“Now, for centuries, we men have been protected from the terrible unknown creature on the other side of the Gate.”

Kole internally scoffed at his history teacher, Mr. Banally.  Mr. Banally constantly reminded Kole of a river otter with his bucked teeth protruding from underneath his bushy mustache.  He was lanky, taller than most of the men in the school.  He had large circular glasses perched at the bridge of his nose; he was constantly pushing them upward, trying to keep them in place—in vain of course.

But, more importantly than his appearance, Kole hated the way he taught.  Mr. Banally was so stubborn that your opinion didn’t matter in the four walls of his classroom.  All that mattered was that he was the teacher and he was always right.  A boy by the name of Farland contradicted him once the year before and found himself with a week’s worth of detentions.

No one had contradicted him since.

“Does anyone know what’s behind the Gate?” Mr. Banally challenged, leaning casually against the chalkboard in the front of the room.

Five hands rose in the air.  Kole stared at them all, internally feeling sorry for them.  They had no idea what—who—was really behind the Gate.  They had no idea that the people on the other side weren’t really dangerous at all.  They were friendly.  Sweet.  Shy. 

An image of Faye flashed before Kole’s eyes.  He could visualize the way her lips pricked up in a nervous smile, the curves of her lips steadily relaxing as the conversation went on.  He could see her play with her hair, a gesture that she seemed to take on when she was thinking an offer through.  He could see her in all her girlish glory.

“Kole, how about you?” Mr. Banally called suddenly, despite the fact that Kole, unlike his fellow classmates, had kept his hand tucked under his chin.

“Gir—a beast,” Kole replied, mentally cursing himself.  How could he have let it slip like that?  What if the Government had chosen that moment to play their security cameras on the classrooms?  They did that once and a while—watched classrooms as they were being taught, making sure that the teachers were following the rules.  Kole suddenly wondered if the Government was making sure that the teachers didn’t tell their students the truth about the Gate and what was behind it.  Was that at all possible?

“That’s right,” Mr. Banally said with a nod, either not hearing Kole’s initial response or ignoring it entirely.  “A beast.”  He stared around at everyone, his eyes bright.  Kole didn’t understand why.  Everyone had had this conversation thousands of times already.  Not a day went by when a teacher would ask, “What is the creature that lies behind the Gate’s borders?”

“And what, Carter Hengan, will the beast do if it escapes from behind the borders?” Mr. Banally continued, grabbing a ruler from his desk and pointing it in Carter’s direction.

“It will kill us all,” Carter replied automatically as though the answer came naturally to him.  And why wouldn’t it?  It was what they were taught to do their entire life.  What was behind the Gate?  A beast of course!  And what would happen if it escaped?  Total annihilation.  What exactly is the beast on the other side?  No one knows.

Kole’s eyes darted to the clock settled on the far side of the room, tick-tocking its way to the end of the class period.  Kole willed it to move faster, for time to speed up.  He needed class to end.  He needed the school day to end.  The sooner school let out, the sooner he could get to the Gate and to Faye.  He knew that he could be waiting there for hours for her to come—they’d agreed on the same time, after all—but he wanted to get there sooner than later.

Mr. Banally rambled on and on, insipidly informing everyone about the Gate’s dangers and how everyone needed to be more careful about where they hung out in the woods.  Kole blocked him out, his eyes trained on the clock.  At that moment he didn’t care that the Government would haul him off to the prison wards if they caught him.  He didn’t care that the Government was only trying to protect them from the beast on the other side.  He didn’t care that the beast would rip him to shreds.  All he cared about was meeting Faye again.

“Mr. Frost,” Mr. Banally said suddenly, pulling Kole from his reverie.  “Is there a reason why you’re looking at the clock instead of at me?”

Kole immediately turned away from the clock and back to Mr. Banally.  “Sorry,” he said, not feeling sorry at all. 

Mr. Banally opened his mouth as though to say something else but at that moment the bell rang, signaling that class was finally over.  Kole was up immediately, grabbing his bag and tossing his things aimlessly into the opened pocket.  His classmates followed pursuit—with significantly less enthusiasm—standing up, their chairs sliding behind them.  Kole zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder, giving a deep sigh before heading down the rows toward the front door.

He dodged Michael Berns, a lanky boy with dandruff-filled brunette hair, who was scratching his forehead as he stared blankly into space.  Usually Kole didn’t mind Michael—he was nice enough.  But today all he was was an unneeded obstacle that Kole would rather do without.

