In the auditorium, all her silent fears seem to build up into a head-splitting crescendo.
Not there.
Listlessly, she presses the refresh button on her phone.
That 24 stares back at her, red and glaring against the black.
Murmuring floats around her, voices echoing off of steel, but she cannot focus on that. She has moved from one place to another, but she can’t remember walking from the entrance to the auditorium.
Because…
All her hard-earned credits. All her blood, sweat and tears. Almost all are gone.
Not there.
She thinks that twice more, thrice more, and then she takes in a shuddering breath and forces herself to face what she’s been trying to avoid.
Her points aren’t with her. Something must have happened—some small part of her hopes that it’s just a glitch, an error. Surely the school will know. She’ll listen to the opening speech, and then afterwards, she will go straight to the head office.
A shameful, hidden part of her burns to ditch the opening ceremony, but knowledge and instruction keeps her rooted to the spot. The thought of leaving this auditorium without permission is near blasphemy.
So she stays, pocketing her phone and wiping her clammy hands along her skirt, the murmuring around her sounding so far away.
Somehow, her credits are gone.
Ah, her mind can’t stop thinking about it.
More students press together before the stage. She is lost in the middle of them, at the centre of a sea of blue and black, and she gazes at the podium.
It is at the back of a shell-shaped structure that arches over all of them, leading to the outside courtyard. How much it costs, Annalise cannot begin to imagine, for the structure is finely-made and shines metal from the outside.
All of Cornet High is like this. Broad, proud buildings, most in a rounded structure of sorts, with curved walls and flat roofs with an intricate trim that must have taken architects ages to perfect, marvels in of themselves.
More students murmur, packing in together, and the back of Annalise’s neck prickles despite the heat. Warily, she gazes around.
Through the throng of new students, she can see older-looking students standing at the threshold of the shell-shaped auditorium, outside yet peering in.
Their eyes look uncomfortably like hawks’.
No. They’re just curious. Wouldn’t she be, if she were in their shoes?
Yet they are smiling. Like they’re looking at something rather amusing.
How can all of those faces, so different in makeup, wear such a similar expression?
Uncomfortable, Annalise looks away. Focusses on the sea of new students. She has always had at least a few friends, if not friendly acquaintances. She should be out talking to new people.
Yet her missing points play on her mind.
Her eyes glaze over the collection of people, all so different, and she finds that she doesn’t know where to begin. They are from all walks of life, she supposes, rich enough to attend this academy, and she and her previous friends bonded over their lack of having it all.
With a jolt, she realizes that one boy is looking straight at her. He is tall, lean, though his jacket is tight around him as he folds his arms. Those eyes match that royal blue, his face striking in its oddity, and he stares at her.
Her. Quickly, she glances around, seeing if any other girl is catching his gaze.
When she comes to the conclusion that no one else is near her, she turns back to the boy.
He is now facing the podium, seemingly bored, arms still crossed.
An itch begins on her left arm, but she doesn’t bother scratching it. The familiar discomfort is, in its own way, somewhat comforting.
The murmuring heightens, and she adjusts her glasses and notices movement threading through the crowd. Someone she cannot see until the three of them clear the crowd and climb the stairs.
A girl with long, pitch-black hair and deathly pale skin takes the podium. Her shoulders are small but set back in a confidence that belies her small stature, and the smile she wears on her strong face is unmistakeable. The two who flank her are both boys, and both are unsmiling.
Murmuring. Annalise hears a girl next to her remark on their collars, buttoned high.
The dark-haired girl places her hands on the podium, and her voice rings clear as she says, “I’d be quiet, if I were you.”
Immediately, the auditorium is deadly silent. As it would be, Annalise thinks, considering that anyone who values their credits would do so. To act out of orders would be to sacrifice your livelihood, and no one can afford to let themselves slip. So they will listen, no matter how small the person giving orders is.
“That’s better,” the girl says, throwing a smile that breaks her face in two. “And I didn’t even have to threaten you with a deduction of credits.”
Her tone tells Annalise it’s a joke, but no one dares laugh.
“I’m Hana,” the girl at the podium says, tilting her head. “I’m here as a representative of the academy to guide you on your first day. I’m here to relay house rules…and to welcome you, of course.” She nods stiffly, as though the act is a great inconvenience to her. Still, her smile never wavers.
