Between Shadows by Chanel Cleeton

Periodically, he breaks his eye contact to jot something down on a clipboard. We’re always being observed, ranked, profiled.
    We’re always being tested.
    “Is he back for good now?” Steph asks, taking a swig from her water bottle.
    “I don’t know.” 
    Steph’s head jerks toward the doorway. “Hey, watch out, we have company.” 
    I follow her gaze. The Director stands at the entrance to the gym, her arms folded across her chest. I’ve never seen her outside of her office; her presence is so unusual that all talking and movement has ceased. Instead we stand there, no doubt evaluating the odds that we’re the one who has made her leave her inner sanctum to come watch us fight. Everyone except for me, that is—
    Some instinct long since forged in this place, tells me she’s here for me. 
    The Director’s beady eyes narrow behind her glasses as she locks on me, her stare likely employed to browbeat countless assets into submission. I raise my chin, meeting her gaze.
    Stupid.
    Part of me knows that the smart thing, the way to survive, is to duck my head and blend in with everyone else. But I don’t want to. There’s that word again— want. It shouldn’t even be a part of my vocabulary, but it drives me to keep my head up, to meet her stare. There’s no question that she controls my life, but for some reason this little act of rebellion, this moment, fills me with power.
    I’m so tired of being weak.
    The Director motions for Morse to join her. They speak for a moment and then he leaves her, walking toward us.
    “X, the Director would like to speak with you.”
    Surprise, surprise.
    All eyes are on me now as I walk through the gym. The Director has already gone, no doubt expecting me to follow her to her office. She could want to talk to me about any number of things—my new assignment, my sister, Luke. Nothing is off limits to her.
    What will I say if she asks me about Luke? Will I tell her the truth? Tell her his suspicious about the Academy, the strange men following us the night we tried to do surveillance? Maybe. Maybe it’s all a test to gauge my loyalty to the Academy.
    Maybe I’ve already failed.
    I turn down the hall, making my way toward her office door.
    Her secretary nods at me behind her desk. “You can go in.”
    I curve my hand around the doorknob, twisting until the door opens.
    There’s a trace of nerves, but I push them back, blocking out the fears springing up inside me. I hover over the threshold, this time scanning the office for signs of anyone else.
    Fool me once.
    “Come in, X.”
    I step forward, crossing the office until I’m a few feet away from her desk. I glance around, for the first time focusing on my surroundings rather than the Director herself.
    Her office isn’t large, but it’s nice. It’s also cold. Functional. There are no pictures of her family. Does she even have a family? No sign of any of her interests. Nothing personal. The walls are a stark white color, the furniture a combination of modern metal and white accents.
    It’s sterile. Exactly like her.
    “Sit.”
    I sit.
    The Director leans forward in her chair, her elbows propped against the desk, her hands clasped.
    “You’ve had time to investigate the Arnoff matter.”
    I nod.
    “We’re sending you into the school soon. University transcripts and the like have been taken care of.” She reaches down, opening her desk drawer, and pulls out a thick envelope. “Your cover is in here.” She doesn’t have to tell me to memorize it—we both know the drill.
    I take the envelope from the desk. Its weight doesn’t faze me. This part I don’t mind so much. It’s kind of fun really, pretending you’re someone else. And I’ve gotten pretty good at wearing a mask.
    I sit, the envelope clenched in my hand, waiting for the Director to dismiss me. Instead she opens another drawer— does she keep all of her secrets in that desk? —and pulls out a slightly thicker folder. She thumbs through it, her gaze