The sheet of paper on the table in front of me sat like a knife poised at my heart. This was the moment. The hard work and overall suffering I'd endured for 12 years came down to this. I would sink or swim. My not knowing how to swim was irrelevant. It only meant I had better learn double fast 'cause drowning wasn't an option. I heard mom's voice telling me to put my mind to it, and I'd figure it out. Yeah, I'd figure it out, I told myself. I knew I could—knew I would. I straightened my back as I took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Exciting," Yasuko whispered as she turned back from draping her blazer over the back of her chair.

I glanced up.

Her black and white button-down shirt accented her slim figure perfectly.

Blushed.

Focused on the blank paper.

Mind's eye generated soft curves.

Eyes flicked up.

Breath held.

She displayed an amused smile on her violet, glossy lips.

Paniced.

Pretty paper to look at!

Couldn't concentrate on anything else.

Confidence vanished.

I grumbled hopelessly to myself.

Listen to the instructor, idiot! Listen to the instructor.

"For the first part of the exam," Mistress Graves said, walking around the room passing out blank sheets of paper, "you'll be given a scenario and you'll write your best plans on how to achieve your goal for your particular Situation. If you didn't come prepared with a writing utensil, you're probably not R.S. material. That said, pencils are on the table by the door."

A hand went up. She ignored it.

"Master Stevens is passing out your Situations now. They are not the same, so forget about looking to the others at your table for the answers. Everything you need to know is on the paper Master Stevens gives you. Read it." She stopped at the kid with his hand up and looked down at him. "There will be no talking for any reason. If the person next to you is dying, you will keep silent."

She pointed a slender finger at Nikita, short nails painted pink and flawless. "Don't open the Situation envelopes until I tell you to!"

Nikita dropped her envelope and scoffed, "Fine." Eye roll.

Mistress Graves moved too quick to track. She stood behind Nikita and had the mean girl's head pinned to the table before I knew what had happened.

She bent over Nikita; her boobs pressed into the mean girl's back. She hissed into her ear, "No one gave you permission to speak." She slammed the manila folder on the table.

I startled at the sound, as did others.

Multiple eyes watched the scene unfold. Nikita pinned to the table by the teacher. Mistress Graves' striking face twisted in anger. Even Master Stevens had stopped to observe. The surreal moment had me wondering if I imagined what I witnessed.

The clock that hung over the entrance door made the only sound in the room. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Master Stevens cleared his throat and continued his task. "As fun as this is time's tickin'," he rumbled.

Mistress Graves pulled back and spoke as if nothing happened. "No talking. No questions. Everything you need to know is in your Situation."

I couldn't tear my eyes from Nikita. Though her face showed no expression, I noticed her trembling. Her earlier display of confidence now a shell filled with a shadow. What was she thinking? I'd be embarrassed beyond belief. There wouldn't be a hole deep enough to hide in, a place to get away from those who stared and judged. A fleeting revelation entered my mind. I stared at her, which made me one of those people I dreaded. Hypocrite.

Nikita turned to glare at me as if she knew somehow I watched her. I hastily looked at my hands in my lap. Shit.

A white envelope dropped in front of me. I peered at it before I took out a pencil from my jacket. In neat scrawl in the middle of the envelope was the number thirty-seven. The script was elegant and flourished. It looked beautiful, like the calligraphy I'd seen in a few of the history books I read. Was it Mistress Graves writing? So engrossed in the envelope that it took a moment to realize there was a light but constant tapping on the table. I looked up.

Yasuko shot me a grin. "Good luck," she mouthed, followed by a flash of her first two fingers in the peace sign.

I couldn't resist that smile and shot her one of my own. My heart fluttered as her smile grew, settling into her eyes. Did I imagine they twinkled or did it happen?

"Begin," Master Stevens barked.

This is it. The envelope was unsealed, making the contents easy to access. On the plain sheet of paper inside, a typed paragraph read:

You've just broken into the bank that holds the personal assets of the richest corporate rats in the country. You know the silent alarm was triggered by an employee before you were able to secure them. What is your priority? Will you take hostages? Have your plans changed knowing Heroes are likely on their way?

