Die in Tune

Warmth. I feel the warmth. I open my eyes and looked around. I was lying on the small couch I had in my room, covered in a navy blanket. I looked at my bed and saw someone sleeping in it. I tried to remember what happened the night before. I was at Andy’s house for a party. I saw Harriet and danced with her. She ran away and I followed her. She went into a breakdown. Then what? Think, Kaleb, think…

Oh, now I remember! I hugged her and we stayed in that dark street for some time. She was tired and eventually fell asleep in my arms. I didn’t know what was wrong with her; I didn’t know where she had been all those days, but I was too tired to ask again and I didn’t want to wake her up. I didn’t know where she lived either, but I couldn’t leave her asleep at a party. So, I drove her home. My home. I put her to sleep on my bed and slept on the couch.

Why had it taken me that long to remember? Oh, yes. I was a bit drunk as well. The faint headache I was feeling when I got up reminded me of that little fact. Standing up, I noticed that I was still wearing the outfit I had on the night before. I needed a coffee.

I tried not to make any noise as I left my room to get a coffee. It was too late for breakfast, so I was going to skip, but a coffee was necessary. The door didn’t creak as I closed it. I went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Anita was already there and doing some of her chores. I made some coffee whistling to a random melody, and then went back to my room holding my simple black mug filled with coffee.

I entered my room, once again avoiding causing any unwanted noise, and sat at my desk drinking the coffee. I heard some noise behind me, so I turned around to face the bed and noticed Harriet starting to get up and looking around slightly confused. “Where am I?” She asked.

I explained to her that she was in my room and basically told her the whole story that lead to that point, focusing only in the highlights: the fact that she was drunk and that I didn’t know where she lived, so I had to bring her over to my house. She looked at me with her eyes wide. She looked to her side and saw the other side of the bed untouched and sighed in relief. “I slept on the couch, so you don’t have to worry…” I replied to her reaction.

“Was I that drunk?” She asked. I nodded and she buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble. I don’t usually get that drunk.” Then she got up and said “I guess I better go home…”

“Well, you could stay for lunch, if you want.” I suggested. I was hoping she’d say yes. She looked at me, her eyes not as wide as before, probably because she could be having a hangover.

“Did I reveal anything or do anything stupid when I was drunk?” She asked me ignoring my invitation, but not leaving her place. I thought if I would answer that question honestly or just lie. I usually didn’t think so much before I gave answers. I would usually give them careless answers that could provoke negative reactions or not. And people couldn’t expect nothing more than a short answer that left even more questions. But, somehow, she changed me. She didn’t let me answer.

“’Cause if I did, let me apologize right now…“ I cut her off.

“Don’t worry. I’ve done worse.” I laughed trying to make the situation less awkward. She nodded not questioning my response. I liked that she didn’t ask me about it. When she started walking towards the door, I said “Why don’t you stay here for lunch, then I could drive you home?”

She turned around to face me and said “Why are you so obstinate about me eating lunch here with you?” Damn she was smart. I hadn’t noticed that I seemed desperate or anything. I didn’t answer her. Silence sometimes was comforting. “Sure, I accept your invitation…” She said with a smirk. And I smiled.


I saw her a couple of times after the day she revealed me she was in the rebellion. I tried hard to talk to her, but she would run away. She would look at me with this intriguing look though, that gave me the determination and the will to never give up. So one day, I managed to get in her way and she had no choice but to talk to me.

“Let’s talk…” I started. She looked at me with her mocking smile.

“Why are you suddenly so persistent to talk to me? So determined…” She kept some distance between us. I didn’t want to answer, so she continued “Last time we talked, it didn’t go so well… So, what is it you want to talk about?”

“I understand and accept your decision…To join the rebellion…” She smiled pleased “Even though, I don’t want to join it. I’m still curious why you decided to tell me out of all people…”

“Join us.” She just answered “You have potential to achieve greatness. You won’t do that in this corrupt, alienated society.” She waited for my reply. I was flattered. I didn’t consider myself that good of a murderer, but getting that compliment made me smile.

