Chapter 3 : The Target

[Atticus]

“Let me go, Ace,” Evie screams. Even after dragging her away from Ms. Adare, she is bubbling over with the heat of her anger. “I am going to scrape her eyes out and then I’m going to shove them up her….”

I laugh as I hold onto my girlfriend. She’s always had such a short temper. When we first started dating in middle school, she almost got suspended for hitting another student in the head with an algebra book because she didn’t like how she ate her taco. It’s a good thing that she has me to help keep her balanced. Otherwise, she would have already burned the school down by now because she didn’t get exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. 

“Easy there, Tiger,” I joke as I loosen my grip just enough that she doesn’t feel confined while also keeping my arms around her in case I need to clamp down again. “She tripped and I caught her. Nothing else happened.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me!” her beautiful blue eyes are sparking with anger. With her long black hair and beautiful tan skin, she is an absolute goddess when she is mad. “It sure looked like you two were flirting!”

She’s not wrong, but I also flirt with everyone. Instead of admitting that she is right, I laugh harder, loving the power I have over her as I drive her absolutely crazy. 

“Do you really want to spend our next few hours of freedom in the dean’s office because you lose your cool?” I shrug “I mean, I have nothing better to do except maybe…” I give her a sly wink and she blushes. Leaning in, I whisper some of my intentions into her ear and her blush deepens with excitement. She knows I can deliver on my promises. We’ve had a physical relationship for two years now, partly because one of the benefits of being a legacy is that we have our own private dorm rooms. No roommates, no need to share. Just unlimited privacy to do whatever it is we want to do.

“Hey,” Lazarus comes up behind us, adjusting his tie. Of our crew, he is the only one who insists on wearing our ridiculous uniform every single day. It's almost like he feels a need to prove he belongs here by showing us all that he earned his place. “If you two are done having your little public makeout session, it’s time for us to meet,” he taps his watch.

Evie rolls her eyes. “Whatever, New Money,” she snarks. She never lets Laz forget that he isn’t really “one of us.” The only reason there was room in our crew for him to begin with was the absence of a representative from the Adare family. But Liliana Adare is not a real Legacy. We’d rather have an upstart wannabe than some fallen girls’ bastard.

Our crew moves gracefully together as we flow in unison through from the main hall out into the atrium and up the grand staircase. Only Legacies are allowed to go all the way up to the third floor. Unlike the rest of the students, we get our own separate floor divided evenly into seven pieces. It has always been this way since the school was founded over 200 years ago by our ancestors, the original seven. When one of us leaves, another takes our place, either a sibling or a cousin, someone who is a direct descendant.

There are always seven. No more, no less. Seven families to guide and lead the future of this school. 

When the Adare family seat remained empty for a generation, the rule of seven had been broken and we had to fill it with another family. If the Adare family were not near extinction, I’d say that in the future, it might have an Adare again. 

By right, Liliana should have Lazarus’ room. 

Except that the board said no. Including her grandfather. 

We don’t pause at our rooms but go directly to the Legacy Library, which is in the very center of the floor. 

As their leader, I get the honor of opening the library for the first time this year. Like every other room on this floor, it has been maintained all summer waiting for our arrival. All the brass, marble, and wood surfaces have been freshly polished. The leather chairs have been treated first with soaps and then with oils, and the carpets have been deep cleaned. Everything gleams even brighter than brand new, made even more special because every item in this room is rare or expensive. 

I sit at the head of a large oak table.  Evie, Veronica, and Lazarus take seats to my right while Simon, Zephyra, and Madison take seats to my left. These have always been our seats, with Lazarus being the first non-Adare to take the Adare seat, and as a tradition we always take our family seats, never shifting, never sharing. 

The reason behind this tradition has been lost to time, but the main reason any of us do any of these things is because they are tradition and it is expected. As Legacies, we have a lot of traditions.

And of our many traditions, the most important one is selecting “The Game.” 

The story goes that The Game first started as a way to enhance cooperation and competition among the Legacies. After leaving the school, many cohorts continue the game into the real world. What happens here at school is just practice. When we graduate from the Academy, each of us is ready to take a spot in the leadership of our family and the True Game that follows.

“Shall we begin?” I look around to see that everyone has settled. “Any proposals or addendums since our last meeting?

“I have a proposal,” Veronica speaks up, holding up a perfectly manicured hand, as she uses her other hand to adjust her stylish glasses around her short blond hair. “Every year we play several small games and have several targets. What if we tried something different? What if we have a game that lasts all year with a single target?”

“That might sound fun at first,” Simon blurts without bothering to wait his turn or raise his hand, his muscles flexing as he bends forward in his tight school shirt. “But wouldn’t it get boring?”

“It just means we’d have to plan it a bit more carefully,” Zephra yawns, rolling her eyes at Simon. Looking directly at Evie she adds. “I bet we could all come up with a name or two that we’d love to see receive extra attention this year.”

“Oh, I know exactly who I’d pick,” Evie confirms as she cracks her knuckles and rolls her shoulders back. “And I think you all do as well.”

There are nods all around the table. A few names are selected and placed in the center, but as Lazarus reads them out, one name shows up over and over again: Liliana Adare—the Legacy who isn’t a Legacy. 

“I think we have our choice,” I hold up Liliana’s name. “Shall we have one final vote?” 

Everyone closes their eyes and places their hands in the air. Thumbs up is yes, thumbs down is no. The final vote is unanimous. “It is decided. Liliana Adare will be our official target for this year’s game.”