Terra & Bastian

Testing

*This chapter contains a brief scene of child abuse. Avoid the italicized part if necessary*

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The dining hall was huge. Rectangular tables were arranged in five large clumps, each with a large colored banner hanging above it. A podium sat on a raised stage near the far wall. Dozens of students were already scattered amongst the tables. As the thick oak doors slammed shut behind us, Cher and Tiki scrambled off, glad to be rid of us. The Browns looked at us expectantly, then walked off to find a table. I glanced over at Mitchell, who was staring at Peter. I clapped my hands together.

"Alrighty. Andiamo, boys," I said, running my hand through my hair and weaving through tables. The black clump was in the far corner, so we had to pass the rest of the stiff-looking initiates. I heard people start to whisper as Peter passed them. I whipped around as I heard the comments becoming more rude. I stomping back to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with me. Mitchell flipped off some of the louder students, and they immediately shut up. We found ourselves at the one remaining empty Black table, and sat close together with our backs to the wall.

It was oddly funny to see how different the different color groups were. The Blacks were either quiet and expressionless or banging on the tables and yelling. I saw one girl unscrew the lid to a salt container and throw the contents onto the boy next to her. He stood up, screamed "FIGHT ME," then sat back down and laughed with the rest of his table.

The Browns were looking warily around at each other, wringing their hands and slumping their shoulders.

The Blues were politely chatting amongst themselves, laughing at all the right moments. They wore what looked like hospital scrubs.

The Reds were taking steak knives and chucking them at the walls, trying to knock each other's down. When they ran out of knives to throw, they started stealing them from the White and Blue tables. Whites glared after them, but didn't try to stop it. Blues did mostly the same, until a small male Red snatched one away from a muscular woman sitting at the Blue table. He started to run away, but she pointed her finger at him and a streak of flame zapped him in the behind. He shrieked and ran back over to her, handing her the knife and rubbing his wound. She smiled and received calls of approval from all over the hall.

The Whites seemed scared of everyone in the hall. Though they talked quietly to each other, they stared around at the other groups and nervously tapped the table. They were wearing simple, soft white sweatshirts and pants.

I was about to try to strike up a conversation with Mitchell and Peter when a tall black woman strutted through the room. I had no idea who she is, but she was definitely important. The entire hall went silent as her heels clicked up to the podium. She adjusted the neckline of her tight blue dress and tapped the microphone.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereupon," she announced. Her voice was demanding but warm, bringing us all to attention while also sounding like a mother calling us to dinner. "Welcome to Beta Training Facility. I trust you all have your identification cards, arm bands, and uniforms. I hope you found your rooms comfortable last night. Tonight you can rest assured that we don't always wake up as we did this morning." Several students cheered or knocked on the table.

"My name is Margaret Thorin. I'm the headmaster of this facility. If you have any concerns about your role in this program, please schedule an appointment and I will meet with you as soon as I can." She glanced to the back of the room, as if waiting for a signal of some kind. Then she nodded and continued. "We have no other announcements for this morning, so why don't we go ahead and eat." She smiled and the doors were pushed open. Waiters dressed in green poured into the room, each balancing at least two trays on their arms. They spread out among the tables, distributing plates of bacon, sausage, pancakes, and various berries. A squat woman set our plates in front of us and bowed her head, then glanced nervously up at me. I noticed that one of her eyes was a milky white color, and it was framed by a jagged scar. She was partially blind. I smiled at her and she jumped, quickly scooting away. Mitchell raised an eyebrow, looking at me.