Chapter 3, Final Part

A student of the future faces overwhelming odds during a life-threatening tournament.

I managed to get to the dining hall before having to deal with Stoker. I served up my food, got a drink, and strode over to him. Someone had fixed his nose like I anticipated, but it still had an awkward bend to it, and it took a lot of willpower not to smile. Instead, I extended my hand to shake. “Hello, Stoker.”

“Jade.” He growled in return, then continued to eat, unperturbed. I brought my unshaken hand back close to my torso, holding my food and drink, and, using my notoriously pointy elbows, I wriggled into a seat right next to him. He tried to ignore me, but I could feel him bristle. For several minutes, Stoker, his goonies, and I all ate in silence.

After taking a swig of grape juice, I swished it around in my mouth just to annoy him, swallowed, then spoke in my more feminine, innocent voice. “Well, you're looking handsomely rugged, dear friend. Get in a brawl with a badger?”

He forcefully jerked his goblet onto the table. “What's your problem?!” He growled. About fifteen kids turned around and looked at us. I battled away the blush that wanted to color my cheeks.

“Depends.” I replied with a shrug. “How much time do you have?” With mild concern, I watched as a previously unseen vain pulsed in his neck. His arm muscles tensed as if he were about to swing. I quickly picked up my cup again and held it to my lips. I smile and laugh when I'm nervous. For example, when I get blood drawn? Yeesh. I'm a giggling mess. Can't let this guy think I find his discomfort amusing. “Hey,” I murmured gently. He rested his heavy forearms on the table and looked at me with stormy gray eyes. “I came over here to apologize for earlier... My behavior was uncalled for, and I'm deeply sorry that you got a broken nose and unconsciousness out of it. The tournament thing? I think you know, it's tough. Just like you, I've died every day since I've gotten here. These new surroundings, lack of family, new rules, new education... It's all a little bit... Weird. I felt intimidated already, and then... Well...” I softly chuckled, and nodded to his sheer brawn. “You downright scared the crap out of me. In regards to fight or flight, I reacted with fight, and I'm sorry.”

Stoker set down his eating utensils and massaged his fingernails through his brown crew cut, then breathed a long sigh. “Yeah, I get it.” He grunted. I wasn't sure what to think, and we continued to eat in silence.

Author's Note

This is an old work of mine, written when I was fifteen, inspired by a dream that I had. I discovered the work recently and liked it, so I have decided to revisit it. I will likely do a lot of editing and may add on to the story, or I may scrap it entirely and start from scratch. I would love constructive criticism over every aspect that could be improved. This is the final installation for now, because this is the point that I reached writer's block. Suggestions for ways to further the plot would be greatly appreciated.