Chapter 2 - THE NOTE INSIDE MY LOCKERKAYISE
I wake up to someone screaming.
"CADETS! YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES TO GET OUTSIDE!"
I open my eyes.
For one beautiful second, I forget where I am.
Then I see the gray walls, the narrow beds, and Ryan practically falling off her mattress.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she mutters.
I check the clock.
4:30 a.m.
We went to bed barely five hours ago.
"Move!" I tell her.
"I'm moving!"
"You're sitting."
"I'm mentally moving."
Despite everything, I laugh.
We throw on our training clothes and rush outside with the other cadets.
The morning air is freezing.
Captain Thandi Ndlovu stands in front of us with her hands behind her back.
She is not the tallest instructor at the academy, but something about her makes everyone stand straighter.
"Good morning, future soldiers."
"GOOD MORNING, MA'AM!"
"That was embarrassing. Again!"
"GOOD MORNING, MA'AM!"
She smiles.
It is not a comforting smile.
"Better. Today, we find out whether your bodies are as enthusiastic as your mouths."
Ryan whispers beside me.
"I already hate today."
I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
Captain Ndlovu turns her head.
"Something funny, Cadet Mthembu?"
My spine stiffens.
"No, ma'am."
"Excellent. Then you won't mind leading the first five-kilometer run."
My smile disappears.
Ryan makes a tiny choking sound.
I glare at her.
She looks away.
Of course.
We start running.
By the second kilometer, my legs feel heavy.
By the third, my lungs are burning.
But I remember my father's voice.
Discomfort is information, Kayise. Listen to it, but don't let it make every decision for you.
I control my breathing.
One step.
Another.
Another.
I reach the finish line with a group of cadets close behind me.
Not first.
Not last.
Good enough.
At least until Captain Ndlovu approaches.
"Mthembu."
"Ma'am."
"Who taught you to regulate your breathing like that?"
"My father, ma'am."
"Military?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Rank?"
I hesitate.
I hate this question.
Not because I am ashamed of my father.
Because the moment people discover who he is, they start treating me differently.
"Major General, ma'am."
Her eyes narrow slightly.
"Mthembu."
"Yes, ma'am."
"As in Major General Mzikayise Mthembu?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Several cadets turn toward me.
Wonderful.
Exactly what I wanted.
Captain Ndlovu studies my face.
"Your father is not running this course."
"I know, ma'am."
"His medals will not earn you a single point."
"I understand."
"Good. Then earn your own."
She walks away.
Ryan slowly turns toward me.
"Your father is a Major General?"
I close my eyes.
"Please don't."
"You didn't think that was worth mentioning?"
"No."
"Kayise!"
"What?"
"My father owns a mechanic shop. You know that. I've told you about him approximately eight hundred times."
"And?"
"And your father is basically military royalty!"
"He's a normal person."
Ryan stares at me.
"Normal people don't have a rank in their names."
I laugh.
"Just promise you won't start acting weird."
She places a hand over her heart.
"I solemnly swear to continue annoying you."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, General's Daughter."
I elbow her.
She laughs so loudly that Captain Ndlovu orders us to clean the equipment shed after breakfast.
That is how my morning gets worse.
By the time we finish cleaning, our uniforms are dusty and my stomach is growling.
We barely have time to eat before our next class begins.
Instructor Smirnov enters carrying a stack of folders.
He looks exactly as intimidating as he did during our previous lesson.
"Today," he announces, "we discuss decision-making under uncertainty."
He distributes several pages.
The first contains a map.
The second contains a list of resources.
The third describes an emergency involving a remote community cut off by severe weather.
"You have limited transportation, limited communication, and more people in need than you can assist at once," he says.
"Your task is to design a response."
Finally.
Something interesting.
I study the map.
There is one accessible road, but it passes through a flood-prone area.
The community's medical center is on higher ground.
A school building could become a temporary shelter.
I begin writing.
Ryan leans toward me.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at the road network."
"Why?"
"Because sending every vehicle down the same road would create a bottleneck."
She nods slowly.
"Okay, genius."
"Stop calling me that."
When our time is up, Smirnov collects the papers.
He glances at mine.
Then glances again.
"Mthembu."
"Sir."
"Why did you allocate resources to establishing communication before sending additional vehicles?"
"Because without reliable information, we might send help to the wrong place while people somewhere else need it more."
He studies me.
"Interesting."
I cannot tell whether that is good or bad.
Then he places a different document on my desk.
"See me after class."
My stomach drops.
Again?
Does this academy have some personal problem with me?
When everyone leaves, I approach his desk.
"Sir?"
He hands me the document.
It is an information packet about an accelerated academic assessment pathway in information technology.
I frown.
"What's this?"
"An opportunity."
"To study information technology?"
"Among other things."
"But I haven't selected my academic specialization."
"I know."
"I was considering emergency operations."
"You can still pursue that."
He folds his arms.
"Technology and emergency response are becoming increasingly connected."
I look at the document again.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"Someone believes you have potential."
"Who?"
His expression becomes unreadable.
"That's not important."
I look up.
"Respectfully, sir, it's important to me."
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then his mouth curves into the smallest smile.
"You're going to be difficult, Mthembu."
"I just want to understand."
"Take the information. Think about it. No one is asking you to sign anything today."
I leave the classroom feeling uneasy.
Back at the dormitory, Ryan is sitting on my bed.
"Where have you been?"
"Being recruited into something I don't understand."
"Sounds like a normal Tuesday."
I sit beside her and show her the packet.
She reads it.
Then she becomes unusually quiet.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing."
"Ryan."
She forces a smile.
"It's a good opportunity."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I'm tired, Kayise."
I let it go.
But later, when she leaves for the showers, I notice an unfamiliar black envelope sticking out of her bag.
Before I can look at it properly, she returns.
And the moment she sees where my eyes are pointing, her expression changes.
"Don't touch my things."
I blink.
"I wasn't going to."
She snatches up the bag.
"Sorry. I'm just stressed."
I nod, but something about her reaction bothers me.
That evening, I go to my locker to get a clean shirt.
A folded piece of paper falls onto the floor.
I pick it up.
There is no name.
No signature.
Just one sentence written in block letters.
WHEN THEY ASK YOU TO CHOOSE BETWEEN YOUR FUTURE AND RYAN, REFUSE THE QUESTION.
I read it three times.
Then I look over my shoulder.
The corridor is empty.
And suddenly I realize something.
Someone knows exactly what is happening around me.
Someone knows about Ryan.
May you like
And someone wants me to know that my next test will not involve numbers or shapes.
It will involve my best friend.
