***
"You look happy this morning," Heather said to me when I sat next to her at breakfast the next morning.
"I am happy," I said. "Why aren't you?"
"I have a headache, and I didn't sleep well. Melissa started snoring before I fell asleep and it kept me up half the night. Then Rhea got up really early to go to the gym, and that woke me up." She sounded pretty miserable, and she looked tired. She brightened up a little bit when Jack came and sat next to her though.
"Good morning," he said to us. He yawned and grabbed some pancakes before piling them with syrup.
"Good morning," Heather responded. "Did you have a good sleep?"
"Eh, it was alright," he answered through the food he had in his mouth. Some syrup trickled down his chin, but he wiped it away with a napkin.
"Doing anything fun today?" Heather asked him.
"No, I wasn't planning on doing much. I have a physics assignment to finish, but then I was planning on going for a walk or something. Want to come?"
An invitation was clearly what Heather had been waiting for. I saw a burst of yellow in her aura, and she couldn't hide her smile very well. "I'd love to," she said.
I think Jack was about to ask me if I wanted to come too, but I shook my head slightly while Heather wasn't looking, and he got the message.
I spent the day in the library, which wasn't exactly unusual. I'd finished the book I was reading by Isadora, and I'd liked it enough to search for more books by her. I found one that was written a couple hundred years ago, and it was about ancient Rome. I recognized the story as one Ms. Coleman had told us in class, and I looked forward to reading about it in more detail.
The story was actually quite romantic, and from what I could remember it was true. The main character, who was really Isadora, was a slave, and she was bought by a man who owned gladiators. One night she was forced to go to a gladiator to please him, but she refused, so her owner just let all of them have her. She fought them as much as she could, but they were all bigger and stronger than she was. One of them rescued her and offered her shelter in his room, which she had little choice but to accept. He didn't try anything on her, but she hated him because he was a killer.
After awhile with living under his protection, she came to understand him better. He didn't fight and kill because he wanted to; he was a slave like she was, only he had to fight for his life. She still couldn't accept what he did, and he didn't like it either, so he tried fighting without killing. He would incapacitate his opponents, but he refused to kill even when the order was given. He got in trouble for it, but the crowd loved him anyway, and that was the most important thing for a gladiator. His life was spared, and the girl learned to love him. They both died in the end, but it was a really good story, and I spent all day reading it. It seemed to me, however, that Isadora's lives always seemed to end so early. I hadn't yet read one in which she lived to old age. I wondered if that was how she wanted things to be, or if it was just coincidence.
The next day, which was Monday, it was stormy outside. The sky was completely covered by dark gray clouds that occasionally lit up with flashes of lightning. It was pouring rain heavily enough to be able to hear it almost anywhere in the school, and the teachers were often interrupted by loud rumbles of thunder. I was kind of annoyed at being stuck in class when there was such an awesome storm going on because I had always loved watching thunder storms. I looked longingly out the window so often in History that Ms. Coleman had to tell me to pay attention.
The noise was a little distracting when I was in Skills Development. I was partnered with Rhea, who was still working on creating a gold pattern on a coffee mug instead of turning the whole thing gold or going all the way through, which she was getting better at. I was working on my drawing again, and I tried drawing what Rhea's mug would look like at the end of class. I actually managed to do it, and Mr. Ramirez was pleased. I couldn't help but be a little proud of my accomplishment, since I really wanted to be able to control my ability. Mr. Ramirez said that once I mastered my drawing I should work on learning how to not see auras, and I agreed that that was a good idea, though I still had a long way to go.
In Physical Defence that morning Victor put me with Lucas again, but luckily we didn't have to actually fight. He taught me a few moves instead, which I mastered quickly. I tried them on him, but he already knew what I was going to do, so I still ended up on the floor. When I got back up again I decided to surprise him with a move of my own, which he wasn't prepared for. I got him to the floor for the first time, and he was impressed. Victor also applauded my success, and got me to show the move to the rest of the class.
I was feeling pretty good about myself by the time I got to lunch. I felt like I was finally improving at something, and it made me feel more powerful and confident. I couldn't find Heather, who I had last seen in the locker room by the gym, or Jack, who I hadn't seen since History. I found a seat next to Leon, who was sitting with Patrick and Duncan. He had a gigantic plate of food, per usual, and he was shovelling it down with his usual lack of manners. I really didn't understand how someone could eat so much and not gain any weight.
"I miss unhealthy food," Duncan was saying when I sat down. "I feel like it's been too long since I had a nice artery-clogging cheeseburger." He was picking at his lunch, which consisted of a salad and some tomato soup. He had already finished his crackers.
"Yeah, I know. I would've actually gained weight by now if there was a decent amount of fat in this food," Leon agreed. "I'm still a walking stick."
"I told you, you need to eat more protein and start lifting weights or something," Patrick said. "You're better off gaining muscle than fat. Wouldn't you agree, Juliet?"
"Of course," I answered, as I helped myself to some soup and a roll, which was whole wheat. "If he just got fat he wouldn't exactly be helping himself any."
"I tried that, but it's hard to get to the gym that often. I have too many assignments to get done most weeks, as well as band practices," Leon said. "Plus, that requires effort."
"You know what else would be good?" Duncan continued, as if we hadn't spoken. "I could really go for some French fries. You know, the ones that are greasy and covered in salt."
"I think Duncan has lost like twenty kilograms since the start of the school year," Patrick told me. "He's a junk food addict, and being here is like being in withdrawal because they try to make all the food healthy. Also, there's always at least one physical course every year that you have to take to keep you in shape."
"I hate it," Duncan grumbled. "It's like being at fat camp or something." He was still probably thirty kilograms overweight, which didn't seem common at Winterwood. Most of the students were normal sized or thin.
"He misses his fat," Leon explained. "I can't really blame him. I'd miss my fat if I had any to begin with."
The rest of us laughed, and the conversation turned to music, which ended up being interesting. I'd never talked to a bunch of people about music before who were also musicians. Many of us had different tastes, but at least we knew what to appreciate. I was disappointed when the time came to return to class after lunch, but I was still in a good mood.