I ignored the dirt that crusted beneath my nails, too deep to ever remove.
Ignored the heaviness in my eyelids because I struggled to sleep, worried that every sound in the forest was a Titan coming to hurt Charlie.
Ignored the gaping emptiness in my stomach, since tutoring for other people’s food vouchers barely kept us fed and the federation classified illegal child labor as work by anyone who had yet to take the Spartan merit test.
They said it was uncivilized to make kids work.
Hot take, you know what’s uncivilized? Forcing homeless children to starve because they have no ability to provide for themselves.
“I swear, she never showers. It’s disgusting,” Jessica said loudly so the entire room could hear.
There was a fresh round of laughter.
My sternum burned with shame.
It was times like this where I wished I was one of those confident, loud girls. The ones who spoke their minds and didn’t let anyone push them around. The strong, fierce femme fatales depicted in old videos and books.
“The smell is awful.” Jessica gagged loudly.
I said nothing.
I sank lower in my seat and rubbed my clammy palms against my patched pants. Interacting with other humans was not my strength. Words always got stuck in my throat.
Jessica’s desk squeaked as she purposefully shifted farther away from me, like I was diseased.
The pressure in my chest increased by a factor of ten.
Just leave me alone.
Hell, at this point I’d tutored half the school population and was the reason anyone in this godforsaken place could do algebra.
Yes, the bar was set abysmally low. The fall of civilization would do that.
Jessica’s desk squeaked louder as she shifted farther.
No matter what I did, I was just the dirty homeless girl who stuttered and smelled.
Humans sucked.
“Ohmygod... everyone!” Taylor screeched with excitement as she ran into the room. “There’s a new Spartan Lifestyle Page upload about the Crimson Duo—they have footage of themfighting Titans!”
The Crimson Duo—Patro of the House of Artemis and Achilles of the House of Ares—were the most famous members of the Assembly of Death.
The part-human mutts were everyone’s current favorite Spartan obsession.
The only thing humans got more excited for was the recordedSpartan Gladiator Competition, SGC, which was held every three years. As it was, the school was already hanging banners, getting ready for next year when the games would be held.
Yay, Chthonic Spartans and dark creatures fighting one another and Titans for weeks on end in the Dolomites Coliseum! Yippee, torture and death. Go sports.
I didn’t get it.
Now the class erupted with elated chatter, and my left ear rang with sharp feedback. Chairs squeaked, and desks clattered as the class ran to the back of the room.
My peers (enemies) crowded around the bulky pre-Spartan computers like vultures around a carcass, trying to catch a glimpse at the website, which was devoted to all things Spartan.
The website was the sole reason there was a huge underground market for refurbished early-twenty-first-century computers.
It featured videos, pictures, fanfiction, and quizzes all about the Spartans from the big twelve Spartan Houses.
