b15:58

“Pick it up, Camie.”

“It’s closer to you. You pick it up.”

Two girls at the front of the room battled over a single rejected yellow pencil, kicking it back and forth under their respective tables. Back and forth, the pencil rolled across the tile. Sitting beside Camie was Vector, scrolling through her phone, rather disinterested. She briefly looked up, cast a look at Verse through burgundy bangs, exhaled in amusement, and returned to her phone.

Yuki scooted her chair over to line up a shot at the pencil and, in an almost impressive miscalculation, kicked directly into Professor Moff’s desk. A black pen balancing precariously on the edge of the desk was sent tumbling onto the ground right beside the pencil. Yuki’s hand reflexively flew to her mouth. The professor remained preoccupied with his laptop, either not noticing or not caring enough to react. After a moment, Yuki started laughing. “Camie,” she said through chuckles, “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”

Then from overhead came a sudden piercing sound, the brief ringing of a bell tone to mark the end of the school day, on cue for 16:00 in standardized base-time. The white noise increased as class 2-B packed belongings and scrambled to the door.

“You all may leave—Spade, stay for a minute. Aptitude test Friday,” Moff reminded the students, although no one seemed to pay him much mind. He sighed dramatically. “Meet at East Reserve. Or don’t.”

Verse scribbled a final thought into their notebook before shoving it in their bag. Yuki stood waiting patiently. Aside from Spade, who conversed quietly in the corner with the professor, they were the last pair remaining. Verse hurriedly joined her, and together they left the classroom. The pen and pencil remained forgotten on the floor.

The long hallway was a chaotic river of passersby as students flooded out of their respective homerooms. In a peculiar, almost comical way, it was easy to identify each by their grade; the freshmen were most eager to escape, the youngest only teenagers who perhaps should have spent more time in high school before being shipped to a military academy; the sophomores carried themselves in a sort of aloof, disinterested manner; the juniors were also aloof, but in a more haughty way. Finally, there was the senior class of 343, who simply did not care. With only a little more than two months left before they graduated, senior complacency had hit hard. 2-B fell into that category.

By the time Verse and Yuki made it to the hallway, though, the worst of the crowd had lessened, and the freshmen at least had long departed. Camie and Vector were waiting by the door.

“Come on, Camie!” Yuki cheered excitedly as she grabbed Camie’s arm. “We gotta bounce! Time for Gardening Team! See ya, Verse.” Very quickly, Yuki leaned forward and left the lightest peck on Verse’s cheek before dragging Camie away. The citrusy scent of her pink hair lingered in Verse’s nose.

Camie did not seem to share Yuki’s level of enthusiasm but did not resist. “I cannot believe I let you drag me into this,” she muttered, disappearing around the corner of the hall.

Vector and Verse were left standing alone. It was quiet for a moment. Finally, Verse let out a slight laugh. “Team,” they repeated in amusement.

“It’s serious business,” Vector responded in her typical deadpan tone, her voice calm and low. She brushed aside a chunk of crimson hair. It was dyed; no exo’s hair would come naturally in anything but platinum blonde. Her “exo” label branded her for constant scrutiny by the religious population who worshiped Ancient Exo deities, as well as by the religion-critics who blamed her for enabling radicals. The “Ancient” qualifier of the Ancient Exo may have been inaccurate as, in a place beyond the Common Realm’s time restrictions, they did not exist exclusively in the past, present, or future. That led to the somewhat common belief that the modern exo would one day leave the Common Realm and become their own Ancient counterparts. Exo were once widespread leaders, monarchs, and commanders of stars, and they were noticeably disappearing as the vast majority migrated away from society to the most distant edges of the galaxy.

But Vector had no intentions of running away to become some deity, so it was not any concern to Verse. They much preferred to keep their faith a personal matter.

Vector was one of remarkably few exos on the entirety of Auran. The planet was not renowned for its diversity. Starforce Academy was about half ocuna—class 2-B was half ocuna, Verse included. The exo population was far higher on Verse’s distant homeworld of Valoria. In fact, Verse knew more of the exo language than Vector did herself. But most of that knowledge came from the church sermons they’d suffered through all their childhood.

Without any further confirmation, Verse and Vector set off. The two of them had a mutual understanding; they were the “quiets” in a class of loud personalities, and their respective partners were close friends, and they often ended up together in silence. Vector was, admittedly, a pleasant break from Yuki on occasion. Constant energy could grow overwhelming.

“Camie is crankier than usual today because she’s working on some Force-Stat project with Spade,” Vector said somewhat jokingly, though her tone did not indicate any humorous intent, though it never indicated much of any intent.

“Spade is her lab partner?” Verse chuckled slightly. “Really? That can’t be working out well for them.”

“She is not particularly fond of him,” Vector agreed. “Incompatibility issue there.”

“Even though they’re so similar.”

Vector exhaled. “Pompous?” she said with a slight smirk.

“Pompous and rich.”

“Brass. Auran slang.”

“Brass.”

“Brass has benefits. We’re going out tomorrow night,” Vector said, sounding just a little pompous and rich and maybe brass herself in her tone.

“Dinner with the girlfriend?” Verse said teasingly, although they genuinely did not understand the convoluted relationship status of the girls who seemingly did not realize they were both lesbians.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Vector refuted seriously. “She doesn’t see me like that.”

Verse paused. “She asked you on a date.”

“Yes, a platonic date. If Yuki is allowed to kiss you ‘platonically,’ then I’m allowed to ‘platonic’-date Camie. Unless you finally accept that Yuki likes you.”

Verse sighed, finding no way to respond. Yuki had been Verse’s partner since they were the freshmen—the teens eager to escape class. Such was the Starforce Academy system. Before even arriving, they’d been carefully profiled and assigned a partner to live and collaborate with for their entire four-year stay. Most partner-pairs grew particularly close in that time. Most were platonic. Yuki and Verse were platonic.