Page 56 of The Commons

They already sent an order before I came here and he said no? What on earth. I try to breathe. “I’m bleeding. Please!”

“Don’t worry. They’ll get to you. Just hang in there,” the nurse says.

Eyes surging to the right, I notice Ciaro in the corner staring at me as the nurse checks her temperature and leaves.

“Don’t stay here. They won’t help you.” Her voice lowers. “When Patrons don’t give approvals, they never do.” She leaves.

Crap! I have to help myself. Darkness precedes my entrance as I walk inside a room with the colors of a dark cloud. I open my eyes. Crap. I’m seeing things that don’t exist. Was there something in the water? Rushing to my dorm, I find a bandage in The Common aid box in our bed stations. I hear footsteps outside. Gosh, my clothes are drenched! I don’t want anyone to see me like this. They’ll give me a demerit for not being in dress code, and this will only make things worse for me. Commons Binder Rule 44… Uniforms must be kept dry and free from stains at all times... My stomach clenches. I hear slow, nearly silent steps, and I draw backwards. I hide in the corner just as Beatrice walks by.

As soon as she leaves, I grab a new uniform. I change out of my wet pants and soaked shirt. I replace it with the skirt combo, layering the golden sweater on top to keep me warm and to hide the bruise. After putting on my pair of long socks, I proceed to straighten my hair, again, so that I don’t put a target on my back. But my stomach is killing me. I rush back to Commonique, but there’s no word from Patron Brik. Great. I think I’m just going to go to the library and try to give them some time to approve the treatment. I can’t afford to waste time. I mean it’s not like I’m dying. It’ll take a couple of hours before my body shuts down if this wound is really that bad. I can take the pain of a wound, but not the pain of losing Levon.

On my way out, through the dark hallways, strong hands flip me to a hidden corner. Oh my world, it is Pesh. He approaches me. But he does not seem happy. Do I tell him? I draw back.

He speaks, walking toward me. “Put your hands up.”

Now? What for? I put my hands up immediately as he draws closer, my heart pounding out of my chest, wondering what he’s going to do. His fingers slide up my skin, pulling up my sweater. Then, when it’s at the edge of my bust, he hooks and pins the sweater to my bra somehow.

“O Test?”

I nod, staring at him, my skin exposed, nervous of him seeing me like this. His hand grips my waist tightly as though to support me. Instantly, he rips the bandage off. Strangely, that didn’t hurt.

I look at him, and he seems intricately focused, eyes aflame. I keep my hands raised, but I feel my bra sliding up, exposing the bruise more. Unconsciously, my hands slide down.

Suddenly, his hands cuff my wrist, moving my hands back against the wall. “Stay still.”

“I’m still,” I whisper. I try not to move, but my chest is rising, causing my body to cave in and out toward him.

His breath lingers on my lips as though examining me. His presence is unnerving.

He flicks what looks like gold dust on my wound with his fingers. But I don’t feel anything.

His eyes merge with mine as he pulls my sweater down. “You can put your hands down now.”

I guess I should thank him. “Um, thanks!”

He stares at me as though annoyed. I look away. Why is he annoyed? What did I do? He eyes me, then leaves, saying nothing.

I rush to the restroom. Then I look to see that whatever he flicked on my wound is healing it. It feels so much better. Dang. I fold my lips in a smile. He helped me.

Entering the O Library, my hands reach for my last book. Sitting on a white sofa in the corner, I begin to read. Trying not to be lost in a ripple of thoughts, I take a deep breath to refocus myself.

Reminding myself to stick to my study system, I start stacking information into my brain. I simply have to make it out of The Commons without being more physically hurt or killed.

Six hours later… I walk up to the tanned-faced librarian with long red hair and oversized glasses. “Hi, I’m ready for the 10 by 10.”

“You want to take the 10 by 10?” She looks at me with narrow eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. My check out records show I’ve been reading a book of a million words a day and now I’m ready.”

“Indeed it does. And why are you wanting to take this test again?”

“Just to learn all I can about what it takes to be common and succeed.”

“Mm, right! Well, I will warn you, this test is very hard. It’s not life threatening like the freshmen introductory courses, but it is extremely detailed. There will be 100 questions for every book. So, 100 x 10 = 1000 total questions. You will have 10 minutes to complete them all, so a minute to answer every 100. You think you can do that?”

I gulp and swallow my spit, then give her a brave smile. “Yes, ma’am!” I have less than one second to answer each question. Of course they’ve made an impossible test.

“Okay, here you go.” She hands me the question papers and digital scantron, then directs me to sit at an assigned red chair, next to the welcome desk.