Meta (Book 3): Rise of The Circle (9 page)

I reach out my hand for him to shake. I'm starting to feel like I'm a politician or something today. Nathanial looks at it carefully for a second, almost like he isn't sure whether to trust it or not, before finally shaking my hand.

Nathanial is tall and muscular, looking much more like a "man" than a teenager, at least much more than anyone else I've met here so far. I'm guessing he's an early bloomer, but even still, he must be a year or two older than I am. His hair is dark and long, reaching down to the line of his jaw. His hair, as well as the rest of him, is covered in sweat, but he doesn't seem to be out of breath.

He does, however, seem to be very, very intense. I'm not sure if he's mad that we’ve interrupted ... whatever we just interrupted, or if this is just how he is.

"Nice to meet you," I offer.

He nods and turns back to the blue mat.

"He can be a little intimidating," Michelle whispers to me. "And he's not much of a people person."

"Yeah, I picked up on that," I whisper back. "So, what's his ability?"

"Just watch."

Nathaniel walks to the center of the gymnasium mat and stands still, closing his eyes. He waits.

Without warning, tennis balls come flying from some unseen holes in each of the walls. Just as quickly a pair of katana blades appear in his hands. He slices each of the balls before they can reach him. They each fall into two evenly split pieces on the ground.

A large medicine ball is ejected from the wall that his back is facing. He spins around on his heels and the sword in his right hand transforms into a full body-length shield, like one a Roman warrior would have used. In fact, it looks like it even has an old Roman symbol on it. The medicine ball collides with the shield and falls to the ground with a thud.

Another hole in the wall opens up and unleashes a flurry of basketballs. There must be dozens of them, each one bouncing at different heights and speeds. Nathanial doesn't miss a beat, jumping head first over the first one right before it can hit him.

In midair, the shield and katana both join together to form a Bo staff. Upon hitting the ground with both feet, Nathanial thrusts the Bo staff behind him, hitting the first bouncing basketball square in the middle, sending it flying into the opposite wall. The other balls are quickly dispatched as well. Some are swung at and others are bashed until there is just one lonely ball left, lazily bouncing toward him. He casually walks over to it and thrusts out his Bo staff one last time, spearing the basketball like a shish kabob. The air slowly hisses out of the deflating ball while I pick my jaw back up off the floor.

"Whoa. That was incredible," I say out loud to no one in particular. It just kinda comes out.

Nathanial glances over at me before he goes about picking up all the pieces of tennis balls and basketballs that are strewn throughout the gymnasium. When he's finished, he comes over to join Michelle and me.

"That was really very impressive," I say. "So your metabands enable you to do all of that?"

"No, training enables me to do all of that," he replies.

"Nathanial's ability allows him to create almost any type of non-projectile weaponry you could ever imagine, but his fighting abilities are all natural," Michelle says for him.

"You're telling me that aside from the little sword morphing thing, you could have done that without metabands?"

Nathanial gives a small nod along with a small smirk.

"Thank you for the demonstration, Nathanial." Michelle turns and waves for me to follow her.

Once we're out of earshot from Nathanial, I start peppering her with questions about his abilities, but Michelle assures me that everything we’ve just witnessed, Nathanial was able to do before he even found his metabands. I push her for more information about him, but she tells me that he's very shy and that they respect the privacy of the students here. If there are parts of someone's past that they do not wish to share, that is their decision, not the decision of someone like Michelle.

She's truthful with me and tells me that there are some people here who were not always “good,” but that if a person has been invited here that should be assurance enough for me that they have great potential for “good.” While they try to remain as open as possible, in contrast to The Agency, there are still some areas where trust is required on both ends.

We reach the main hallway again, and without asking, I turn left to head back the way we came. Michelle grabs the back of my shirt and turns me back around.

"Isn't this the way back, though?" I ask.

"It is, but it's not the only way out of here," she says.

"What do you mean?"

