Sparks by RS McCoy Read Free Book Online Page A

I was glad at least that many more were not. I practically dove inside when I found my door, thirty-second from the dining hall , on the right.
    Alone in my room, I took the time to evaluate at my new home, despite how much I suddenly despised being there. The bed was draped with a navy blue comforter and was large enough for four of me. The mattress itself was fully stuffed with feathers. The frame was forged of iron, with a large M on the headboard that I assumed stood for Myxini, though I still had no idea what that meant.
    The bedframe alone would have been enough to trade for a house and additional land back home. It would have changed my parents’ lives completely. And to think, there are likely hundreds like it.
    As Avis had said, several sets of clothes were placed in the drawers of the oak dresser, dark green tops to go with brown bottoms. I laid my bow and quiver against the stone wall in the corner then folded and put away the clothes I wore from home. I wished I still had my father’s ring to place there as well. He would be so disappointed if he knew.
    I returned to the dining hall and observed the other students: where they got their bowls, what they said to the woman, where they sat. The magnitude of thoughts in the room was enough to significantly distract me, but I managed to get an idea of what it would take to get some food.
    I managed to mimic what I’d seen the other students do, grabbing a tray, plate, and some silverware from a table in the corner, and stood in line. The woman stared at me for a long moment, as if she wanted to decide whether or not to toss me out, but poured me a bowl of stew all the same and sent me on my way. By then, I came to the last part. Where do I sit? Everyone seemed to be part of their own little group, but I didn’t see Khea or Micha anywhere, so I sat at one of a few empty tables . It’s better this way, I doubt I could carry a conversation for long anyway. I’d barely had time to enjoy the hearty potato stew–the woman might have been an old bag, but she knew how to cook–when I was put to the test.
    “So you’re a Tracker?” A boy said as he sat across from me.
    “Huh?”
    “Your coverings are dark green. That’s the color of a Tracker.” I noticed he must have been a Tracker as well, but the concentration of thoughts all around me made me unsure which were his. “I’m Jhoma. Round Three Tracker. You?” As he spoke he pointed to two black strips of fabric that wrapped around his left sleeve.
    “Uh, Lark. I’ll start Round One tomorrow.”
    “You haven’t even started yet? Damn you’re fresh! Who’s your mentor?”
    I sighed when I was forced to remember, “Avis.”
    “Man, that sucks. No one’s graduated from Round Ten with Avis, as far as I know.”
    “He doesn’t look that old. How many students could he have had?”
    “If you burn out your students as fast as he does, you have time for a lot. Sorry to hear that, man. Where you from anyways?”
    “Just a village.” A fishing village on the west coast that is too insignificant to even make it on the map. The discord in my head at least helped to block the unpleasant memories of home. I didn’t want to think about it since I had started to learn how little success I was likely to have at Myxini.
    “Hey, don’t be so down. Give it a few days, and–you know what, if you need help, just come by and I’ll do what I can. My door has a little piece of red fabric tucked between the stones. Can’t miss it.”
    Jhoma stood and moved to put his bowl on another table that was stacked high with dishes. It seemed like he had eaten quickly, but in reality I just ate that slowly. It took considerable concentration to finish my soup and head back to my room. Thankfully, it was far enough from the dining hall to offer some escape.
    After an hour of boredom, I was too frustrated to stay put any longer, so I decided to search for Khea and Micha. Hopefully they’d fared better than I had, and hopefully