Free Reckoning by Kerry Wilkinson

again,’ he eventually says.
    I think about his words and realise he is right. What better way to stop people rising up than by leaving them a permanent reminder of what happened the last time they did? For now, the King is popular but perhaps that won’t always be the case.
    I want to ask Wray what happened at his Reckoning but it feels too personal a question. Maybe the Reckoning sensed that he wasn’t ready to leave home and wanted to continue looking after his mother, which is why it made him a Trog? It is hard to know exactly how it works, but he certainly isn’t stupid.
    As we continue to watch through the window, I hear Rush’s voice behind us, shouting and sneering. ‘Oi, Trogboy, come over here.’
    Wray’s body tenses slightly but neither of us turns. Aside from the air swishing past the train, there is silence for a few seconds before his voice sounds again. ‘I’m talking to you, Trog-boy.’
    I catch Wray’s eyes as he glances sideways at me. They are full of fright and I know this is the life he has led for years: intimidation and fear. I take his hand in mine and he is shaking. Remnants of some fruit fizzes past our heads and crashes into the window, the pulp and juice running down the glass as I realise it was meant for Wray’s head.
    â€˜Don’t move,’ I whisper as I turn. I try to release his hand but his fingers are clasping at mine before he finally lets me go.
    Rush is standing with more fruit in his hands ready to throw. When he realises he has my attention, he grins and puts the food down. ‘You may as well be Troggy filth like him if you’re going to spend all your time over there,’ he says, taking another moment to look me up and down.
    At first I couldn’t figure it out but now I understand why he wants my attention. He thinks the gorgeous flowing dress is who I am; that I’m a naive child from the middle of nowhere and this is how I live. I struggle not to smile as he stands cockily. Pietra is at his side, staring at me.
    â€˜His name is Wray,’ I say again. ‘My name is Silver. We’ve not done anything to you so why won’t you leave us alone?’
    Rush’s eyes narrow. ‘Because I’m an Elite and he’s a Trog. I’ll do what I want.’
    I nod gently as a smile spreads across his face. He thinks I am accepting that he can do what he wants, when really there is only one solution.
    I stride towards Rush, who doesn’t move until I am within a metre or two. He glances sideways at Pietra, suddenly nervous, as if to ask what’s going on. By the time he fixes his attention back on me, it is too late. The dress and the hair are all well and good but the real me is the one who has grown up fighting and wrestling with Opie.
    Rush doesn’t know what’s happening as I duck sideways and then hammer my elbow up under his ribs. With Opie, I would do this playfully and gently but now I do it as hard as I can. He doubles over automatically but I don’t give him a second, thudding the side of my hand into his windpipe as he lurches forward. I wince in pain but it’s nothing compared to what he feels. He doesn’t know if he should be crumbling forwards or backwards as he struggles to find his balance, thrusting his hands out and trying to grab me. If it was Opie, we would be rolling in the dirt by now, laughing and joking, but this is different. Pietra has cowered away, as I thought she would. I step to the side and smash my fist as hard as I can into Rush’s ear, once and then twice. Everything has happened in a matter of seconds and he falls to the ground, cradling the various body parts he won’t be using any time soon.
    I step away and watch him rolling on the floor. Aside from his groans, there is silence around the cabin. I look down at my unmarked, uncreased dress and think of how Opie would probably be grinning at me right now in that lopsided way of