My stomach is growling with hunger and my hand is cramped from writing when Mrs. Boxer finally comes to collect me.

“Come with me,” she says.

She leads me out the door, and I can see the line of prospective contestants stretching far into the distance. I really hope I’m not the one who has to register all of them.

“Thanks for doing that,” Mrs. Boxer says. She is a middle aged woman with a tight bun of black hair. “The original plan was for you to have a relaxing day while you got acclimated and got to know your team, but we are a bit short staffed this year. I hope it wasn’t too much of an ordeal.”

I remember Udrick almost killing me, Lyana the sorceress literally draining a portion of my lifeforce, and an armored soldier who told me I was worthless and would never amount to anything.

“No bother,” I lie.

“Great! I hope you’ve already eaten, because we have to rush over to your team.”

“My team?”

“Yeah! We put our interns in groups and match them with experienced mentors. You’ll be with Kevron – he’s great, I think you’ll really like him.”

How would you know what I like? You literally met me for less than five minutes this morning before you ordered me to work registration.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Boxer continues, “If you have any questions for me, you should ask them now, because me and the other HR staff are going to be way too busy to have any time for interns this Tournament season.”

“Um...” I feel like I should have questions, but for some reason I can’t think of any.

She leads me along the cement path, and I’m struck by just how big the tournament grounds are. Apparently, the arena only takes up a small part of the grounds. The bulk is filled with what looks like a five star resort and spa.

“Is the spa exclusively for guests, or...”

“No! The spa is for guests, contestants, and employees. So that’s pretty much everyone, we are very open here. Well, except interns.” Mrs. Boxer laughs, then turns serious. “In fact, the only time you should be going to the spa is if your duties as an intern require it.”

“Right, makes sense.” I resolve to not ask any more questions.

We walk past the glistening white spires of the resort. In the distance, I can see multichromatic lights flashing, presumably magic-users practicing in the training grounds. Mrs. Boxer said the Tournament is understaffed, but among the throngs of guests and contestants, countless employees are bustling about. Their uniforms differ in color, but each bears the logo of the Undying Flame, same as mine.

“Here we are!” Mrs. Boxer says as we arrive at a plain building behind the resort. “I’ve got to run, but just head on in, third door on the right should be Kevron.” Within seconds, she is gone, disappearing into the crowd.

Bright sunlight evokes a trickle of sweat on my face as I enter the building and head for the third door on the right. The building is hot and stuffy, with a mild but noticeable pungent odor.

Kevron’s door is ajar. I knock, then poke my head in. “Mr. Kevron?”

“Just Kevron, please,” the man sitting behind the desk replies softly.

I shake his hand (he has a limp handshake) and join the other two occupants of the room in uncomfortable chairs facing the desk.

“It looks like everyone is here, so we can get started now.” Kevron is a clean shaven middle aged man, with flecks of gray in his dark hair. His employee uniform is black, and he looks more comfortable in it than anyone I’ve seen yet.

“I’m Kevron, team leader. This is Serena–” he indicates the girl to my right– ”She’s just wonderful. Serena interned here last year, so she can help you guys out as you learn.”

Serena is taller than me, but probably not much older. Maybe around 22 or 23. She has messy dark hair, and she is chewing gum, a disinterested expression on her face. She barely raises an eyebrow when Kevron introduces her.

“Now you two introduce yourselves,” Kevron indicates me and the girl to my left.

She speaks first: “Hi, I’m Grace. I’m the administrative intern, and I’m super excited to be working here!”

Grace is short, with long smooth silvery-blonde hair tied into a ponytail. Something about her smile bothers me, but maybe I’m just less happy than her about my new position.

It’s my turn. “I’m Aleksandar, but I usually go by Alex,” I say. “I’m also a new administrative intern.”

“Great,” Kevron says, although his expression doesn’t change. “So as I’m sure you know, the administrative intern position is unpaid, although we do provide housing and dining. The work itself is a little bit of everything, and I think you’ll find it very fulfilling.”

Serena’s expression is incredulous, and she shakes her head. Kevron doesn’t seem to notice.

“We will have training every morning at six o’clock, starting tomorrow. For today, I’m actually really busy, so Serena can show you the ropes. She’s just great – you know, she was the only one of the five interns we had last year to make it.”

“Make it as in return for the next year, or make it as in remain alive?” Grace asks. I think she is trying to make a joke, but based on my experiences in the past few hours, it’s a fair question.