I quieted my rambling thoughts as I pictured the scenario on the sheet. Robbing a bank during the day was stupid, to say the least. Who did that nowadays? Even my parents knew better than to hit a bank in the day. I read through the rest, measuring out my response, but I couldn't get passed the obvious. There's no way I'd plan or execute a bank heist during operating hours. Should I write that or not?

I glanced around with my eyes only, not moving my head. The others scribbled down answers or were looking at their sheets. I took a slow, deep breath. There wasn't a better way to answer than with honesty. With my answer written, I folded and turned my paper over.

With that done, I let my eyes wander the room. No one else was done, and no one looked around. Then I noticed something odd. Mistress Graves and Master Stevens had disappeared. The doors to the Hall were closed. When did that happen? By the time I noticed the faint hissing noise, my eyes drooped. I shot to my feet only to wobble on weakened legs and fell into blackness.

The beat of a drum woke me. Not usually an aggressive individual, I wanted so much to beat the person who banged on the drum to a bloody pulp. My head felt cloudy and my body heavy like I did the morning after the one time I secretly drank half of the bottle of dad's "good whiskey." When I tried to open my eyes, it was like waking in a dream where you had no control over your body no matter how hard you tried. My eyes fluttered and shut, refusing to cooperate. I opened my mouth to speak, but grimaced at the bitterness that coated my tongue. The kale mom made me eat came to mind.

After I don't know how long, I forced my eyes open, and blinked several times before they stayed on their own. The scratchiness against my eyeballs from lack of moisture burned every time I blinked. Moving my hands up to rub them was like moving limbs that were asleep. Arms lifted and then fell after only a few inches. Maybe it was centimeters. Not sure. I finally got them up and rubbed my eyes to stop the burning. It took a moment before I could concentrate through the dimness and watery eyes.

Shapes moved.

Voices spoke.

Drum beat.

"Stop!" My attempt to shout produced pain in my skull. The drum beat louder as I held the misery that was my head.

A warm hand touched my arm. I shivered, which rippled pain through me.

"You're cold," said a sweet voice through the roar of pain.

Something covered my torso. It smelled fruity. Pictures of a sunny day looking up at the blue sky with rolling clouds filled with laughter cut through the haze of pain. I smiled.

"Yasuko," I breathed her name without thinking.

"Yes! Sydney, can you sit up?"

I gazed at her soft features for a moment and nodded slowly. "Stop the drum. Can you?"

"Uh, there isn't a drum."

I touched my ear. "It hurts."

"It's a headache. We all have them."

She helped me sit up—her hand on my lower back. My head exploded again as waves of pain rolled to the beat of...my heartbeat. It's not a drum. I made a guttural noise when the nausea rumbled in my gut. No! I could handle a lot, but barfing in front of other people was not gonna happen. A memory of mom helping my aunt the day of my Uncle's funeral popped into my head. Mom wanted her to stop crying. She told her to breathe slowly in through her nose, hold it for a second, then release it out of her mouth slowly. It worked after a bit for my aunt. I had nothing to lose, so I tried it.

Slow breath in.

Hold.

Slow breath out.

Repeat.

It helped ease whatever was happening. As the throbbing dulled, the voices became clearer. They argued about what to do. I didn't recognize them and didn't care to be honest. The hand on my back rubbed in soft circles that felt pleasant and safe, as if wrapped in a blanket. The world could fade away and it wouldn't matter. I shivered, suddenly aware that I wasn't wearing my jacket.

"How're you feeling?"

To have Yasuko there, talking to me, concerned about my well-being should have been an anxiety ridden joy. But I thought that if I opened my mouth to talk, I'd spew everywhere. Instead, I smiled and nodded. Her sweet expression mirrored ones she made in my dreams. If my stomach hadn't been in full-on riot mode, I could've believed it was a dream.

"If you're done jacking off the nook, maybe you could be helpful?" The unmistakable, irritating voice of Nikita cut any thought of a dream to shreds. She ignored me and hauled Yasuko away in dramatic fashion.

