forward, collapsing into me and then falling to the floor.
Standing behind him was the guy who’d run after Ms. Vaughn’s car. Curtis.
“He said he doesn’t want to join Havoc or the Society,” Curtis said. “That means he’s in the V’s.” He looked at me. “Isn’t that right?”
I couldn’t speak. I tried to nod, but my neck was immobilized.
“Let him go, Skiver,” Curtis snapped. The room was silent for a moment, and then the arms around my neck released.
I sucked in air and stumbled forward, turning to keep my face to Oakland and Skiver.
“You’re with the V’s, right?” Curtis said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Sure,” I said, and held my hand against my face to stop the nosebleed.
“Then let’s get out of here.”
He backed out of the room, and I noticed that there were six or seven guys moving with him.
Oakland climbed to his feet. “You’re dead, Fisher.”
I didn’t like getting pushed around. “Bring it on.”
Curtis put his hand on my shoulder and led me into the hallway.
“I’m Curtis. And that probably wasn’t wise,” he said, a smile breaking across his face.
I nodded. I didn’t know anything about Curtis, other than that he had tried to run and he warned me about the other two gang leaders. That was good, I guess, but the V’s—whatever they were—could be just as bad as the others. Not that it mattered. I just needed to get back outside. I wasn’t going to stay long enough for any of this to matter.
Curtis led me through the crowd and down the long corridor. Some of the onlookers we passed looked angry, but others gave me pats on the back and shouts of welcome. We passed room 421 and kept going.
“I think I’m in there,” I called out.
He shook his head. “We’re moving you down to the V end.”
We passed two hallways that branched off the main one. I stopped at the junction. One side was neat and tidy, with nameplates on each of the doors. The other was vandalized and cluttered. The walls were scrawled with graffiti and the floor was littered with loose papers and dirty clothes. Strings of Christmas tree lights were hung haphazardly along the ceiling, and a dozen bras were draped over them. It looked like a cross between a homeless shelter and a frat house.
“That’s Havoc’s row,” Curtis said. “Stay out of there.”
“Right.”
He pointed the other direction. “And that’s the Society’s place. Don’t let it fool you, though. They’re worse. Anyway, come on.”
We passed two more off-shooting hallways—they looked empty—before Curtis led me into a room just two doors down from the end of the main corridor. He stopped at the small sink and tossed me a washcloth. I pressed it against my nose.
A younger kid sat at a desk. Someone closed the door behind us.
“Glad to have you on board,” Curtis said, sitting on the lower bunk. Neither he nor the young kid seemed to have the same weird fashions I’d seen on the others. They were just wearing the uniform, nothing special. “Sorry about Oakland. The Society usually keeps him out of the way. There’s no way to stop Isaiah from jumping on all the new students—there are just too many Society guys—but they can usually fend Oakland off for a few hours.”
I pulled the rag off my face to see if the bleeding was slowing. It wasn’t, so I reapplied the cloth.
“Listen,” I said. “Thanks for coming in there, but I don’t think I’m going to be sticking around here very long.”
“That’s why you’re perfect for the V’s,” Curtis answered. He pointed at the other kid in the room. “This is Mason, by the way. Your roommate.”
I waved, and then stood and gingerly walked to the sink, my abdomen aching from Oakland’s punches. When I checked in the mirror, my face didn’t look too bad yet. My shirt was covered in blood, but I didn’t see any bruising.
“You’re trying to get out?” I asked.
“Some of us are,” Curtis said. “We don’t know how, but at least we’re not just accepting everything.”
“What’s the V stand for?”
“We’re the Variants,” he said. “The other two gangs are playing the game. Havoc—that’s Oakland’s deal— they just want to rule. Get as many points as they can, be in charge, party. The Society thinks that the only way we’re getting out of here is to play by the rules, roll over and do whatever Iceman tells us to. The V’s are everyone else. If you don’t want to be part of that other stuff, we’ll take you.”
“Iceman?”
Curtis laughed a little. “That’s what we call the guy who makes the announcements.”
I ran cold water through the towel, rinsing out the blood, and then put the cool cloth back on my face. “So what is this place?”
“Who knows?” Curtis said. “I’ve been here a year and a half, and none of it makes any sense.”
Mason spoke up. “I think they’re testing us. We’re rats in a maze.”
Curtis nodded. “A lot of guys think that. All the cameras always watching us. And every now and then they make us do weird things, like an experiment. Other guys think they’re training us for something. And some think maybe it really is a prison.”
“You guys do something that would put you in prison?” I’d been in plenty of fights in my life, but I doubted I’d done anything worthy of jail time.
Curtis shrugged. “No one has any ties to home—no friends, no family. With a life like that, not everyone was totally clean before. But I haven’t met anyone who did anything terrible. You?”
I shook my head. “No, just a foster kid.”
“That’s pretty common.” He stood up. “I’ll take care of changing your room assignment. Mason’ll show you around. Don’t worry about going down to the cafeteria tonight—we’ll find some food for you. For now, don’t go anywhere by yourself.” Curtis smiled. “You’ve pissed off Havoc—most new students just ignore Oakland or maybe take a couple hits.”
“I thought fighting was against the rules.” Then again, very little I’d seen in the dorm seemed to follow the rules.
“The rules are weird,” Curtis said with a tired shrug.
“I guess this wasn’t ‘violent fighting.’”
He smiled. “Exactly. Anyway, I’ll be back. Welcome to the V’s.”
He went out the door and closed it behind him.
“Don’t worry, Fish,” Mason said. “Just stay close to the rest of us. The gangs have a truce, and they won’t start anything big.”
I nodded and stood, walking to the small window. I could see a large track behind the school, and miles and miles of forest.
“I’m going to get out of here,” I said.
Mason shrugged. “Everyone says that.”
Chapter Five
I didn’t leave the room that night, and didn’t talk to anyone else. Curtis came back with lasagna and bread sticks. It was better than I expected—it tasted more like it came from a restaurant than a cafeteria. Mason sat up reading. I think that he expected me to ask him questions, but I stayed quiet in my bunk.
I went through the manual hoping it would have some answers, but it didn’t. It was mostly a retread of what I’d already heard—do this, don’t do that. There were no explanations for why any of the rules existed, and they weren’t even linked to punishments. I got the impression that the others had just figured out the punishments through experience.
Only twenty-four hours ago I’d been in my old foster home, lying awake, imagining how amazing my new life
