Birthright

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next day, Kray slid his duffel bag out from under his bed to find the zipper half opened and the contents ransacked. He immediately poked the guy he shared the bunkbed with, Jake Strong, and scowled at him until he jerked awake.

"The hell?" Jake slurred.

"Did you go through my stuff?"

The Meta's golden eyes became sharper. He smirked before rolling over to face the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about, buddy. Like I'd waste my time crawling under the bed to get to know some Senner better."

"I didn't say anything about crawling under the bed."

"Screw off," came the annoyed response.

Kray stood where he was, his fists tight and his chest burning like it was on fire. Jake Strong had turned his back to him like he was sure Kray wouldn't dare lay hands on him. If he did, Jake would scream for the Meta authorities, who'd race in here and beat Kray into submission.

His body spasmed as he remembered the eltrods in the Wasteland. Electric batons with a rubber handle and a metal prong that delivered pain so severe it felt like being stung by a thousand wasps at the same time. The Metas third-favorite weapon after their Sen-reinforced blades and thermodynamic oscillating guns.

Each one of them had carried an eltrod. And each one of them had readily used it at the slightest sign of an infraction. Complaint about not getting breakfast? Zap. Too tired to keep harvesting Sen? Zap. Dared to look into a Meta's eyes instead of at the ground? Zap.

And once in a while, they'd drag a Sanser from the sleeping quarters and torture him or her all night within earshot so that the rest of the prisoners were forced to listen to the anguished screams until morning came.

Kray had experienced several nights like that. If he could spend the rest of his life without ever feeling an eltrod pressed against his skin, he'd sacrifice anything. Even his pride. Without another word to the Meta boy, he collected his towel and went into the bathroom.

An hour later, he was back at Fitness Center B, except this physical training class was being held on the fifth floor and was entirely for Sansers. Sen Specialty 101. Violet, Thamdan, Jassea, and Shane were all in this class with him, as well as five others.

Hanging out with Shane made him feel better about what went down with Jake Strong in the dorms. He talked about random things with him as they waited for the instructor to show up. Violet was in a corner with Thamdan and Jassea. Thamdan had an arm slung over Jassea's shoulder and she was leaning against him. They were giving off a couple-vibe.

Violet smiled invitingly at Kray when he saw them, but he stayed where he was. She quickly cleared the frown that followed. A few years ago, he might've cared what a beautiful girl like Violet thought about him, but now he didn't want to give her any kind of upper hand. He still didn't trust her. Trusting people didn't come easily to him anymore.

"Hey," Violet said as she eventually joined them, trailed by Thamdan and Jassea.

Jassea's smile was more open and genuine. Kray acknowledged it with a brusque nod.

"You're into art, aren't you?" Violet announced, looking at Shane.

He blinked. "I am?"

"I saw you doodling during the Evolution of the Skads lecture yesterday. You did a caricature of Instructor Gordon." She smirked. "I liked the way you made him look like a pit-bull. So it wasn't just my imagination. You've taken art classes before?"

"Yeah, back before I Kindled. My adoptive father was a big-time artist. He taught me."

"You're really good," she gushed. "Maybe you can use me as inspiration sometime."