7. Alexander #2
“The problem on the board that we’ve been doing for the last several minutes. Do you have an answer?”
Alexander looks to Kallias’ desk two rows up from his own, and he very clearly has not been working on math, but has, in fact, been reading a book of his own choice. Not the one he was reading at breakfast, though. Did he finish that whole thing in the three hours between then and now?
Kallias doesn’t seem nervous at all despite being caught red-handed.
He just bites his bottom lip and pushes his glasses into his hair.
He squints for a moment, reading the problem, then says with complete confidence, “Well, since the limit of one over n plus three over n squared plus two over n cubed divided by twenty-seven plus fifty-four over n plus thirty-three over n squared plus six over n cubed equals zero, the series converges absolutely.”
The teacher sighs like this is a regular occurrence. “Correct,” she acknowledges begrudgingly.
Kallias nods, smug, before letting his glasses fall to his nose and going right back to his book.
She shakes her head and resumes her lesson.
Alexander doesn’t follow her lecture, though—he stares at Kallias instead. Even he had trouble with that problem, and he had ten minutes. It took Kallias five seconds and no paper. He did all the work in his head.
Eventually Kallias catches him looking and his brows rise slightly. When Alexander doesn’t do anything, he lifts one brow higher up.
What is wrong with you? Alexander can practically hear.
Alexander just shrugs and turns back to the board. He can feel Kallias’ eyes roll behind him.
When the rest of their classes for the day—physical training, Socratic seminars, and advanced geometry—are finally over, they trek back to the dining hall for dinner.
Training was not fun, mostly because he learned that aesthetic muscles are not the same as real ones.
At home he was eating just enough protein and lifting just enough weight to look good, but in practice he’s not very fast, nor is he unusually strong, and he doesn’t have stamina for shit.
He’ll have to put in some work on his own because he hates being the worst at things.
More notable than his lack of athletic prowess was the appearance of Lazarus, the severe boy who didn’t laugh at his joke about Horse-face. He made a beeline for Alexander after training, stuck his hand out, and introduced himself as ‘cohort leader,’ whatever that means.
His hair, close-cropped to the sides, was almost military, and his almond eyes contained no mirth. Alexander sort of wanted to tell him to loosen up, but he just nodded and responded with his name.
“We’re going to need to talk about the Trials,” was the first thing he said after introductions. “Since you’re new, you’re not as well-meshed with the group and—” he managed to get out before Zeno shooed him away, demanding that they not stress Alexander out on his first day.
But now, as he, Zeno and, Eudoxos pick at mashed potatoes that taste more like glue with ambition, Alexander kind of wishes Zeno hadn’t. He needs to learn about what these mysterious ‘Trials’ are so he doesn’t end up dying in them.
They’re almost done eating when Horse-face swoops in with an obnoxious smile.
“Enjoying your food?” he asks, sneering.
Honestly, everything about this guy gives Alexander second-hand embarrassment. He’s never met anyone so overwhelmingly mediocre.
Zeno and Eudoxos keep eating like they can’t hear him, so Alexander does the same.
Horse-face apparently isn’t satisfied without the attention he so obviously craves because he sits on the table next to Eudoxos’ plate and snatches his fork.
“Hey,” Zeno huffs, reaching to take it back.
Horse-face tosses it over the side of the cliff and into the sea, and all four of them watch it fall.
“So, Xos—”
“Don’t call me that, Kleitos.”
“—I heard Theokleia invited you to the party I’m throwing tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not coming.”
Kleitos fakes a pout. “Oh no, why not? Are you too much of a girl to show up?”
Eudoxos’ body tenses up. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re a girl. A choiros. Scared of a little get-together? Really?”
“Go away, Kleitos,” Zeno growls.
“What? You’re gonna let your guard dog defend you? Little Eudoxos can’t find his big boy voice and stand up for himself?”
Zeno stands, but Eudoxos handles it first. He grabs one of Kleitos’ wrists, kicks a leg out from under him, and pins him to the table, an elbow on his neck.
“You want me to prove myself? Fine. I’ll come to your party,” he snarls. “But just so you know, your obsession with me is getting old. Just ask me to bend you over already, so I can say no and end this game of cat and mouse.”
Alexander cackles, which makes an already angry Kleitos physically shake with rage. But no matter how hard he tries to throw Eudoxos off, he’s unsuccessful. Only when Eudoxos lets him go can he stumble off, mumbling a series of incoherent insults as he goes.
“What an ass,” Alexander says to break the silence.
“More than,” Eudoxos agrees.
“You didn’t have to agree to go, you know,” Zeno says, face tight.
Eudoxos sighs, probably going for unbothered but not quite achieving it. “I know. But I need to get him off my back at some point. Maybe this will placate him.”
“I just hate seeing you have to put up with stupid stuff like that.”
They pause, staring into each other’s eyes like there’s more to say but they’re not sure what it is, and Alexander suddenly feels like he’s interrupting an intimate moment.
“Alright, you fools,” he says, standing. “I’m going to do some reading and go to sleep early. I’ll see you guys later.”