by Keilan Shea
First day.
Ms. Zale spares me a single glance but remains silent as Jet walks by me and says, “You don’t listen to instructions very well, do you, scholarship student? Move along.” To ensure we exit the building with him, he doesn’t continue forward until the rest of us are in front of him.
I glance over my shoulder to find his attention split between me and Lucas. Theo isn’t pushing Lucas or touching him anymore, but Lucas strides alongside him, too close unless they’re friends. “You’re Theo Earnshaw,” he says. “Thanks for meeting me on the roof. That was nice of you.”
Theo wears a nearly imperceptible scowl.
“Were you worried about me?”
“Of course. Everyone was. Any decent person would be.”
Lucas stops and holds out his hand to Theo.
“Keep moving,” Jet says.
Lucas resumes his easy stride, but his hand remains outstretched. Theo haltingly offers his own.
“I’m Lucas.” He releases Theo two seconds after they brush palms. There’s no grip and therefore no handshake. “Now we’ve officially met.”
Theo says nothing as we exit the building and descend the wide steps.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Lucas adds. “Are you everything the media says you are?”
“Are you?”
Lucas is quiet for a beat, and then he breaks out into laughter. “Most likely.”
The students left waiting gather around, peeking at Lucas from a calculated distance. They want to see him, but they don’t want to be close to him. Or me.
“Move along,” Jet says.
“Just like that?” Olive asks. “He’s not in trouble or anything?”
“Oh, he is. He’s Ulrich’s once we’re done.”
“Hey,” Lucas chimes in. “Isn’t there doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“I’m not a doctor, you’re not my patient, and everyone saw you on the roof about to perform a swan dive onto pavers.”
“When you put it like that …” Lucas shrugs.
Theo returns to his friends, and Jet takes his place at the lead. I fall to the rear. No one can sneak up on me here, and it’s the best position for people watching. I don’t mean to search for Lucas, but I do, and then he lands beside me, matching my pace.
He extends his hand to me, maybe unconcerned because Jet doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head. “I didn’t catch your name, lovely.”
I surreptitiously wipe my sweaty palm on my crisp skirt—my nerves are shot—and cautiously take his hand. I don’t know what I’m expecting, maybe a firm handshake from a boy who’s much stronger than me, but that’s not what happens. His grip is loose and light, a whisper of a touch. It’s the same way he “shook” Theo’s hand. I’m not a huge fan of this greeting either, but Lucas must hate it. So, why offer it?
And why does my hand tingle?
“It’s Melody.”
“Nice to meet you, Melody.” Lucas extends his elbows, pretending to hold the back of his head with interlocked fingers; he doesn’t actually touch his head. “Let’s be friends.”
I trip over my feet. Lucas holds out his hand as if to catch me, but I regain my balance and he withdraws so quickly that I question if he held out his hand at all.
“Don’t get too excited,” he quips.
My face gets very, very hot, and I say nothing.
Lucas isn’t bothered by my silence. He tries to introduce himself to the boy in front of us, but he turns up his nose and sneers. The boy with him recoils, as though he’s convinced that touching Lucas will corrode his skin. It seems Lucas repels the students here as much as I do. If not more. It’s because he should be one of them and isn’t. A black sheep. That must be worse than being the nobody scholarship student.
Lucas is unperturbed, though. He returns to my side and chuckles under his breath. “Rich dicks and chicks.” That’s what he called them, how he feels about them. Maybe this, the chattering and subtle bounce in his step, is him reacting to nervousness and fear of rejection. My chest constricts at the thought. I feel bad for him.
“This is your first year attending Gilded Academy?” I ask quietly, so as not to draw attention.
“Yep,” Lucas replies. “I get that it’s weird since I’m a Gilded, but Dad never enrolled me because he isn’t a cosseter.”
“Then why are you here now?”
“I wanted to come and said I’d take care of it. So, I did. Tuition, legal documents, acquiring my transcript, forging his signature as needed, impersonating him on the phone—all with his permission, of course.”
Is … that true?
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“You’re obviously not from around here.”
“How do you know that?”
