Kill School: Slice (20 page)

Burke
rounds us up outside the science building. While everyone chatters around me,
excited about the game, I remain quiet. I still can’t believe the computer knew
about my amethyst token and I am terrified that the Regulators will swoop in
and send me to control. I want to talk to Burke in private more than ever now.

We walk together across campus towards the stadium. I know
where it is and what it looks like from my inclination test. I wonder how many
of the other kids had similar experiences. Burke comes to my side and walks
with me, neither speaking nor acknowledging me. I am glad he is with me.
Feeling his presence makes me feel like I am not doing this alone.

As we walk, Burke tells us about the games. There are about
eight hundred kids in camp. Parents get to come on graduation day, along with
the media, and spectators. There may over three thousand people here today. As
we walk across the bridge, Burke tells us that the reason the stadium was built
on the other side was to prevent parents, or any others from accessing camp or
the scientific research done here.

We walk through the woods and over to a long and low
structure built into the side of the mountain. The entrance is low and long.
Seeing it, just as it was in my test, gives me prickles all over. A breeze from
the stadium entrance sends shivers across the group. Even though we are wearing
our new jackets, it is bone-chilling cold. We enter the stadium and my eyes
take a moment to adjust to the darkly lit space.

The
stadium looks like someone took a giant ice cream scooper and scooped out part
of the mountain. Rows of bleachers circle the oval field at the bottom of the
stadium. Sections of bleachers are painted different colors, ruby, sapphire,
opal. Turquoise is the largest sections and by the chemical smell, recently
painted.

We split up over the turquoise section and find seats where
possible. I end up sitting in the aisle next to Burke. Bright lights shine onto
the field. Three colored circles, perhaps twenty-five feet across, sit together
in a triangle in the center of the field. Opal. Sapphire. Turquoise. The colors
of the three winning teams.

A camera crew is interviewing Mr. Wassillie at the base of
the field. He’s flailing his arms around as he does when he tells some
exaggerated story. The reporter is the one that was here before. She has a
rectangular stadium pass around her neck.  The parents, the spectators, all
wear passes. So many people. In three short weeks, all of them will be staring
at me on the field.

Mr. Wassillie ends his interview and turns to us. I can’t
hear what he’s saying, but he’s raising his hands up and down. The kids in the
lower sections clap and cheer. He’s running up the aisle like an athlete
greeting the fans and shaking people’s hands. His colorful robe flaps behind
him like a sail. He’s coming for me. I can tell. I’m going to have to shake his
hand.

I turn my back to the aisle.

“Burke, distract me,” I say. “Pretend we’re talking about
something interesting.”

Burke glances at Mr. Wassillie and then puts his arm on the
back of my neck.

“Bring your head closer,” Burke says.

I automatically pull away because I don’t want him to kiss
me.

“Not like that,” I say.

He grins and raises his eyebrows as he gets my meaning.

“Relax; I’m not going to make out with you in the middle of
the stadium. Wassillie would really be interested in that.”

By the cheers, I can tell Mr. Wassillie is getting closer.
Burke tells me a story about the birds in the meadow, how he goes out there
early some mornings to feed them. He tells me he did the same thing as a little
boy when his parents were alive.

A hand touches my shoulder. I’m so engrossed in Burke’s
story, how the birds land on his outstretched arms that I’ve forgotten about
Mr. Wassillie.

“There she is,” Mr. Wassillie says.

I can’t ignore him now.

Mr. Wassillie kneels beside my seat.

“I heard about you fainting in biology. I thought you could
use some special treatment today.”

I can’t imagine what kind of special treatment he has in
mind, but whatever it is, I want no part of it. Knowing Wassillie, he wants me
to parade around behind him on the field. Maybe he needs someone to carry the
tail end of his robe so it doesn’t get dirty.

I’m content to sit next to Burke.

“No thanks,” I mumble.

“I’ll take care of her,” Burke says. He pulls me closer to
him, almost on his lap, which makes me feel so awkward that my cheeks flush.

Mr. Wassillie looks at Burke’s arm around my shoulders and
frowns. Burke removes it and stiffens. I feel like I’m caught in the middle of
two dogs about to fight.

“I’d like Aria to join us in the box today,” Mr. Wassillie
shouts above the ever-increasing noise of the crowd.

