HEAT

CHAPTER 1: EMELIA

I walk through the hall on my way to lunch, hood firmly over my head. Cursed pimple decided to emerge from the center of my skull today. Must be all the studying. I'm only a sophomore and I'm already fighting for my place among the elites in this school. I have average looks, average personality, average skill. I can't be average in intelligence. I refuse to be a good for nothing, feeding off of the hard work of my people; undeserving of every breath I breathe.

"Watch it!", yells a person who I have mistakenly bumped into due to my enthralling train of thought.

"Sorry." An automatic response. A glance up at their face tells me that they are nowhere near deserving of my apologies. For I know every one of the 124 faces of the honors program and they're not one of them.

I head to the cafeteria and appreciatively receive my tray of flavorless garbage before taking a seat in the grassy area of the courtyard with my "friends". The only reason why they associate with me is because I'm an honor's student. If I drop off of that list my name and face will drop from their memory.

"Powell!", my shoulders are jostled. Not my name, at least...not my first name. We're called by our list names. I look over my should at Freddy, short for Fredrickson. He's one of the people that I actually consider a friend. He actually seems genuine. If I were to drop off of the list, though he won't mention me, I know he'll remember my name at least.

"Hi Freddy, how are you today?", I smile at him and adjust my hood again.

"I'm swell. I've got something big to talk about today. Only with our friends though." We're all "friends" but we split into groups dependent on convenience; id est who we think will last to the next year. By "friends", Freddy means the number two and two other people in the top half. Why I'm in this group is beyond me. I'm not in the top half, that's for sure. Freddy is very outgoing but there's no way he would be in a group with people that he didn't believe would make it to junior year. Last year there were about 300 of us so I expect that the honors program will be cut by more than half again this year. I have midterms and finals to get to the top half. I hope that I meet his expectations. "How are you, Powell?"

"I'm fine. I got an 80% B in Chemistry. If I fail the midterm I'll be at a C." My grip tightens on my plastic spork. This has got to be the most inconvenient place to sit. I mean there are no tables so we have to hold our trays. God forbid something crawling in the dirt crawls into your tray, better yet, god forbid you drop anything you plan on eating.

"That would make your second C." He makes up his face and sucks in a breath like someone's been physically injured. Of course he'd remember my grade.

"That's right." My grip on my spork tightens.

"Hey..." His hand comes over my back and my hair stands on edge. "...It's okay. I guarantee that you'll be able to pass. If you have a B now, that means you know your stuff. You can do this." My hair settles as I subconsciously accept his comfort. Seems genuine. Then again, maybe he's just a good actor. Or maybe pretty words and a pretty face are all that's needed to deceive me.

"Thanks", I mumble.

"Flirting again, huh?", Sherman says as she approaches.

"Funny, I didn't think you'd be into triceratops'." Teal second rank in our year, adds.

Freddy leans back down to his seat in the dirt and greets them. I adjust my hood again. It's only one bump. God, she's such a jerk.

"Where's Kennedy?" He asks.

"Probably on his way down to the bottom half." Teal smiles at me. "No offense." I eat my sandwich in response. It's not like she's wrong. Kennedy is always late and always last minute. It's boggling how he manages to stay in the top half with that sort of halfhearted attitude.