The Manipulation Room

Chapter 20 - Castellar

Manipulation Room victim no. 21023
Name: Sebastian Heat 
Age: 33 years old
Occupation: Soldier 
Family Member: 47-year-old father, Roscoe 
Description: Injected with three different chemicals: potassium chloride which stopped the heart beat, pancuronium bromide for paralysis and sodium thiopental for sedation

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Ezra came to school early for once so we could discuss our plan before everyone came in. I was always early, and not because I had to be. Because I chose to be. I normally read, or rewrote my notes, or added to homework I didn't think I did thoroughly enough. It was sad and all kinds of nerdy but it was me, it was the way I did things. Ezra, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. His brain is huge, he's one of the smartest guys I've ever met, but his brain's not the right shape for school. Art's more his thing, and music. He's very creative; I'm constantly in awe at his imagination.

Ezra thinks it's 'adorable' (his words, not mine) that I take notes and make flashcards. He normally ambles into school a few minutes late because he didn't want to stop playing his favourite song halfway through. Sometimes he actually does his homework (9 times out of 10 it's because I made him during our free period) Other times he hasn't even read the questions. I wouldn't have him any other way, although my control-freak tendencies tend to kick in.

I was reviewing my homework due for today when he ambled into the classroom dancing to a song playing in his earphones. He was late, but early by his standards. He waved at me as he came in but continued to sing along, even dancing down the aisle and drumming his fingers on the desks. I laughed, "You're crazy."
"Next free period, I'm gonna make you listen to this guy's songs."
"Only if you read the best scenes from my new favourite book."
"Deal."

He sat on the desk opposite mine and pulled a notebook out of his bag. "Don't tell me you actually did your homework..." I gasped, playfully. He laughed, "Not a chance. I researched our plan. Went over it, you know."
I took the notebook and flipped to the book-marked page. There was a timetable and many names, and locations. "Soldier's...time-tables?"
"Correct."
I dropped the book onto my desk, "How did you get these?" I gasped. He shrugged, grinning like a proud kid, "I have my ways."

I grinned back, "So...going over the plan. We're going to interview a soldier, try and get information and stuff?"
"Yes, we are. But if they show any signs of being violent, we're out of there. These guys are ruthless, we can't put ourselves in danger." He replied, turning to a page that had examples of soldiers who had been murderous in the past. There was even a list, most dangerous to least.

I let out a laugh, "You did all this?!"
"Yes, Ma'am." He beamed. "So, you're not completely lazy after all." I giggled. "Homework's not important. Getting rid of the Manipulation Room and saving the human race is." He shrugged. "Oh, and art...I finished another sketch yesterday."
I let out another laugh. "You're crazy, Ezra Ray."
"In a totally sane society, craziness is the only freedom." He chanted, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. "Raven Shiloh?" I asked. He nodded, "Correct."

We spoke about random nonsense for the rest of the morning, as students began to file in. Credence glared at me and then smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at Ezra, "Honey, you're on my desk."
Ezra slid off his desk and shuffled beside me, clearing his throat and sensing the tension between me and Credence, "Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't know."
Credence shrugged dismissively, "Don't sweat it, Ray. Don't. Sweat. It."

Ezra crouched at my desk to show me his latest sketch as Kierra burst through the doors and walked over, "Hey lovebirds! What's up?" She shot Credence a dirty look and he shot her one back before turning his head slightly to stare at me, "You don't know why we're not friends anymore...huh?"
I shook my head, slowly, "No, I don't."
He huffed, "It's gonna stay that way." And he turned back around and ignored us both. I turned to Kierra who was stood awkwardly beside me.