“Thank you,” the teacher nodded at him. “I am Mr. Windsor. These sixteen fine young men and women will be your classmates for the duration of this lecture course. Duration defined, of course, by your own individual performance.”
Windsor motioned for Alex to sit down.
“Very well,” he continued on, “we have much to cover this session, in order to keep this class on pace, and we must find some way to accommodate our newest member as well. Mr. Warner is some weeks behind, and will need assistance to get caught up. I believe, ah, yes… Ms. Muir?”
“Yes, Mr. Windsor?” Emily asked demurely, still looking down at the notebook in front of her.
“Would you mind helping our new student for today?” Mr. Windsor powered up the projector next to him. “If you could introduce him to his classmates, during break, and help him through the material, that would be very helpful. I would imagine he would need to share your textbook…”
“Of course, Mr. Windsor,” Emily said cheerfully, sliding her textbook over so that Alex could see it, too.
A general muttering spread through the class, but it was quieted by a glance from Mr. Windsor. Alex noticed a black-haired girl looking back at them, one row down and several seats over, glowering at Emily, and looking a bit too young to be in the same class as him. When she noticed Alex looking at her, she shook her head solemnly, and then turned her attention to the notebook in front of her.
“Well, I am totally fucking screwed,” Alex said glumly, piling lettuce from the salad bar into a bowl. “What the hell was Windsor talking about, anyway?”
“Yeah, I felt that way at first too,” Vivik agreed cheerfully, using tongs to pull hot rolls from a basket. “Just be glad you didn’t join mid-session. I hear Windsor made some kid take a midterm last year a week after he enrolled.”
“Vivik!” Emily protested. “That did not happen.”
“This cafeteria is alright, though,” Alex allowed, puzzling over a variety of pasta.
He wasn’t kidding. The cafeteria was actually nicer than most of the restaurants Alex had been to. The dining hall itself was huge, easily capable of seating a couple hundred, though there were only thirty or forty students eating at the moment. One whole wall was nothing but windows, and the afternoon sun filtered pleasantly through the trees.
Alex had been eating with Michael at the staff canteen for the last few weeks, which they’d generally had more-or-less to themselves, and he’d developed a fair amount of respect for the food, which he’d eaten in quantities that astounded him. But, he had to admit that the student facilities were no worse. It was still institutional fare, with the same over-reliance on casseroles, pasta and salad that had been consistent at every cafeteria he’d been to, but the quality was considerably better than anything he’d encountered before. The lasagna that he’d heaped on his plate looked positively edible, and the lettuce for the salad was neither wilted nor ancient.
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, taking a carton of milk from a refrigerator, “you just need a little grounding and you’ll be fine. It’s not actually harder than any other class you’ve ever taken, you just aren’t familiar with the subject matter.”
“It is much easier when you are raised into it, isn’t it, Emily?” The owner of the grave voice was the black- haired girl from class, who was standing behind them, holding a lunch tray of her own. Up close, Alex was surprised at how young and small she was — she looked like a very serious middle-schooler. She was flanked on either side by one young man who Alex remembered from class, and another, much older one that he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. She was not smiling, but she wasn’t scowling this time, either. Alex couldn’t think of a better way to describe her than severe, her hair parted neatly down the middle and worn straight and spilling over the shoulders of her ornate black dress. “You were planning on telling him, right?”
Emily sighed theatrically.
“Well, I was going to introduce you anyway — Alex, this is Anastasia Martynova, the scion of the Black Sun cartel, along with her comrades-in-arms, Renton Vidor, and Edward Krylov.” Emily picked up her tray and started to walk away. “Now, can we eat our lunch in peace?”
Anastasia looked at Alex thoughtfully. Her lace-fringed black dress looked too hot for the weather to him, in an overly gothic sort of way. He wondered how much younger than him she was, and why she was in the same class with him. She didn’t look more than thirteen or fourteen. Maybe she was a gifted student? Did they even have such things, here?
“Choose your company carefully, Alexander. You spend enough time associating with Emily, and people might start making assumptions,” she warned.
Alex nodded diplomatically, totally unsure of what to make of her advice. Anastasia shrugged and then turned away, motioning for the two boys to follow her. Renton — the older, blond kid — grinned at Alex in a troubling way, while the younger Edward gave him a friendly nod before departing.
Alex stared after them for a moment, then gave up trying to figure things out, and followed Emily and Vivik over to an empty table to eat his lunch. He got in maybe five bites.
He heard the goon walk up behind him, heard him snickering. And Alex knew there couldn’t be any good reason for anyone to be standing right behind him. But he wasn’t there to start shit, either.
“Hey new kid.” Alex turned to face him, sighing. He was a big guy, with deep set, mean eyes and the cauliflower ears of a wrestler. “Seems like you’re already pretty popular around here.”
Alex stared evenly back at the sneering boy. He couldn’t see any benefit in responding, so he didn’t.
“You got something to say to me, fag?”
He leaned close, and Alex winced at his breath, and wondered if he ever brushed his teeth. Alex tried to look away without seeming bothered.
“No? You scared or something, huh?”
“What is your problem, Steve?” Emily asked sharply, impaling lettuce with a plastic fork. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Steve’s eyes narrowed.
“He one of yours, Emily?”
Alex noticed a hint of caution in the idiot’s voice. Alex was starting to understand why orphans were so much more vulnerable at the Academy. It was a lot like how things had worked back at the Youth Facility, where the only thing more dangerous than being in one of the gangs was not belonging at all.
Emily shook her head.
“He just got here, Steve. Why don’t you try not to make us all look like assholes this time, huh?”
“Why don’t you stay the fuck out of my business, Emily? If he isn’t one of yours, then it isn’t any of your concern.”
“This is boring,” Alex said, turning back to his lasagna. “You don’t have shit to say to me, anyway.”
He set his teeth when Steve flicked his ear with the tip of his index finger, determined not to make a noise. It was painful, but controlling his temper was more difficult. Alex was tempted to settle things right then, but he reminded himself that it would be better to pick his time.
“You’re lucky, fag. But one of these days, your girlfriend won’t be around, and then you and me are gonna have a little talk.”
Steve’s grin was dumb, obscene.
“I think we probably will,” Alex said, trying to sound more confident than he felt, struggling to cut the crust of the lasagna with a frustratingly dull plastic knife. “Watch your back, asshole.”
“Whatever.” Steve stood for a moment, leering, and then he sauntered off to bother someone else.
For a long moment, the table was silent, as Emily and Vivik stared at Alex. Alex shoveled food in his mouth without paying it any attention, forcing his shoulders to relax, his jaw to unclench.
“So, Emily, was what Anastasia said about you true?” He kept his voice casual, trying to cut a roll in half with the questionable plastic knife.
“Sure,” Emily replied, opening her milk, still looking at him with obvious concern. “I was going to tell you. There’s nothing sinister about it. I was born into the Raleigh Cartel, on the opposite side of the fence as Anastasia. But since I’m still a student here at the Academy, I’m unaffiliated.”
“Emily,” Vivik said around a mouthful of salad, “you aren’t being entirely honest with Alex.”
Emily set her milk back down on the table and then glared at Vivik.
“How so? I still haven’t made any decisions, yet. I’m not like Anastasia — my family isn’t particularly
