The Paranoid

It’s rare to see a girl in weaponry class at Sky. Or any of the learning centers in AAE. Or any other section, as a matter of fact. Especially since The Leaders decided to have a minimum of only a couple of females to a class, they all sort of disappeared after that. I guess it was just too much trouble for them. Or something.

“Okay, listen up!” The short man with a braid of black hair running down his back rubs his hands together, a mist of purple raising from his hands, and a sort of whistle coming from between his lips. “First day in third year weaponry, last class of the day. Hope you guys weren’t expecting a breather from me.” He walks in the circle of students he instructed to sit on the mats when they first entered the doors.

He stops in the middle of our ring and turns his body, meeting everyone’s eye. “Don’t mistake this as a game of ‘Pirate Swords’ between you and your siblings, kids. This is a very serious class, and anyone who I do not see fit to handle what I dish out at them will automatically be put out, and in a weaker class. Or in a totally different course, if I want it. I don’t call myself a master for the glory.”

He then smiles, making his light colored face turn into a big hug, “Now, on a lighter note. Children, welcome to Extreme Weaponry. I am your teacher, Master Marceli, and will only be called as such. Master M will due also, if you want to cut it down some.” He walks from the center of our circle to the outside. I’m not really sure how he keeps getting away with calling us seventeen year olds children, when he barely looks the drinking age.

“Now, I want all of you to stand and do as I do. Quickly, please!” He starts to clap his hands and turns to face the mirror covering the wall. “I want five lines of five people, shortest to tallest. No one person hid, because there will be consequences.”

I go to the middle of the third line being made, my eyebrows reaching my hairline. Who did this guy think he was?

He claps a little faster, a little louder, “Hurry! I don’t have a day, kids! Only two and a half hours left!” Only?

When we finally organize ourselves in the five lines he wanted, he meets our reflections, the stupid smile still on his face. “Good. Now, this is what I want everyday when you children first enter this room. Stand in your rows and face the mirror. When I come in I don’t want to see a back or a side. Nor do I want to see someone sitting. You stand until I come say otherwise.” His smile continues with his words. He apparently knew he was hitting some nerves.

He then stretches his arms out from his sides, fingers pointing straight. “Now for some simple warm ups. Do as I do, please.” He then spreads his legs, leaning each arm down to touch the space next to his foot. “These are the exercises we will be doing for the next semester. Best you learn them now, I won’t be showing you everyday.”

***

After the 30 minutes of warm ups, Master M lets us finally sit. We barely get a minute of full silence before he starts speaking again, “That was good, for the first time. I’m glad that some of you can maintain the speed.” I let my eyes roll. What a douche bag.

“Now, since this is a weapon based class, we will be having one on one fighting against each other.” I see some of my classmates sit up straighter, now interested. “Since that is to be a obvious occurrence, I’ll have you paired up. The person who you’re paired with will be your training partner, and this person will have complete control of your grade in here.” I hear the person behind me gasp. Or maybe that was me. “Your partner is there to learn from you, and for you to learn from them. This will never be the person who you are fighting against officially, got it?”

I see a few bobbling heads.

“Good. Now, for the pairing.” He walks down the rows we’ve made, hands locked behind his back. “You,” he points to a boy with freckles leading from his checks to under his black shirt. “You have a name, dots?”

The boy nods his head a bit too fast, making audible swallowing noises. “Adil Omid.”

Master M smiles, crossing his arms. He looks a bit predatory. “Adil Omid?”

Admil nods a bit too fast again, his brown eyes wide and matching air stretched.
“I hate your name, Admil Omid.”

Admil’s body stops moving. So does mine.

“Oh, don’t look like that.” Marceli uncrosses his arms, waving his hands around as he talks. “What if I just called you something else?”

Admil is as still as can be. The person behind him narrows his eyes at Marceli, staying as still as Admil. I can feel my eyes doing the same.

“What about Ignacio? It means fiery in my home language.” He smiles, looking less like he was going to kill you and more like he was inviting you to dinner.

Admil’s mouth goes down, head shaking. You weren’t suppose to mess with names in AAE. They were sacred, weren’t meant to be touched. It was forbidden.

When Admil speaks, his voice is so soft that even Marceli has to lean to hear it, “Is this a trick, Master?”

Marceli’s grin falls. “No. No it is not, Admil Omid. I swear on my mother.” He raises a palm in the air, a determined look on his face. “It is just a suggestion, child.”

Admil looks up, meeting Marceli’s eyes. There’s a pause, before he starts to shake, his head nodding. “Fine,” he says.

There’s a stifled gasp in the room.

Marceli smiles. Face lighting up like a child’s. “Great!” He rubs his hands together and turns, pointing a to bald kid in the back. “You! What’s your name?”

***
In the end, nineteen of the twenty - five students’ name was changed, my name not included. Admil - Ignacio was partnered with the bald kid, who got renamed as Cesar due to the irony. Cesar apparently meant ‘long haired’ in Marceli’s insane language. This had made the bald kid crack up laughing, startling poor Ignacio.

I got paired with a name not changed relative, someone called Keagan Misae. I was talking to the person in front of me, renamed Demario, about the new name of his, when Keagan had finally walked up to me. It had been Demario’s lack of response that made me turn to my partner.

A girl.

Better yet, a hot girl.

She raised an eyebrow at me, obviously not impressed. I heard Demario’s snicker before he walked off, that traitor. “Keagan Misae,” she says, holding out a golden skinned, small hand.

I lightly grasp hers, looking at the contrast our two skin colors make. “Ciro Izeek,” I say, keeping her hand there for me to expect. “Where are you from?”

She yanks her hand back, making a light brown blur from my fingers to the back pocket of her black cargo shorts. The blur stands between us for a second, before glittering into nothing. She mutters something under her breath before answering my question, “I’m mixed, Izeek.”

“With what?”

She rolls cursing eyes, the small specks in her deep green matching her skin tone perfectly. “My father is from Biota, my mother was born here. Get the hell over it.”

My eyebrows go to my hairline for the second time in less than three hours. The Biota? That was barely a section, I didn’t know people actually lived there. Who could live in a place that barely had any standing buildings? I look at her with her golden skin, making everything around her look boring and plain. “How?”

She lets out a small huff of breath. It reaches out in small wisps of gold to lightly touch my face. She smiles, and her air that now surrounds us takes a sudden halt. “Because,” she starts. “People like you, who have no care to be a bit less inquisitive in someone else’s life, makes living in a dirt mound with no running water seem like paradise, if there’s no one like you around.” Her smile finally goes down and she takes a step forward, her breath hitting my chin. I look down and almost jump from the burning brown raising from her eyes. The air starts to fizz, and wow. This girl might have a bit of a people problem. “Don’t come off as a jerk next time, yeah? Just shut your mouth and look pretty.”

She finally takes a few steps back, crossing her skinny arms and leaning against the wall. She doesn’t look my way when Marceli starts giving us the rules for one on one fighting. I try paying attention to the violet air coming from our master, but I just can’t ignore how easily she puts her auburn hair up into a ponytail.