“What happens if I join it?” I asked out of curiosity. I looked into her eyes, that weren’t so distant anymore. She had come close to me in those moments we had exchanged words. I could feel her warm breath on my neck.

She placed her hand on my face “Well, that is a secret you’ll have to find out for yourself. I can’t be the messenger all the time…” She just wanted me to join. No more questions, just actions. At that point her face was mere inches from mine. She looked up at my eyes not blinking. Her green orbs seemed to engulf me. She dragged her hand down my cheek to my chin and then took it off and brought it to her side. Grinning, she turned around and started walking away.

”I’ll be at Gripelle Street tomorrow night. If you decide to join us, meet me there. If you don’t, I shall know that you have made the wrong decision…” She said that last part feigning disappointment.

Then she disappeared into the labyrinth of streets of our city.

I stopped writing as soon as I heard Harriet enter my room. She had gone to the bathroom. She was humming a song I didn’t recognize. I closed my notebook and turned my chair to face her. She sat on my unmade bed and looked around. “You’ve got a nice place here…” I thanked her for the compliment and watched her as she stood up and looked at the posters.

Her words became like a soundtrack to a movie I was watching: it wasn’t the main thing. She was talking to me, probably criticizing my musical tastes, but I couldn’t focus on the words coming out of her mouth. I was looking at her. That was where my concentration was being directed. At her.

She then stopped looking at the posters and on the left side of my bed, my side, and decided to explore the bedside table. She opened the drawer and found there a photograph I had hidden. It was one of me with my parents when I was younger and we had gone on a family trip to Asia. We were in Thailand, if I’m not mistaken. My mom had her hair braided with orange and red beads at the end. Orange and red: her favorite colors. My dad was red because he had spent the entire day in the sun and got sun burnt. And then I was there between them. My smile was huge and slightly annoying. My brown hair was kind of wet, because we were at the beach, and all messy, because I had been running and jumping around. My eyes squinted because the sun was very bright. That had been long ago. In a time when time still wouldn’t go so fast. In a time when business didn’t take over my parents lives. In a time where I was still careless and naïve. It almost felt like centuries had passed since that time.

Harriet smiled as she saw it. “Is this you?” She was pointing at the little boy with a wide smile, being squished by his parents’ love. I nodded. “You were adorable!” I smiled at her compliment. But getting that compliment made me smile, the words I had written in my story replayed in my mind. She placed the picture on the bedside table, where it once had been, and asked with some curiosity “Why did you steal this picture the right of seeing the light of day?” She loved using euphemisms, I could tell.

“Because that picture decided it preferred darkness to daylight…” I was answering that in a childish tone, trying to give a witty response to her carefully constructed euphemism.

“Or is it because the owner of the picture is too afraid that his good memories will be attached to the bad memories that came after it?” She asked raising her eyebrow. Damn, she really was good! I didn’t answer, because she basically explained it all for me. I had underestimated her. How is it that such a small girl can make me speechless more than once not only in reality but also in my fictional world?

“I do that too. I avoid those innocent and happy memories I’ve had in the past, because there is always some sort of dark cloud of sadness that comes after every one of them…” A nostalgic look was present in her face as she brushed her finger on the picture and said that. She smiled when her finger touched my smile in the picture.

I sat next to her. I remembered the feeling of a warm body close to mine from the night before. I was tempted to wrap my arms around her, but I fought against it. She looked at me and asked me “How’s your story going?” I kind of missed those annoying little questions about my story. I was beginning to wonder where all her curiosity had been stored.

I looked at my notebook on the desk, sitting there silently avoiding the spotlight. “You want to read it?” I asked. She jumped up from the bed as if that question were some sort of magic word.

“Do you even need to ask such a question, when you know the answer is quite obvious?” She did have a point, but what was the problem with asking? I got up and walked to the desk.

Picking up the notebook, I thought well about letting her read the last bit, and then I said “You can read up until this page…” I showed her the page where the part where I left my old house in my fictional world was. She questioned my decision so I explained “I might rewrite the rest. I don’t like it when people read my imperfect parts…” It was a lie obviously, but she believed it.

