Close to the Covert Rains **Book One**

Chapter 28 (Wednesday)

Verspri eyed his alarm clock in the darkness. It read barely past six. He rolled over again, then tossed his sheets down to his feet. He closed his eyes, then rolled back over and stared at his clock. He sighed, and sat up. He was decidedly not sleepy.

He dressed by rote, not bothering to turn a light on. Then he crept into the hall, sliding the chair out from under the doorknob and turning the cold handle. It opened creakily and he winced, hoping Kwayo and Teremki wouldn't wake up. But nothing moved inside the dorm--no squeaky beds, no footsteps--so he slipped into the hall, pitch black, and blindly shuffled to the exit. Out on the lawn, the chill air made goosebumps on his arms, and the grass left wet marks on his shoes.

Halfway through typing in the teleporter destination, he paused. Was the cafeteria even open this early? And...did the curfew not end until seven? He tapped the glowing screen on the podium. Too late. The teleporter swirled to life and Verspri walked through.

Since the cafeteria's teleporter building was missing, it took that single step to determine the cafeteria was completely empty. No lights shone across the dark lawns and only the quiet hum of the teleporter disturbed the dawn. His stomach growled, and he sighed.

He returned to his room, slumping to the hard-backed desk chair. He could at least pack his backpack for classes. Mrs. Sarai had actually assigned them paper homework for once, stuff about the parts of a halberd and various pike-like weapons. They would likely practice with them today, although he couldn't imagine how they'd use the long, unwieldy things in the classroom. Broadswords had been difficult, and according to his worksheet, halberds typically extended two feet longer.

He glanced over his spacious desk. He tossed in a spare pencil to his backpack. And a homework sheet for the robotics unit in his mechanics class. And, that was that. His bag was packed. He set it on the ground, then flopped onto his bed. He summoned his clones, and they stood in front of him, Segundo and Trio yawning. Cuatro glowered--he was still upset that Segundo had a sword and Trio had a bow while he got nothing. Verspri rolled his eyes; his clone could have a weapon when he could be trusted.

Cuatro scowled, but didn't say anything. Verspri wasn't sure if he could talk yet, but he definitely understood. Which made the fact that he'd tried smashing Verspri's chair yesterday all the worse.

He turned to his last clone. Verspri didn't know what to call this one yet--Cinco reminded him too much of a boat--but the clone acted reasonably calmly for only having existed two days. He sat cross-legged on the floor, staring blankly at the gray carpet. Verspri pursed his lips, thinking. "Pentagon," he said. No response. "How about just Penta?" still nothing. "Quinto?" that meant fifth. He sat up straight. "I know! Pentago!"

Pentago looked up at him, eyes curious and darting. Verspri's other three clones nodded. "I think he likes it," Segundo said.

"No duh," Cuatro crossed his arms.

Verspri blinked in mild surprise. Was that the first time Cuatro had spoken? Besides guttural howls; those didn't count. Or various squeaks. Or the maniacal laughter.

Verspri smiled. "Guys, I feel like we're an awesome famil--"

Someone knocked on his door.

"Do you know what time it is?" Kwayo's voice came through, muffled.

Verspri hopped off the bed and opened the door. He frowned. "Why do you have a pillow over your face?"

Kwayo lowered it, eyes half-closed. "Because you're being loud! And this light's really bright!" he covered his face again.

"Um, sorry?" Verspri glanced over his shoulder. "I was just talking to my clones..."

"Oh good," Kwayo mumbled, "otherwise I would've been very concerned about you monologuing in incoherent conversations. Are you planning on trying out for theater?"