"For a plethora of reasons there are multiple entrances and exits from the facility. Did you think we built a concrete and steel bunker a mile under the earth and only put in one exit door? That wouldn't be very safe or legal."

"Something tells me that the fire marshal hasn't been down to inspect this place."

"Follow me," Michelle says with a knowing smile.

We walk farther down the featureless hallway until we reach what, to me, seems like a random door.

"How do you remember what's behind all of these doors? They all look exactly the same," I say.

"There's a system to it. You'll get the hang of it. In the meantime, though, I'm afraid this is where I'm going to have to leave you."

"You're not coming back up to the surface with me?"

"No, there's still some work I have to take care of down here, but I trust that you'll be able to take care of yourself for the rest of the night."

"What am I supposed to do, though?"

"You're sixteen and I've just given you the night off to do anything you'd like and you're asking questions? Are you the type of kid who reminds his teacher when she forgets to assign homework too?"

"Point taken."

"It's been a stressful week for you, Connor, and I know that this is all very new to you, both upstairs and down here. Take tonight to settle in a little bit. Explore. Meet regular people. Talk to them."

"Wow, this seems weird coming from you."

"It's important that you retain some semblance of a social life. People will notice when you're not around, so being able to have social connections to fall back on will become important for establishing your day-to-day identity."

"Oh, so this is really more about making sure no one suspects me?"

"They aren't mutually exclusive, Connor. If you really want this life, you're going to have to start learning that quickly."

"So what's behind this door? Another classroom that's secretly an elevator?"

"Something like that. After you," Michelle says as she opens the door and steps aside to let me in. The room is much, much smaller than the classroom-sized elevator we took down here.

"What do I do?" I ask.

"Don't worry about anything. The elevator will take care of it. Just remember to act natural when you reach the surface. I'll see you tomorrow," Michelle says, closing the door.

I can't manage to get out the word “wait” before she closes the door on me completely. As soon as the door clicks shut, I can feel that I'm already gently accelerating. The small room quickly reaches its top speed before gradually slowing down before we reach what I assume is the surface.

The ceiling above me silently slides open and I see white tile and a florescent light overhead. I'm still staring up at it when the ground clicks into place, and I look around to try to figure out where I am. It's seemingly another small room, just like the elevator itself, but then I turn around and see it.

A toilet.

A second later I hear the sound of another toilet flushing and then running water.

They have a secret toilet elevator, and of course that's the one Michelle would put me on to re-enter the real world.

M
y first semi
-conscious thought for the day is that there is no way the alarm clock can be right. It definitely not only feels like I just set it, but that I hadn't even fallen asleep yet before it started blaring. The last thing I remember is entering my room, thinking how insanely tired I was, and the next thing I know, this stupid alarm is going off.

I roll over and find out pretty quickly that the alarm clock isn't faulty. The harsh sunlight hits me in the face before I even have a chance to turn the damn alarm off. Eventually the alarm falls to the floor, and in the process some button must have been hit because it finally stops. It might have stopped because it broke, but at this point I really don't care.

Every fiber of my being wants to go back to sleep right now. It would be so easy too. Just roll over, close my eyes, and let the rest take care of itself. It would certainly be a lot easier than what I know I have to do instead, which is get up and make sure that I'm not late for my first day of classes. I'm already behind on the year, so sleeping in on day one would probably earn me a swift butt kicking from Michelle or someone else.

One leg at a time, very slowly, I pull myself out of bed. Realizing that I'm not the only inhabitant of this tiny room, I do my best to keep noise to a minimum, but when I look over at the less-than-twin-size bed on the other side of the room, it's empty. It seems like my new roommate was up and out the door before me this morning, which offers me a nice little bit of privacy, something I feel is probably going to be in short supply in the coming weeks and months.

The communal showers in the restroom weren't one of the perks I was looking forward to in living here, and I'm even more disappointed when I find there's a line waiting for free stalls. That explains why Tyler was up so early. I see him a few people ahead of me, waiting in line, and give him a wave, which he doesn't return.

