G.U.A.R.D. Book #4: Tracked

-8-

20:12, December 1. Station 3:

Month four consisted of picking locks. For once, I found myself among the best of the recruits. It just made sense to me. The cylinder, the pins, the way a certain key could turn it. I had one of the best recorded times in using a wrench and pick.

Untying any ropes binding me was a different story. They could be tight or loose, but my missing finger almost always kept me from getting free. Slowly, but surely, though, I was becoming to overcome it.

But that didn't mean things were easier for me. Ever since I nearly beat Cleve in that fight, she had kept oddly quiet. Instead, I endured glances of hatred and apprehension. At least that's what it was like for the first week. After she realized I wasn't planning on exposing her secret, she became openly rude again. More so than before. Challenging me in front of the other recruits, volunteering to one-up me in every activity, and the way she always snuck around on tiptoes, so when I did see, her I got scared. I was getting sick of it. The instructors were, too. Especially since I wasn't the only one she was berating. Cleve was the best, and she knew it. She took what she wanted when she wanted. But since she wasn't really doing anything against the rules, and she did everything she was told, the instructors' hands were tied. They couldn't punish her. Not unless Head Instructor Ai Zhang said so.

As I worked on my homework one night, I found it especially hard to grip my pencil. My handwriting had been improving, but it still just looked like a bunch of squiggles. I could only be thankful my instructors understood. When I couldn't take it any longer, I gave in to my frustration and dropped the pencil on my notebook, running my hands through my hair. I blew air into my cheeks, then let it out.

"Do you need help?" Wendi asked.

"No," I answered. "Just tired."

"I think we all are," she responded.

I looked to the girl. Since coming, she had worked as hard as all the other recruits, learning how to fight, shoot guns, help with medical care, and everything else. She had lost some of her fat and gained muscle in its place. But we had never been on the same team, so aside from the Trials, I had never actually seen her in action.

"How's your training going?" I asked her.

She glanced up to me. "Well, I'm definitely not the best, if that's what you're asking. No, I believe I'll get a desk job. I never wanted to go out in the field anyway. I could see me becoming an accountant or administrator. I'd have to be trained for the job, of course. And you?"
Cleve, her eyes glued to her work, said, "Shut up, please."

I hugged. "Wow, really?"

"Unlike you two, I'm actually trying to work."

"Sorry for trying to make friendly conversation," I told her in an annoyed tone.

"Make friendly conversation on your own time," she said.

Oh, God, give me strength. "I'm sorry, but did I do something to offend you?"

Cleve stopped, then looked up to me. "What?"

"Ever since we first met, you've treated me with contempt and condescension, as if I did some unforgivable thing. So, tell me, Cleve. What was it?"

"I have to say," Wendi interrupted, "I'm just as curious as you to hear this."

Cleve huffed, a small smirk coming across her lips. "Contempt? No. Condescension? How could I not? You know why, Black Eye?"

I felt my heart burn in anger.

"Because I'm better than you." She gave me a fake smile, then went back to her work. I continued staring at her for a few moments, letting her words sink in. They were true. Every challenge we had come across, she had totally dominated in. While I had totally failed.