Academia

He bites his nails and he picks at his cuticles. And I can't stand it. But I do.

I see him walking out of the Academy alone, with a quick stride and his gaze fixed on the ground. I get a good view of the drive from my classroom window. I stare hard, eagerly. This is one of the few chances I get a day, since lesson times are staggered so that initiates don't mix at the gate on their way out. First the Greys, then the Blues and then the Greens.

I don't mind being last. It means we arrive last as well so at least we get to sleep in. Also, it means we don't have to spend much time with the telepaths, who arrive and leave first. At least he isn't a telepath. I don't think I could live with myself if he was.

His navy blue robes sway in the breeze as he makes his way home. He looks preoccupied. When I pass the noticeboard on my way out an hour later I find out why. An important-looking sheet of paper has been pinned in the centre. Test days are out. Under the caption "Nous Academy, Final Examinations" there are three columns, reading "Monday 17th of June,  Telepathy", "Tuesday 18th of June, Teleportation" and "Wednesday 19th of June, Telekinesis". Each precedes a list of names and attached times. His is in the middle, at 11 am on Tuesday.

I walk home with a knot in my stomach. If he graduates he will leave. I still have a year left. By the time I get to my front door I've made up my mind.

Tuesday the 18th. I wake with a start. I breakfast hastily and pull my greens over my clothes as I leave the house at a run. When I arrive at the Academy, the courtyard is full of Blues milling around nervously. I scan their faces quickly and, making sure he's not among them, step into the entrance hall. It's already 11 am. I realise I don't know where to go, so I walk up to reception and ask the caretaker. 'Exams are taking place in Room 14' she says dryly. Then, eyeing me up shrewdly she adds 'Shouldn't you be in class?' 'It's my brother, I got a leave' I improvise. Without giving her time to check, I turn towards the east corridor, where rooms 10 to 20 are. I don't often come here, since this is the Teleportation wing, but I know it well enough. I stand before room 14, hesitant. Before entering, I take off my green tunic and stuff it in my bag. This way I'll stand a better chance of not being sent off to my class, where I should really be.

The door creaks so noisily I fear my mother will hear it back home. It annoys me. Everything in the Academy is state-of-the-art but still doors creak. So last century. With the door slightly ajar, I concentrate hard on an empty chair I can see inside the room, and make it slide backwards so that it scrapes the ground. This turns a few heads and I slip inside noiselessly, although not entirely unnoticed.

He has turned his head to watch me sit down at the back of the circular room as the examiner is finishing asking him something. I bite my lip. 'I'm sorry, could you repeat the question, please?' he says. 'I was asking what you would like to do when you graduate from the Academy.' 'Oh,' he replies, 'I'd quite like to teach here if I could.' 'Very well,' the examiner says briskly. 'If you would like to begin, in your own time.' My stomach flips. He's staying. Even next year he will continue to live here. That changes everything.

I take in my surroundings for the first time since I sat down. I was too concentrated on making sure I hand't distracted him. We are in a room not unlike an arena, with concentric rows of benches around a clear space of tiled floor. There are a few skylights and halogen lamps hang above the centre, flooding the circle with their sterile light. Two elements dominate the scene: a camp bed and a wooden hoop placed over a black arrow painted on the floor.

I remember my mother telling me how she passed Teleportation. The first part of the test requires you to disappear from the room, to anywhere you like. You then have up to a minute to reappear on the camp bed, lying down but facing the examiner. The last part is the most difficult because you can't move to prepare. You must teleport yourself from the bed to a standing position inside the hoop, facing the direction of the arrow. I might be as nervous as he is right now.

His eyes are closed and his jaw set. Suddenly he's not there. The examiner has her back to me, but I can see her looking at her watch. In less than ten seconds he is back in the room, horizontal on the camp bed. This time his eyes are wide open, and they meet mine. I notice his hands are clasped; he is picking at his hangnails. I smile in spite of myself, and he smiles too. Then he's gone again, only to reform instantly inside the hoop.

He is standing upright, and following the arrow's direction, but something has gone horribly wrong. He crumples to his knees, clutching his face with both hands. Two men in white uniforms get up from the first row to assist him. I suddenly notice blood seeping from between his fingers. Without thinking, I leap over the rows of benches to reach him, ignoring my surroundings. Nothing but him exists. As I step into the floodlit circle I slow down, suddenly uncertain whether I want to get close. Calmly, collectedly, I will myself to look away, and I feel weak for it. As I turn, my gaze falls on the camp bed. Resting neatly on a dark stain there are two small orbs: his amber eyes stare into mine, glazed over as if by tears.

To Periwinkle, with whom I spent three great years in class.