The thing about human nature is that it knows no bounds in anything it does. A human being’s proficiency to do things is well beyond imaginable – to be cruel, to love, to hate or to fear, it is always capable of administering things in ways beyond the imagination. This was something that every student who had ever attended Yorkville Secondary School had engrained into their minds since their humble beginnings as lowly freshmen. It was a lesson that stayed with each and every one of them, always haunting the nether regions of their minds and reappearing when they least expected it. Of course some remembered their years at Yorkville more than others, but this was only to be expected since the vast majority of Yorkville’s fifteen-hundred students never experienced the lesson firsthand. This was a blessing – you had to either be a psychopath or a psychopath to wish the lesson upon yourself.

There were always two ‘apprentices’ chosen by the Order of the Aces, one boy and one girl. To an outsider, the picking might seem random, Yorkville’s student body knew better than to assume any such thing – the Order of the Aces never did anything without a reason. Everybody knew that the apprentices of the year were chosen by the Aces for a specific purpose. Everything and everyone had its purpose at Yorkville.

Last year the apprentices had been two popular sophomore students, both stereotypical rich white kids with perfect grades and perfect reputations. It had been a twist of the unexpected, although the students at Yorkville should have known by then not to presume anything when it came to the Aces. The rumour was that Macy Hathaway and Jordan Finch had both been chosen to teach the rest of the student body that nobody was safe. Even the perfect people could have their crowns ripped from their heads and their robes stripped off in the matter of seconds. All it took were two seconds out of a day’s announcements and a person’s life could be changed forever.

Everybody had indulged in the secret pleasure of discussing under whispered tones exactly how the entire process went about. Nobody seemed to know for certain because nobody knew who was a part of the Aces. Some even dared to question its very existence, although these ideas were always instantly squashed for fear of being overheard by a potential Ace. What everybody did know was that members were sworn to absolute secrecy and even after everybody had long-since graduated, not a word was to be spoken because there were Aces alumni everywhere. Your mother could have been an Ace if she’d attended Yorkville, or maybe your uncle or even your grandfather. It could be a cousin, a brother, a best friend – anybody and everybody was a possibility. And Toronto was a big city so it was almost certain that at least two Aces had their eyes on you nearly 24/7.

Randi Lee-Park liked to pretend that she was the anti-Ace. In her mind the Aces were the Death Eaters to the Order of the Phoenix, the robbers to the cops, the cat to the mouse and any other analogy that fit. There were days when the Aces were like plainclothes policemen. It could be the college kid who lurked behind a magazine at the neighbourhood corner store, or the old guy listening to his Ipod on the subway during rush hour. And then there were the days when the Aces were Nazi-type fanatics. Generally Randi pictured them at some sort of huge gathering of the Aces reunion gala type thing, clothed in Clockwork Orange-esque getups and louder than a group of hippy war protesters. She liked to imagine herself dressed in a film noir type trench coat, never mind the fact that she was short and stocky and didn’t possess the type of body that a trench coat might most flatter. The point was that she was like a detective or maybe a female James Bond without the suaveitude and whoreish tendencies and she liked to picture scenes where she busted in on an Aces gathering and somehow single-handedly blew their house of cards sky high. And by house of cards she meant their entire complicated hierarchal spying and teaching system if that made any sense at all. Anyway, weren’t spying and all that stuff an invasion of privacy?

Maybe you just had to not want to be a lawyer to become a member of the Order of the Aces.

That would make sense. Unless it was all one big conspiracy and the government gave complete support to the Aces.

But that would not make any sense because this was high school. The Aces were high school.

Weren’t they?

On Monday morning, Randi’s mind was bursting with excitement, fear and curiosity. It was September the eleventh, the first Monday of the school year and it also just happened to be the five-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centers. If Randi had been a superstitious person she might have taken this as a sign of some sort. After all, it couldn’t be a coincidence that 9/11 and the day of Apprenticeship happened to fall on the same day this year, did it?

But Randi was not a superstitious person and to be honest, she’d completely forgotten that it was 9/11 until the morning announcements started up after the second bell had rung and the principal called for a moment of silence. It was a nerve-wracking moment for everybody because the new Apprentices were always announced over the morning announcements on the first Monday of the school year. Every year, a single sheet of hand-made paper was slipped amongst the pile of announcements to be read aloud over the PA system. How it got into the pile without anybody getting caught, nobody knew. Randi suspected it was because so many people crammed themselves into the office during the first week of school so it was easy for anybody to go ahead and stick a paper into the announcement box without getting caught.

