We basically have to sprint across the field where the candidate barracks are to get down to the train tracks in time. The sleek train is waiting there, puffing steam, filling with cadets all eager to get home for winter break. As we run I mentally thank my mother again for her healing powers – who would have thought that two days ago I was basically dead over Jackson’s shoulder, and now here I am dashing across a field with my best friends, a mostly-empty bag bouncing on my back?
When we get down to the tracks I see that the platform itself is getting sparse, pretty much all the cadets already having boarded, and I dart immediately for a door to the train, wanting to get in and get a seat. But before I can even grab the little handle to lift myself into the closest train car, Jesse grabs