“Mr. Frost!” Mr. Banally called before Kole could reach the doorway.  Kole stopped mid-step, silently cursing.  Of course Mr. Banally would feel the need to reprimand him for not paying attention in class.  He always did.  Mr. Banally believed in order, and if you failed to keep in line, he’d keep you after class as long as he wished.  And, to Kole’s horror, that could be for a very long time. 

“Yes, Mr. Banally?” Kole mumbled, moving back toward the desk.  He watched grudgingly as his classmates flooded out the doors, happy to be done with class.  A few classmates shot him sympathetic glances, but other than that, they completely ignored the torture Kole was probably about to endure.

“You seem to have trouble paying attention in my class,” Mr. Banally drawled, leaning back on his desk.

Kole teetered on the heels of his feet, resisting the urge to take another glance at the clock.  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, bringing a hand through his hair.  At that moment he wished that he were somewhere else—anywhere else.  He didn’t care if he was stuck at Xia.  He just wanted to be out of Mr. Banally’s clutches. 

“Any explanations?” Mr. Banally cocked a furry eyebrow.  He waited a moment for Kole to answer.  After a moment he added, “Any at all?”

Kole chomped down on his cheek, willing himself to think of an excuse.  But what excuse could explain the fact that he was daydreaming about meeting a girl—a creature that no one on this side had ever heard of—again after trespassing into the Gate’s territory?  And what plausible excuse could he have for looking at the clock?  Everyone knew he wasn’t very outgoing.  He didn’t play sports, didn’t socialize more than he really had to.  He just went to school and went home.  That was it.

“No explanation then?”  Mr. Banally persisted after a few moments of awkward silence.  He sighed deeply, moving slowly behind his desk and toward his chair.  Kole kept his eyes locked on his teacher, dreading what was coming next.  He was trying to intimidate him, Kole realized as Mr. Banally paced his walks to keep Kole waiting.  He was trying to show him that he had something to fear. 

Well, it was most definitely working.

“I’m just . . .” Kole fumbled for words, but it seemed that words had completely deserted him, “distracted,” he settled on, knowing that he hadn’t given his teacher a good enough excuse.

“Distracted?”  Mr. Banally regarded Kole coolly.  “Well, I’d say so.  But what is there possibly to be distracted about when you’re learning in my class?”

Kole shrugged, not knowing what to say.

Mr. Banally smiled an icy smile, his teeth all but digging into his lower lip.  “Well, I have the perfect solution to your distraction problem.”  Kole cringed as Mr. Banally’s smile grew.  He watched nervously as his teacher grabbed a sheet of paper and a pencil from his desk.  Mr. Banally slid the contents in front of him, his eyes alight with anticipation.  “Write ‘I will not be distracted in Mr. Banally’s class,’ one-hundred times before you leave.” 

Kole inwardly groaned, taking the piece of paper silently and dragging his feet toward the front desk.  He flopped into the seat, dropping his backpack haphazardly onto the floor.  He glanced at the clock again.  He had approximately two hours before he had to meet Faye.

I will not be distracted in Mr. Banally’s class, Kole wrote, one hand tucked under his chin. 

One line down.  Ninety-nine to go.

The | Gate

Faye brought a hand through her hair, growling under her breath as she struggled to complete her English homework.  English had never been her best subject, nor had it ever been her favorite.  She had never been one for writing—nor would she ever be.  That was Terra’s thing.  She could remember when Terra used to sit on her bed, jotting ideas into her notebook, completely lost in her fantasy worlds.  Faye had tried to read her sister’s writing once, but Terra had snapped the book shut, making Faye promise that she’d never read what Terra wrote.  Even though Faye had been hurt and didn’t understand why Terra wanted to keep her writing a secret, Faye had agreed.

Faye bit her lip, willing herself not to think of Terra at a time like this.  She had to finish her homework so she could meet Kole.  She didn’t have time to willow in misery.  But no matter how hard Faye tried, Terra kept interrupting her thoughts with her pen in her hand, scrawling adventures onto paper.

“I give up!” Faye hissed, throwing her paper to the side.  She leaned forward, letting her head fall into her hands.  If Terra were here, she would be able to help Faye on her homework.  She’d know all the answers.  She used to have all the answers.

Used to.