She snatched the notebook from my hands before I had time to hand it to her. She flipped to the last part she read. Not much was left for her to read, because she had read almost all of it.

She sat on my bed and turned the pages slowly. My calligraphy was bigger than an average one, sloppy and I always wrote in cursive, for some reason. And the loops of the letters tangled up in each other. Now, where have I read that calligraphies like these are typical of psychopaths? Well, I can’t deny that, because I am in fact a murderer. In another world.

I watched her as her index finger glided over each line, sometimes stopping at a word and chuckling to herself, other times pausing to think of the meaning of the word in the sentence, at least that’s what I think she was thinking. She asked me when she was almost near the end “Why are you looking at me that way?” She wasn’t even looking at me. I smiled.

“Your reactions to my story are the first ones I ever witnessed. I love seeing my reader’s reactions…” She smiled pleased with my answer, her eyes never leaving the notebook. She looked like a criminal investigator analyzing every detail of the crime scene. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and her usual habit of twirling her hair around her finger had been put on a pause due to the reading. You could tell she was really interested in what I had written.

When she was done, she flipped to the next page, the first one of the forbidden pages. “You know you’re going to put me through some torture by not letting me read the rest.” I laughed and she stared at me in all seriousness. “I’m not joking! You’re a drug dealer and I’m your typical drug addict. Basically, what we have right now is the dealer depriving her loyal client from her oh so desired drug!” She was good at metaphors, but her argument wouldn’t convince me. Not even after the cute face she made after saying “Please…” I just shook my head. “Fine! Be that way!” She faked an angry expression.

I couldn’t stop a smile from forming on my face. Her green eyes had such depth to them. You could read the emotions clearly on them. Right now, I could tell she was curious, as always. But there was something else. Then, I remembered the night before…

“Harriet, can I ask you something?” She suddenly became serious after hearing the tone I had spoken in. She nodded with some hesitation. “I know it might be personal and all, but what exactly happened last night?” I remembered how fragile and breakable she had been the night before. She was like a child and for the first time I felt like I was an adult and had the responsibility to care for her, even if it meant to just avoid her from breaking into tiny pieces before my eyes.

She immediately stared away from my gaze. She brought her feet up to the bed and clutched her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. I picked up some of her habits once again: she pressed her lips tightly shut in a straight line to avoid showing any emotion, her eyes wandered around the room trying to avoid the subject and she kept rocking herself.

I placed my fingers on her shoulder and her gaze met mine once again. “I’m in so much trouble…” She was staring at my eyes with some nostalgia. For the first time since I met her, I realized that all that I knew about her was her name. I didn’t know about her family, her past…

All I had of her identity was her name. Two little words: Harriet Reid.

But just words.

Even her past would just be words. A bunch of words carefully structured and placed to form sentences to describe her before, her now and her after. A bunch of words with different semantics and different pronunciations. And yet they shall forever remain words.

I shook my head “No, you’re not…” I wanted to caress her cheek and push a strand of her hair behind her ear, but I avoided temptation. She turned away once again and ignored my response.

“You don’t know me…You don’t know how much shit I’ve gotten myself involved in…” She paused then she faced me. She sighed before she began speaking again “I’ve done things in the past, things I’m not proud of.” You’re not the only one, I thought. “Things I probably can’t tell some people unless I want to get into trouble…”

“Yet haven’t we all? I mean, nobody’s perfect…” I stated looking at her. “I guess some of us have a few loose screws here and there, but doesn’t everybody have?” She thought a bit and nodded at my argument. Perfection is something everybody longs for, but no matter how hard they fight to achieve it, it will always remain miles away from your reach. Just another finish line you will never cross.