It gave me time to sort out where the hell we were. I rubbed my chilled hands on my pants as I gradually took in the dim room. We were in a room with no windows and no door. Plain walls, plain tile floor, and no furniture or fixtures to speak of other than a switch on the wall. For a light, I guessed. Light.

My mind snapped into focus. With no light on in the room, how could I see? I searched for the source but found nothing that would tell me where it came from. Determined to understand the light mystery, I gingerly got to my knees and then my feet, resting when my head thundered. I walked the perimeter of the room, searching, working out the details of the situation as I did—a feeling of unease cloaked me.

Through the receding haze of waking, I remembered we'd been taking a test. No, an exam. The entrance exam. Then—what happened? I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to remember what happened. A thread of memory hung just out of reach. A ripe fruit that I knew I could pick if I stretched far enough. The image shattered with the voice that came out of the silence, fueling the anger that allowed natural transition into Facade.

"Finally," Nikita sneered at me, "you're up. Be useful."

I rounded, blazing at her shitty timing. "Shut up. I'm trying to think." I worked to capture the memory from before, but whatever it had been there had disappeared. I rubbed my temples and huffed at Nikita, whose pale blue eyes had shrunk to a pinpoint glare.

The room went dead silent except for my heavy breathing.

"You fuckin' serious right now?"

"This doesn't make sense."

"Hey, bitch. I'm talkin' to you."

She was on me before I realized she'd moved. I heard Yasuko and the two others with us, a guy and a girl, but didn't understand them. My focus was on Nikita's hands on my shoulders, pushing my body backwards. Heightened by my anger, I reflexively turned the tables on her. I grabbed her wrists from the top as I twisted to the right and used her momentum to spin her around and slam her against the wall. Still holding her wrists, I thrust high into her chest, her arms awkwardly crossed.

"Don't," I said, looking into her wide eyes.

Nikita opened her mouth to gape, but only for a moment. A snarl replaced the shock on her face. "Get off me, nook." She tried to knee me, but the thick denim thigh-high leggings and heeled boots she wore made her slow. I shoved my hip sideways and into her, rendering her attack useless.

My eyes locked with her's. Breathing steady and measured, I didn't move.

"Sydney?" Yasuko's tentative voice reached me like a caress in a sea of red. "Fighting isn't helping."

The anger that shrouded me drained away with her words. Were it anyone else, they would have royally pissed me off, but I couldn't be mad at her. Sure, there was a real possibility that she was playing me. Maybe she'd seen me watching her from my window all these years. Maybe she was as big a bitch as Nikita. Maybe I was a dumbass fool who made up a fantasy love about a girl I didn't know. That didn't change the fact that I melted around her. Her voice was sweeter in person than in my imagination.

I stepped back from Nikita before I released her. She stepped towards me as if to attack again. I tensed, but the fight had left me, as did the confidence that allowed me to become Facade, my villain persona. That's what dad called it, at least. I'd be no match for Nikita now. I took rapid, shallow breaths.

"Now that we shelved the violence for a tick, how do we get out of a room with no doors or windows?" Yasuko said, spinning in a slow circle.

Nikita took two more steps toward me. I stepped back.

"This isn't over," she hissed.

I looked to Yasuko, who either didn't hear or pretended like she didn't.

"What's your grand plan, nook?"

"W-What?" I stammered.

Nikita bore holes in to my face with her glare. "You obviously have something planned." She crossed her arms over her chest, foot tapping, and waited for my answer.

At a loss, I held my breath. It wasn't a conscious action. It just happened sometimes. I didn't have a plan, but I couldn't say that. What would I look like if I showed strength one moment and uncertainty the next? I'd look like the miserable homeschooled girl I was with no confidence or friends. The girl who lived under strict rules, told when to do everything by parents who gave no quarter. So, I stared, lips pressed together, lungs about to explode.

"Guys?" Yasuko said quietly, pointing at a door. "Was that there before?"

I choked a breath, "No."