Straddle

1. Dark Days

The sunny days are over. They have been for the last 50 years.

And for as long as I can remember, I have never walked out of this academy without my guard up, my memories filled with doubt and fear. They teach us to  fear nothing, thinking with only robotic-like logic, regardless of the situation.

But no one fears nothing.

My grandmother told me of the days without war. She told me how the Americas used to be great, a land of hope. She always says the sky was brighter, with no hint of darkness. When I tell her it isn't now, she says I am just used to it, just like her daughter. The world has fallen apart, but we're still living in it.

Rogan Tabern All-girls school has been on the down low for decades under a secret agency, avoiding government patrol through silent investors. It is modeled as a school for the people as part of the Seds attempt to avert the rebel attackers to something else. But nothing is as it seems. No one can know the truth.

I started when I was six, two years ahead of most. The training started with reading and writing, knowing 5 languages fluently before the age of ten: Russian, Spanish, French, English, and German. We've even learned to change out accents. The fighting was...hard? No, more like gruesome. We learned not just to fight, but to fight for our lives.

We have been taught never to give up hope, to believe, believe that everything will be okay in the end.

But if that were true, then why do we need to fight for our lives. Why do we need to survive? Why can't we just let them win?

Because then you would be died

..........................................................................................................................................................................

The bell rings as a wipe the sweat of my face with my cloth. I breathe out heavily, realizing just how out of shape I am. My hands were rough and calloused from the boxing section I had just endured thanks to my aunt. I grab my duffle bag, shoving my sweaty clothes into it as a hand touches my side. I look up to meet eyes with a beautiful woman with bright blue eyes and red hair that was my aunt. She smiles at me, "Keep a balance on your hips, and you'll be back to your normal self," she says. "Good job"

"Thank you, Miss Val," I say, rolling my eyes at my aunt. She smirks at me, and mocks me as she rolls her eyes and says, "You're Welcome child, I'll see you at dinner next week." 

"Alright" I speak, a bit too enthusiastically. Knowing she'll have something to say about using my lady-like inside voice, I run out of the room down the long shining wood stairs.

I wipe another roll of sweat on my plaid shorts, stopping as I spot my friend. 

"Care Bear!" I shout, drawing attention to myself. My cheeks shine a slight pink, before recollecting myself.

My friend whips her head back, her dark, long hair following as she silently gives me a confused glare. Her freckled face scrunches up as if reprimanding me silently. Cara Bearnes is my roommate and best friend, even though she's like the opposite of me, not only in appearance. She's always lady-like, presentable, and gets on with my mom extremely. She more of a Velt than I could ever be.

 A grin spreads across my face seeing her annoyed face. She says goodbye to some girls I recognize, and turns to face me again.

But I was in one of those moods today. I strut over to her with my hands on my hips and a bounce in my step, a slight smirk appears on my face as I come to a stop, hitting a pose. "So, what do you think of today's outfit," I say with both eyebrows raised, my hands motioning to clothing on my body. 

A few students stare at me a little bit awkwardly, but I've learned to ignore their wandering eyes. People have a way of making their own ideas of who I am whether that be "Mommy's little warrior" or " the soldier with no heart." I do what I need to do and live the life I have to. I may only be 17, but I know what my future holds.

Cara rolls her hazel eyes at my idiocy, but smiles and chuckles slightly regardless. She rubs her chin, looking me up and down, pretending to be seriously inspecting my uniform which is identical to hers except for my silver pin that indicates my difference in status. 

You are your mother's daughter. 

She fake grins, "Amazing darling, where'd you get it."

I laugh, rolling my eyes at her comment as we walk outside in the sun, where the gated walls are noticeable.

Their not to keep us in, but to keep them out. I remind myself, knowing I am technically correct. We go out on missions all the time. 

Yeah, on 'missions'. 

I disregard my last thought.  

"Do you know when your first mission is?" I question my friend. 

"With the recent attacks, I sure soon." she says, huffing.

If the people only knew...

If they only knew, the truth to this place...we might have a stronger chance.

"It's too dangerous" the annoying, practical voice in the back of my head reminds me. "You know that."

We walk outside, being greeted by the warm California air, with content smiles making its way to our faces.

As we make way to the cafeteria through the grass, a figure in the distance approaches I smile, seeing an outline of a familiar male muscular build.