Classroom X

day eight: fairness

It was already the evening of the eighth day on campus and James was feeling ardently homesick. He wanted to get out. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be under his blanket, playing video games at three in the morning because his parents wouldn't be up so early to reprimand him. But he wouldn't mind to hear his parents berate him now; he'd give anything just to hear their voices, even if they were angry or disappointed in him, to listen to their millionth lecture on the merits of hardwork and determination. His parents never gave him a moment of peace, always nagging at him about his grades and lack of orderliness and his egregious time-management skills.

But being with them had suffused him in a sense of safety. He had been precious to his parents. They loved him, and he knew it. They wanted the best for him; he meant the world to them. They wanted him to study well, get a decent, high-pay job and live a good life. He hadn't yet figured out how to tell them he wanted to become a game developer. He didn't know how they would react. But now none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was how he was feeling: like he was marooned on a desert, sand and sand everywhere. He wanted to be with his parents. It was overwhelming, being apart from them, practically friendless, and toeing death's door. He was a child who wanted his mother.

What yesterday had proven was that you could get killed even if you didn't get a majority in the votes. Cody and Emilia had suffered such hideous, painful deaths. The soldiers letting them die like that made James think they viewed all of them like terrorists. They didn't seem to care that innocents died on their watch. They were treating them like war criminals, slowly whittling down their strength and fortitude. And they did it methodically, as though they had an agenda. The soldiers wanted something from them. James just had no clue about what it might be.

The scariest thing was that the soldiers were just the executioners, but the real murderers were themselves. They were the ones who were killing off each other.

"August has to be the Angel of Death."

It was what Mica had said in Juliet's video. He was standing next to Gawain in a dimly lit corridor, Mica giving Gawain all his attention, while Gawain kept tapping his foot in distraction.

"I think he's very suspicious," insisted Mica.

"Really?" asked Gawain. He sounded angry. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Why don't we try to expose him?"

The camera shook a bit, blurring the two boys, then it refocused to show Gawain leaning in towards Mica, appearing mildly interested. "Do you have a plan?"

"I've overhead August say one time that he's afraid of dogs."

"Oh?" Gawain twirled a bit of his curly hair between his fingers, making black rings for his fingers with the strands. "And how do you figure this information is useful?"

"Why don't we ask the soldiers to set some dogs on everyone. If August really is the Angel of Death, his fear might make him reveal himself."

"Mica Scheffered, you are very smart," drawled Gawain. "Why don't we give this smart idea a go?"

Mica glowed in the video, and the video ended.

"This is your evidence?" Gawain curled his lips when Juliet put down her phone. He swivelled his head, making eye contact with the entire class."Can you even call that proof? I didn't come up with the idea. Besides, I was obviously only joking about actually doing it. Cassidy was dead and I was feeling out of sorts. I didn't think Mica would take me seriously."

Now the whole class was eyeballing Mica, who looked at Gawain helplessly. Gawain just quirked his eyebrow at him, as if to say he dug his own grave. James couldn't understand their dynamics. Weren't Mica and Gawain friends? Further away, August hung his head, not looking at anyone in particular. Juliet just looked miserable.