Page 15 of The Commons

The girls in my space turn on their beds reluctantly. I sit up and look over to Zia, whose peach-colored bed is right next to mine. She jumps up in shock and looks at the clock to see it is 4 a.m.

Beatrice looks our way and begins her monologue. “If you are more than ten seconds late to a class, you must report to detention. If you do not walk straight, you must report to detention. If you raise your voice at anyone, you must report to detention. If you express an excessive emotion or action such as anger or crying, you must report to detention. If you miss more than two questions in class, you must report to detention.”

Trying to look calm and collected, I give her a diplomatic smile, then walk toward the dressing station. I better be ready to fit into this system. I have no choice but to be ready for The Commons.

I step into The Commons hallway with a minute to spare. It is a long, endless golden path with transparent windows, baronial brown blocks and golden red stones inscribed on the edges of the walls. The hallway is packed with students, and everyone walks in silence, intensely focused.

I enter a classroom with French Empire crystal chandelier lights and perfectly aligned tables. In the corner, I see that curly-haired blonde girl I met at Oblivion.

She made it here?

And so did I.

So, both of us… that’s strange, I think to myself.

She ignores me, shoving past me and sitting down. I think she has something against me. Great, just what I need. I notice Zia sitting close to the front, so I sit next to her.

I’d rather the curly girl recognize me than a Patron. Just as I look down, a finger lingers on my desk, its strength marking a line on it. Oh my… It’s Patron Pesh. My heart drops.

My eyes widen, my lips open, I am so screwed in this school. He is going to destroy me.

My eyes dart down immediately. Perhaps he won’t notice me.

He does.

I can feel his eyes striking into the core of my soul, like he has nothing but disdain toward my being. It’s clear he does not want me here in this school. I keep my calm and manage to stay still.

Pesh looks away. “Time’s up,” he says.

The classroom door shuts automatically before two boys can enter. Outside, I see Beatrice taking the boys away. I assume they are reporting to detention, since they are late.

Standing at a distance from Pesh, as if she is too unworthy to be in proximity of his royal highness, is a woman with short black hair and circle glasses. From what I read in The Commons Binder Beatrice handed to us, she is my teacher, Madam Dey.

Madam Dey hands out some papers to the left of the class, while Pesh distributes a stack to the right. We all stare down at our desks. The room is so silent you can hear a pin drop.

“My name is Pesh, and I understand that no one should be looking into my eye. No one.” He slaps the paper on my desk as if he is speaking only to me, to warn me, to show me his discontent with my former gaze on him. Jeez, I just looked at his fingers… goodness.

I blink, caught unawares. His gaze strikes across my frame and I look away, then down at my paper. On the side of my paper, I see a blinking note: cell phone privileges suspended for six months for looking a Patron in the eye.

But I didn’t even look him in the eye! Why is he being so mean to me? Is this for what happened during The Selection? But he acted like he didn’t notice through my blindfolds.

Okay, this is horrible. But it’s not like I have anyone at home who is dying to call me, so it isn’t that bad.

I wish I could be as submissive as the others, but I can’t help my curiosity, especially now he’s exceptionally pissing me off! My eyes wander toward him, taking a quick peek at the snake tattoo on his wrist. I wonder what it means. I look away instantly at the sound of his voice.

“Let’s get one thing clear. I am not your teacher. Madam Dey will be your instructor. In The Commons, you will go through a series of six tests that each start with the letters in the word, Common. These tests will go on for the first six weeks and will determine what major you will be placed in.”

He writes on the board.

Cognitive

Oratory

Math and Science

Meaning and Memory

Observation