happen to us from being here on Thera?” I ask, this time not being able to hide my fear, truly not remembering fine print about possible medical side effects.
“Our doctors are exceptional,” he responds. “As long as you submit to their regimen without complaint you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” His message is clear. Do as I am told or I’ll have a whole heck of a lot to stress over.
“Uh, ok, yeah, will do,” I mumble, remembering Blake’s admonition to be cooperative.
“Here you are,” the man says. “Suite Six. Your wakeup call will be at 18:00, and an escort will be here precisely at 19:00. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you,” I say, entering in, the door snapping shut and lock engaging as soon as Blake passed the threshold.
“Suck-up,” he whispers, close enough for his lips to brush my ear. I turn to him and put my hands on his shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him away.
“Well, someone has to be,” I say, “given you have no social skills, loner boy. And besides, everyone here is so nice and helpful,” I say with no inflection in my voice to indicate I’m not serious. He leans in to me, his eyes dizzyingly close to me. This makes me nervous and I step back.
“So, princess,” he says, I’m sure as payback for calling him loner boy, “you making dinner?”
“Happy to,” I say, since despite his ridiculous impression I’m incapable of manual labor, I took a year of cooking and typically made dinner for my family. I turn to hide the hurt I feel from his comment and check out the contents of the refrigerator, trying to decide what I can make without a recipe given what’s in there. “You like teriyaki chicken?” I ask without looking at him.
“Sounds perfect,” he says, his voice coming from the living area. He’s relaxing, I’m sure.
“Anything for my fake boyfriend,” I mumble incoherently under my breath. Where’s that gorgeous, sweet, humble, gracious guy, Ethan, I met at the party again? Dead, missing, gone, who knows. I sigh and get to work.
As the week progresses the training sessions blur together. Every night starts with a trip to the clinic, where we’re invaded in every possible way, physically and mentally. The nurses claim my nightly shot will help me adjust better, but I swear it’s just making me crankier and more hormonal than usual. And bloated if that’s possible, or maybe it’s just the food here that’s a little off taste and digestion-wise. They take my blood every other night and even have the gall to do an ultrasound of my entire abdomen, this purportedly to ensure my digestive system is functioning and no ‘lesions’ are forming on my reproductive organs. The doctor claims a fraction of previous Recruits have had abdominal and reproductive issues and that he’s just trying to ‘stay ahead of any problems.’
In class we review the Canon of rules to really hammer them in, and then learn about exciting new topics, like ‘Befriending Your Second Chance Classmates,’ ‘How to Deal with Stress Appropriately,’ and ‘Focusing On The Future.’ All of them emphasize the same thing: don’t you dare screw up and mention anything from the past to a Second Chancer, even if you have issues, because you’ll ruin their ‘second’ life and, in consequence, will be Exiled. Let me just meet them already and maybe all your dumb rules will make sense.
After our workouts Blake and I hike the few canyon trails that are well-lit and well-marked, traveling as far as possible in attempt to explore our surroundings better. Each time we approach the perimeter of the ‘Recruit’ facilities we are nicely, but firmly, encouraged to immediately turn back. Feeling a little claustrophobic, I try to escape our Recruit quarters a few times, but the locks proved impenetrable. Why won’t they let us explore the city? The simulated tour by air was cool, but insufficient to really get to know the place.
Two field trips promise to break up the
“Our doctors are exceptional,” he responds. “As long as you submit to their regimen without complaint you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” His message is clear. Do as I am told or I’ll have a whole heck of a lot to stress over.
“Uh, ok, yeah, will do,” I mumble, remembering Blake’s admonition to be cooperative.
“Here you are,” the man says. “Suite Six. Your wakeup call will be at 18:00, and an escort will be here precisely at 19:00. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you,” I say, entering in, the door snapping shut and lock engaging as soon as Blake passed the threshold.
“Suck-up,” he whispers, close enough for his lips to brush my ear. I turn to him and put my hands on his shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him away.
“Well, someone has to be,” I say, “given you have no social skills, loner boy. And besides, everyone here is so nice and helpful,” I say with no inflection in my voice to indicate I’m not serious. He leans in to me, his eyes dizzyingly close to me. This makes me nervous and I step back.
“So, princess,” he says, I’m sure as payback for calling him loner boy, “you making dinner?”
“Happy to,” I say, since despite his ridiculous impression I’m incapable of manual labor, I took a year of cooking and typically made dinner for my family. I turn to hide the hurt I feel from his comment and check out the contents of the refrigerator, trying to decide what I can make without a recipe given what’s in there. “You like teriyaki chicken?” I ask without looking at him.
“Sounds perfect,” he says, his voice coming from the living area. He’s relaxing, I’m sure.
“Anything for my fake boyfriend,” I mumble incoherently under my breath. Where’s that gorgeous, sweet, humble, gracious guy, Ethan, I met at the party again? Dead, missing, gone, who knows. I sigh and get to work.
As the week progresses the training sessions blur together. Every night starts with a trip to the clinic, where we’re invaded in every possible way, physically and mentally. The nurses claim my nightly shot will help me adjust better, but I swear it’s just making me crankier and more hormonal than usual. And bloated if that’s possible, or maybe it’s just the food here that’s a little off taste and digestion-wise. They take my blood every other night and even have the gall to do an ultrasound of my entire abdomen, this purportedly to ensure my digestive system is functioning and no ‘lesions’ are forming on my reproductive organs. The doctor claims a fraction of previous Recruits have had abdominal and reproductive issues and that he’s just trying to ‘stay ahead of any problems.’
In class we review the Canon of rules to really hammer them in, and then learn about exciting new topics, like ‘Befriending Your Second Chance Classmates,’ ‘How to Deal with Stress Appropriately,’ and ‘Focusing On The Future.’ All of them emphasize the same thing: don’t you dare screw up and mention anything from the past to a Second Chancer, even if you have issues, because you’ll ruin their ‘second’ life and, in consequence, will be Exiled. Let me just meet them already and maybe all your dumb rules will make sense.
After our workouts Blake and I hike the few canyon trails that are well-lit and well-marked, traveling as far as possible in attempt to explore our surroundings better. Each time we approach the perimeter of the ‘Recruit’ facilities we are nicely, but firmly, encouraged to immediately turn back. Feeling a little claustrophobic, I try to escape our Recruit quarters a few times, but the locks proved impenetrable. Why won’t they let us explore the city? The simulated tour by air was cool, but insufficient to really get to know the place.
Two field trips promise to break up the
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