Kevron clears his throat: “Anyway, Serena, would you please show Grace and Aleksandar around, and acquaint them with their duties?”

“Sure thing boss!” Serena says. She stands up, yawns, then leads me and Grace out of the building.

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I glance back at Kevron as we leave, but he is already absorbed in paperwork. Grace’s question remains unanswered. When she sees me looking, Grace meets my gaze and shrugs.

I’m still hot, hungry, and very much not looking forward to this summer, but I suddenly feel a little bit better. At least I’ll have someone else to suffer through it with me.

Grace and I trail behind Serena as she leads us in a direction I haven’t been before. We pass between two spires of the resort, and the shade is a welcome reprieve. In contrast to Mrs. Boxer’s rush-rush attitude, Serena dawdles, walking slowly and so inefficiently she nearly zigzags.

“I had your job last year, you know,” she tells us.

“How did you like it?”

Serena shrugs. “It could be worse. At least you aren’t a training grounds intern. They have it the worst.”

“Why’s that?” Being a training grounds intern sounds amazing. I would love to see all the contestants practicing their skills from behind the scenes.

“Ha! You’ll see eventually. ‘Administrative Intern’ doesn’t actually mean anything, so they will rope you into doing pretty much any task they can. You kind of wind up filling in the gaps, and trust me, there are a lot of gaps.”

The conversation lapses into silence as we walk on. A group of gorillas lumber by, walking on their knuckles every few steps. From what I can overhear, they are discussing the relative merits of various theatrical groups. Grace and Serena hardly seem to notice, but I can barely avoid staring outright.

When we pass the gift shop, Serena speaks again: “Sooooo, why did you guys choose this internship?”

That is a good question. Why in the hells did I sign up for this?

Before I can come up with an answer, Grace speaks: “Well, it’s quite the story. See, my family comes from the North, from beyond the Kathice Kingdom. It’s mostly desolate plains out there, but my mom, when she was about my age (this is before I was born), got tired of the village life, and decided to go on an adventure.

“She wandered for days, running low on provisions, when she encountered an old witch who needed help collecting ingredients for her brew. So my mom stayed with her for a while, collecting–”

“–Wait, stop,” Serena cuts in. “This is pretty boring, forget I asked.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup. Not trying to hear the entire history of your ancestry here.”

Grace is wounded. “Why would you ask if you don’t want to hear the answer?”

“I thought you would say ‘oh, I thought the Tournament seemed awesome’, and I would say ‘yeah it is, but working here is crazy’, and that would be that.”

“Still, you are being pretty rude.”

Serena shrugs and opens her mouth to respond.

Fortunately, a newcomer interrupts before the situation can escalate any further: “Hello! Can you help me?”

It’s a little girl, and she is adorable. Maybe I don’t spend enough time around kids – are they all this cute? She is maybe seven or eight, her eyes are wide, and her pout makes me want to help her at an instinctive level. She wears a one piece swimsuit.

Serena seems to forget the argument entirely: “Probably! What seems to be the problem?”

“Someone is stopping me from using the pool.”

“Right. Is it the lifeguard?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay! We can help.”

Serena puts a hand on my shoulder and on Grace’s, pulling us into a huddle. “This is just the sort of thing I was talking about that interns help with. Think of it as an awesome learning opportunity for you two! Go help this little girl, and I’ll be at the training grounds, checking out the buff shirtless guys.”

She starts walking away.

“Wait!” Grace calls out. “Are you serious? You’re really gonna leave us on our own?”

“What, are two of you not enough to handle one little girl?”

Grace is visibly upset but does not reply, and soon Serena has vanished.

“Wow,” I say. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t think your story was boring.”

Grace sighs. “I wish you would have said that earlier.” She turns to the child, and manages a smile. “Right, okay. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Eleanor.”

“Eleanor, can you tell us what happened at the pool?”

“I wanted to go swimming but I couldn’t, because some guy was blocking me.”

“Is the pool close? Can you take us there?”

“Yeah.” Eleanor leads the way.

Not wanting to let Grace do all the work, I ask “Where are your parents?”

Eleanor points to one of the resort buildings.

“And they just let you go to the pool on your own?”

“Yeah. This is the pool.”

I can immediately tell that something is wrong, although I’m not sure exactly what. The pool is huge, as befits such a large splendid resort, but it is the wrong color. Instead of clear or blue, it is a poisonous green. There is no lifeguard present.

“Excuse me sir,” Grace says, “you need to not take the entire pool to yourself.”