Her forehead creased as she thought. I wondered what was going through her mind. “Have you ever felt pressured into being someone you’re not, but not to impress anyone, more like a duty to something?” She asked all of a sudden. I thought about the question. After pondering on it, I concluded that I hadn’t truthfully felt that. I have tried to change in the past, but always with the main finality of pleasing someone. I shook my head to her question. She nodded “Lucky…”

I still didn’t have a clue about how everything she was telling me was connected to what had happened the previous night. All I knew is that she did something bad, something she didn’t exactly want to do and somehow it was something that felt more like a duty. It all lead me to ask the same question I had already asked “Exactly what happened, Harriet?”

Hoping that by saying her name she would skip the questions and the distractions and just explain the situation. She knew I now expected nothing in return except a justification for her break down in the dark street just a couple of hours before.

“Kaleb, I’m sorry but I can’t just tell you everything. It’s kind of more complicated than that.” Silence fell between us like a sunset goes down on the horizon. I guess this doesn’t work like in some books where when the main character asks the other one for just one itsy bitsy part of the huge secret she’s hiding from him and she spills out her entire autobiography. “Look, I know this may seem unfair to you, since I’m not telling you anything about what happened, but did we do anything last night when I was drunk?”

I decided to be honest with her “Well, you tried to kiss me…” She shut her eyes and looked down trying to come up with an excuse. “It was no big deal.”

“Did we actually kiss?” She asked still not looking at my eyes. I waited until she lifted her head to meet my eyes and shook my head.

“I turned my face.” I admitted.

She somehow looked disappointed when I said that. She laughed and said “Okay, this will sound ridiculous to you and I’m probably going to regret it, but I have to get it out anyway…” I wondered what she was going to reveal. “Kaleb, I think like you.”

The funny thing is, instead of looking at her with a pathetic stare and nothing coming out of my mouth, I said “I think I like you too.”

I pondered on whether or not I would meet Harriet at Gripelle Street that night. I loved her. I had come to that conclusion. I loved being a murderer. I also had come to that conclusion. But did I want to devote my life to something I had despised until that point, devote my life to the rebellion?

After all, in the end this wasn’t a question of just love, but also of my entire life. One choice and I could forever ruin it. As I thought, I heard the door lock click and my roommate stepping inside. He had a huge bloodstain on his beige shirt. He looked mad as well. “What happened to you?” I asked. He shook his head irritated.

“I picked the wrong screamer for an experiment. I was attempting to kill her by stabbing her in the heart and taking it off, but the damn creature had to fight me off, spilling blood everywhere, including my shirt!” I laughed. That was such an easy way to kill for me. But he was into poisoning which for me was really hard so I guess we can call it even. “How about you? Why are you having deep thoughts?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I had to make up an excuse or just ask him to mind his own business. And though the second one appealed to me the most, I didn’t want to be rude, so I just responded “Nothing. Just thinking about things…”He could tell that it was his cue to leave me alone to my thoughts and left for his bedroom.

I asked questions to no one in particular: What should I do? I think I love Harriet. Should I leave everything I believe in and join the rebellion? I know I love Harriet. Should I risk everything for love? I am madly in love with Harriet. And as if the no one I was asking questions to decided to answer me, I heard the answer like an echo in my head: yes, you should.

I looked out of the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky with orange, red and purple. I had made my decision. I grabbed my coat that had a hood and also got my black fedora hat. It had been my dad’s hat. He had placed it on my head as I was about to enter my college on the first day. It sort of represented my transition from my baseball caps of childhood to my dad’s hat of adulthood.

Love makes us do crazy things, I remember my mom telling me that. I think I kind of believe that now. If I were my rational self, I would never do what I’m about to do.

“I’m going out. I don’t know what time I’m returning,” I screamed. It was my goodbye to my roommate. My goodbye to my apartment. My goodbye to the whole life I had planned. Except I didn’t dare utter that one word: goodbye. Not expecting an answer from my fellow roommate, I left the apartment, never to return again.

We stared into each other’s eyes and she asked “Really?” I nodded. She smiled. “I thought you didn’t because people have told me I can be quite annoying when I want to and that I’m not the easiest person to like…” She did have a point there, but I guess that’s what makes me like her.

