Mason wasn't necessarily shy, she was just... precautious. She always made sure there were at least two exits whenever she entered an unfamiliar room. Whenever she was with someone she didn't particularly trust, or know that well, she would put her back to the wall so no one could sneak up behind her. She had a kinda-always-scared demeanor, flinching at loud sounds and sudden changes in light and movement. But Mason wasn't shy. She just preferred to not be the odd one out. She didn't like being the center of attention or the unique and different one in a crowd. Unfortunately for Mason, she would soon be the odd one out. The very odd one indeed.

***********

Mason surged forward, a strong gut feeling telling her to walk towards the middle tunnel. She kept her face looking straight ahead, not even glancing at the other students she passed. The tunnel she went into had smooth marble walls with a blue stripe running down the center.

Mason reached the end of the tunnel to see a towering large wooden door in front of her. She was one of the first students to reach the wall, so she wasn't surprised that the door was closed, but there was no handle to open the door. For some reason, the same gut feeling that told her to walk down the tunnel also was telling her to just walk through the door. So she closed her eyes and walked forward until a loud cheering sound reached her ears, and she knew she had made it to the other side.

Suddenly the cheering died down and an eerie silence filled the room instead. Mason opened her eyes and saw a huge room with a domed ceiling. From a circular skylight a beam of sunlight streamed into the room, reflecting off of the marble floor. A white banner hung from the ceiling with the words "Powell Power!" painted on in blue.

A lone voice called out from the now silent crowd. "You're in the wrong place! This is the Powell Cohort!"

Mason's face turned red and she looked around, confused. An older boy, probably around 17 or so, approached her. "The tunnels never lie." He clapped her on the back and turned to the rest of the students. "Gentlemen, we have our first female thrafter."

"Welcome to the Powell cohort. Today you will be asked to display your thraft before a panel. They will then make your schedule based on what classes they believe you need to take. Good luck and Godspeed to you all." The teacher pointed the first years to a hall way.

"Alphabetical by last name, please." Another teacher commanded to students to form a line. The students shuffeled around, muttering last names to each other and trying to try to sort out the confusion. As soon as they were set, a door at the end of the hall flung open.

The first child glanced around inside the room before a voice called for him to enter. The door swung shut after he left the hallway. A few minutes passed in the hall, and then the next kid was beckoned in.

Mason slid down the wall and sat on the groud, fidgeting with her hoodie strings. The boy sitting to her right looked her over and then scooted away from her. The boy on her left, however, scooted closer to her.

"I'm Patterson," He said in an accent Mason could not detect. He extended a hand out to her.
"I'm Mason." She replied, mumbling slightly, and shaking his hand.

"What's it like?" He asked her. "Being the first girl, I mean."
"I dunno. I guess I haven't been here long enough. I mean, we only got here an hour or so ago." Mason said, shrugging.
"I guess you're right. Well, what's your story, anyway? I'm from London, but I lived in Trinidad until I was almost two. My mom's a thrafter, my dad's a lander. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."

Mason grinned. "I'm from Montreal. What's your Thraft?"

"I take after my mom, I'm a marksman. Give me any firearm or a bow and a target and I can't miss. What about you?"

"Well, the term my friends back home used was super strength, but the lady with the wings said it was 'enhanced strength'? Or something fancy like that." Mason replied shrugging.

Patterson grinned. "That's so cool! So can you lift boulders and stuff?" He asked her.

"I dunno yet. I guess I don't know a lot of things." Mason laughed.

The line was shortening surprisingly fast. The next to person to enter was a short boy who Mason could tell had the last name 'Linley' by the name on his soccer jersey.

Mason and Patterson talked for a while before it was his turn to go in. He crossed his fingers and grinned at her. "Wish me luck."

Mason flashed him a quick smile before he entered the room.

Mason breathed in quickly. What should she do? Hopefully they would have heavy things in there. Right? Or was it an empty room? Before Mason could sort out her thoughts, the door opened once again. She stepped in cautiously, before breathing a sigh of relief. The room just looked like a gym, with a few new obvious differences, like the firing range to her right, the set of fancy computers to the left, and a random table with an empty chair in the middle of the room. Three older men, presumably the 'judges' sat behind a long table along the back wall.

"Name please." One of the men said in a monotone voice.

"Mason Rodriguez." She said, her voice echoing around the room.

The men mumbled a few words to each other a jotted something down. Finally the man in the center looked up at her. "Well? Get on with it." He said, sounding annoyed.

Mason cleared her throat and walked over to a rack of spears. She grabbed the thickest one, a longer spear with a metal shaft, and bent it in the middle with her bare hands.

The judges sat up and one of them raised his eyebrows.
"Thank you, Mason Rodriguez," The judge on the right smiled at her. He waved his hand at the door and it opened. She took this as a sign to leave and exited through the door. As she was leaving, the judge called out to her once more.

"And good job."

• • • • •
Authors Note
Can you spot the Harry Potter reference? 😉