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Aaron sat down on the edge of the meager bed in his university dorm room, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting in his hands. He stared at the bare wall across from him, where there once was a door for a short amount of time in the middle of a fateful night. But the wall held no answers to his now frequently asked questions. What was to become of him? How could this have happened? Here he sat, powerless. Stripped of his title and his access to the palace, scorned by his classmates so much that he’d begun skipping classes, hated by Unwanteds far and wide for trying to impersonate his twin brother’who was apparently so beloved by them’in the heat of the battle. And dismissed, considered worthless by all the other governors.
Aaron felt his chest tighten in fury. He closed his eyes, concentrating, willing himself to be calm but failing miserably. He felt like shouting all the vilest words he could think of at the top of his voice. He felt like stringing up Alex, High Priest Haluki, and that freakishly genteel Mr. Today, and making them suffer the way he was suffering now.
A strange growling sound began in the back of Aaron’s throat, almost like a roar, and it escaped with a loud huff of air. “Garr!” He gripped the fabric edge of his flimsy mattress and twisted it, tensing all the muscles in his body, his face growing very hot. It was both frightening and liberating to let such feelings happen, and he knew he should stop, but in this case there was no turning back. “Raaah!” he said this time. And then “GRRAAH!” He flipped over on the bed, facedown now, and pounded it with his fists, trying to let out the uncontrollable noises into the thin blanket so that they were muffled. He couldn’t let anyone hear him. He wasn’t sure what they’d do.
And then his eyes began to sting. Like giant dusty craters in the most desolate part of Quill, his eyes, unaccustomed to tears, achingly filled and threatened to spill.
But he held them in. Heaving on the bed, emotion spewing forth in every breath, Aaron brought his hands to his closed lids and pressed back the tears. His throat ached and it felt like something was stuck there. “Calm down,” he whispered. “Calm down.” His breaths slowed, and he wiped his face. He lay there for a moment more, realizing the grave extent of personal weakness he’d just shown.
Quickly he got off the bed, ashamed of his behavior. He went to his bucket of tepid water and dipped his hand in. He splashed the water on his face, carelessly allowing the excess to drip on the floor, wasting it.
“Great land of Quill,” he muttered. He dried his face with his sleeve. “Come on. Get a grip, Stowe.”
He turned back to his bed to straighten out the blanket. And then he sat at his tiny table and opened his textbook on the history of Quill. A small headache had formed between his eyes, so he pushed his thumb and forefinger into the inner points of his brows, trying to massage the pain away. The words blurred, but one pulsing thought pressed through. His mantra. I am strong! May Quill prevail with all I have in me!
A moment later there was a knock on his door. He froze. Had someone heard him cry out?
“Who’s there?” he asked.
Aaron heard a shuffle outside his door, and four armed Quillitary soldiers burst through the door into the room. Aaron stood immediately, his chair scraping the floor and nearly tipping over. His eyes widened. He’d met them all before.
“Former Assistant Secretary Aaron Stowe?” said the apparent leader in a gruff voice.
“Obviously.”
“You’re being terminated.”
Aaron’s heart leaped to his throat. Terminated? As in “sent to the Ancients Sector”? As in “put to sleep”? It couldn’t be’they didn’t do that to young, healthy Wanteds. He struggled to regain the confident demeanor he’d projected on these people just months before. “What do you mean?”
“Your presence is no longer required at the university.”
Aaron shook his head. “I don’t understand what you are saying.”
“Pack your things,” the man said icily, taking a step toward Aaron. “You are no longer welcome here.”
Problems Unforeseen
Every day more and more Necessaries invaded Artimé. Mr. Today insisted that the Unwanteds treat their new neighbors with the utmost respect, but it was difficult when they were turning up left and right, asking endless questions. “What’s that noise coming from the bushes?” “Where exactly is the Great Lake of Boiling Oil?” “Do the creatures bite?” It was becoming annoying. Even Ms. Octavia, the octogator art instructor, occasionally chomped her teeth together at them when she couldn’t take them staring any longer at her seven flowing appendages (the eighth one was still just a nub, in the process of regenerating after having been lopped off in the battle).
And then there was the question of magic. Would the Necessaries be allowed to learn and perform it? What about attending classes? And using the tubes?
“All newcomers will be allowed the same rights as the Unwanteds,” Mr. Today declared at his now-weekly address on the lawn. “It will become clear who is capable of magic and who is not. For those who are, we’re exceedingly grateful to have you on our side should we ever be forced to fight again.”
While the Necessaries looked on as if they’d been given the first gift of their lives, some of the Unwanteds grumbled. But Mr. Today only smiled at the grumblers and said lightly, “Let’s not create a whole new class of Unwanteds, all right?” That seemed to change some Unwanteds’ minds in a hurry.