“You don’t know how to properly tie this”—he points at the golden fabric around my neck—“for one. Everyone shuns you as much as they do me, and I heard our tour guide call you ‘scholarship student.’”
“Shut up back there,” Jet says. “If you don’t care about your tour, that’s fine, but you’re distracting everyone who does.”
Jet plows through the crowd and stops in front of Lucas, pointer finger extended and accusing. “You specifically. You can pour out your heart to Crown Principal Ulrich and plead with him to let you stay if you think you have the mettle to endure the academy, or you can do us all a favor and bail. I have no idea how you swindled your way in here, but I’m sure you won’t last long.”
“Oh, scary.” Lucas whistles then clamps his mouth shut as Jet reclaims the head of the group.
My constricted chest weighs on me as if cinder blocks are being piled on top of it. I won’t be able to walk upright if it gets any heavier. I’d offer comforting words, but I don’t have any. We’re not friends.
Wow, I’m as bad as they are. It’s not that I’m against being Lucas’s friend, but his father … Does he really want to be my friend? I can’t pinpoint an ulterior motive. My face involuntarily screws up as I puzzle over this quandary.
“Last, but not least,” Jet says as we arrive at the next impressive, albeit much more modernized and simply rectangular, sandstone building, “Clybourne Union. This is where your president can be found in his office from 3:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. Monday through Friday—if he were here.”
The automatic doors open as if on cue, revealing the tidy, nondescript vestibule and the large, muscular man within. Student. He’s wearing the pants-instead-of-a-skirt black version of the academy’s uniform. He emerges, broad shoulders rolled back to showcase his boulder-like physique. He could crush my skull in his hands if he wanted to, but he doesn’t give off a menacing air. His steps are sure, confident. His blocky, ruggedly handsome visage is vaguely familiar.
“Caesar Biggs, everyone,” Jet introduces with a … bow. “Our Vice Crown President.”
Caesar opens his arms and offers a charismatic “Welcome!” His baritone voice carries far and wide. “I’m honored to stand before you, our newest generation. I remember being where you are. It can be intimidating, but it doesn’t have to be. As Gildeds, we’re all reaching for the top, but you can’t climb that ladder alone. Your connections are as crucial as your abilities. Often more so.”
Caesar’s hazel brown eyes lock onto me and Lucas. We stick out, the only two people rejected by the cluster that is the group. He minces toward us, me, and says, “Our first scholarship student. I know you’ve all given her a warm welcome.”
Everyone is silent, even Jet.
“You’re Melody Lopez, correct?” Caesar asks and holds out his hand.
Another handshake. I’m tired of these. I might even come to hate them as much as Lucas does. But I take Caesar’s hand since he’s being nice to me … Isn’t he? “Yes,” I reply. “How did you know?”
“I keep informed. As Vice Crown President, I need to know these things. You’re the only one who isn’t aware of our rule.”
My breath hitches. “What rule?”
<
br /> Caesar flashes a toothy grin, and he squeezes my hand when I try to withdraw it. He applies enough pressure to make my fingers twinge. “With our Crown President AWOL, his dictatorship is in disarray. The throne is empty and desperate for someone worthy to fill it.”
“I-isn’t the student government a democracy? And why would it be in disarray? We have you, don’t we? To … sit on the ‘throne.’” I wiggle my fingers to slide out of his rough vice grip. It doesn’t work.
A hand wraps around Caesar’s thick wrist. Lucas’s hand. His bronze skin is golden against Caesar’s pinkish tone. Lucas wears a lazy grin. “Use your words, Melody. Tell him to let go.”
“L-let go,” I say halfheartedly. “Please.”
Caesar listens and says, “Forgive my exuberance.” Then he grabs Lucas’s hand, forcing a proper, firm handshake. “Lucas Ignacio. At last.”
Lucas is tiny next to Caesar, which must mean I’m a mouse in comparison. His grin twitches, but he lets his hand rest limply in Caesar’s rather than fight it. “Look, man, you’ve gotta take me out on at least two dates before you’re granted exclusive access to my hand.”
