City of Skies by Farah Cook

Author:Farah Cook [Cook, Farah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01MY8OPLH
Publisher: Lindhart Publishing Ltd
Published: 2017-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

When I finally leave the school building, the sky is dark and the stars are twinkling. Everyone else has left, and I wonder what Gustav's allocation was. He’s altruistic and would make a good healer. His innate ability to care for people has always been strong. He’d stich me up, after our wilderness trip. He’d always say that I heal unusually fast.

I stand in front of one of the tents and wait. I try not to fidget. Instead I nervously slide my sweaty palms up and down my sticky jeans. I look a mess. My wiry hair is damp and knotted, my clothes covered in dry mud patches. I try not to let the incident with Lisa bother me. My mind wanders off to contemplate something it’s never considered before. Revenge.

One of the recruiters emerges from the tent and approaches me. He stands with a rigid posture, his spine looks like a metal pole and his shoulders are broad. He lowers his firmly fitted black sunglasses, and his clear blue eyes become visible. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares. His skin is a beautiful bronze color, and his hair honey-blond. He begins to breathe loudly, and then mutters something in a thick West division dialect.

“The last girl is here,” he shouts. “She doesn’t look native.” Or at least I think he says that, from my limited knowledge of the Western dialect. In school it’s mandatory to learn the dialect of the other divisions. But I was never interested in learning anything aside from Natural History and outdoor subjects. Learning somehow always came too easy for me. I didn’t even try, but I’m not proud to admit that I slept through most classes.

The recruiter beckons for me to follow him and I walk behind him into the tent. It’s empty, dim and cold, with hardly any light coming from the lanterns. Another person is hiding behind his shades, sitting by a long, empty table. He could be the other guy’s identical twin. Still no words are exchanged. The man behind the table motions for me to take a seat in front of him. He takes off his black sunglasses and glances down at his protocol.

“Nora Hunt?” he says, and stares at me like I’m a murder suspect.

“Yes,” I say crisply.

“I’m Lars,” he says dully. “Forty-nine straight wins in the chasing game. How do you explain that?” he asks shooting me a questioning look.

“I like to win,” I blurt out. I’ve just paraded my achievements. Something I’ve never done before. I don’t want him to think that I believe I’m better than the others in my class, but it’s impossible not to detect that from my merits.

“What happened today?” asks Lars, keeping his stare clamped on me. I don’t say anything. I shrug and turn my face away from him. He throws another sharp question in my direction.

“Why didn’t you win the final game, Nora?” His tone is stiff, like his attitude.

I think of Gustav and his ever sympathetic and kind heart.

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