a groan of weariness. "Is everything—" My sentence was interrupted by a yawn. "—set for tomorrow?"
"Yes." Sara said soothingly, sensibly taking one of my shoes off before starting on the other one. "Don't worry; we'll take care of it."
I nodded, too tired to protest anymore, and dimly heard the door click shut before I fell asleep.
.
It was fairly simple to engage the services, attention, and loyalty of the male students. All Cale had to do was make a speech that simply outlined the main reasons to go to war so that simple minds could understand him and so that simple minds wouldn't lose focus halfway through.
Detestable girl. Cale grimaced. She had made him turn the entire scheme of his battle plans upside down.
"Brat of a child." He muttered.
Daniel overheard. "Technically, you can't call her a child—she's only a year younger than you are."
Cale retorted immaturely (which did not help his argument), "Oh yeah? She acts like she's ten years younger."
Mac hit him lightly on the head, snickering. "Not exactly. Sometimes I think she's older than you, Mr. I'm-Size-Seventeen!-because-I'm-an-idiot-who-is-insecure-about—"
"Shut up." Cale grunted, irritated. "But I did win that little skirmish, didn't I?"
"No, you didn't, because it was supposed to be a peaceful negotiation. But you and your blasted pride turned it into yet another battle." Daniel said practically. He had always had a soft spot for Ember and her friends, and Cale didn't always begrudge him this, but did get annoyed when Daniel took their side over his.
"Besides, if she wasn't your sworn burn-in-eternal-flames-type enemy, I might date her." Mac shrugged. "She's not bad-looking. As it is," he added, perhaps on account of seeing Cale's poleaxed face, "Sara's kind of sweet."
Regaining his senses, Cale swiveled around and spluttered, "Excuse me? Dare I repeat what you just said? Did you say that you'd date the bloody bride of Satan? Are you calling one of her bridesmaid's sweet? Are you feverish? Who are you and what have you done with Mac? Have you forgotten, Mac, that we are now embroiled in a war against the entire female student population of the school and that thanks to Ember, every day we will probably be on the receiving end of double-teamed PMS-y women-creatures who will be armed and dangerous and have no qualms about dropkicking our windpipes into our spine?" Cale raved and ranted, practically foaming at the mouth.
"Calm down." Daniel muttered, annoyed. "You know very well that Ember is not exactly the offspring of Igor or anything."
Cale refused to dignify that with a response. "How the hell are we going to do this?" He muttered instead, returning to the subject of war. "Do we wait for them to strike first to figure out how they'll play their cards, or do we trust our luck and make the first move?"
It was Daniel who replied. "We wait. We need to know exactly what sort of tactics they're going to use—remember, we're fighting on entirely new grounds here, and Ember was the one who initiated this. It's like starting with your right hand and then switching over to your left."
"Have our spies figured out anything?" It felt like the little people in Cale's head were beating their drums and having a pow-wow in his throbbing cranium.
Mac shook his head, brusquely. "It's still too soon for them to gather anything of use." Ironically enough, Mac headed the spy division, although he rarely engaged in field work. First of all, there was the whole matter of the blue hair; second, Mac had anger management issues.
"I hate that girl." Cale mumbled petulantly.
If anything, though, it was often Ember who had trouble deciphering his next moves. Although Cale expressed most emotion on his face, it was very often a ruse, for he kept his eyes carefully guarded. And while Ember kept her face so goddamn still, as if imprisoned in some clichéd stone mask, her eyes gave nearly everything away. Cale was immeasurably thankful for this.
It was unsettling how similar they were in some respects.
…Oh, he did not go there. He needed aspirin. And quick.
.
I woke up, not the slightest bit refreshed and rested. Stumbling out of bed, I groped blindly in the darkness for the light switch, flicked it on, and sleepily rubbed gritty, irritating gunk out of my aching eyes.
I wanted to sleep. But would the Sandman let me? Would he take pity on me just this once? No. Instead, my conscience woke me up at—I checked the clock—midnight to do my homework and work out different stations to place my new followers in.
Opening last year's yearbook and putting a list of the new ninth-graders beside it, I began, pen and paper at the ready. It soon became clear that this task would take longer than I'd thought.
"Arvalez, Dana." A mental image of her came to mind. Thin, smart, somewhat spiteful, loved science fiction, hated Tiffany Parker (as did nearly everyone else.) "Soldier. Definitely." I wrote her name in one of the columns of my list, beneath Acadia, Josephine.