So far Randi had been around to witness the downfall of four members of the Yorkville student body. During her freshman year it had been two physics club geeks, one who had been a senior and the other, a freshman like her. The freshman hadn’t lasted the year. By the time the winter holidays came around, he’d had a mental breakdown (and blamed it on academic stress because nobody snitched about the Aces) and changed schools. The senior had made it, just barely, but had gone on to taking a scholarship to Yale and had never been heard from again. As for Macy and Jordan, they had returned to living their lives as though nothing had ever changed, but Randi could see it in their eyes that they were just ghosts of their past selves. Whoever they were now was a secret shared only between them.

“God,” whispered Carol Lars, Randi’s alphabetical-order desk buddy, “all this waiting is freaking me out.”

Carol had gone to the same middle school as the freshman apprentice so she knew a little more about the Aces than Randi did.

“I know,” Randi replied softly, glancing at the clock.

It was as though every pair of eyes in the entire building was concentrating on the second hands of the clocks. Almost simultaneously, fifteen-hundred voices counted down from “five, four, three, two, one.”

“Show time,” Carol hissed.

“Good morning Yorkville and welcome to another exciting week of school…”

Randi let out the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. She’d forgotten that the principal made an opening speech every Monday until October.

“I swear they do this on purpose,” Carol mumbled.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Randi replied. “Didn’t Mr. Malcolm go to this school?”

“No,” said Carol immediately. “Don’t you know? They always make sure the staff members aren’t from around here.”

Randi raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“How would they do that? Isn’t it up to the board to decide –?

“No,” Carol repeated. “They’re everywhere. Don’t you already know all of this?”

It was true; Randi did know all of it. But it was all just a bunch of rumours! Nobody had ever confirmed anything. Sometimes when she wasn’t off imagining the downfall of the Aces, she was wondering if they even existed. Maybe it was all just some elaborate hoax.

But she never voiced this opinion out loud for fear of being overheard. In her more irrational moods, she already feared that they could read her mind. Or was it her emotions they were reading? Somebody had once told her that she wore her thoughts on her face.

She would have to work on that.

“…sign-ups start immediately and audition dates are to be posted at a later date. Field hockey sign-up sheet is located on the doubles gym door for both boys and girls as well as rugby sign-ups and cross country. For those of you interested in signing up for library helpers, please see Mr. Mendelssohn in the library at lunch or after school. Peer tutors, Yorkville is looking for peer tutors. If you need the volunteer hours and have the skills, sign up to be a peer tutor now.

And your call downs for today…”

The announcer’s voice suddenly took a cryptic turn and thirty-one students swallowed simultaneously in Mrs. Ling’s math class. You were safe if your name wasn’t called last, that was the rule. Call-downs were safe as long as you weren’t last in you gender.

“…Susan Chan, Alex Goldstein, Carol Lars…”

The class turned to gawk at Carol and her face took on an ashen shade.

“…Judith Ferrera…”

Carol let out an audible sigh and got up from her seat – hers was just a regular call-down then.

“…Alex Carter, Marty Sousa…”

There was a loud, over-emphasized sound of paper being shuffled. Randi’s heart rate doubled like half the school’s did.

“Alleyne Blackbourne and Randi Lee-Park.”

Her mind caved in on itself and her conscious mind momentarily dipped into oblivion. When she resurfaced after a nanosecond, thirty pairs of horrified, sympathetic and relieved eyes gaped openly at her as though she was a specimen in a Petri dish. Only Mrs. Ling seemed to be breathing and she remained blissfully unaware of the horrific fate that had just seized one of her students by the head.

“Carol, Randi, you were both on the call-down list,” she said in her soft, unaccented voice.

Carol could only nod while Randi stared blankly as though comatose. It was as though she was frozen in time and space while the rest of the world continued to revolve and grow. It was only when Mrs. Ling called her for the fifth time that she realized what was going on, and she stood up hastily, not bothering to state an apology.

Carol had already fled the classroom as though she was being chased by a pack of hounds.

Randi slowly left the silent classroom, willing her mind to ignore the burning stares of her classmates. She wanted to go on hyperdrive and disappear from the class like Roadrunner, but her legs seemed to have other ideas. They dragged her slowly, as though weighing a thousand pounds each and by the time she reached the door to the classroom she was nearly crippled with fear.

She should have expected this.

She should have known.

A hundred thousand shoulda-woulda-couldas reverberated through her panicking mind. When her hand reached out to turn the doorknob, it was shaking madly with apprehension. She looked like a victim of ADD or Parkinson’s disease and her face burned with the fear and anger of being chosen as an Apprentice.

Never had she expected this.

She was the anti-Ace. Not their victim.

So why was she so scared?

“Randi Lee-Park.”

It was a statement of confirmation rather than a question, and when Randi looked up sharply, nearly jumping a foot in the air, she confirmed the statement.

“Who are you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Why was she whispering?

Who was this guy?

“I’m just the messenger,” was the guy’s cryptic reply.

Figures, Randi mentally snorted. He looked like the messenger type.

“Follow me,” he said in a monotone voice.