By the time I've showered, changed, and gotten myself all the way across campus for my first class, I'm at least five minutes late I figure.

"Ah, you must be Mister Connelly?" the older man with gray temples and a receding hairline standing at the front of the class room says. "Tell me, do you have a good excuse as to why you're fifteen minutes late for my class?"

I could have sworn it was only ten. Maybe his watch is fast.

"I'm sorry about that. There was a line for the showers this morning, and I didn't realize the classroom was all the way on the opposite side of the campus," I offer.

"Mister Connelly, you and the others lucky enough to be offered housing in the dormitories here have been offered this with the explicit understanding that this is meant to aid in your studies. Almost all the other students in this classroom drove, walked, or took public transit to campus today, yet you, a student who actually
lives
on the campus, was later to class than all of them. How do you explain that?"

Okay, I guess he's not letting it go. So much for taking it easy on my first day.

"It won't happen again," I say.

My words aren't acknowledged. Instead, the teacher turns his back to me and goes back to writing on the chalkboard. I take this to mean our conversation is over and quickly move to find the nearest desk I can so everyone will stop staring at me.

The rest of the day goes more or less like this in every classroom. I'm already behind on coursework and showing up late to most of them does little to win me any sympathy from the teachers. All of my classes are scheduled back to back, starting as early as possible so I can finish as early as possible and get to the training facility. This campus is gigantic, though, and whoever designed my schedule, my guess would be Michelle, gave very little thought about how much time it would take to get from class to class without using my metabands.

After getting out of English class at 2:00 p.m., I have just enough time to grab something for lunch from the dining hall before I'm expected to meet for my “after school activities” at the Blair Building. It's the closest thing I have to a break all day, and I start to feel like I'm getting a second wind as I trek up one of the many, many rolling hills toward the cafeteria.

I might be exhausted, but I'm still very curious and excited, honestly, for my meta training. I've had these metabands turned off more in the past week than any time since I found them. Blowing the dust off of them and stretching my legs a bit has quickly become the light at the end of the tunnel for my first day here on campus.

As I approach the dining hall, I see what looks like another light at the end of this crappy day.

"Sarah?" I ask.

The blond girl talking with a group of students near a piece of bronze art outside the hall turns around.

It is her.

She glances around at first, not quite sure who called her name. Then her eyes catch mine. At first she looks confused, no doubt as surprised to see me on campus as I am to see her.

"Connor?" she says as I get closer. She squints her eyes as if she isn't completely sure that it's me.

"Yeah, it's me," I say.

She turns to the group, which hasn't noticed me, and tells them that she'll be right back. She walks to meet me halfway, jogging a little at one point to save me a few extra steps. It's only been a couple of days since I've seen her, but she hasn't seen me, or me as Connor rather, since we broke up more or less.

"Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"Going to school, duh. Why, what are you doing here?" I reply.

"Smart ass," she says as she punches me in the arm. Things feel like they haven't changed between us for a moment, but that couldn't be further from the truth, and I need to keep reminding myself of it. "When did you get here?" she asks.

"Derrick just brought me up yesterday. What about you? I didn't even realize you were here."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Me and my dad had to leave Bay View City pretty quickly. Something about the board at his company being nervous about operations being based there with everything that’s going on, I think," she lies. "It all happened pretty quickly. I meant to text you once I got settled here."

"You seem like you're settling in pretty quickly," I say, motioning toward the group she just walked away from.

"Oh, them? They're in my physics class. We're meeting for a study group during lunch."

I'm not surprised to see Sarah making friends so quickly. It's one of the things I've always liked about her. The fact that she and her dad were almost killed a week ago is something you wouldn't believe, even if someone told you. That's just the kind of person she is. Resilient. Whatever is going on inside her head doesn't stop her from keeping up with the outside world. It's a skill that I've been envious of since even before I had to worry about juggling two different identities.

"And what about you? Are you fitting in here okay so far?" she asks.

"Me? Oh yeah, of course," I lie.