“All of you are here because of your aptitude,” the girl says, eyes flitting over all of them. “Whatever you’ve done, you’ve proved yourselves as being here.”
That makes Annalise give a small start, and she gazes around the space again. Sure, Cornet High is prestigious, but she remembers the prim girl on the bus, remembers some of the other credits she’d seen shown on the bus’s monitors. Not everyone has a high score.
Now, she is like them.
Clutching at her left sleeve, she reminds herself that she’ll get this sorted out. That this is a mistake, and it’s one the academy won’t take lightly.
“I’m sure you all know the rules,” the girl with the pale skin is saying, her voice reverberating through the room. “They’re on our pamphlets. On the school guide online.”
Annalise has memorized them line by line. Direct credit, gambling, loaning. She knows them all, and she plans on doing none of them. Part of her battle plan is to memorize everything, know the system in and out, and do her best to follow along in line with the rules as she works hard to come out on top. A simple plan, but it’s one her brother turned his back on.
And he paid for it, as have so many others.
She will not be like them.
The girl repeats the rules in a smarmy voice, but by now, Annalise is chewing at her lip, burning to get away from the auditorium.
By the time the girl is finished, she is sweating through and through.
Can’t be like my brother.
“One last thing,” the girl says, cutting through Annalise’s thoughts. Her head jerks up to look at the girl, whose eyes seem to be on the older students waiting on the outside of the structure. “We don’t tolerate anyone who stays in the red for long. If you are in the red and your two days’ grace expires, we will remove you from the academy. Your points must be displayed after the first day.”
Then, Hana smiles. “Please enjoy your time here. You should have all gotten your timetables. Go ahead to your classrooms.”
With that, the girl turns on her heels and descends the stairs, followed by the two severe-looking boys.
Immediately, the crowd breaks away. Some rush past others, determined to get to class on time. Others beeline for the older students, no doubt to answer questions. The older students smile those same uncomfortable smiles and adjust their collars, all buttoned high.
Mind whirling, Annalise tries to manoeuvre through the crowd, searching for the office building she’d passed during her tour of Cornet High. Looks for the circular building, realizes it’s westward. Quickly, she takes off.
And finds it locked.
She knows it from the way that more than three dozen students drift aimlessly along the courtyard, casting glances at the glass doors.
“No way,” Annalise breathes out sharply. There’s no way they can be closed. She needs this fixed!
Twenty-four credits is nothing. They don’t represent her. She should be in the hundreds. At this rate, she is…
Like her brother.
Setting her shoulders back, Annalise makes for the glass doors—
“Excuse me,” chirps a voice from behind her.
Jumping, Annalise whirls around and finds a girl standing there with short, roughly cut honey-blonde hair and a curious smile on her face. She matches Annalise’s height, and a red headband clashes with her blue blazer and black button-down.
“Yeah?” Annalise asks, glancing around. Others cast them glances, but they seem preoccupied in their own thoughts, quickly turning away.
“What’s your score?” the girl asks.
“My…score?”
“Your credits.”
Shame washes over Annalise. “It’s…it’s doesn’t represent what I’m capable of.”
The girl blinks, cornflower-blue eyes wide. “Huh? Are your credits low or something?”
Annalise doesn’t answer, but her reddening skin probably tells the girl everything she needs to know.
Great. I’m already embarrassing myself. Annalise turns from her, gazing at the glass doors, desperately hoping they’ll open.
“Is it less than fifty?” the girl asks.
Frowning, Annalise turns to her. “Well…yeah.”
“Oh my gosh.” The girl looses a breath, then her smile turns more real. “I’m below fifty, too. Never thought I’d see another person here with that score!”
A few people have turned to look at them, and Annalise blushes furiously.
“Maybe we shouldn’t announce to the world that we’ve got a small amount of credits,” Annalise tells the girl.
Blinking, the girl gazes around. Sees the people looking at her. “Oh. Right. It is kind of shameful, isn’t it?” She says it in a big, loud voice.
Seriously wanting to tell the girl to be quiet, Annalise looks from the doors to the girl. “Maybe we could drop the subject,” she says.