For a moment I’m not sure who she is talking to, but then the green liquid deforms, and a green neck and head emerge.

“Leave me alone,” the head says in a slurred masculine voice. I realize that what I had thought of as green water is actually the body of this thing. An ooze, and a massive one at that. Maybe it’s bloated from the water, but regardless, it is occupying the entire pool.

“Um, Mr. Ooze,” I say, “This girl here is trying to use the pool. Do you think you could share?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“I need the pool.”

“Are you seriously going to prevent this little girl from using the pool at all? You can’t do that!”

“What are you gonna do about it?” The ooze’s head retracts back into its body, and it is once again a featureless blob.

Eleanor sits on one of the poolside recliners and puts her head in her hands.

“What should we do?” Grace asks me.

I shrug. “Maybe we can call security?”

“Sounds good, but how do we do that?”

There is silence as we both realize we have no idea how to call security. The ooze slowly churns, and Eleanor makes a quiet whining noise.

“I have to say,” I tell Grace, “This ooze is pretty toxic.”

She doesn’t seem to get the joke. “Okay,” she says. She turns to the pool: “Slimey, get out now, or I’ll make you get out! Pool privileges are only for those who don’t abuse them.”

The ooze does not react.

“Fine. You brought this on yourself.” Grace swishes her mouth back and forth. When she has built up a big chunk of spit, she hawks it at the pool/ooze.

Slimey does not like this. A mouth tears open, and he screams. “This is highly disrespectful! I will destroy you!”

Tentacles emerge from the pool, dripping green tinted liquid.

I kind of yelp a bit.

“Don’t worry,” Grace says. “I don’t think Slimey is very strong.”

One of the tentacles picks up a pool chair and hurls it. It barely misses us, and slams into the equipment shed. Wood bursts with a loud crack, and a large hole opens in the side of the shed.

“Uh, nevermind.”

I back away from the pool. Tentacles swipe toward me, and I weave through them. One slaps my side, and I fall hard, but manage to get back up quickly.

Have to get away.

I make it through the hole in the equipment shed. Taking cover behind the wall, I take stock of the situation. I look for Grace, but I find Eleanor first. She is cowering behind a fallen recliner, mere feet away from the pool/ooze.

I take a deep breath, let it out, then run back in. The poolside is a maze of swiping tentacles. One whacks me with a scavenged pool noodle, but by some stroke of luck that is the only hit I receive.

I reach Eleanor, and scoop her up. She is heavier than I expected, but still manageable. She clings to me as I retreat to the shed.

We have almost reached safety when Eleanor screams. I look back, but she is fine. It’s Grace who is in trouble.

One of the tentacles is wrapped around her waist, and as I watch, more reinforce it. A mouth opens in the ooze, and the tentacles drag Grace inexorably toward the widening maw.

Grace doesn’t budge. Her eyes flare with white light, and her hair moves as if caught in a strong breeze. “I’ve sneezed worse than you,” she says calmly. I briefly wonder if she is being racist to the ooze.

White light explodes around Grace, and I have to avert my eyes. When it fades, Grace is still standing. The nonexistent wind in her hair ceases, and her eyes return to their normal color.

The ooze is much worse for wear. Parts near Grace are singed a dull throbbing red, and some chunks are separated entirely, littering the poolside.

“You’re a mage?” I ask.

“Kinda, yeah.” To the ooze, Grace says: “Okay Slimey, time to leave, or I’ll blast you some more.”

“Alright, fine, you win,” the ooze says. It sludges back, then plops itself out of the pool. Water showers down behind it, and the ooze loses most of its mass. Apparently it had just been bloated by the water; now that it is on land, it is only about as long as I am tall.

“Don’t think this is over, though”, Slimey says, brandishing a tentacle. The ooze absorbs a towel as it leaves the pool area. I can see the vague shape of the towel within the ooze, along with a pair of swim trunks. I really hope this is how it dresses for the pool, and not the remains of someone it ate.

Even though Grace did most of the work, I still feel good about helping this little girl. I might not be the best at… well, anything really, but at least I helped do right for one person.

“There you go,” I say, putting her down, “Eleanor, you are free to use the pool now!”

She looks around. The equipment shed is barely standing, with a large hole in its side where Slimey hurled the chair. Much of the poolside is coated in toxic-looking sludge, and the recliners are a mess. The pool itself is still full of chunks of green drifting about like giant boogers.

Eleanor looks nauseated. “Actually, I don’t think I wanna go swimming anymore.”