The Academy (7 page)

“This is it,” North said, breaking his silence at last. “Trays are at the front of the line. Grab one as you go in and get your food. The third-form table is third from the left. Don’t forget to clean your tray and put it in the wash-up slot before you go if you don’t want demerits.” Without another word he pushed his way through the swinging plastiglass doors, leaving me to stand alone in front of the large, crowded building.

I felt a bubble of apprehension expanding in my chest as I looked into the teeming mess hall. Living the quiet existence that I had, I was a little shy of crowds—especially crowds where I didn’t know anyone. The few society parties that Kristopher and I had attended in Victoria had been small and intimate compared to the milling mass of cadets I saw through the plastiglass windows. Also, I had never entered a party worried that one of the other people there wanted to kill or at least, severely disfigure me. It was a touchy situation.

Looking upward, I took a deep breath to gather myself before I went in. Prometheus was setting, turning the sky a lovely shade of deep azure-purple and Zeus was a large, dark shape looming on the horizon. The black ivy that crept along the walls rustled softly in the cool evening breeze and the Blood and Honor Blossoms swayed gently, exuding a spicy, somehow masculine fragrance into the evening air. It was almost peaceful.

I looked longingly at the hushed campus, wishing I could simply find a quiet spot and eat by myself but I doubted that was allowed. Besides, I had to meet my other classmates eventually.
It’ll be all right,
I told myself.
I’m sure not all of them are as hostile as Broward or as prickly as North.
I certainly hoped not, anyway.

I wasn’t eager to go into the glow of the mess hall but there was nothing else I could do. Sighing, I pushed my way in and went to the end of the long, winding line of students waiting for food.

There were battered metal trays in several stacks on the metal countertop. I took one and went through the line as North had instructed. A sullen faced cafeteria worker—the only woman I had seen since I entered the campus—glopped several steaming piles of reconstituted vegetable mush onto my tray, followed by some gray, unappetizing meat covered in pus-colored gravy. Looking at the food, I wondered why in the solar system the tuition at the Academy was so high. The education must be exceptional because it was clear all the money parents paid to send their sons here wasn’t being spent on food.

The mess hall was furnished with four long rows of tables and I saw at once what North had meant about the forms not mixing. The smallest and youngest boys occupied the table at the far left—obviously the first-form seating. The next table had slightly larger and older cadets and the third table—mine—had even larger ones. The fourth-form table was last—it was filled with cadets around North’s size and age. From the self-assured way they talked and laughed, it was clear they ruled the roost at the Academy. I wondered if I would last long enough to join them.

Sitting by himself at the fourth-form table, I saw North. He was barely picking at his meal and still seemed wrapped in brooding silence. I was surprised that he didn’t appear to be more popular. None of the cadets to either side of him were as tall and handsome as he was. His aristocratic features and dark golden hair made him stand out in the sea of faces—at least, I thought he did. Then again, he wasn’t going out of his way to be friendly. Every once in a while one of the other fourth-form students would address a remark to him but North barely nodded and never answered more than a word or two.

I looked for Broward too, but he didn’t seem to be at the fourth-form table. I supposed he might still be in line, getting food. In which case I had better eat and leave as soon as possible—before he spotted me. I hated feeling like I was hiding from him but he’d made it clear he wouldn’t face me in a fair fight. And since he and his friends outweighed and outnumbered me, there was nothing I could do but be on my guard.

Looking back at my own age group, I scanned the long row of third-form cadets, searching for a friendly face—but no one would even meet my eyes. They all joked and talked with the boys to either side of them but none of them appeared open to making a new friend. Sighing, I reminded myself it was probably for the best. The closer I got to anyone, the more likely it was my secret would be revealed. Still, it would have been nice to get a kind word from
someone
—even a stranger.

I found an empty seat between two of the third-form cadets and put down my tray. But just as I was about to sit down, the cadet to my right—a large boy with freckles and close-set hazel eyes—grabbed my arm.

“Hey, Tiny Tim, you can’t sit here. First-formers over there.” He jerked his head at the far table.

“I’m
third
-form,” I said, meeting his eyes with a frown. “I’m Kris Jameson—I just got in today.”

“Jameson, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, I heard about you. So where’s your uniform?”

By this time several other third-form cadets were listening to our exchange but I pretended not to notice. “It’s in my dorm room. I haven’t had time to try it on yet,” I said.

For some reason the cadet and all of his friends burst out laughing. “Didn’t try it on yet, huh?” one of them asked, still snickering. “That’s not what we heard.”

“Yeah, we heard you spent a nice, looooong time trying it on,” another one said.

“It’s no wonder though.” The first cadet, the one with freckles looked at me, his close-set hazel eyes narrowed. “He’s pretty as a girl, don’tcha think? With those big, brown eyes and those soft pink lips—yeah, Jameson, all you need are some tits and we could enter you in the Miss Prometheus Pageant.”

His jeers left me cold, and not just because I was embarrassed and furious at being laughed at. I had thought my disguise was pretty good—I had fooled the headmaster himself, after all. Also, my features were delicate but not that much different from my brother’s. Not to mention my short haircut, which went a long way toward making my face more masculine. But if this unknown cadet was making remarks about my feminine looks…

“Well, well, Dakes, I never thought I’d see the day you went manno-a-manno on us.” The sharp, acerbic voice to my left belonged to a tall, slender cadet with carefully coifed white-blond hair and pale green eyes.

The freckled cadet frowned. “What are you talking about, Wilkenson?”

