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Roberts.

    “How’d you do?”
    Brett asked, as Al came into the room with an armload of books.
    “I stunk. And he gave me a take-home.”
    Al closed his eyes for an instant: his psi contest with Teacher Roberts had left him feeling as if he hadn’t slept in days.
    “Hmm. Well, don’t wear out-we have the inter-cadre tournament day after tomorrow. I think we’ve got a good chance.”
    “Sure we do.”
    Brett turned back to whatever it was he was doing. Al opened his books and began trying to sort out what to skim through first. Brett was only sucking up to him because he did want the cadre to win. That was Brett, always thinking about his position as leader. Not that anyone had ever elected him, or anything. They just accepted it, which was all wrong. Brett was neither the smartest nor psionically the strongest. Why should he be the one everyone paid attention to? But that was the way it was, wasn’t it?
    For now, anyway. When they got to the academy. where positions were officially awarded by merit and ability, he would come into his own. He had just a week to wait.
    He focused his attention on the book, and to his surprise, he found himself enjoying it. He was entirely absorbed in the weird duel of two Yakut shamans when the door suddenly burst open. He hadn’t heard or felt them coming. You never did.
    Grins. Angry Grins. What have I done this time? He was afraid he’d let it slip out. Fear mingled freely with his anger, and he certainly wanted to keep that in. In the last year or so, the Grins had become more and more arbitrary with their punishments and scans. It should be obvious to everyone how unfair it was, but the adults never seemed to notice the change, even when it went on right in front of them. He tried to remember what he had maintained that very morning, that they had no business questioning the Grins, but it was hard, very hard.
    “Take off your clothes. All of them,” the Grins commanded, in their flat, less-than-Human voices.
    He and Brett complied. AI might resent them, but there was never any question of obeying them. They were a fact of life. It got worse. The Grins herded the two of them, naked, from their room into the common room, and there was the rest of the cadre, all naked as slugs, girls and boys alike.
    Al had always supposed he might like to see some of the girls without their clothes on - especially Milla, who had taken on an intriguing shape in the last year or so - but he found that faced with it, like this, he was horrified.
    They didn’t seem pretty, or sexy, or whatever-they seemed like sea creatures, yanked from their shells, left to shiver and die naked on the beach. In other words, they looked exactly as he felt. Sick. From the common room, they were all forced outside. The expressions on the masks of their tormentors became less pleasant by the second.

Chapter 4
    The Grins led them down what seemed miles of sidewalk, surrounded on every side by older kids, academy students, adults. Al felt himself being measured, weighed, scrutinized.
    Though the watching crowd uttered not a single sound, telepathic gibes and insults made it clear they found him wanting.
    Little guy, isn’t he? A little rat. Hey, kid, what’s a six-year-old doing, doing the walk? Are those your arms, or soda straws?
    And now the Grins were grinning, and Al suddenly realized that all along their smiles had been ironic-even when they were bringing presents or awards, they had always been smiling at him, not for him. Laughing at him, behind their masks. At last the “walk” was over, and they were led into a darkened room, spacious, a little musty.
    It wasn’t so dark that he couldn’t see the others, who, like him, were starting to shiver with the cold, wanting to huddle together. But they were kept apart by nakedness and terror. A lot of them were crying, and many were blooping like crazy, all their lessons drowned by shame and humiliation. But they couldn’t do that to him. Not to Alfred