“Don’t you know?” the girl asks. “It’s a good thing that we’ve both got a small amount of credits!”
“What?”
“Are you good at any subjects?” the girl asks, taking a step closer to Annalise. “My name’s Saoirse, by the way. I’m good at health sciences. I’m not taking any papers in that subject, though.”
Now that she mentions it, Saoirse does have an accent. And she’s listing her qualifications like it’s a job.
“I do well in my subjects,” Annalise says cautiously. “Mathematics, English. My interest lies in Biology.”
Saoirse claps her hands. A wristwatch glints from beneath her sleeve. “Finally! Someone smart. We’re both in the same boat, you know. My points got deducted because I was late all the time…and, you know, I’m not taking health sciences, which was my specialty before I came here. Hey, what’s your name?”
Right. She’d forgotten to say that. “Annalise.”
“Pretty name. It’s decided, then!” Saoirse claps her hands together again. “I’ll share my points with you.”
“Wait. Do you mean--?”
Holding out her wristwatch, Saoirse flashes Annalise her credit score.
43
“I’ve got a plan,” Saoirse says. “If you do a Transference with me, we’ll even out our scores. You’ll gain points—but you’ve got to help me, okay? We should do Transferences until we each get over fifty points. You know, stick together. No one else seems very friendly.”
Annalise stares at the score. Sees Saoirse’s hopeful stare. “Mine’s a mistake, though,” she says. “I’m…I’m not sure I can do a Transference, since my score is over—”
“What’s your score on your phone?” Saoirse chirps.
“Twenty-four.”
“Then I’ll be doing you a favour! We’ll each get thirty-three-point-five, and we’ll work our way up!”
Annalise’s first thought is to turn the girl down. If Saoirse isn’t doing papers she’s good at, it’ll be difficult to get points off of her. She clearly expects one good deed to help her in the long run, with Annalise sharing her earned credits.
But those numbers on the wristwatch call to Annalise. Forty-three to her twenty-four. The students have to display their credits; it’s obviously a school-issued wristwatch, and the girl is showing hers early. As a sign of trust?
Annalise might be entering a contract with the girl, but she’ll gain more credits. Twenty-four is dangerously low.
So, adjusting her glasses, Annalise nods and pulls out her phone. “Okay. We’ll do a Transference.”
Saoirse squeals and throws her arms around Annalise, nearly winding her. “I knew I could count on you! Let’s do it!”
The girl pulls away and quickly snatches up her own phone from her blazer’s pocket.
Annalise looks at her own screen. Saoirse’s name blips on the screen, and a Transference request pops up. Annalise taps it, sees a single line: Transference of credits. Yes/No
“I’ve already clicked yes,” Saoirse says happily, taking a step back, waiting for Annalise.
Thankfully, their phones don’t work for anyone but themselves. It scans the pads of their fingers, has facial recognition. Annalise clicks yes.
A small pause. Then the phone blips again, and a message pops up: Transference completed.
“Thank you!” Saoirse squeals again.
Smiling, Annalise looks down to her 33.5—
14.5
Annalise blinks.
That can’t be right…
Then she looks up towards Saoirse, who’s now smiling at her slyly.
Realization rushes through Annalise. “You…But your watch…”
“This wristwatch? It’s a fake.” Yawning, Saoirse scratches at the back of her head. “A fake number and everything. The newbies always fall for it.”
“What was your score?” Annalise asks sharply.
“Five,” Saoirse says.
“What?”
“Thanks for the credits.” Saoirse turns from her and holds up a hand in farewell. “I’m not out of the red yet, but if there’s another sucker around, I’ll be safe.”
Desperately, Annalise looks around at the other students.
Then she notes their high collars. Her mouth goes dry as she realizes where their scores are kept: their necks. Must be an electronic collar.
These people are all waiting to prey on other students. Those who desperately need to go to the office. Those who are likely to have less than fifty points.
Saoirse is leaving, waltzing towards the proud buildings in the distance.
No. She can’t do this.
Steeling herself, aware of the knowing gazes of the older students around her, Annalise takes off after Saoirse.
She can’t do this.
She goes to run after her—
A hand catches her shoulder, pulls her back.
“I wouldn’t chase after her if I were you,” a voice says. A boy’s.
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