Page 24 of The Commons

“But…?”

“He’s most likely going to be a Patron soon. I mean, I wouldn’t be that rude to him if I were you.”

“Seriously, Zia?”

“What?”

“You know me, I don’t succumb to rich, entitled, mean boys.”

Zia shoves me. “Right. Unless their name is Patron Pesh?”

I turn to her instantly, shocked that she would suggest such a thing. “I do not like him.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she says as she leaves.

I walk to a white, foamy sack chair in a secluded spot. There is a wire attached from under the chair that is plugged into a switch and it reads on the side: Memory foam. Best chair to sit in the O Zone if you want to dream of what you read at night.

I hope that means what I think it means. I need anything that will synthesize my thoughts back to me, so I sit here. I stay still for a moment. I get an eerie feeling, so I stand up instantly. I can’t sit on anything that will make The Commons think that I have something to hide or that I’m secretly staying up at night. I walk over to an ordinary study desk, and I sit there instead.

I begin to read Mind and Heart Connection. I read about focusing my attention on my internal state and being self-aware. That’s great, I think to myself… I don’t even know what I want to major in and this thing is asking me to be self-aware. But then I have another thought—maybe I am self-aware because if I am aware that I am not aware of certain things in myself, maybe that means I am self-aware? I just confused myself. Shut up, Shantavia, and just read.

Just as I start to re-focus, a presence surrounds me, surging past me like lightning, sending shivers through my veins. I know that was not in my head—I felt it on the hairs of my skin. My head darts to the right to see a flash of blue through the books—a flash of emerald and then… nothing. I remember who that was… that was that Patron… Patron Lenon. It had to be. I’m in the Oratory layer. Isn’t he the O Patron known for training celebrities? My chest rises slowly. I try to control my breathing and convince myself that I didn’t just see him. If I think Pesh is bad, Patron Lenon is the one who killed that student with the dagger in The Selection. And I have no doubt that he will kill me should I piss him off simply by existing.

But why would Patron Lenon be in an O freshmen library? It can’t be him, I tell myself. Even if it’s him, it’s better for me to believe it’s not him, if I am to focus and pass the Cognitive Test tomorrow.

I sink back into the chair, cuddling up in my safe space in the library and I read about Jerkinos’ studies that showed that people who meditate or pray showcase a higher ability of self-control than people who did not. Okay, this is an interesting concept. I do know how to pray, so this is not going to be a problem for me. But what I do not know is how to freakin’ pray under the influence of Conzamine. How am I supposed to figure that one out? I’m sure that poses some kind of spiritual contradiction. Then again, I am being forced to do it. I’m sure God would understand me trying to save my sister, right?

I continue to read. “Successful modulation of one’s own internal state can lead to improvements in cognition and reaction speeds. Studies show that those who practiced prayer and meditation learned to focus on task-relevant thoughts and eradicate any thoughts that did not conform to their bubble of beneficial brackets.” What on earth is a beneficial bracket?

I proceed to read, “A beneficial bracket is a parenthesis of thoughts a person wishes to meditate upon. For a period of time, such person can diffuse all other thoughts and tap into a realm of highly selective cognitive focus.”

Wow. That's what I need!

It is 7 p.m., nearly bedtime. I have less than an hour to read the other book. I take a deep breath and try to collect my thoughts to focus on the relevant parts of this book for the next fifty minutes. It mostly talks about controlling one’s imagination to become reality. As I’m reading, I notice a movement in the library. The same one that I had sensed before.

My body becomes cold… I really hope it’s not who I think it is. I see masculine hands grip a book. I hid the first book in the last corner of the shelf in case I needed to review it again after the one I’m currently reading. Crap. He’ll see what I’ve done.

It has to be Patron Lenon, I’m sure of it. As I rush to hide, my back slams against a bookshelf. To my shock, a door opens behind me. My legs involuntarily step back as the door slides shut in front of me.

Phew! At least I’m hidden for now. It’s strangely convenient, this hidden cubicle.

I stay still, waiting until I hear no movement from outside. I would rather get a demerit from Beatrice for being late than face that Patron.

“Who are you hiding from?” A deep voice emanates from behind me.

My throat pulses.

Slowly, I turn, my body brushing against another body.

Who the freak is this?

I look up to see someone’s face.

To my utter horror, Patron Lenon stands before me. How in the world did he get in here…? My entire body is quivering, quaking. The hairs on my skin are shuddering. Even my legs are clattering in fear. I slide my legs together to steady myself, staring at him, stunned, frozen in time.

He speaks so smoothly, playing with a yellow flower in his hands. Then, he eats it. And it turns into silver gum in his mouth. There is a smile and delight in his eyes. “You know that Patrons can’t just do anything to a student. But we let you guys believe everything. Because why not? Technically if we wanted to, we could do anything. Considering we already do everything. Go figure.” He completes with a devil-may-care demeanor. What is he on about?

I am utterly and undoubtedly done for.