One hearty growl caused an eighteen-year-old Dare to fly out of his bed. His cheek hit the solid concrete, and he groaned in pain. He saw Rette in the corner, knowing she would be laughing if she could. "What the hell, Waar?" He sputtered.

She transferred back to first form, tears coming down her cheeks from laughing too hard. "I'm sorry... It's... It's just..." She couldn't stop laughing. "Sorry. Just practicing."

Irritation worked its way into Dare's system. "Just because you can turn into some fancy white tiger, doesn't mean you have to wake me up becoming that stupid creature." Rette went to slap him, but he easily caught her arm. She went at him with her other arm, and Dare locked that one in his tight grip as well. A sly smirk played over his mouth, frightening Rette just enough for him to take pleasure in it. "How's it feel, Waar?" She rolled her eyes.

"Let me go." He gave her a funny look, grasping for more. Exasperated, Rette gave in. "Dare is the greatest person I've ever known and I can't help but swoon." A fake smile covered her face, but her eyes were dead. Dare looked happy enough, and released her.

"Thank you. I think that should suffice."

"One day, Rette's gonna kick your ass, Dare, and I'm never going to stop laughing." They both jumped at the sound of Keaton's voice. 

"Bloody hell, man.  What are you doing up so early?  It's, like, eight."  Dare sounded appalled, which wasn't surprising, seeing as he could barely roll out of bed at twelve on a normal day. 

But today wasn't a normal day. 

"Don't you remember?  Testing's today. And it'll-"

"Yeah," Rette interrupted.  "It'll split us up if we're not lucky."  She rubbed at her wrist, looking at the ground.  "I'm nervous."

"We all are, Waar.  You just gotta muscle through."  Dare went over and mussed up her hair, before placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.  Keaton grinned when Rette's cheeks flushed bright red.  At least Dare didn't see, she thought. 

She was flustered, and spoke with a small stutter.  Hopefully he would only think it to be her nerves.  "Let's get dressed.  What time is the Test?  Nine?"  Keaton and Dare both nodded. 

"Then let's kick some Testing ass!"  Dare threw his fist in the air. 

•

"The kids are getting worse, sir.  Last year's scores were marginally better," his monotone intern said.  Dr. Nix Fallow crossed his arms, pursing his lips at the boy through the glass.  Ulysses, his name was.  Subject 743 didn't have a chance. 

Still. But.

He gave the boy a few more minutes, thinking that this boy could've been his daughter.  But he wasn't, so he gestured to his assistant, telling her to stop the test.  "Make him an Indefinite."  No hesitation in his voice. 

"But sir," Oralie, his assistant, spoke up, "shouldn't we send him to Room 93 before making him an Indefinite?"  Nix thought it through.

"No," he said after a moment or so. "He'll never be good enough to be released.  Mark him with an Indefinite status." 

A pause.  Then: "Yes, sir."  He wouldn't let his institution suffer because people had too much sympathy.  Never.  You always had to remain calm during this job.  Life and death were in your hands, and mistakes were always capable of being made. 

"Bring in the next subject."

•

Keaton glanced around the room. There were still a lot of people to go. He was glad his last name fell sort of in the middle of the alphabet. He didn't think he could be sitting there, almost alone. Like Rette would have to do. It was already stressful enough without watching everyone you ever knew face an unknown fate.  His heart ached for her.

Sitting here was not helping his anxiety. Back in the room, he pretended to be okay. He pretended that this wasn't the most important day of his life. He ran his hand through his dark hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

Keaton stood up shakily, walking to an officer in the corner of the room. "Um, I need to use the facilities." His hand went to scratch the back of his neck.

The officer frowned. "Name and number?"

"Subject 753. Keaton Sailor."

"If you're called before coming back, you'll go as soon as you return." Keaton hastily nodded his head to the man, walking out of that room and into the empty hallway.

He took a few paces away from the door, placing his back against the stark white walls, falling to the floor.

His head hung between his knees and he tried to take deep breaths. It wasn't necessarily helping him. He heard footsteps.

His head shot up, eyes scanning the room. A girl, definitely his age, started her walk down this hallway. She wore a dark blue jumpsuit, like him, dark blond hair falling out of her loose ponytail. He couldn't see if the girl had a number. It was usually on the left side of their chest, but hers wasn't. Maybe on the back? Keaton didn't know, so he skipped it, surveying the rest of her. She was petite. Keaton could definitely take her, even in his first form. She looked at him with silver eyes, smiling just a little.

Keaton held up his hand in a slight wave. She skipped over to his spot, on the floor, and joined him. "Hello," she smiled.

"Hi."

"I'm Tyris." She didn't stop smiling.

"Keaton."  He couldn't help but feel her infectious behavior rubbing off on him, so he smiled back at her.  "Have you gone yet?"

Confusion swept across Tyris's features.  "Excuse me?"

"Uh," he laughed a little. "You, know, the Test?" 

"What test- Oh," she muttered.  "Oh."

"What?  I thought everyone in our year had to take the Test."  Keaton's brow furrowed. Surely, she had to have taken the test if she was roaming the halls.

"Are you a subject?"  Listing her head, Tyris stared at him.

"Yeah... Aren't you?"  Was Tyris an Indefinite.  Was she even one of them?

"No, I-"

"But you're wearing one of our jumpsuits.  I've never seen another kid here that wasn't a subject."