“To be honest, you’re kind of annoying.” She opened her mouth pretending to be insulted and punched my arm. “Ow! Wait, you didn’t let me finish!” She stopped and looked at me expectantly. “But I think that’s the reason I like you…”

Her lips turned up into a smile. I think I was blushing at that moment, before she brought her face close to mine, her breath warm against my cool neck and whispered words no one had whispered to me before:

“Kaleb, you conquered my heart with your words and your noble gestures. I shall conquer you with this…” She didn’t even finish her sentence. Next thing I knew, she had lifted her head until it was leveled with mine and she brought her face even closer to mine until our lips collided. Her lifts were soft and gentle. She was right. A kiss: that’s all it took. When I felt our lips starting to part, I brought my face closer and cupped her face in my hands, bringing her close to me for another kiss.

And in that moment, the city of Muoia Nell’Aria, the rebellion and everything else besides that moment, became a blur.


I met her in Gripelle Street. She had her back against one of the walls and watched me enter hesitantly the street. “Look who decided to show up…” She teased. I smiled. She came close to me and said “Revaun predicted you would show up. Nobody but me believed him.” Well, that was a compliment, I thought sarcastically.

She laughed when she saw that I was kind of disappointed at her remark. Then she said “Let’s go, we’re already running late.” Late? I wondered what she meant with us being late. She grabbed a hold of my wrist and dragged me through the street until we were no longer on murder territory but yes, screamer territory, a place I never dared to enter. We walked through the streets of that area, all of them quite similar to Gripelle Street, except they were noisy, flashy, the constructions had too much decoration and the people looked like they were all high. They were like hysterical zombies, if that is even possible.

Then we entered yet another dark alley, this time really dark. I couldn’t see where we were going. “Watch out!” She warned. I didn’t know exactly what to watch out for, so I stared around and almost tripped on something. A staircase. We were climbing some stairs. Then she warned me once again so I thought it was either for me to duck, climb another staircase or go down a staircase. My third guess was right.

It was a spiral staircase and I started to sweat because it was rather hot inside. It was also a very long staircase and it felt like we were inside it for more than five minutes and we were moving fast We didn’t climb much so we were definitely going underground. Then we stopped. She went close to this wall and yelled “iniquitas evanui” or something along those lines. If I wasn’t mistaken it was a Latin expression. And then a bright light flashed on her eye. I wondered what it was. It looked like it was a routine for her though.

After that fairly fast process, I heard a noise coming from the wall. It was cracking open. I was in admiration of the technology used there. I always thought the rebellion was composed by a bunch of barbarians and nothing more. When the wall was fully opened, I found myself staring into a huge area divided in smaller areas: a fairly cozy space where they would all just talk and appreciate each others company, with couches and a music player and I swear I spotted a coffee machine somewhere; the second area was an empty area with only a small stage kind of structure and it was a big area; one of them had a huge table with many chairs and papers scattered all around it; and the last area was the biggest of them all, and much to my dismay it was empty.

Harriet turned to me “Welcome to the rebellion, Kaleb.” I stared with my mouth wide open at the entire place. There were so many people, all socializing and enjoying their time, whereas we, murderers, during daytime, usually have hostility towards our fellow colleagues and friends.

I saw a middle aged man, maybe in his forties, walking towards me with an elegant posture that displayed a lot of self-confidence. His hair was like a raven and his skin was slightly tan. He had determined brown eyes and an extremely defined jaw structure and cheekbones. He was taller than me, lean but muscular, and he had a grin plastered on his face. Harriet introduced me to him “And this is Revaun.”

I was writing that in school when the bell rang. It was Monday morning. The weekend had gone by fast. It felt like it was just Saturday and I had kissed Harriet or Sunday when we went to the mall and she tried to preach me on good music taste. I had to admit she had a nice ear for music, but I found it insulting that she didn’t think my taste was decent.

Anyway it was now fifth period, English. The bell rang.

