SWORD ACADEMY (censored)
CENSORED 48: GRADY

Ainsley’s shifting uncomfortably in her seat at our center table in the Oculus. She must’ve gotten knocked on her haunch at the Stadium. Gauging by the smile on her face that’s showing all the teeth, I have to assume she ended up winning the spar. Or maybe it’s a Beckett smile, and since Beckett’s conveniently absent, I grab my bull friend by the horns.

“So…” I wrinkle my muzzle. “What’s got you smiling so hard?” My mouth’s just too excited to hold the load and keeps right on squirting before she can even respond. “Was he everything you were hoping for and more?”

She grins the biggest grin, so I know we’re on the right track.

“Where did he take you?” I yip.

Her grin fades away like she suddenly needs to take a giant dump. Huh. Maybe we’re on the wrong track.

“The doggone date! Where did he take you?” I bay.

She frowns. “Oh, you mean Beckett.”

We aren’t even on the same track. Who else would I mean?

“Last night…” she hangfires.

She starts to explain, but then Pritchett sits right down across from us. Like I needed a reason to dislike the little fart more. My earth spark rumbles its agreement.

“Go the heck away,” I growl.

“Pritchett’s one of us now,” Ainsley suppressive fires. “No one gives him any grief.”

The heck? If I was confused before, I’m totally stunned now. She dislikes the punk as much as me, probably more. I turn to ask her what is even happening when Luke sits down next to her. Like right beside her and practically in her lap. He puts his arm around her, and she doesn’t break it. Or punch him in the propellers. Or do anything with those glorious Pamplona bull horns invoking the bloodshed he deserves for daring to breathe the same air as her. She just looks at him with that blessing of a smile returning to her lips.

Sunny sits down, and I know what I have to do because I’m clearly dreaming. “Pinch me. I need to wake up.”

She doesn’t question me, but she doesn’t just pinch the arm I extend to her either. She tweaks my nipple so hard I squeal like a little wussy, sure it isn’t even attached to my chest anymore. Satisfied she’s fulfilled my request, she proceeds to draw her carving knife and starts decorating the table.

Before I can demand answers from Ainsley, Fiona arrives with Frank in tow. She slams her hands down on the table to get our attention. “We did it!” she clonks.

“What did we do?” I yowl, hoping I might get some answers finally.

“The petition worked!” she squooshes. “They passed the law this morning opening up all libraries. Regulars and Sparklers alike can access all texts!”

“People, for spark’s sake,” Ainsley snicks.

“People.” Fiona squidges up her nose. “Anyone can read anything they want. I can’t even express how filled with joy I am right now. I rushed here to share the news.” She looks around, and her eyes fall on Luke. She has the same stunned expression on her face as me. It feels nice to not be the only one sitting here without a clue about what the heck is happening. “Where’s Beckett?” She squint-eyes Pritchett. “Why are you here?”

“Pritchett’s one of us now,” Ainsley quickfires. “No one gives him any grief or else they answer to me.”

Even Luke is looking at her like she’s lost her marbles down the spark well.

“Beckett got expelled,” Pritchett answers quietly. That dull dolt is suddenly the brightest bulb in the room.

Ainsley reaches over to hold my hand. It further confuses me at first, but as she squeezes it, I start to get scared. She knows what happened. Worse, she was involved. But if she kicked the junk off him or something, wouldn’t she be the one expelled?

“Why?” Fiona clatters.

Ainsley’s grip on my hand tightens even further. Luke isn’t in the best shape either. He keeps looking from Ainsley to Pritchett to see whose lips are going to start spilling first. She takes hold of Luke’s hand on the other side, but it isn’t the same hold she has on mine. Where she’s seeking support from her bestie, she’s trying to calm that white horse down. Only, it isn’t working for crap. His fist is curled up into a tight little knot inside hers, and his other one’s twinning hard next to it.

Pritchett turns to Ainsley as if asking for permission to explain. She shrugs, and he takes that as consent. “Beckett’s in a Regular hospital recovering from trauma wounds inflicted on his person as a result of not understanding a clear no. He’s been expelled and stripped of his Orderly status indefinitely. Upon release from the hospital, he will automatically serve five years in a Regular jail. Upon sentence served, he will be required by law to maintain five hundred metres at any given time from the person he assaulted. Said person does not in any way have to come forward or be involved in the process at all. They are, however, encouraged to seek trauma counselling to help them move forward if they desire. It is their choice and not mandatory.”

“Ainsley?” I whine.

Luke jerks his hand free from Ainsley’s before banging both fists on the table. Trays and silverware scatter in an attempt to flee. He scuds off before any harm can befall them.

“I’d better go talk to him,” Ainsley holsters. “Pritchett, please tell them what happened, so they’ll understand it isn’t as traumatic as it sounds.” Now she addresses the rest of us. “I’m not talking about this horsecrap again. Period. Got it?” She magnifies her scopes before narrowing them on each of us, daring us to argue. We don’t. Obviously. “I’d rather none of you dwelled on that ballkabob either. I’m definitely not gunna.”

“What the heck happened?” I demand as soon as she’s left.

“We need all the details,” Fiona squeaks.

“And the location of the Regular hospital,” Frank bumbles.

Pritchett seems like he’d rather a giant vortex open up and swallow him whole than answer us.

“What. Happened. To. Skittles?!” Frank whoops.

Pritchett lets out an unsteady breath. “Beckett assaulted her. I arrived before he’d…he had clear intent. She used the distraction of my arrival to get free of him and beat him down hard. Very hard. Like he deserved. She broke his jaw and almost all his ribs which punctured his lungs, liver, spleen, and kidneys. She also broke his junk. With her shoe. By stomping on it. Then she skewered his jewels with the heel of that shoe.”

“You stopped him?” Frank needs the confirmation as much as I do.

Frank looks at Fiona like he’s asking her a silent question.

She shakes her head. “We were never alone.”

“Whether he succeeded or not doesn’t change what she went through.” He looks down at the table, ashamed of himself. “I didn’t stop it soon enough.”

Fiona squinches her brow. “How’d they process him so fast?”

“I reported him,” he admits. “They have cameras all along the perimeter, but they only look at the footage if there’s an issue. With my father in the Order—”

“But they didn’t go lenient on him,” Fiona clanks. “Your father—”

“My father pushed for the sentencing last night,” he shoots back. “He’s a good man who does the right thing.” A beat of awkward silence passes before he speaks again. “I think maybe she’s in shock.”

Fiona squelches a sigh. “She’s not in shock. She has a faulty measuring stick when it comes to processing trauma. She needs to talk to someone.”

“There’s nothing faulty about Ainsley,” I bark. “She just experiences things differently. Differently doesn’t mean wrong. She needs to be allowed to process this whatever the heck way it takes for her to heal from it. Those steps are her choice. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, we aren’t talking about it. Final answer.”

“So, we just do nothing?” Frank buzzes.

“Not nothing,” I snap, turning to Pritchett. “Firstly, thank you for what you did. Secondly, what Regular hospital?”

“Scintilla East General.”

I rise from the table and direct my attention to Sunny. “Stay with Fiona. Me and Frank have somewhere to be.”

Sunny smirks and stands up beside me. “Screw that. I’m showing that ballkabob what happens to soft mouths.”

I tremor.

Frank and I tromp out of the Oculus with some skull cracking to attend to. And Sunny, well, she’s coming with us too, but she’ll be cracking a different sort of egg, and that crap yolk is going to land right in Beckett’s soft mouth pan.

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