“She protects the Order as if it were her own life,” Clemente says. There’s a knowing look in his eye like he can see inside my head, which makes me scowl. “She means well by keeping everything secret. But she is very prickly now, yes? Last time we lost someone, she pulled away from us then, too. It is her way. Please forgive her that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some years ago, we lost a good friend.” For the first time, the light in his eyes dims. He looks to the ground, but only for a few seconds. “To Lai, he was a very important friend. After he died, she was mean for some time. When she feels pain, she lashes out.” His fire returns a little, and he winks at me like we’re sharing some important secret. “But do not tell her I said so. She will become angry—actually angry.” And then he laughs.
I watch him closely. I can’t decide what to make of him. He seems well intentioned enough, I guess. And he did save my skin back there in the training room. But why’s he telling me all this about Lai? Why’s he trying to cover for her?
“You guys must be pretty good friends,” I finally say. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“And she you,” Clemente says. When I start to protest, he says, “Maybe she has not told you, but she loves her friendship with you. I have talked with her since you started fighting. I can tell she is not happy like this. I hope you two will fix your friendship soon, but Lai is stubborn. It might take time.”
I don’t know how to answer. I don’t even know this guy, and he’s vouching for my friendship—or what remains of it—with Lai. He talks about it so easily. Like Lai wasn’t keeping a million secrets from me. Like she didn’t betray my trust a thousand times over. Like I didn’t cause the death of her friend.
I don’t know what he wants me to say.
Clemente shakes his head. “But this is not the reason I wanted to talk with you.”
“You wanted to talk with me?” Now my confusion gives way to curiosity. What could he possibly want with me of all people?
“Yes,” Clemente says. “Lai has said you are maybe the strongest fighter in Central. So I wanted to ask—would you help the Order with its training?”
Pushing aside my sudden happiness at the fact that Lai, a hell of a fighter herself, said I might be the strongest in Central, I say, “Wait, what?”
Clemente gestures with one hand to the training room behind us. “You can see, can you not? We have started teaching our members to fight recently, but we are weak. Undisciplined. Inexperienced. Those of us who know how to fight are busy running the Order. We cannot take the time to train other members.” Now he gestures to me. “But you? You are skilled. You know how to win. If you are willing, would you help us?”
“What does the Order even need trained fighters for? Aren’t you guys a peace group?”
“Ah,” Clemente says softly. “That we are. But if we wish for peace, we may need to join the war. If the military cannot defeat the rebels, maybe we can help. But only if we have capable fighters.”
The idea of it is absurd. Me, teaching a bunch of strangers how to fight? From the basics, no less. It sounds like a pain.
But when I think of the sorry excuse for fighters I saw just a few minutes ago, I get what Clemente’s saying. If the Order does plan on joining this war, they’re not going to survive like that. They might as well be dead already unless someone who knows what they’re doing helps them. And as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me was weirdly happy training those guys. Satisfied in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’ve spent the last week on the run and stuck in a dead-end chase to find info that’s already long gone. I’ve been lied to, stabbed in the back, and told to just wait around and not get in the way.
A spark ignites in my chest as the idea of training these wannabe fighters grows on me. I could actually be doing something and helping people—and not because Lai told me to. By my own choice.
I meet Clemente’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”
* * *
Clemente fills me in on the details of how the training works now, I offer my suggestions for changes, and we agree to meet up tomorrow and start with everyone. He offers to show me the way to my room, but I’m not ready to go back yet, and the thought of being there when Lai returns is irritating, so I turn him down and keep wandering around.
After probably an hour of walking, I think I’m actually kind of starting to get the hang of this place. Things aren’t really as random as they seem, and when I run my hands over the walls, I feel symbols and arrows etched into them. They must be some kind of coded directions. I can’t figure out the symbols’ exact meanings, but I’m able to remember them and follow them to their destinations. Three swirls, a triangle, and a square lead to some kind of market. Two circles, two squares, and a triangle to an infirmary. A square, two swirls, and a circle take me to a big room with a bunch of tables.
It’s like a puzzle. I’m sure Jay’ll have a field day figuring this place out, but I get bored of it quickly. What I want isn’t to memorize my way around this place. I want to do something. I want to get out there and show the rebels and the Council and everyone else what’s what. I want to stop being on the run. I want to find my brother and kill him for sure this time.
I stop at what looks like a dead end and sit on my heels. I don’t know how to get back. I don’t really care that I don’t know, but it’s annoying that I don’t, if only because it’s like proving Lai was right. And I can’t think of anything more irritating right now.
But the halls are suffocatingly quiet. It makes me want to break something just to hear the noise. The silence feels the same as when I walked into my childhood living room to find blood splattered across the walls and my brother hunched over the bodies of our parents. The instant my entire reality was quietly ripped into shreds.
I bury my face in my arms. Idiot. It’s been nine years already. Why are you getting this upset over something that happened so long ago? Besides, I’m going to kill my brother and get justice for our parents and closure for myself. I just have to keep pushing forward. Then everything will be right again. Then everything will be okay.
Footsteps echo down the hall. I look up to see Lai standing behind me. Her eyes are beyond tired in the dim light as she holds a hand out to me. “Let’s go back, Al.”
5
ERIK
SAYING GOODBYE TO everyone was harder than I thought it’d be. I figured I’d be glad to finally escape our dead-end situation, cramped apartment, and the constant tension of the team, but as soon as I’m on my own, I wish I was back with them. I’m getting soft.
It doesn’t take long to find a deserted side street that’ll do the job. I don’t exactly want anyone catching me doing what I’m about to do—not that I think anyone would be strolling by at this hour. But just in case.
I adjust the backpack slung over my shoulder, weighed down by a couple sketchbooks, a few sets of clothes, and some of the leftover food. I tell myself it’s because the weight lies unevenly, but honestly, I’m just procrastinating. I was all for going back to the rebels when we were just talking about it, but now that the moment is actually here, my hands shake with nerves. Once I do this, there’s no backing out. A one-way ticket if ever there was one.