“Oh, just the way you were waxing poetic about our new classmate’s pretty face—his big brown eyes, his luscious lips.” He cocked one white-blond eyebrow at Dakes. “Could it be that we are in the presence of the love which dare not speak its name?”

“What are you—hey!” Dakes was suddenly red in the face.

“Ah, yes—finally the penny drops,” Wilkenson said dryly. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page together now. So you were saying you thought our new friend here is pretty?”

“Shut the hell up, Wilkenson.” Dakes was red beneath his freckles. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant somebody could mistake him for a girl.”

“And someone might mistake
you
for a man but that wouldn’t make it true, now would it?” Wilkenson’s pale green eyes danced with humor.

“You—” Dakes began but Wilkenson waved at him dismissively.

“Goodbye, Dakes. I do love these little intellectual exchanges with you. We should do it again sometime when you haven’t left your brain in your dorm.” Without waiting for a retort from the irate Dakes, he took me by the arm and nudged me to the far end of the table. “Come sit with me, Jameson. Let’s leave the Philistines to their repast.”

I went with him, mainly because there was nothing else I could do. Sitting by Dakes and his friends was out of the question now and the only free seats were at the very end of the table where Wilkenson was leading me.

“Thank you,” I said, once we were seated side by side with plenty of distance between ourselves and the other cadets. “That was wonderful the way you put him in his place.”

“It’s not difficult to do if you have an IQ over 65.” Wilkenson picked delicately at a mound of reconstituted vegetables and then put down his fork. “I give up—who can eat this slop?”

“I was wondering the same thing.” I poked my mystery meat with my fork, half expecting it to poke back. “Are all the meals here this bad?”

Wilkenson gave a world-weary sigh. “Unfortunately, yes, my darling manikin. If you’re smart you’ll do as I do—have a relative send you a large supply of protein bars and live off them. It gets monotonous after a while but at least you know what you’re eating.” He frowned down at his tray. “Which is more than I can say for this.”

“I don’t know if that’s an option for me.” I couldn’t see taking the risk of contacting Kristopher just to ask him to send me protein bars. The Academy had a ban on all personal communication devices which meant I would have to get away from campus in order to call him.

“Well, then you’ll have to grin and bear it.” He gestured at my still full plate. “Eat up. I would say it will put hair on your chest and add inches to your height, but I’m afraid all I can tell you is that no one’s actually died of it before. Not that I
know
of, anyway.”

“Thanks.” I picked at the mound of vegetables. “And thank you for sticking up for me instead of joining in. No one else here has been very friendly.”

He nodded. “Is that what happened to your cheek? A bit of ‘unfriendliness'?”

I looked down. “You could say that.”

“Well, worry not, my delightful homunculus. Whoever did that is doubtless just jealous of your dashing good looks.” Wilkenson batted white-blond eyelashes at me, making me laugh.

“I doubt that,” I said dryly. “I seem to be universally hated just because I’m small. But I can’t be the only short gir— uh,
person
here. I didn’t see a sign that said, ‘You must be this tall to enter' outside the Academy gates when I came in this afternoon.”

Wilkenson laughed delightedly. “Excellent—wit as well as charm. A perfect combination. And just ignore what Dakes and his fellow Philistines were saying. They hate anyone who’s different for any reason.”

“Speaking of different…” The new voice was deep and familiar. I looked up to see North across from us, a mostly full tray in one hand and a frown on his face. “Speaking of different,” he said again, addressing Wilkenson, “I don’t think Jameson is quite the same type of different as
you
, Wilkenson.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked but Wilkenson only gave my roommate a cool glare.

“Well, well, the Ice Prince speaks. To what do I owe this honor, your majesty?”

“Cut the crap, Wilkenson.” North frowned. “I’m doing you a favor—I’m letting you know you’ve got the wrong idea.”

Wilkenson cocked an eyebrow at him. “And how would you know what ideas I may or may not have in my pretty little head? Jameson isn’t even in your form.”

“North’s my roommate,” I said. “But we just met today.”

“Really? Just today?” Wilkenson batted his eyelashes at North. “Now, I must say that’s not very long. Not nearly enough to know someone else very well.”

“I know him well enough to know you’re barking up the wrong tree,” North said shortly. He looked at me. “Be careful. I’ll see you back at the room before DLO.”

“What was he talking about?” I stared after him in confusion, as he dumped his tray in a hole in the wall and strode out of the mess hall.

“Who can say?” Wilkenson sighed. “He’s an enigma. So much pain and prettiness and mystery all tied up in one unravelable knot.”

“He told me he missed most of last year for personal reasons,” I said, hoping to get a little more information about my mysterious roommate.

Wilkenson nodded sagely. “So he did. But if you’re hoping I can fill you in on the sordid details, I’m sorry but I really can’t.”

“Why not?” Though I didn’t want to admit it, I was bursting with curiosity.

Wilkenson’s pale green eyes opened wide. “Why
because
, dear boy, no one knows! And believe me, it isn’t for lack of trying.” He watched North speculatively as my tall roommate pushed through the plastiglass doorway and into the night. “Ah, he’s a riddle. But one I fear I personally am never meant to solve.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to either.” I sighed. “One minute he’s nice and the next he’s…”

“What?” Wilkenson looked at me, eager curiosity in his eyes.

I shrugged. “Cold. Distant. I don’t know—maybe that’s just the way he is. I haven’t even known him a whole day yet.”