“Funny,” Caesar says dryly. His grip loosens and Lucas retreats, shaking out his hand. “Why come here now?”
Lucas hums. “Good question. It was a spontaneous decision, really.”
“Well, then I suggest you both educate yourselves and pick the right side before you’re trampled by a selfish leader who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.” He produces two circular badges. They’re identical to the one Jet has hidden underneath his collar.
“Elections were in May, and you lost, Caesar,” Theo says.
Caesar brushes past Lucas to reach Theo, whose solid stance is betrayed by a slight tremble.
“And Blake isn’t selfish,” Theo continues. “He’s coming.”
“What’s keeping him, then? If it were an emergency, that would be understandable, but he’s simply vanished.”
The automatic doors let out a hiss as they open for a boy rushing out of Clybourne Union. His hair is wilder than Lucas’s, longer and purposefully spiked to defy gravity. His dark eyebrows are drawn into a severe scowl as he storms up to Caesar. Caesar turns in time to face him, but not before the newcomer grabs the much bigger man’s collar, wrinkling his freshly pressed uniform. I recognize this fierce lightning bolt of a boy. It’s Ritsuki Uchiyama.
“Next time you order one of your goons to sabotage the building’s electrical wiring, I’m going to let it burn to the ground with you in it.” Ritsuki’s words are harsh, and I flinch as if he’s spitting them at me.
“Me? Sabotage?” Caesar says calmly. “I was about to report a concerning spark when you took over.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Ricky, calm down.” Theo circles behind Ritsuki and clasps his shoulders. “You can’t say things like that.”
“An unfounded accusation and a serious threat,” Caesar notes.
“Whatever, you asshole.” Ritsuki releases Caesar’s collar and drops from his tiptoes. “I’m calling the Crown’s lead electrician.”
“I already did. While I believe in your skills, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Thank you for all you did, Ritsuki. I’m sure we’re lucky you were there.”
Ritsuki lets out a very sharp “Hah.” Then he shakes off Theo and marches back into the building. Theo takes one step, two, almost as if he intends to follow, but Olive anchors him with her arms around his.
“Sorry about that,” Caesar says. “Enough of the dramatics, right? It’s time to settle in and prepare for your classes. And don’t hold that outburst against Ritsuki. He’s a bit of a hothead, but he’s no doubt averted a crisis today. We’re all indebted to him.”
Theo’s jaw clenches, and Lucas leans down so that his mouth is near my ear. “That’s some bombastic rhetoric. All of it. I’m going to like it here.”
I sneak a peek at Lucas. His green eyes penetrate me with their signature mirthful gleam.
CHAPTER 5
I scamper away when the tour is finally over. I realize it went overtime because there were a lot of … distractions along the way—which I’m glad to leave behind. The library’s calling my name, and I’ll answer it once I’m prepared. I need to get my backpack from Selenite Hall.
This new social structure is stressful. I hope I can reclaim my quiet role and focus on academics going forward. No more dealing with a possibly suicidal, or just careless, Lucas Ignacio or shady politics and their war zone. Please and thank you. None of that has anything to do with me.
I stop at Selenite Hall’s front doors and stare at my scuffed Mary Janes. They haven’t grayed any, because this place is spotless, but that careless wear and tear is something I won’t see on anyone else’s shoes. I’m sure of it. They don’t drag their feet as I do. They don’t ever drop their eyes to the ground as they walk.
“Let’s be friends.” Lucas’s words echo in my ears, but I don’t understand him or anyone else at Gilded Academy. It’s as if I’ve stepped into an alternate reality.
“Why couldn’t it have been another world, one with magic?” I mutter.
“Welcome back, Miss Lopez,” the door greeter says with a curt bow.
“Th-thank you.” I bow in return. I don’t know if that’s the proper response, but it seems weird not to. My cheeks will never not be on fire while I’m here.