Faye blinked, cursing herself as she felt tears burn in her eyes.  She had to stop this.  There was no point in thinking about what could have been.  Terra was gone.  She’d seen her body.  It was seven years ago.  Mary managed to move on, so why couldn’t she?  Why couldn’t she let Terra go?

“Faye, are you all right?”

Faye looked up to see her mother staring down at her.  She quickly blinked the upcoming tears back, not wanting to cry in front of her.  She hated crying in front of others, especially when it came to Terra.  If her mother realized that Faye was still hurting, still missing Terra so much that she could scream, she would probably break down.  Faye wouldn’t be able to bear it if her mother cried over Terra again.  It had been heartbreaking enough the first time. 

“I’m fine!” she assured her mother, standing up and wiping her hands on her pants.  “I was just going to take a walk,” she continued, trotting toward the front door and slipping on her shoes.  “Is that okay?”

“A walk?” Mary shot a shocked expression in her daughter’s direction.  “Since when do you like to take walks?”

Faye gulped.  “Since now,” she said, putting on a bright smile.  “I just have a lot on my mind.  Walking will help me think it over.”

Her mother stared at her for a long time before nodding.  “All right.”

Faye sighed in relief, grabbing her sweatshirt from the couch and throwing it on.  She threw a smile in her mother’s direction.  “I might stop by Errika’s,” Faye told her, scrambling to think of an excuse for why she’d be gone way longer than the usual duration of a walk around the neighborhood.

“All right!” Her mother’s posture instantly relaxed.  “Have fun.”

Faye hurried outside, her feet pounding down the porch.  She glanced at her car and sighed.  She should have told her mother that she was going to Errika’s instead of telling her that she was going for a walk.  At least that way she could use her car.

Oh well.  There was no taking it back now.

Faye made her way down the street, looking up at the sky.  It was scattered with clouds today, as it had been all week.  She smiled faintly as she looked closely at a single cloud.  She tilted her head to the side, her smile growing as she saw what resembled a fire-breathing dragon.  For years she thought that dragons were behind the Gate and that they were going to fly over the border and come for her.  But Terra had assured her that if the beast were a dragon there would be no point in creating the Gate in the first place.

Faye frowned.  Was it possible that dragons did exist?  She’d immediately deemed them fictional as soon as Terra told her that it wasn’t possible for dragons to be the beasts.  But if there were creatures like boys, why not creatures like dragons?  What if there were zombies?  Mummies?  Who was to say that these creatures didn’t actually exist and the Government wasn’t hiding them from them too?

Why did the Government hide the boys’ existence?  And why did they hide the girls’ existence?  It seemed so right for them to be together, to speak to each other.  So why take that away?  Why put people in jail if boys weren’t dangerous at all?

It just didn’t make sense.

Faye paused, waiting for a car to pass before crossing the street.  She jogged across, ignoring the awkward feeling that was bubbling up within her.  She hated jogging—especially across the street.  Jogging, running, any fast movement.  It made her think that she was going to fall.  And she hated falling.

Feared it.

Ever since the day Terra threw herself off the cliff, Faye had been terrified of falling.  When she tripped on the ground, she would screech at the top of her lungs, feeling like she’d fallen a hundred feet.  The day Errika made her jump out the window had been terrifying all in itself.  She wasn’t quite sure how she did it.

Faye closed her eyes for a moment.  What was she going to do when she climbed over the Gate, onto the other side?  She opened her eyes again.  Was she even going to go onto the other side?  The idea was tempting—more than tempting, actually.  But was she willing to take the risk?

What terrified her more than falling was that yes, yes she was.

The | Gate

Kole leaned against the Gate, closing his eyes.  His right hand ached from all the writing he’d been forced to do.  Mr. Banally forced him to start over when he saw that Kole misspelled a word.  “Start over,” he’d said, giving the paper back to him with a triumphant, evil smirk on his face.  “You made a mistake.”

And he’d been forced to start over.  Just like that.

He opened his eyes, letting out a long sigh.  Why did Mr. Banally have to harass him today of all days?  Why on a day when he was supposed to meet with Faye?  He had any other day to torture him, but he chose today?  Kole just didn’t understand.  Did the world hate him?  Probably.

Kole rubbed his hand irritably, attempting in vain to make the soreness go away.  There was no point, really.  His hand ached so terribly that Kole feared it was going to fall off.  Mr. Banally would probably smirk if that happened.  He loved to see his students in pain.

“Kole?”