“We’ll stay here,” Burke says, almost before Mr. Wassillie
finishes his sentence.

Burke clamps his hand on my shoulder, holding me in my
seat. The force of his hand travels down my back to my still-sore rear. I
squirm to try to dislodge Burke’s hand, but I am unsuccessful.

“She’ll come with me,” Mr. Wassillie says. He grabs my
forearm and tries to yank me from my seat. “I insist. You can come with us,
Burke.”

“No thanks,” says Burke. He’s not moving his hand. His
fingers dig into my shoulder, making me squirm. His neck muscles pulse.

Mr. Wassillie tries to remove Burke’s arm, but it is like a
boulder to him.

“I want to bring you both to the Regulator’s box,” Mr.
Wassillie says.

“The Regulator’s box?” I ask. “Like with all the
Regulators?”

This is my chance to meet my targets in person. I want to
go. I want to meet them. I have to see what they are like. I’m tired of Burke
and Mr. Wassillie playing tug-of-war with my body.

“Burke, let me get up.” I pry his fingers from my shoulder.

“Excellent,” Mr. Wassillie says.

Mr. Wassillie takes my hand and helps me up from my seat.
His smug expression puts a scowl on Burke’s face.

I pull away from Mr. Wassillie.

“Are you coming?” I ask Burke. He’s looking into the crowd.
I don’t want to do this alone. Burke knows the Regulators. Burke’s a friend.
But, I’m not going to beg.

Mr. Wassillie kicks Burke’s shoe.

“You really need to work on your anger issues,” Mr.
Wassillie says. “Wipe that frown off your face.”

Burke finally stands up.

“Let’s go, then,” he says.

Music blasts from the stadium’s speakers. The crowd jumps
to their feet and cheers. Mr. Wassillie turns around, gives a fist bump to the
crowd, and then climbs the stairs. Burke and I follow him up the stairs,
through a door, down a hall, and into the Regulator’s box.

Several sets of loveseats face one another, each with a
separate throw blanket symbolizing the colors. Wine glasses and carafes rest on
each end table. Pillows are arranged diamond style on the loveseats. Bowls of
nuts and chocolates are laid out. A table is filled with more food and
beverages. And the Regulators. Jeans and polo shirts. Cotton turtlenecks. Robes
strewn on the couches.

Seeing the Regulators, casually dressed and mingling, makes
me feel uncomfortable. They’re Regulators. I’ve only seen them on stage,
speaking and presenting awards. To blend in with them seems impossible. I
recognize Regulator Thorn and Regulator Halsted immediately. I’m not sure about
the others. It’s been so long since I studied their records. They look so
different in their robes. I think Regulator Krish is talking to Demi’s dad,
Regulator Azarian.

When I see Jack pop out from behind Regulator Azarian’s
shadows, I know I am correct.

“Aria,” Jack says as he bounds over to me.

Because of Jack’s loud announcement, the Regulators all
tilt their heads toward me. Burke steps to the side and over to a table filled
with refreshments. Mr. Wassillie follows him as if to scold him some more.
Regulator Azarian notices both of them and joins them at the refreshment table.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks.

 “I was invited,” I say. I quickly notice several other
kids by the viewing area, sitting on the couch or over by the refreshments. The
kids range in age from toddler to teen.

“You?” Jack asks as if there has been some mistake.

“Yea, me,” I say. “Mr. Wassillie’s treat.”

Jack gives me a puzzled expression. Before I can ask him
why he seems so confused, Regulator Thorn comes over to us.

“Aria,” she says. “I’m so glad you took me up on my
invitation. I thought it would be good to get to know you. Your mother is so
dear to me.”

Regulator
Thorn
invited me. That’s why Jack was so
puzzled. I bet Mr. Wassillie doesn’t even have the authority to invite anyone.
I watch Regulator Krish step in front of Mr. Wassillie to continue his
conversation with Burke. Mr. Wassillie hangs his head and then goes over to a
group of smaller kids. 

“Come sit with me to watch the games,” Regulator Thorn
says.

Regulator Thorn takes me through two rows of leather seats
to the very front of the box. Several young adults glance at me strangely, as
we sit down. None of the other Regulators sits with us.

Regulator Thorn glances over her shoulder and then back at
me.