"Connor Connelly, you know that I know when you're not telling me the truth still, right?" she asks, completely oblivious, I hope, to just how wrong she is about that.

"I'm getting there. Just a little burned out after my first day."

"You'll be fine," she says.

"Hey, Sarah, come on. You're holding us up again," one of the guys in the circle of study buddies waiting for Sarah yells over to her. He's taller and looks older than me, and I'm immediately jealous.

"I better get going. I'd offer you to join us, but I wouldn't want you to try killing yourself with a spork while you listen to all of us going on and on about physics."

"Oh yeah, sure, of course. I have to get going anyway. I just stopped by to grab something quick before I headed off to my next class," I say, glancing down at the time on my phone to see that once again, I'm already late. "On second thought, it looks like I don't have time for that. I'd better take off before they suspend me for being late so many times on my first day. I'll see you around, though?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure of it."

"See you later, Sarah."

"Later, Connor," she says before heading back to join the group of students who are beginning to enter the dining hall. A few look back at me, and I can see them asking her who I am. I can't hear her response, and I wonder what she told them. It doesn't matter now, though. We're not together. Both of us have secrets we're hiding from the rest of the world, and it's not like the world has been getting any less complicated lately.

Just worry about getting to training, I tell myself. Everything else takes a backseat to that.

"Who was the hottie?" a voice behind me that I don't recognize asks.

I turn around and see that it's Winston, the meta with the ability to control luck that I met yesterday.

"That hottie, as you put it, is my ex-girlfriend."

He winces in embarrassment at what he just asked.

"Sorry about that."

"It's no problem. You didn't know. Unless you did know. In that case, you're a real jerk," I joke.

Winston smiles and slaps me on the back, happy that I'm not mad at him.

"Well, look man, there's no need to cry over it, right? Plenty of fish in the sea and all of that. You don't want to be tied down when you're here with literally thousands of other potential future ex-girlfriends."

"That's easy for the guy who can control luck to say."

"Hey, I can tip luck in my favor, but not people. That's free will. I can't control what folks think."

"Sucks to be you."

"No way. Can you imagine what it would be like to be able to control someone's thoughts and actions? That's too much power, too much responsibility. How would you use that? How would you know when it was right and when it was wrong? Nope. Those aren't the kind of decisions I want to have to deal with, thanks. So what's your girlfriend doing here? Is she a meta too?"

"No. I thought she was for a little while, but she's not."

"That's lucky. It's best to keep this whole meta business and real life separate, I think."

"Well that wasn't the case either. She wasn't a meta, but she was involved."

"She knew you had powers?"

"No, it wasn't like that. It was ... complicated," I say, realizing that I have to watch my words. Sarah's secret isn't mine to share. Hell, Sarah doesn't even know that I even
know
her secret.

It feels strange to be able to talk to someone like this. Only a few people knew my secret before, and even they couldn't really put themselves in my shoes. You might find this hard to believe, but Midnight wasn't the best at listening when it came to my girl problems. This is different, though. Winston might not have the same powers as me or have gone through everything I have the exact same way I did, but we're more alike than we're different.

Who knows, maybe it'll be nice to talk to someone like this who understands, as long as I'm careful to make sure that the only secrets I spill are my own.

"Yeah, I know complicated. Listen," Winston begins, "I've got an idea. Why don't you come hang out tonight. It's just a small group of us, but we can make it into an official welcome party for you."

"You don't have to go through that kind of trouble," I say.

"It's not trouble; it's a good excuse. Better than the current reason we're using to have it."

"And what is that?"

"That we're bored."

This makes me laugh.

"I'm serious," Winston says. "You don't even know yet. It sounds like a great idea, living on campus, not having grown-ups around and everything, but the reality is that when everyone else on campus goes home for the night, and after we're done with meta training, it is boooooring here. Plus, it'll help you keep your mind off of old what's her name."

"Sarah."

"See, I've forgotten all about her already. You will soon too. Trust me."