ARC: Crushed by Eliza Crewe Page A

me.
    “Don’t think I didn’t notice your cute little act. Can’t you even walk through the cafeteria without antagonizing anyone?” As if she’s bloody-damn Mother Teresa. More like a mother hen – and I am severely hen-pecked.
    I look to Chi for backup. His eyes go from Jo to me, back again, and then toward the ceiling.
    “Coward,” I hiss; at the same time Jo says, “ Chi .”
    “Err, ah.” He looks at Jo and clears his throat. “Meda, look. Part of being a Crusader is getting along with other Crusaders, not just me and Jo.” He warms a little to his subject, leaning in. “You’re going to be living with us, working with us, putting your life in our hands.” He doesn’t seem to notice my blanch. “Joining the Crusaders basically means surrounding yourself with us ‘till the day you die,” he finishes cheerfully.
    I look at him squinty-eyed. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you are.”
    The room gets unusually quiet and I notice a line of adults making their way into the room. Most of the Crusaders prefer not to eat with the hundred or so students crammed into the cafeteria. There’s usually only a few present for supervisory purposes, and old Crusader Crips who loves to give the prayer. Today however, Headmaster Reinhart and the Sarge lead a mixed group of Mountain Park Crusaders and Corps.
    I inspect Sargent Graff. Despite his grey hair, he doesn’t appear to be quite as old as Headmaster, who has a bit of a bend in his stance. He looks cool despite wearing a suit in a crowded, air-condition-less room – as if his pores wouldn’t dare exude water without his express permission.
    Jo’s paying attention to the new arrivals, so I look to Chi for an explanation as to why they might be here, but he only shrugs. Once the adults take their places, there’s a shuffling as everyone climbs to their feet for prayer. A throat clears. It’s the Sarge’s – another surprise. A brusque, warlike woman, she’s not one to spend a lot of time with children, and I find it hard to believe she’s suddenly offering to lead the morning prayer. I shoot an uneasy look at Jo and she trades a worried one back. The Sarge oversees the Crusaders in the field, and, after the attack at the last school, she’s taken over security. As in, she stops demons from sneaking onto campus – or, more relevant to me, students from sneaking off it.
    “Students, by now you can probably already guess what I’m here to talk about.” The Sarge’s laser-beam of an eye drifts over the crowd, the other long-replaced with a scar that twists half her face in a permanent grimace. Her gaze brushes over me but doesn’t pause. I take that as a good sign. I look back at Jo and see her forehead scrunch, then smooth.
    She can guess what’s coming, and we’re not caught. I let out a breath.
    The Sarge is speaking again. “As you may have heard from friends in the field, for the past several months the demon attacks have been increasing in number and ferocity, targeting not only Beacons, but the Crusaders assigned to guard them.” Her words are clipped and business-like. Several heads bob around the room. “I see no need to sugarcoat,” the Sarge says unnecessarily. As the broccoli on my plate evidences, they don’t sugarcoat anything around here, not even breakfast. “We believe they are just practicing, feeling us out for a full-blown attack.” She pauses half a breath, then, just in case we didn’t get it, she clarifies, “War is coming.”
    My attention snaps back to the Sarge’s grim face and I hear the babble of students around me. They may have predicted that the Sarge wanted to discuss the attacks, but apparently they did not predict this. War.
    One group stays silent – mine. I look around my little group and none of them look surprised, just tense and ill. Jo looks white enough to faint. None of them meet my eyes. Somehow they all knew already, and no one told me.
    “ War?” I hiss at Jo. “I