I gathered my things and was about to leave the classroom and meet Harriet when my English teacher, Mrs. Astbury, called me to her desk. I didn’t know what she wanted, but obeyed her anyway. She was looking around the papers in her plastic file, until she found the one she wanted.

“Kaleb, this essay you turned in is absolutely amazing!” She said, her gaze going from me to the paper in her hands. “Why haven’t you ever written essays like these in the past?” To be frank, I didn’t know. Writing began as a therapy for me. Before it, I barely even wrote.

“Well, I only started taking writing seriously recently…” I had only been with Dr. Murphy for a couple of months. I had only been there for a year and my little incident occurred just two months after we got here. Mrs. Astbury looked at me with a smile.

“I think you have a great talent at it!” She thought a bit, and then said “You know what? I think you should think about joining the journalism team here.” I looked at her surprised. I never even thought about joining any extra curricular activity at the school. Ever. I had heard about the journalism team. They published a monthly issue. I never thought about it though.

“I don’t know. I’ve never quite thought about it…” I responded truthfully.

“Think about it. I’ll recommend you to the team anyway. But you should definitely think about it.” I nodded and she said returning me my essay where I saw a big bold A+. “See you next Wednesday, Kaleb. Don’t forget to think about my suggestion.”

“Okay. See you Mrs. Astbury.” I walked out of the classroom and thought about it. I doubted I would join. That was my last thought before my eyes met Harriet’s.

By the end of the day, I was at my locker placing my books inside it. Harriet had to go to the bathroom, so I waited for her at my locker where I told her I’d meet her. I heard some footsteps coming in my direction. I peered at the place the footsteps where coming from and saw Shawn and Brian with their usual machiavellian smirks glued to their acne filled faces.

They didn’t even speak. They came up to me with malefic plans forming in their minds. I could read every single one of them through their eyes. Snatching the notebook of my hands, they began to flip the pages and read excerpts. I didn’t have time to react. And when I did, I finally unleashed the Jet Li inside of me. I grabbed Shawn’s arm, twisted it around until I heard it crack and said to Brian, who was holding the notebook, “Give me the notebook.” I twisted Shawn’s arm a bit more.

“Brian, just give him his fucking notebook!” Brian handed me the notebook and I let go of Shawn. They both looked at me kind of shocked and Shawn said to Brian “The freak is strong, man!” and then he faced me and said “Man, it’s just a notebook!” Then they left.
And maybe by irony or coincidence, Harriet appeared at the hallway at the moment they left.


Revaun extended his arm forward for me to shake it. I shook it, but he was so rough and strong with his grip that I had the feeling my arm would be sore the next day just because of that gesture. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but he did have quite a grip. Even after Harriet introduced us, he still went on and added some more information “I guess you’ve probably heard of me, ‘the biggest traitor to the murderers’, ‘the one who should be burnt alive’, or probably in the most civic manner as the front man of the rebellion. Either way, it’s nice to meet you, Kaleb. Harriet has told me a lot about you.” I looked at Harriet and she shrugged. All the things he said were true. I had in fact called him ‘the one who should be burnt alive’ when I was a kid, because that was what my father had said.

“Nice to meet you too, Revaun.” Everyone was looking at us. I sent a friendly smile in no particular direction. Revaun asked me to follow him and went on to the mini tour around the place. There was more to that underground lair than that huge area: there were also dormitories, a kitchen, and two huge bathrooms with sinks, toilets and showers (one for girls, the other one for boys). He was funny throughout the tour, making a joke here and there and throwing in a bunch of sarcastic comments. I immediately felt at home after the tour.

Then we proceeded to go to the main area, the big one, where Revaun took me to the space where the table filled with papers was. He explained to me that those were strategies they had made that unfortunately failed. Then he turned to me and said “Harriet told me you were majoring in throat slitting.” He paused. I nodded. “Did you know I majored in throat slitting?” I shook my head. Wow! One of the best murderers ever to walk the face of the world majored in the same art as me! Yet I couldn’t help but think why he was telling me that. He answered my question “It’s actually the hardest out of all of the arts, because it requires strategy. And Harriet told me that you were the top student in your class. We could use some help…” He smiled at Harriet and me.