Kole twisted around, shocked by the sudden noise.  He sagged, letting out a relieved breath of air when he saw it was only Faye, her eyes and smile bright.  Her hair was as long as ever, draping down her shoulder blades.  Kole found himself smiling at her as he curled his fingers around the Gate’s metal.  “Hey,” he murmured.

She held up a slender finger before pulling what looked like an elastic band off her wrist.  Kole watching in amazement as she wrapped her hair, pulling it into what looked like a knot.  He’d never seen anything like it.  No one on his side of the Gate had hair long enough to tie into strange designs.  What Faye was doing . . . it was mesmerizing.

Faye caught his stare and said, “My hair has been all over the place all day.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Kole murmured, his eyes locked on Faye’s hair. 

Faye shrugged, rubbing her arms awkwardly.  “Our hair is long enough over here,” she mumbled.  She smiled shyly.  “We’re able to put our hair in buns, ponytails, knots . . .”

“You put your hair in buns?” Kole’s eyebrows rose as he involuntarily imagined girls stuffing their long hair into the buns that they kept on the kitchen table.  Wouldn’t it be awkward having bread crumbs all over you?

Faye seemed to realize what Kole was thinking because she quickly explained herself.  “Not that kind of bun!  This kind of bun.”  She pointed at her entangled hair.  “We call that a bun.”

Odd, that they would name a hairstyle after a food.  Kole shrugged, not really understanding but not wanting to waste their entire time together talking about hair.  “So,” he murmured, deciding to change the subject.  “Did you think about it?”

Even though Kole didn’t directly say, “Did you think about coming on my side?” he knew that she understood.  She stiffened, eyeing the Gate up and down nervously.  She bit her lip, grabbing a stray strand of hair and twisting it as she dug her sneaker into the ground.  Kole braced himself for the deny he was probably about to receive.

“I did,” was all she said.

Kole stared at her for a moment before persisting with a soft, “And?”

Faye smiled slightly.  “I’ve decided . . . yes.”

“Yes?”

Faye nodded.  “Yes.”

Kole couldn’t believe his ears.  He’d been so sure that Faye was going to refuse, especially from her reaction when he’d initially asked.  She didn’t seem like the type of person to do anything rash.  But, then again, how well did Kole really know her?  The thought hit him so hard that it almost threw him off balance.  He’d felt like he’d known Faye forever.  It was so hard to believe that they’d only met a couple times.

He smiled, gesturing with a wave of the hand.  “Come on, then.”

The | Gate

Faye took a deep breath, looking the Gate up and down again.  Kole watched her, his eyes expectant.  Faye pursed her lips.  She tried to bring herself to walk up to the Gate, to begin her climb, but she couldn’t.  Something held her in her place.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Kole reassured. 

Faye shook her head, shuffling to the Gate and wrapping her hands around the metal.  She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do.  She closed her eyes for a moment.  What if she—what if she fell?  How many bones would she break?  An image of Terra flashed and she cringed.  Would she look like her sister?  Completely mangled, almost unrecognizable?

Faye opened her eyes.  No.  She was going to do this.  “I’m fine,” she whispered.  “I’ll do it.”

As Kole nodded, a small smile curling up his lips, Faye looked the Gate up and down.  How was she supposed to climb up the Gate without scraping or hurting herself?  Or worse—falling?  The holes were so small . . .

Faye took a deep breath before beginning her climb.  She made sure not to look down, not to direct her gaze anywhere but right in front of her.  She had no idea how close she was to the top, how far away.  All she knew was that she was climbing.  And she wasn’t falling.

“You’re doing great!” Kole complimented as Faye continued her ascent.  “You’re almost there.”

And she was.  A few more feet higher and then she was there, gripping the top of the Gate.  She let out a small cry of fear mixed with relief.  She didn’t exactly know how she managed to make such a cry, but that’s what it was.  “What do I do?” she forced out, afraid to look at Kole.  He was below her, and if she chanced looking down, she might fall.

“Just put one leg over the side and then the other,” Kole said calmly.  “Move slowly, carefully.”

Faye took a deep breath, willing the image of Terra’s mangled body to disappear.  She followed Kole’s advice, putting one leg over and then the other.  She held her breath, afraid that if she breathed she would topple over.  It was an irrational fear, she knew.  But she was so scared of falling that she didn’t want to chance anything.

