Chapter 2.

***The door of chase's pod swings open "Yeah ,ma, " he says over his shoulder as he comes out into the corridor."She's here right now."

"Good luck , Jane!" chase's mother calls from inside, and I wave thanks. Chase pushes his sandy brown bag out of his blue eyes with an impatient flick of his wrist, pulling the door shut behind him. He smiles and flips his own green crowbar up into the air and then slides it deftly into the side pocket of his cargo pants.

"Ready to go, bait?"

I hate this nickname for all first-year students, even if it is true that eighteen percent of them don't survive to their third year. "Shut up, " I said elbowing him in the ribs.

"Relax, " he says, elbowing me back." You know I'm just kidding."

I guess chase could be described as cute, but I've also known him since I was four years old. I've shared baths and chicken pox, and I've tormented countless babysitters and tutors together. I've come to think of him solely as a brother. Any thought of romance between the two of us makes me queasy.

The two of us follow the east corridor to the subway, joining the mass of other students and workers along the way. A colourful mural celebrating Dr.Ethan Ehrlich's early antidote research adorns the stone walls. The heavy scent of spray paint filled my nostrils and I noticed that someone graffitied . "Death to all Fectos." and "Meat bags suck." across the doctor's oversized beaker of AZ-214. Suddenly, the foot traffic in front of me comes to a halt.

"Looks like a bottleneck up at the eye scanner, " chase says, craning his neck above the crowd. " They must have caught a fecto." In a few moments, the crowd slowly starts to move again, and I finally make it to the eye scanner. I walked through it, careful not to blink, as a heavily armed military policeman watches the computer screen. It flashes green and he waves me through the gate. Me and chase arrive at the platform just as the subway does, and I hustle inside to find a sit together with chase.

"So, did your mom freak this morning when you left?" chase asked.

" Nah, she was fine. She just gave me some cliché advice about avoiding peer pressure and cliques."

"Well she's right about that."

"Ugh," I groaned. "You too? You can't be serious."

"I am," he says, scanning the car anxiously before sitting back in his sit, "The Zeta High School scene is brutal. It's the best to avoid it altogether."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you not listened to a word I've said this past year?" asks chase. I shrugged and chase sighs. "Okay,"

he continues. "Listen up. First you have the baggers. They're all meatheads and steroid cases, if you ask me, all they care about is killing Meatbags."

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"More like a 22/7 testosterone fest. When they're not bragging about their kills, they're obsessing*** ***about their next workout or the newest energy drink. So boring. Most bagger guys date royalty- the cheerleaders and all of the other spoiled pretty princesses. Fortune trophy wives, I like to call them. Next, you have the Ehrlich's. These are smart kids, obviously, and they are also totally lame. All they do all day is study and brown-nose the teachers for extra bullets, which they immediately hand over to the baggers to protect their scrawny butts."

"That's pretty nice of them," I said, relieved that I won't be witnessing any revenge of the Nerds-style bullying for being smart.

"Whatever. They're still major wads. But non of them are as bad as a kid A."

"Who's that?"

"Every years got one," chase says, raising his voice to a mocking pitch. "The guy who's sooo smart, sooo strong, and sooo brave. All the girls drool over the kid A."

"Uh-huh," I said. "Jealous much?"

"As if." chase leans back and crosses his arms .

"Is there ever a female kid A"

"I've never heard of one. It's always been a guy." He gives me his patented smart-aleck look. "Why? You think fit the bill?"

"No, just curious," I say with a shrug. "It seems like you have everyone else figured out. where do you fit in, exactly?"

"I don't fit in, thank you very much." He shifts uneasily in his seat and avoids my gaze.

"You're a rat!?" I asked, eyes wide with disbelieve. "How come you never told me?"

"I'm not a rat. I hate that label. I'm just one of the few kids who refuses to be sucked into the whole fascist system."

I consider this for a moment ."At least baggers and Ehrlich's and royalty all have a purpose for the greater good of society. What's yours?"

"Do you hear yourself?" chase huffs, his face suddenly turning red."You sound just like those stupid public announcements on TV. Do you really think everyone had a purpose back before this all happened? What's wrong with just wanting to be a kid?"

A man sitting across from me peers at chase over his news paper. Chase sighs and looks over the window at the passing advertisement along the subway tunnel wall. I noticed that there's going to be a John Hughes movie marathon all next weekend, and I make a mental note to DVR it."Look," chase finally says."It's not like I'm planning to donate my body to science or anything. But sometimes I just get sick of all the crap. I'd just rather play Resident evil than actually live it you know?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Just then, I noticed a group of teens entered my train car - one guy and two girls. Based on chase descriptions of high school social structure, I'd guess that this guy is a bagger. His broad shoulders, cocky expression says it all. The two girls are definitely royalty- Beautiful, poised, and possessing obvious fashion sense.The three of them are chatting and laughing with one another.

They haven't noticed me or chase on the other side of the crowded car.

Chase is a rat, the least popular of the social cliques at the school.

Chase is my childhood friend! I admonish myself for even thinking of selling him out. Beside.... The gaggle of Populars appear to be too engrossed in each other to notice me. Isn't that the way it usually goes?

The two of us continue talking about what to expect for the day ahead.

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