Warcry Academy

Two

Clematis's POV.

I didn't dare to move a muscle as my name was called. Eyes glared at me as I stumbled to the stage that the man welcomed me onto. "Right, so, the kids have been chosen... and the train leaves at six in the morning..." He looked like he was about to fall asleep as he talked, but recovered quickly before continuing: "The two have been chosen!" He held up my hand and slapped it against the other boy's, Chive.

Chive had dirty blonde hair, swiped diagonally down his face, therefore covering one of his eyes. The eye visible was an ocean blue, brighter than the sky if you ask me, and his skin was warm, brownish.

His hand reluctantly agreed to the slap, and he shaked it when our hands flopped down.

•••

Five o'clock, read the clock dangling on the wall. I felt like my life was over... Warcry Academy? Only one escapes. And I'd been pared at random... Explain to me, why was I chosen? With that Chive?

I got out of the luxurious, double bed that I had to sleep in for the night. In previous events when kids were chosen to attend Warcry Academy, they had to wear ridiculous clothes.

Then someone knocked on the door — unexpectedly.

"Miss Clematis Missful?" the voice called my name.

"Yes..?" I whispered, sitting up. A fifteen year old boy walked into the room, holding a pile of silk clothes, that were a goldenish, creamyish colour.

"My name is Kustell Jazinn. I'm here to take care of you." Those words sunk slowly into me, painfully. 'I'm here to take care of you' were the words my mother would say always before she passed away. I was devastated. And I responded by yelling at him.

"I don't need taking care of!" I yelled. He looked stunned. He left the clothes on the floor.

"Come out for breakfast when you're ready," he told me, calming down.

Honestly, if he'd said anything else to do with arguing with me, I would have kicked him. I have every right, don't I? There's nothing to lose if I got caught for it.

Anyway, I obediently dressed into the silk clothes that had been dumped on the carpet. It was a buttoned, cream shirt with a golden skirt that had aggravating frills sticking out at the rounded edges. The clothes were awfully shiny, and for socks it was frilly white knee-height silky material, that unusually didn't slip down my chins. Finishing the outfit off, I wore clumpy shoes that were also golden and hard to walk in.

No windows were about. I was thinking of escaping for a second before I slipped down the stairs into the large dining room. I witnessed Kustell rushing to me, before offering out one of his white-as-snow-coloured hands.

"Are you alright, miss Clematis?" he asked, anxious. I supposed he was worried for me because he was ordered to be, and if he didn't do his duty then he would probably be executed by those evil people in posh clothes who came up with Warcry Academy.

I took his hand reluctantly, gripping it to show him I was angry and a bit humiliated. "Fine, thank you," I snapped. I didn't have much an idea why I was mad at him, except for the fact when he'd reminded me of my mother — I hated that.

He nodded and lead me to the table, pulling out a chair for me courteously. Chive sat opposite me, looking down at his fingers that were fiddling around with his golden trousers, his expression motionless, but obviously upset. "Hi," I whispered, looking down at my shoes.

He didn't answer at first. But then he finally spoke. "I hate this," he shouted, which alarmed me. I could see he wanted to be left alone, so I did so.

Kustell offered us breakfast. It was more than we were used to and we ate greedily.

After breakfast, I read the clock on the wall. Ten minutes until the train leaves. "Follow me, please, miss Clematis and master Chive." He lead us onto the roaring train, smoke gliding and  seats waiting.

•••

The ride was smooth at the start. It got bumpier the more we stopped for other children from other towns to get onto the bus.

One girl caught my attention.

She wore the same outfit as me, and she had messy dark hair which contently complimented her dark brown skin, and her midnight eyes, glum with sadness. She was pretty skinny, too. I cocked my head at her, staring at her, trying to figure out why she had caught my attention.

She finally looked back at me. "What is it you want?" she said, shaking her head as her cheeks turned red and back to her ordinary skin colour.

"What's your name?" I asked curiously.

"Why do you want to know—" Before she finished, I came up with an excuse of why I wanted to know her name.

"I want to know because everyone here is going to probably die and if I come back alive, I'll make graves." She shot a bewildered look at me, unconvinced. She nodded and sighed.

"Bethany."