Leap Year

Chapter Three - Weapons

"Weapons?" I ask after the blonde teacher points at me.

She nods and gives a warm smile. "You all get to choose your own weapons. You can make one, modify one of our own, or you can just take one of our own. It's truly your choice," she reassures everyone.

"So, we aren't just being given guns or anything?" another student asks.

I glance over at the student. He has blue tips that blend into his black hair. He hadn't raised his hand or waited to be granted permission to speak. He just spoke.

He notices me and throws me a wicked smirk and wink.

I instantly look back at the teacher.

"As I said before," the teacher starts. "You can take a weapon from us, you can modify a weapon we give you, or you can make your own weapon. The weapons we have include all types of guns, knives, swords, and many other things. Such as, a bow or crossbow."

"Is magic an option?" a student laughs.

My eyes flicker toward the voice. A ginger girl sat close to the brunette boy. She smacks her lips together as she chews gum.

My eyes travel back at the teacher.

She offers a nod and says, "Yes. Magic is an option."

Half of the students' mouths drop as she says this. Including myself. I hadn't known magic was real. I heard about it in fairy tales. My mother always gave little hints about both the war I was preparing to fight in and magic being real.

"Now, I will call you one by one to come and choose a weapon," the teacher claims. "If you'd wish to make your own, you may just say so," she adds.

I raise my hand and she immediately points at me.

"What if we think we want to make a weapon, but later on, decide we don't want to?" I question, tilting my head slightly in interest.

Her lips curl into a smile and she adjusts her glasses. They send a gleam at my eyes and the other students stare at me, skeptically.

One quick glance around the college like room and I ignore the students and go back to staring at the blonde that sat below us near the big screen.

"You may come back and say so. Nothing will be held against you. And if you wish to return an item you took and or modified, you may return it to either pick a new weapon or make your own," she replies.

I return her reply by presenting a small nod.

"Now, please come down from your seats, and form a single file line against the wall," she instructs.

Every student moves and slowly shuffles down to the main floor where the teacher stood. We form a straight line just like she asked of us.

I hold my head high as I hear whispers. Each whisper describes something about me. My long, white hair, dark, hazel eyes, and even my attire. Knee high boots, black tank top, and jeans.

The teacher walks in front of us slowly, deciphering which student was which. Then, she starts calling names.

The student called either went up and picked a weapon, or they said something along the lines of, "I'll make my own."

This went of for a little bit until my name was called.

"Serenity Reed," the teacher says.

I step forward and allow my eyes to shift through the weapons strewn across both the wall and the tables that lay in front of everyone.