Chapter Fourteen
ANGEL SINCLAIR
The alarm on my cell phone went off at precisely 6:58 a.m. It had been set to vibrate only and tucked under my pillow so I didn’t wake anyone. The schedule said we’d receive a wake-up call at seven, but the way things were going, I didn’t want any more surprises.
At exactly seven, a male voice was piped into our room from two small speakers located in separate corners of the room.
“Good morning, candidates. It is oh seven hundred, and time to get your day started. Please dress in the clothes that have been provided for you and have been placed outside your door. Eat breakfast, and report to Room 101 for your orientation promptly at oh seven forty-five.”
Kira sat up and rolled her neck. She looked up, startled, when Hala started stirring above her. “Hey, did we get a new roommate last night?”
“We did,” I confirmed.
As Kira hopped out of bed, Hala sat up, yawning, her dark hair tousled. “I came in late last night and didn’t want to wake you by turning on the lights. I’m Hala Youseff. You must be Kira.”
Kira put her hands on her hips and studied Hala. “How did you know that?”
She tipped her head toward me. “Angel heard me come in last night. She filled me in on everyone.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw Kira flush. Embarrassed, maybe, that she’d slept through it.
I climbed down from my bunk. Frankie had the covers pulled over her head and wasn’t moving. I tapped her on the leg. “Rise and shine.”
Frankie gripped the covers tighter in case I tried to pull them off. “It can’t possibly be morning.” She peeked out from beneath the covers and saw Hala. Her eyes widened, and she sat up. “Oh, hello. Are you our new roommate?” After a big stretch, she climbed out of bed in her frog pajamas and waved at Hala cheerfully. “I’m Frankie. Nice to meet you.”
To her enormous credit, Hala didn’t say anything about the wacky pj’s. Instead, she grinned and waved back. “Hi, Frankie. Glad to meet you, too.”
Frankie peppered her with questions, all of which Hala patiently answered. I headed toward the bathroom, but Kira got there first, so I went through the common room to the front door to see what clothes had been left for us. Four piles of T-shirts and camouflage pants, each of our names neatly pinned to the top T-shirt, were stacked outside the door.
“Hey, guys,” I called. “Come look at this.”
Everyone except Kira, who was still in the bathroom, crowded around me.
“It’s military-issue clothing,” Hala said, leaning down to pick up her pile. “Three white T-shirts and three pairs of camouflage pants. I bet they’re exactly our size.”
Frankie picked up her pile and hugged it to her chest. “This is the best day ever. I always wanted a pair of genuine camouflage pants.”
I had no idea why anyone would want to purposefully own a pair of camouflage pants outside of the military, but what did I know?
I picked up my pile and Kira’s, dropping hers on her bed. She came out of the bathroom and I slipped inside, carrying one T-shirt and one pair of pants. Hala was right. The pants and shirt were a perfect fit, even if my reflection made me feel like I was playing soldier.
While I brushed my teeth and washed my face in the outer part of the bathroom, Frankie changed. Hala joined me at the other sink. It felt a bit like being back at home with Gwen, except I hadn’t shared a bathroom with anyone since she left for college when I was twelve years old. Given the fact I didn’t really know these people, except for Frankie, and I didn’t do social well, it was an uncomfortable situation.
I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and put on my socks and shoes. I was tying my shoes when Frankie came out of the bathroom. Fashionista that she is, she’d knotted the bottom of her T-shirt and let it rest on her left hip. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a braid and entwined with what looked like green and brown shoelaces. She stood in front of me and held out her hands.
“So, what do you think?” she asked.
“It’s…you,” I said. “You really made the outfit your own.”
Beaming, she turned around in a circle to show off all sides. “Aren’t these camouflage pants the bomb?”
“Um, they’re functional.”
Hala came out next. She looked about my size, although a little taller. Then I remembered how she’d shot Jonas without hesitation, and I wasn’t too worried for her.
Kira was the last to emerge from the bathroom. Somehow, she made camouflage glamorous. Her blonde hair was sleek and smooth and she’d put on makeup. I wouldn’t have noticed, except her skin seemed to be glowing and her cheeks looked a lot pinker than they had when she beat me to the bathroom.
We went to the cafeteria together, with Frankie chatting nonstop. The cafeteria smelled like bacon and coffee. Wally and Bo were at one table, shoveling in food, deep in conversation. Mike sat at the table next to them, and Jax sat at the corner table as usual, his back to us and his earbuds in. We introduced Hala to everyone, and even Jax took out his earbuds long enough to say hello. After we got our food, Frankie, Hala, and I sat together, but Kira ignored us and went to sit next to Mike.
Hala leaned over the table, lowering her voice. “What’s with her?”
“I think she’s scared and lonely,” Frankie whispered. “She acts like she doesn’t need anyone, but she does. We just have to redouble our efforts to be her friend.”
What? Had she lost her mind? “Are you kidding me, Frankie?” Her niceness was getting ridiculous. “That’s your assessment of Ms. Prima Donna?”
“Give her a chance, Angel.”
I had no intention of doing that, but I pressed my mouth shut and didn’t say so. I didn’t want to hurt Frankie’s feelings, but in my opinion, Kira was nothing but trouble.
“What about the guy in the corner…Jax?” Hala asked.
“He’s a loner, too,” Frankie offered. “He isn’t interested in socializing. But he’s sure hot.”
“Loners seem to be a theme around here,” Hala said.
I was going to confess to my loner status as well, but I wasn’t sure it was true now that I had Frankie and Wally as friends. I didn’t expect how happy that would make me.