“You want me to strategize a plan to rebel against the supreme court?” I asked being pretty objective in my question. I guess he wasn’t expecting it, because his expression gave me the feeling that he wanted to properly introduce all the motives that lead him to ask me to strategize the plan. But he nodded affirmatively. “But I don’t know much about it the situation in the city. You probably know more than me…”

As I was answering, we heard noise coming from the area next to this one, the empty one. We went to see what the entire ruckus was about. There was a crowd gathered in a circle looking and cheering at something that was in the middle. Harriet grinned and said “A duel.” Duel? What the hell was that?

I followed her and Revaun who were making way through the crowd. Then I saw it: a swordfight between two of the fellow rebels. One was a guy, younger and shorter than me. He had messy kind of short blonde hair, slightly wavy at the tips and green eyes. The other one was a tall, muscular guy. From what I could tell, the taller guy was winning. But the shorter guy fought really well. Suddenly, the shorter guy dodged an attack from his adversary and kicked him in his weak spot. The taller guy bent over in pain and the shorter guy moved fast to his back and put his sword near the guy’s throat and asked “Surrender?” The taller guy didn’t give in just yet so the shorter guy pressed the sword closer to the throat, the blade almost piercing his tan skin.

“Okay, I surrender!” The shorter guy then let go and left his back. They shook hands and laughed and hugged. I was intrigued. I didn’t know what just happened. Was that some kind of practice? What the hell was it? Revaun called the shorter guy over when another fight was beginning between the taller guy and a guy who had challenged him. I didn’t hear his name though.

“Kaleb, this is Derek. Derek, this is Kaleb.” Revaun introduced us. Derek looked at me slightly suspicious. I got the impression that he didn’t like the idea of me being there. We shook hands anyway. “Derek over here is our strategist” He said to me. Then he faced Derek “Kaleb is going to help you in the elaboration of your plans…” Derek’s eyes seemed to get greener with envy. He stayed quiet the whole time, but he nodded in approval, though with some hostility.

He left when he heard his name being called out for another fight. I turned to Revaun and said “I think he doesn’t approve much of the idea…”

“Derek doesn’t easily trust people.” That’s all he said about him.

I was watching the fight when I noticed that they didn’t try to get themselves killed, they would merely attack and defend and would only leave the opponent with no other option to surrender without any kind of gashes or wounds. “What exactly is a duel?” I heard the words come out of my lips.

“A duel is a practice fight. No killing or wounding, just good old plain fun.” He answered with a grin before cheering for Derek. Derek’s opponent gave up after some time. Then I saw Derek’s opponent handing the sword to Revaun. Revaun looked at the crowd then said “I challenge Kaleb.”

I felt a chill going up my spine as Derek thrusted his sword into my arms. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for me to walk up to the center and fight, but my legs were frozen on the spot. I couldn’t walk. Revaun said “Everybody’s got to fight eventually…”

I finally felt my feet moving. I was now at the center of the circle. People screaming Revaun’s name in unison. Nobody cheering for me. Except her. And that was enough motivation for me. I caught him off guard, attacked and he defended, but almost too late. He then attacked with such agility; I had to move really fast to defend myself. “I shall teach you everything I know about the Supreme Court and their wrong doings,” he said when he was close enough after I had defended myself from one of his attacks, “And in return I want you to not bring failure upon us.”

I attacked him but he defended and I said “I’ll do my best.” He smiled and attacked me, almost catching me off guard. I then remembered a thing I had learned in class. About always attacking from behind and I remembered Harriet’s kick to my lower abdominal. I used that as my strategy.

I pretended to attack him in the chest and as he defended I kicked him really hard on the knee, making him fall to the ground and I jumped behind him, holding his head up and exposing his throat to my shiny sword. “Surrender?” Everyone was shocked. They weren’t expecting a newcomer to defeat their leader.

And as he surrendered, everyone clapped and I felt like I had achieved something. Something I actually felt proud of.