"No, I'm not a subject at all," she pulled on the ends of her hair, twisting them around her fingers.  She worried her lip, wondering why Keaton wasn't taking his Test.  "Actually, Dr. Fallow is my father."  As if remembering that small, inconsequential detail, her face grew white.  "I shouldn't be talking to you.  Father wouldn't be happy.  I- I should go." 

"Alright."  Keaton threw a half smirk her way.  "Maybe I'll run into you again."  He stood up, walking back to the daunting, white, steel door. 

Tyris stayed in the hallway, feeling euphoria running through her veins.  She barely ever betrayed her father.  The last time was when she went in to visit her mother, dying of tomorsis, a few years ago. Father had told her to never go beyond the protective glass. He didn't want her to get sick. But.

But.

Her mother, her brave mother, sat dying and emaciated on a stiff, hospital bed, staring at the wall, unaware of anything around her. That was what the disease did to you: ate away at you from the inside out, until death became the thing you wished most for, the subject of every dream, if you could even fall asleep.  So Tyris went to see her mother. For the last time. Multiple tests had been done on her for a while when her father found out, and she was taken to a sterile space for weeks until his team was sure she hadn't contracted the disease.

And after that, when Dr. Nix Fallow became the head of the Second Form Department, he told her she wasn't allowed to come in contact with any of the subjects.

That was reason enough to see Keaton again.

•

"Sailor. 753," was announced over the loud speaker in an artificial voice. Keaton rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants before standing and walking to the door. Two guards stood against it, stoic as always.

He took a dip breath, bouncing on his toes just a little bit as the door opened before him.

One step forward, and his fate was no longer in his hands.

•

Dr. Fallow leaned forward, nearer to the glass.  Another boy walked in.  Keaton Sailor, 753.  His teachers always had great things to see.  Hopefully, he was good enough to join the ranks.  Oralie pressed the intercom, speaking the first task.  Keaton nodded.  He looked at the ceiling, thinking, and then, in the fastest transition Nix had ever seen, there was no longer a boy.  Instead, a black panther stood in his place.   Nix smirked. 

Looks like this year just got a little bit better.

•

Dare and Keaton were sitting in their bunks, reading, when Rette walked through the door.  Actually, Dare was sitting in her bed.  She cocked her head, and closed the door behind her with a bang.  Both boys quickly abandoned whatever they were reading, looking at her with expecting eyes. 

"Well?"  Dare asked. 

She crossed the room, sitting beside Keaton.  She couldn't stomach sitting next to Dare.  She'd turn to a puddle right before his eyes.  Like magic!   Rette couldn't do that.  She tried so hard to stay civil around him, but it was harder and harder to do every day.  She wished that one day, Dare would say something about... whatever you call this because she hated, absolutely loathed being the girl who couldn't help but think of what the boy thought of them. 

Sheesh, what was she turning into? 

"It was good," Rette swallowed.  "I think they sounded pleased.  At least, I hope they did."  She let out a small giggle, smiling sheepishly when two boys stared at her with questioning looks on their faces.  Perhaps they were questioning her sanity.  But who knows?  "How-"  She was cut off by Keaton. 

"Did they say anything about when results would be posted?"

Rette nodded.  "Tomorrow morning. At breakfast."  Keaton responded with a slight shake of his head, and slid his hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. 

Rette sighed, wondering why she couldn't like Keaton.  It would certainly be easier.  Dare was trouble; just look at his name, for crying out loud.  But Keaton reminded her too much of an older brother she never had, but always wanted.

Too late, she realized that Dare had asked her a question.  "Huh?" she muttered.  Keaton and Dare exchanged a look filled with humor.  At her expense.  Rette lightly fisted Keaton on the shoulder, sending him back on the bed, hand on his chest, faking hurt.  "Oh, shut it."

"Sorry, Waar.  But I asked if they mentioned anything about the results,
like what jobs we got."  Rette turned on him, brows raised. 

"You're serious?"  He nodded. Rette laughed out loud.  "Like they would tell me, a subject, anything about the Placings."  She jabbed a finger in his chest, after walking the few steps to her bed.  "You're even crazier than I am." 

Suddenly, Dare pulled her forward and under him on the bed.  She turned an embarrassing shade of crimson, dying.  His face was so close to hers, she could count the eyelashes framing the pale blue eyes that hypnotized her from the start.  Shut up, Rette! she told herself.  You are not one of those girls, nor will you ever be!  Ugh!  Why couldn't she have some morals?  Or maybe a fragment of common sense? 

"Come on, Waar.  We all know you're crazier than the rest of us."  He leant down closer, Rette's heartbeat becoming frantic.  His lips grazed her right ear.  "But don't worry.  Crazy looks good on you."  He backed away, shooting a smirk at her; the same smirk that woke the butterflies in her stomach.  She swallowed, urging them to go away. 

And when she thought she was free of him, he fell on top of her again, kissing her cheek. 

If she were braver, she would've turned her head.  If she were brighter, she would've pushed him away.  If he did this to her any longer, her heart would rip out of her chest.  Again, he left her on the mattress, talking to Keaton about hitting the training rooms. 

Once the door was shut and they were gone, Rette placed her fingertips on the spot of her cheek that tingled, just slightly.  The spot where Dare's lips had been not moments before.  Her head became fuzzy, filled with thoughts of Elphias Dare.  No! She internally screamed.  She berated herself on the inside, but still, Dare slipped through her thoughts.  The thoughts that were supposed to be clear of anything but her Test. 

Damn him!  Rette groaned, falling back on her bed in defeat. That boy would be the end of her.