Fifteen minutes later:
"Barnson, Nellie." Dirty blonde, somewhat scraggly hair. A member of the more popular crowd. Harbored a secret love of deep-fried food and intensely disliked salad. Managed to keep a perfect figure anyway. Unfortunately, not very smart. "Not in actual battle," I murmured to myself, unconsciously rubbing my stiff neck. "Spying?" No…she was incapable of not drawing attention to herself. "Monitor…" Perhaps. Maybe I could use her as part of the Preparation Team; she was capable of following orders and had a fine eye for detail. For fashion, anyway. Did that count?
I continued in this manner, going down in alphabetical order, canceling students who had graduated and/or left, and adding new ones. It was tedious business, and there were some people who I couldn't classify, or didn't know well enough to be sure of which branch they'd be most suitable in. Putting that list of people aside, I worked until 3:30 in the morning, reaching 'Manerk, Michelle' before finally putting my data aside and clambering back into my soft, warm, comforting bed.
The loveliest bed in the world.
I'm not even kidding.
.
Cale's tired, stiff fingers wrote 'Nauden, Orville' under the 'spy' column before he leaned back in his chair, scratching for the thousandth time at his jaw, most likely fiery red after many such journeys across it. Glancing at the clock—3:38 am—he heaved a sigh.
Two nights without much sleep to speak of…Cale was sure he was going to soon collapse of exhaustion. Probably in class, and a loud thump would be heard, and everybody would turn around to see him snoring on the gross, el-cheapo classroom carpets and nobody would be considerate enough to lift him back up. And he'd have carpet germs on his cheek for the rest of his life because no one would ever tell him.
And then, while drooling on the carpet, Ember (or one of her henchwomen) would promptly do something like…like…like drawing a large curly mustache on his flawless features, a sin equivalent to sullying the face of the Mona Lisa.
Bah. Golden Boy. Supposed to be flawless. Bah. He'd shoot them all.
Smirking to himself, Cale climbed back into bed.
.
Shockingly enough, after having gotten approximately six hours of sleep over the past few days, I was not in the best of moods the next morning.
"Good morning, Ember." Sara yawned as she opened the door and stepped into my room.
I was so not in the mood for cheerful morning people. "Go 'way." I muttered, rolling over, looking forward to a cozy death in the arms of my comforter.
"It's seven o'clock already, you idiot." Angela came into my room as well, all dressed and ready to attack me.
Oh God. In preparation, I sullenly burrowed deeper into my covers, pulling my pillow with me. I braced myself, set for Angela's normal method of getting me up and out of bed—a difficult feat indeed—which included the grabbing of my legs, the pulling of my legs, and the literal throwing of my legs (and the rest of me) out of my comfy nest and into the cold, cruel world outside.
However, Angela had decided to be creative this morning.
Outside, a splash was heard and a blood-curdling shriek rang throughout the massive school grounds—make that two very upset war cries of indignation.
.
Cale groaned loudly as Mac and Daniel trooped into the room. Their combined footsteps equated a bloody herd of elephants.
"Leave. Now. Or I'll eat you." He muttered into his bed.
"Stop snogging your pillow and let's start over again, this time with Cale getting up on the right side of the bed." Mac poked Cale's limp body.
"Shut uuup. Leave me alone." Cale rolled over, bracing himself for Daniel's Let's Awake Cale Using the Most Inhumane Methods Possible routine—his friend's favorite was to yank him out of bed and bully him into an ice cold shower and then run away before Cale could kill him. Grabbing onto the bedposts, Cale tightened his grip.
When nothing came, Cale cautiously opened his eyes…and found his vision flooded with multi-colored spots as Bastard!Daniel shone a bright-white light into his long-suffering eyeballs.
Cale let out a yowl of pain that the effing coyotes in Arizona could hear and envy.
.
The entire student population went silent as synchronized howls of outrage rang throughout the school at the same time. There was a brief pause as the shrieks faded away, before Brian O'Leigh murmured into the silence, "They're awake."
Let the games begin.
.
a/n: …I'm not even going to bother rereading this because I am so damn sick of this chapter. Eh. Point out any mistakes you come across and stuff, yes? -puppy eyes-
Yes, you want to review. Why do you want to review? Because only lurkers read and don't review! And do you wanna know another name for pimples? Lurkers, that's what! Bet ya didn't see that one coming, huh, punk?
Review! Please! Because Mommy taught me my manners!
Or, actually, you don't have to review every chapter because that's stupid. If you end up making it to whatever chapter is the latest one, how about you review that one? And I will be grateful to you for-evah!