It was harder descending than it was ascending.  Everything was backwards, upside down.  She didn’t know where to put her feet, her hands.  Every movement felt like a sudden jolt.  Faye found herself pausing several times, so frightened that she was about to refuse to move.  But she kept on going, knowing that she was almost to the ground.

She flinched, almost losing her grip when she felt a pair of hands on her back.  “I’ve got you,” Kole whispered, his voice close.  “You won’t fall.”

Concentrating on Kole’s hands supporting her back, Faye finished the rest of the way down.  She turned, facing Kole.  He seemed so different without the Gate obscuring her vision of him.  More real.  More human.

“I did it,” she whispered.

Kole let his hands fall away from her and back to his sides.  He smiled as though by reflex.  “You did.”

The | Gate

Fortis Cain made his way through the prison wards, his gaze cast to the ground.  He, unlike his sister, did not enjoy the prisoners’ angered cries from their prison cells, their pleas to be let go so they could go back to their families.  He hated their scornful glares they shot at him every time he came in.  He hated their infuriated screams they shot his way when he refused to let them out.  It was his fault they were trapped there.  It was his fault they were without their children.  It was all his fault.

Over the years Fortis tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault.  It was theirs.  They were the ones that decided to let the curiosity get the best of them.  They were the ones that broke the law.  If they had just let it be, they would be with their families right now, eating delicious food at the dinner table.  But, instead, they’d decided to throw it away just to see what was on the other side of the Gate.

But, the thing was, it wasn’t their fault.  If Courtnie gave up on the shriveling hope of separating girls and boys, then none of this would be happening.  Daneigh wouldn’t be dead.  And she wouldn’t be trapped in a cell.  He couldn’t even bring himself to think of her name.  It was too painful.  Courtnie spoke it with such vile contempt that it contaminated her name.  It was all Fortis could do not to change her name altogether.

He reached the cell of his choosing, standing awkwardly in front of the very last cell.  He remembered the day he brought her here.  She’d come kicking and screaming—she even bit him.  The officers had suggested just doing away with her—getting rid of the vile animal that she was turning in to.  Courtnie immediately agreed with them.  She told Fortis not to delay the inevitable.  They had to get rid of her before it was too late. 

But Fortis couldn’t bring himself to.

He blinked, torn away from his reverie as she moved in her cell.  She didn’t move very far, not that he expected her to.  She didn’t like to keep a close proximity to him.  He would never say so, but it killed him inside that she abhorred him so much. 

“What are you doing here?” she spat. 

“I came to check up on you,” Fortis said softly, dragging his feet toward the cell’s door.  It pained him to see her like this—trapped and confined like some wild animal.  But that was the only way to keep her alive. 

“I don’t need any checking up on.”  Even though Fortis couldn’t see her in the darkness, he could feel her glare.  “I don’t need you.”

“Honey—”

“Don’t call me that!”  She stood up then, rushing toward the cell’s door.  She slammed into it, her eyes blazing like fire.  “Don’t you ever call me that.  You may be my father, but I do not love you.  Understand that?  I hate you.  Hate.  If I were to never see you again it would be too soon.”

Fortis gulped down the pain her commented inflicted upon him.  “I understand you’re angry,” he said softly.  “And you have the right to be—”

“I have the right to be?”  She laughed.  “You’re damn straight I have the right.  It’s your fault Daneigh is dead.  If you and your officers hadn’t come and destroyed everything, Daneigh would still be alive!”

Fortis took a step back.  Her words stabbed him like a thousand knives piercing his skin.  He stared at her, unable to say anything.  She’d said exactly what he’d been thinking all along: it was his fault that Daneigh was dead.

His fault.

She let her hands fall from the bars, her rage simmering down to a dull annoyance (or though it seemed).  She settled an icy glower in his direction, her contempt freely showing.  He wondered, not for the first time, what look she treated Courtnie to whenever she came to her cell.  Did she give her the same hate-filled look?  Was it even more hate-filled—if that was even possible?  Or was it possible that she hate him more than Courtnie? 

“Just go,” she whispered, her voice almost devoured by the cries of her fellow prisoners around her.  “Go.”

Fortis stood there for a moment, unable to move.  For years he’d tried to get through to her, to at least weaken the contempt she held for him.  But no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work.  He’d lost her forever when he arrested her.  She blamed him for everything.

As Fortis finally found the strength to turn and leave, he couldn’t help but think that it was all right.  He blamed himself too.