Intermix Nation (11 page)

Grum checks two names off his clipboard.
Lumi and Ansel tense, walk into the center of the circle, and begin
fighting. Lumi seems unusually distracted. Nazirah cringes as Ansel
kicks Lumi hard in the shin, sending her sprawling to the ground.
Lumi concedes, which Grum unusually accepts, and the fight is
over.

It goes on like this for over an hour. Grum
names two recruits, they fight, and then the process starts over
again. It’s brutal to watch. It’s even worse to wait in nervous
anticipation. Nazirah absentmindedly watches Cato battle Anzares.
He intercepts her blows skillfully but doesn’t harm her.

Nazirah surveys the room, realizing that
she’s the only one who hasn’t fought yet. Would Grum make someone
fight twice? Or would she maybe not have to fight at all … Grum’s
personal way of sticking it to Niko?

Cato holds Anzares in a firm bind on the
floor, until finally she concedes and pushes him off her. He
returns to his spot beside Nazirah.

“Nice job, Caal,” Grum says to him. “The
Medis will appreciate your tenderness.” Aldrik snorts and Cato
looks perplexed. Grum returns to his list, lazily running a finger
down the column of names. “Let’s see here, who do we have next? Ah,
here we go. Nation, step forward.”

Nazirah walks slowly to the middle of the
room, looking around skeptically. Is Grum going to make her fight
herself or something? That’s definitely the type of twisted scheme
he would pull. Nazirah looks at Nikolaus for reassurance, but he is
focused on Grum. He looks angry, like he knows something is
off.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Nation?” asks Grum, setting down his
clipboard.

“We have an odd numbers of students
today.”

“Your powers of observation are
astounding.”

“I don’t have a partner.”

“Thrilled as I am to see you taking an
interest in your training,” Grum says, cracking his knuckles, “you
are, as usual, wrong.”

“Who am I fighting?” Nazirah asks.

“Me.”

The entire class gasps. Nazirah is supposed
to fight Grum? She glances over at Niko, whose fists are clenched.
Adamek looks unsurprised. Aldrik appears positively appalled.

“Professor!” Cato speaks up immediately,
completely distraught. “I volunteer to fight Nazirah!”

“That’s very sweet, Caal,” Grum says,
walking slowly towards Nazirah. “But I don’t think she will benefit
from having her hair stroked to death. And besides, you’ve already
fought once today. We can’t have any favoritism here, can we?” Grum
looks pointedly at Nikolaus.

Panic rises in Nazirah’s chest. Grum is
clearly mad that Niko has shown up unannounced in his classroom,
questioning his authority, and that Nazirah has defied him for
weeks. Now, he intends to teach both Nations a lesson. Nazirah
glances again at Niko, but she knows his hands are tied. Grum has
set their fight up to seem coincidental. And if Nikolaus tries to
intervene, it will look like he’s favoring his sister. Nazirah
watches Aldrik storm from the room. Her eyes settle on Adamek, who
gives her a small, imperceptible nod.

Nazirah watches as Grum gets into a
fighter’s stance. But her thoughts remain on Adamek. He told her
the first rule is to always know your enemy. And Nazirah does know
Grum. She knows he’s big and threatening, but that makes him slow
and cocky. She knows he has a huge ego, is not particularly
intelligent, and would never imagine he could be outsmarted by a
little girl. Nazirah knows he thinks she’s scared of him, is scared
of fighting, and that she couldn’t possibly defend herself.

Nazirah knows Grum.

But Grum doesn’t know her.

Nazirah stands in her normal passive
position, waiting for him to attack. No, Grum doesn’t know her at
all.

His fist flies at Nazirah’s face, fast, but
not fast enough. She dodges it easily. That alone shocks the entire
classroom, since Nazirah has never defended herself before.

Enraged and embarrassed, Grum pounces. He
fakes with his left and then jabs her with his right. Nazirah isn’t
quick enough this time. She tries to block, but Grum’s second blow
hits her square in the face. Her lip splits open. Nazirah tastes
iron, but refuses to concede. This isn’t about standing up to Grum.
This is about standing up to herself … for herself. This is about
proving she can still be the person she once was.