“I’m the only one who actually watches the games. Do you
like them?” she asks.

“I’ve never seen one,” I say.

She throws her head back. “I am surprised. They are all
televised. Your mother used to be such a fan.”

I regard the three rings in the field.

“It reminds me of the circus,” I say.

Regulator Thorn smiles. “I haven’t been to a circus in a
hundred years. Do they still exist?”

I tell her about what’s happened to them. She knows about
the extinct animals but seems surprised that people are scared to go out in
public. She glances at me sideways and tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Much better. Now I can see your face. You do look like
your mother.” She touches my cheekbones. “Here.” She runs a finger across an
eyebrow. “And here.”

“How do you know my mother so well?” I ask.

“She has never told you?” Regulator Thorn asks.

Suddenly, everything goes dark, sending a hush through the
crowd. Before I can ask Regulator Thorn about my mother, the whole stadium
lights on fire and the crowd screams. I find myself screaming along with them
as the metal bar in front of me and all the bars between the seats down below
catch on fire. I hope this was planned.

Regulator Thorn sits forward and raises her head above the
flames, smiling down at the crowd. I examine her face and try to figure out
what my mom was supposed to have told me. Her dark skin is much darker than my
mother’s but her eyebrows, and her cheekbones are similar. Regulator Thorn is
over a hundred years old. Could she be a distant relative?

Everything goes dark again. At first, the crowd is silent,
but then whispers fill the air. Three large flaming circles appear on the
ground. Opal, sapphire, and turquoise. In the middle of the circles, the
winning teams stand on hoverboards.

An explosion brings out a flaming ball and instantly all
the teams are into the action. Some of the kids have large missile type guns
that shoot out flaming balls. Other kids have hockey sticks and go after a
flaming puck. I am aware that Regulators Krish and Azarian have sat directly
behind me. They are arguing over something.

 Azarian tells Krish to be patient. It’s not the right
time. Regulator Thorn turns around and tells them to hush before they say
anything else.

I turn my attention to the field. One of the players shoots
the flaming puck through a goal and the crowd cheers or boos. A flaming ball
hits a girl. A boy takes a stick in the shin. W
hen
the third player gets hurt, I excuse myself and move away from the view. I find
a spot on the couch and flop down.

Burke sits down next to me. The gold in his hair shimmers
with the flickering light.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice serious.

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” I whisper. I pull my
knees up to my chest and hug them.

“Oh,” he says. He sounds hurt.

“Not here,” I add, looking around. “Truthfully, I just want
to go.”

“I can arrange that,” Burke says. “Act sick.”

He gets up and walks over to Mr. Wassillie.

Mr. Wassillie glances at me and tilts his head as if he
doesn’t believe Burke. I cough and sneeze a few times. My acting sucks but it
seems to work because Burke comes back over to me.

Burke holds out his hand to help me up.

“Let’s go,” he says.

We walk out of the stadium and into the cold night. Burke
hums as we take the path along the backside of the buildings toward our cabin.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” I ask.

Burke looks up at the three story high English building.

“I’ll tell you when we’re not around so many windows.”

We walk past the buildings talking about the game. We reach
the long path on the way to our cabin. Halfway down the path, Burke stops and
turns to me. He smiles at me and touches my chin. The gesture is so warm, that
I get a prickly sensation all over my body.

“I’m done,” he says. His eyes glint mischievously in the
moonlight. They are almost the color of the moon.

“Done with what?” I ask.

“I never have to kill again,” he says. “That debriefing I
went to was mine. I am free.”

I know I’m supposed to be happy for him. My dad taught me
that smiling puts you in a better mood. I try to smile. However, his news makes
me feel very alone. My token, what I have to do, still burns a hole in my
heart. I wanted him to be in the same unfortunate circumstances as I am. I want
to be free. I am selfish.

I wipe the tear that is now rolling down my face.

“I feel like an idiot,” I say.

“You don’t look like one,” Burke says. He tilts my chin up.
“In fact, you look quite beautiful in the moonlight.”

I smack his hand away, hoping he’s teasing, wanting him to
be serious. He’s so close that I could kiss him. His mouth opens as if he wants
to kiss me. I feel so lightheaded, that I move into his arms so that I don’t
fall. When I feel my body giving into Burke’s, I push away.