It was as though he was trying to neutralize himself. He was even wearing the hood of his oversized sweater so that she couldn’t get a good look at his face.

“Where are we going?” she asked nervously as she followed the Messenger down the hallways.

He made no reply.

They walked in terse silence, their footsteps echoing menacingly as they clambered the staircase to the second floor. Randi felt as though she was swimming through a dream. Everything felt so incredibly surreal. Now that the initial panic and anxiety had passed on, she felt oddly at peace.

No. Not peace.

It was something else.

There was a certain element of serenity for sure, but something more sinister lurked beneath the unrippled surface like a monster lurking beneath a calm lake.

“We’re here,” the Messenger suddenly announced.

Randi looked around.

This was it? The Languages hallway? There was her old French class and there was the Spanish class. The Aces headquarters was located here? She looked straight ahead of her.

It was the Presidents Club.

The Messenger knocked sharply on the cement-grey door. Randi swallowed down her nervousness and decided to play it cool. She was used to stressful situations – if she could play her mother like a game of cards (no pun intended), than she could play the Order of the Aces. She just needed to keep her head level and tuck her emotions away in the impenetrable safe known as her heart.

The door finally creaked open.

The Presidents Club was the meeting room for all major club and organization heads or presidents. It was where all the club heads met to discuss important event dates, which meeting days were available, which were not.

Boring stuff.

Maybe even stupid stuff.

On the outside.

Suddenly it made so much sense that the Presidents Club would be the headquarters of the Aces. It was composed of all the elite people of the school, the heads of the heads; the carnivores at the top of every food chain, from the academic snobs to the social butterflies. They were all here as one to decide the fate of two unlucky students every year.

It really was one big conspiracy.

When the door opened wide enough to allow Randi to enter, she slipped hesitantly inside and ignored the jolt in her stomach when the door fell firmly shut behind her. The room dim, illuminated only by the faint stripes of sunlight that filtered through the ancient, dusty blinds. It was like a scene from one of Randi’s favourite childhood TV shows, Are You Afraid of the Dark minus the freaky porcelain clown.

“Don’t be scared, Randi,” said an unfamiliar voice.

The Messenger had disappeared. Suddenly she felt very much alone. She nearly screamed when one of the shadowed people abruptly stood.

“Don’t be scared,” the voice repeated.

It came from the one who was standing – a boy. His voice was low and coarse, as though he’d spent long hours puffing away at cigarettes or screaming into a microphone. It was oddly soothing – too soothing.

He was trying to lull her into a false sense of security.

She had to remember to be on her guard here – these people were not her friends. None of her friends were involved in clubs.

Three sharp raps at the doors suddenly yanked her back into reality and she remembered with a start that she was not the only Apprentice. Somebody else had been called.

“Enter,” said a cool, girl’s voice.

It was quiet and graceful, but Randi could hear the poison laced within it.

The door opened once more.

Randi turned and hastily moved aside so that she was no longer blocking the doorway.

“You’re late,” said the first voice.

“There was a bit of a struggle,” The Messenger explained.

“What?” snapped the other Apprentice incredulously.

“Quiet,” snapped the Aces in unison.

The effect was disquieting.

“You know the procedure,” said a new voice.

How many people were in here?

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

But the Messenger was already gone.

“Take a seat,” said the first voice after a moment of cold silence.

Randi swallowed thickly, stumbling on her own feet. Emotionless laughter echoed throughout the room at her plight but she made it to one of two empty seats without further trouble.

The other Apprentice remained standing.

“Don’t you want to sit?” asked the boy.

His voice was strangely musical. It was creepy.

“No, I don’t want to sit down,” snapped the Apprentice defiantly.

Randi stared in frozen horror. There was another moment of silence. Something told her that such a situation had never happened before. All the past Apprentices had probably been like her – complacent and fearful.

“Strike one for Apprentice One.”

“Log it.”

There was silence for the third time, except for the scratching of a pen.

“Logged.”

Randi got the strange sensation that they were trying to de-humanize her.

“You will be asked to sit down only once more, Apprentice One. You will soon learn the rules around this place. This isn’t baseball. It’s two strikes and you’re out,” said the first voice.

Randi bit her lip. What happened after two strikes? Did she want to find out? The other Apprentice seemed to be in the midst of an internal battle. She could feel the impatience level in the room rising until she could take it no more.

“Just sit down!” she hissed.

“Strike one for Apprentice Two.”

“Log it.”

She nearly shouted in protest but held her tongue in time.

“Logged.”

“Well then, that’s a record,” said the first voice in a neutral tone. “Two strikes within the first two minutes. Congratulations, guys.”

It almost sounded didn’t sound like sarcasm. If she wasn’t sitting in the middle of a nearly pitch-black room surrounded by faceless people, she might have even taken the comment as genuine.

“So…Are you going to sit down?”