Grum punches her again, this time in the
stomach. Nazirah keels over, coughing up blood. She vaguely sees
Nikolaus stepping forward from the wall on her left. Adamek holds
onto his shoulder, stopping him. Nazirah stomps into Grum’s instep.
He shouts out in pain and Nazirah throws his clipboard at him. She
knows it will have no effect, but she needs to buy time. The class
watches them silently in horror. Grum catches the clipboard easily,
cracking it in half over his knee. He flings it carelessly to the
side. A few recruits jump out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting
hit by the pieces.

Think.

Nazirah glances at Cato, who appears ready
to cry. She remembers a time several years ago, when a bully
cornered her in a back alley back home. Nazirah remembers watching
as he slowly unzipped his jeans, leering at her. Nazirah dealt with
him. She looks into Grum’s face, suddenly calm. She can’t
physically overpower him, but that doesn’t mean she won’t win.

Nazirah takes a small step backward, away
from her classmates and toward the open space behind her. She tries
to look frightened, ignoring both the screaming agony of her
abdomen and the blood streaming from her lip. Grum lumbers forward,
attempting to close in on her. Nazirah backs up again, more
quickly, makes sure Grum is following her. Taking her one chance,
Nazirah turns and runs full speed straight at the empty wall.
Grum’s heavy footsteps are right behind her. Nazirah jumps as high
as she can and launches herself at the wall, kicking and propelling
off it. She turns in midair and slams her foot hard into Grum’s
head. He falls to the floor, completely unsuspecting, knocked
unconscious.

Everyone in the room stares at the two of
them, mouths slack, eyes bulging. “The first rule, professor,”
Nazirah deadpans, spitting blood, “is to always know your
enemy.”

It’s not Grum she is looking at.

Her classmates circle her, breaking out of
their spell. They cheer, hugging her and patting her on the back.
Even Aneira congratulates her brightly. Cato is the first one by
her side, rushing over to hold her up. “It’s good to see you again,
Nazi,” he laughs.

The endorphins that kept the pain at bay
during the fight are quickly dying. But Nazirah feels amazing. A
part of herself that she hasn’t seen in months has resurfaced. And
she welcomes it back like a long lost friend … like a blessing.

Aldrik, who apparently went to get help as a
precautionary measure for Nazirah, returns with Bilungi at his
heels. He enters the gymnasium then halts in his tracks, staring
uncomprehending at the unconscious fighting instructor.

Bilungi nearly trips over him. She shoots
him a dirty look and rushes over to assist Grum. “Mr. Caal, please
take Miss Nation to my quarters.” Bilungi waves some smelling salts
under Grum’s nose. “I believe you are familiar with the way.”

Cato nods, helping Nazirah slowly out of the
room. Nikolaus walks over to them and gently touches her shoulder,
relief clear on his face. “Thank you,” he whispers in her ear.

“He deserved it,” she replies.

Nazirah looks around, searching for the
reaction that she really wants to see. She spots him, exactly where
he has been all along, leaning casually against the classroom
wall.

He’s looking at her, too.

And he’s smiling, genuinely smiling.

Chapter
Eight

Summer transitions into autumn without any
noticeable temperature change. The days pass by uneventfully.
Nazirah attends the majority of her classes, throwing herself into
work to distract from reality. She even willingly participates in
combat training, doing the bare minimum to placate an even more
wretched Grum, who hasn’t acknowledged her presence since getting
knocked unconscious. She rarely sees any of the rebel leaders. They
are usually on recon missions or in private meetings all day. If
Nazirah closes her eyes and doesn’t think about it too much, life
seems unnervingly peaceful.

Nazirah lies on her stomach, on the worn rug
of the library. Her bare feet wave casually in the air, shoes
kicked off hours ago. Her ball of hair is knotted in a loose bun,
piled high on her head and secured by two pencils. Her face is bent
low, buried in a thick textbook. Books, maps, and various other
articles are strewn around her in a protective circle. Almost done
with all of her makeup work, Nazirah is currently finishing an
essay Bairs assigned her on Medi life and culture. Nazirah doesn’t
really want to learn about the luxurious Median lifestyle, but she
has to admit that the subject is riveting.

