Ezra
I can hear Jordyn and Samson whispering behind me as we walk through the forest. Do they notice how silent we all are? Can they possibly know the extent of our background or the depth of our history? Sure, I might have crashed through here in my hysteria earlier, but my trained senses focus now on every leaf and branch under my feet and plan perfect, silent steps through the forest.
While they probably discuss how they're going to try and kill me, I rest easy. Sam's tried to take me before. Sure, he's got more build than I do, but I'm taller and faster. I'm quieter and have more stamina.
He may have forgotten our training, but I haven't.
How do I even begin to explain this to them? I've known Jordyn for half of my life. I work under her father, who I respect and who respects me. I watched Samson fall apart after his parent's death, saw him rise from the ashes more determined than before. They were my life.
But now? I'm a threat. A mysterious, blonde, lanky threat.
"Have a seat," Sam growls as we reach the sand, planting a hand on my shoulder. I resist the urge to brush it off. Now's not the time to act mouthy. This isn't Sarah and Riku. I can take Sam, but Sam and Jordyn together? Not a chance.
So, I plop down in the sand and cross my legs Indian-style in front of me. Sam lowers Jordyn onto the ground while she cradles her broken arm.
"How'd you do that?" I blurt. My mouth snaps shut instantly, but the words are already out.
"It's really none of your business," she mumbles, "but it got stomped on by an old friend of ours. Neil."
A laugh snakes its way out of my mouth. Jordyn's brow furrows, but I hold my hand up before she can question my reaction.
"Neil isn't your friend. Never was. Never will be."
"How do you know Neil?" Sam asks, kneeling beside Jordyn, his knife poised in his hand. Goosebumps spread over my arms. Now I really don't stand a chance.
"Another long story," I say sheepishly. "You said I have explaining to do. Where do you want me to start?"
"How about the beginning?" Sam says, eyes meeting mine.
"You're going to have to be more specific. Logically, there's a lot of beginnings. My beginning, your beginning, her beginning, our beginning. Pick one."
Sam glares at me, and I realize my mistake. Too many words. Too much sarcasm. He opens his mouth to say something, and Jordyn puts a hand on his forearm. It's like watching a grape shrivel up in the sun. Sam goes from ninety to zero in half a second, sitting back on his heels.
That's new.
Jordyn's always been the firecracker, but now...
I shake my head and look over at her.
"Where should I start?" I repeat.
"First of all, how do you know us?"
I take a deep breath.
"I work under your father," I say, choosing my words carefully. "Thomas took me in when I was six after my parents were executed."
"How old are you now?"
I think for a second. My mouth wants to say sixteen, but my brain says that's not right. I would be lying.
"Somewhere between sixteen and eighteen," I finally conclude.
Sam cocks his head to one side, but it's Jordyn who speaks first.
"You don't know how old you are?"
YOU ARE READING
The Island
Science Fiction"This is The Island, a prison designed for minors like me- too young to be executed, too old to be reformed, and too much of a stain on humanity to let exist. It was 'the answer' to the growing crime rate resulting from a world that was falling apar...