I’m in and out of Selenite Hall, my mostly empty backpack slung over my shoulders, and well on my way to the library when my phone chimes a notification alert. Dinner will be served strictly at 5:15 p.m. at Richter Palace in the banquet hall. The entrance doors close at 5:00 p.m. and the banquet hall doors close at 5:05 p.m. That’s extremely specific. In other words, if I’m late, I go to bed with a grumbling stomach. Good to know. I don’t remember seeing an actual palace, though. According to my helpful school map, it’s in the Embers past the stadium, meaning it isn’t one of the things I missed on the Crown Tour and was likely blocked from view when I rode in a buggy. Interesting. There’s a cafeteria in the Crown, but it’s closed this time of day. It only serves breakfast and lunch. Well, I should have at least an hour to kill. I set an alarm on my phone to go off at 4:30 p.m. for insurance.
As Lancaster Library comes into view, I estimate the number of books I’ll be able to lug back to my room. I wish Selenite Hall were closer. My brisk pace has already left me winded and that’s not counting the extra weight I’ll be hauling back. But I know myself, and I can’t visit a library without having my backpack with me. I do most of my reading on my Kindle because I don’t have a huge room back home, but I do enjoy holding a physical book in my hands. There’s something about the texture of the paper and the smell of dried ink. Russell makes fun of me for this because “only old people talk like that.”
I climb the wide steps and stop at the doors. The wood is dark, offsetting the paleness of the sunny sandstone. The carved sunrise spanning both doors complements the gold accents located all across the building. I press my finger into the dip of the swirly sun’s center. It’s smooth and somehow cool despite the heat. Bracing myself, I shove my weight against a single door this time, rather than opening both. This is the smart thing to do, because it’s half as much resistance.
The grand lobby, dappled with sunlight, is as captivating the second time around, but the moving elevator, occasionally peeking through the spiral staircase, commands my attention. Someone’s taking it up a level. The figure inside is a miniature inside a glass box. If I reach out my hand, I could pluck them from the diorama. I like this perspective. It makes me feel like a giant.
“Hello.” I almost shriek at the voice behind me because I’m stupidly excitable. I whip around and my hair smacks me in the face. While my headband contains most of my hair, some loose curls catch on my lips and glasses, hindering my vision. The gigantic woman looming over me doesn’t soothe my nerves. Slowly, I brush my hair back and tilt my chin to meet the chief librarian’s kind eyes.
“We weren’
t properly introduced earlier,” she says.
“I’m Melody.”
“Hannah Zale. You may call me Hannah.”
Uh, all right.
“If you need any help, I’m here to assist you. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“N-not exactly. I want to get lost.”
“I know the feeling. So many worlds to explore, subjects to learn—made all the better when you can riffle through the pages.”
“Exactly.”
“If only our library had infinite space, but no one would argue the digital era isn’t convenient. Even I love my e-books.”
At last, my body relaxes. Yes, this lady’s height is unnerving, but she’s my kind of person. “Oh, before I get lost, would you mind telling me if there are any student librarian positions open?”
“There will be. Come with me to the reference desk and I’ll scan your student ID. As you’ve taken the initiative, you’ll be among the first to be emailed details of student work opportunities and will automatically be sent any applications related to Lancaster Library.”
That’s fancy. Everything here is so streamlined.
I follow Hannah to the desk, offer her my ID, and she scans it. “You’re set,” she says and returns it.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Enjoy your stay.”
My heart beats quicker with each step I take toward the nearest cavernous corridor. The towering bookcases grow taller the closer I get. My cheeks ache and I try to stop smiling, but I can’t do it. This atmosphere compels me.
I emerge between two lofty lines of bookcases that are taller than I could have imagined. How high does this ceiling reach? It seems like it might go all the way to the sixth floor. Mezzanines break through the openness, connected by enchanting dark-wood bridges. It’s dizzying but beautiful. Support beams have murals carved into them, the same style as the sunrise on the entrance doors. What is this place?
I love fantasy, but I don’t live it. I’m a very realistic and practical person. Daydreaming isn’t part of my repertoire. As intriguing as it sounds, it’s better this way. Runaway imaginations concocting their own versions of reality aren’t conducive to a healthy normal life among living, breathing people. That’s why I’m confused, flustered. This must be a dream, a figment of my mind.