The library is quiet, nearly empty. It often
goes unused, since most intermix cannot read and most rebels cannot
be bothered. Riva taught her children the alphabet at a young age,
and Nazirah always loved engrossing herself in fantastical stories.
Intermix are not allowed to use the public libraries in Rafu, but
Nazirah would often sneak into the main school from the annex. She
would read on the floor of the school library after everyone else
left, until Riva would find her and scold her and drag her
home.

Nazirah imagined she was a princess in the
cold north of Zima, or a bootlegger from a faraway land, or even a
bird soaring over Renatus. She imagined she was anything other than
what she actually was. Reading was her escape. It still is. With
Nikolaus always gone, training intensifying, and unrest erupting
around the country, Nazirah knows that her hourglass of safety is
running out.

Nazirah finishes reading about hilarious
Medi fashion trends throughout the decades. She starts on the
bullet train system, which carries goods from the outskirts of the
territories to the capital at rapid speed. Nazirah looks out the
large window beside her and spots Taj and a few others kicking a
ball around outside. She wants to go watch, but wills herself to
finish working first.

Nazirah casually flips through some
photographs of Mediah, completely mesmerized by the sheer size of
its gleaming skytowers, its power, and its technology. She wonders
what Niko’s grand plan is to overcome these obstacles and she prays
it is a good one.

“So she’s literate.”

Adamek slumps down in a chair before her. He
drops a pile of strategy books on the table to his right and rests
his hands casually behind his head.

“Yes, she is,” Nazirah huffs.

He glances at the books scattered around the
floor. “I know this is probably a foreign concept to you, Nation,
but we have these things called tables and chairs for a
reason.”

“I know what a chair is,” Nazirah snaps,
sitting up. “I just exercise my right, as an intermix, not to use
one.”

“I see.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” Nazirah
asks, annoyed. Someone shushes her. Nazirah turns to see Aneira
glaring at them, several tables away. Nazirah rolls her eyes. She
returns her attention to Adamek, speaking more quietly. “I would
think a place like this was beneath you.”

“And why is that?”

Nazirah searches the room for inspiration.
“Because,” she says, “it’s old and secondhand and dirty.”

Adamek chuckles. He rests his hands in his
lap. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a little dirty.”

Nazirah flushes. She has heard the rumors,
the dreaded girl talk, especially in the lavatory. Girls obsessed
about his perfect looks, perfectly high cheekbones, perfectly
straight teeth, the way his perfect hair perfectly flips … blah
freaking blah. Originally, they whispered about it when in her
presence. But now, no one bothers to hide what they think of
perfect Adamek Morgen. And it irritates Nazirah no end.

How can they forget everything bad he’s
done, just because of how he looks? Are they blind? Can’t they see
that that is part of it all? Part of the way he lures people in? He
disarms docile dolts with charm and confidence before leading them
to the slaughterhouse.

“Aren’t we chatty today.”

Nazirah snaps out of it. “I was focusing on
this essay … before I was interrupted.” She sighs, looking
distastefully at her notepad. Nazirah feels an unwelcome rant
coming on. “I don’t get it!” she complains. “You can’t be that much
older than me and you have been here a hell of a lot shorter. Why
don’t you have to go through this ridiculous training?”

Adamek looks at her like she is delusional.
“I don’t need training,” he says.

“That excuse didn’t work for me.”

“I have friends in high places.”

“I’m sure you do,” she scoffs, thinking of
how chummy he is with her brother. Nazirah is suddenly very
interested in her fingernails. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Why?” he asks suspiciously.

“Just … curious.”

“Nineteen,” he says, after a moment.

Nazirah is shocked that he is that young. He
looks that young, but she always imagined him older. “Oh,” she
says. “I’m eighteen.”

“I know.”

“Oh.” Why is she even asking him this?

“Your face has healed.”

Nazirah touches the spot above her eyebrow
where there used to be stitches. She’s forgotten she has not seen
him since before Bilungi removed those, leaving not even a trace of
a scar. Her split lip from Grum has healed as well. “A few weeks
ago,” she says.

It’s so surreal, this almost-conversation
they’re having. Adamek glances at the books scattered around her
again, trying to read some of the titles. “What are you writing
about?”

“The proper way to tape up your wrists.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in
amusement. “I’m not surprised you need this many sources.”