“So what do you think will happen today?” Frankie asked.
I’d come to breakfast hungry, but now I’d abruptly lost my appetite. I forced down a few bites of oatmeal and some juice, but that was all I could manage. Kira and Wally didn’t eat much, either. Frankie, Hala, and Bo ate their breakfast without any problem, and I couldn’t see what Jax was doing with his back to us. I guess trying out to be a spy wasn’t as scary for them as it was for me. Four weeks was already seeming like an eternity if we were going to be on edge the whole time.
Wally pushed back his chair, and I got my first good look at him in camouflage. He looked different, maybe more confident. Maybe the administrators knew what they were doing by putting us in camouflage after all.
As soon as Wally stood, it was like our signal to go. We dumped our trash and returned our trays before heading to Room 101.
I kind of expected something unusual would be in Room 101, like a weapons display, high-tech gadgets, or spy notebooks, but it was just a normal classroom. Several rows of desks, a smartboard, and a teacher’s desk. Room 101 could have passed for my English lit class at Excalibur.
We all chose a desk and sat. For a moment it almost seemed as if we were back at Excalibur. I felt the back of my neck prickle like someone was watching me. I turned and caught Jax a couple of desks back, staring at me from the same row.
He lifted a hand and gave me a little wave. “Hey, Red. Hope you’re a good student, because I may have to copy off your paper.”
I was pretty sure he was a smart guy or he wouldn’t be here, so the only logical reason I could fathom for his continued needling was that he was trying to throw me off my game. Maybe he saw me as threat or as significant competition. The only problem—I couldn’t figure out why me. I didn’t see him doing the same to anyone else, so why had he singled me out?
I didn’t respond and turned around in my chair. I wished I’d never insisted he introduce himself, caught sight of his mesmerizing eyes, and stared at him like a star-struck idiot. Maybe just the fact that I’d called him out had made him laser in on me. I made a mental note to never do anything like that again.
I was still thinking about his eyes when Dexter Donovan, aka our limo driver, strode into the room carrying a briefcase.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I hope you found your accommodations satisfactory.” He looked around. When no one complained, he continued. “I know you’re all wondering how we’re going test you for the position of operative. Let me explain. You’ll undergo a series of rigorous physical, emotional, and psychological challenges. I won’t lie to you—we’re looking for a specific type of individual to join UTOP. In order to see how you perform, you’ll be given four major trials, to be held every Friday. You’re expected to complete them. Testing will be weighted toward those whose finish each challenge, but other factors will be considered, as well, though those factors will not be made known to you. UTOP is highly exclusive, which means the challenges will be difficult on many levels. You’ll be tested in many different ways. If, at any time, you wish to quit or leave, you have only to let me or one of the trainers know. There’s no shame in leaving—as I’ve told each of you, this job is not for everyone. Your talents may lie elsewhere and be equally as valuable in protecting national security.”
He paused and surveyed us. The room was so silent I could hear the analog clock on the wall ticking.
“Just so I’m clear, there’s no such thing as failure. About ninety-six percent of UTOP nominees don’t make it. Hopefully, your recruiter told you that most of the people unsuited to the life of an operative are excellent fits elsewhere in the community. For example, your testing may indicate you’re better suited to the research and analysis sector, computer security, the various language divisions, or communications and surveillance, among many, many other options. Are we clear on that?”
I tried to hide my anxiousness. Those odds were not in my favor, especially after the active-shooter disaster. I had to up my game and keep it up for the rest of my time here.
After we nodded, Mr. Donovan smiled. “Good. Now, what are we looking for in an operative? The answer is simple. Someone who is smart, innovative, can think outside the box, and is persistent. However, the primary goal of an operative is gathering intelligence. It’s really as simple as that. So, for the next few days you’ll undergo a series of psychological and IQ tests to determine your suitability. I urge you to answer the questions as honestly and as transparently as possible. Say what you think and feel, not what you think we want to hear. Trust me, the nominees who try to fake the tests are the first to wash out. You’ll also attend regular classes like the ones you were taking before you came here. We have no intention of letting you fall behind academically.”
There were a couple of groans, but Mr. Donovan waved a hand.
“Now, your first trial will be on Friday,” he said. “For your downtime, if you have any, feel free to use the gym, the pool, the library, the gaming room, and all the outdoor areas. Equipment can be checked out in the gym. You may not, however, leave the campus until we specifically permit you to do so, which we will every Saturday.”
He turned to his briefcase and popped it open. We collectively tensed, having no idea what he had in there, but instead of the machine gun or machete I’d imagined, he pulled out a sheaf of paper. “Your personal schedules are here. Please read them carefully and be on time for all your tests and classes. Everyone has something different to do except for the trial on Friday. Good luck to each and every one of you.”
He called out our names one by one, and we picked up our schedules. As soon as we were out in the hall, Wally, Frankie, and I compared ours.
“What do you have first?” I asked Wally.
“Physics,” Wally said. “Room 122. I didn’t see that one coming. I was sort hoping for Seducing the Enemy or something like that.”
Frankie and I laughed, mostly at the idea of Wally seducing anyone successfully. He must have guessed what we were thinking because he looked indignant at our amusement.
“I have Psychological Testing in Room 106,” Frankie said. “I wonder what that is. What do you have, Angel?”
“It says Small Group, Room 108. What the heck is that?”
Wally shrugged. “No idea, but I guarantee it will be more exciting than my physics class.”
I didn’t agree at all. I’d rather read an entire physics textbook than sit in a small group with people I didn’t know.
Unfortunately, it looked like I didn’t have a choice.