9. Zeno
ZENO
Zeno wakes up to the sound of feet jumping around his dorm room. This is his new favorite part of the day.
After a week of picking Alexander up and dropping him to the floor in the morning, Zeno introduced him to musical alarms.
He didn’t get very far into his explanation when he noticed the shock on Alexander’s face. The application that plays music on their rings technically isn’t allowed within the Leadership Classes—too plebeian a use of music—but he didn’t think Alexander would be so appalled by the rule-breaking.
Turns out he was gaping because of the ring’s ability to play music at all, like he’d never heard recorded songs before in his life.
So Zeno hijacked Alexander’s ring the way he’d already set up his own, and showed Alexander how to use earbuds, which he apparently spent that whole week thinking were foreign jewelry.
For the past week since then, Alexander has been getting up on his own and dancing through his whole morning routine.
Zeno sits up in his bed, stretches out a crick in his back, and watches Alexander hop around with his shirt hanging open and only one leg in his cargo pants.
When Alexander notices he’s up, he smiles around his toothbrush and shimmies in Zeno’s direction. Zeno, naturally, shimmies right back.
He’s found that having a roommate isn’t so bad after all.
He plays violin at night while Alexander is doing readings for school—no matter how distracted he is, he still claps after every song—and he has to hang out with Arete solely in Xia’s room, but other than that his routine has stayed the same.
Having Alexander, specifically, as a roommate might be an upgrade on his prior situation. Alexander is already popular after only two weeks at the Academy. He’s charismatic and lovable and always down for a good time. Just seeing him makes Zeno smile.
And, look, Eudoxia is his closest confidant, but she’s always been more. He could never call her his best friend—it wouldn’t do justice to how he feels about her.
But Alexander’s not complicated at all. In fact, he and Zeno are the textbook definition of best friends, what with all the cracking jokes in class, throwing bread rolls at meals, wolf-whistling at each other across courtyards.
Even now, as Zeno ties up his shoes, Alexander is chatting to him about his decision to leave yet another button on his shirt undone.
“I mean, everyone could stand to look a little sexier, you know what I mean?” he asks, then someone bangs loudly on their door.
“Zeno! Alexander! Get up,” Eudoxia shouts from outside.
“Up,” Alexander screams back, but he doesn’t move to open the door. Zeno rushes across to do it instead.
When he does, Eudoxia opens her mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, but nothing comes out.
Her eyes double in size and she just stares at him—she was the one knocking on his door, right?—but then she’s back in her constant state of motion. “Put on a shirt, you heathen!” she yells, pushing past him to usher Alexander out of the room.
When he looks down he sees that he, indeed, lacks a shirt. Whoops.
Alexander laughs as Eudoxia drags him out and Zeno throws on his clothes to catch up with them by the stairs.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Eudoxia says, speeding them up the stairs. When they make it up to the dining hall, it’s much fuller than it usually is at seven ten in the morning. Eudoxia huffs an annoyed sigh.
She tugs both of their arms for food and then finds the closest thing to a front-row seat, which is most of the way to the back given how many people came early.
“Can someone remind me what’s happening again?” Alexander asks, but Eudoxia shushes him. Not a second later, footsteps sound dramatically behind them.
The Educator strides into the hall and it’s almost like someone has pressed mute on the room, the way the crowd hushes. He takes his time to approach his temporary podium, each step with purpose, each glance with intensity.
Zeno can’t suppress his shiver.
This is the Educator.
The Educator who knows about him and his father.
The Educator who is ready to send them away—branded and exiled—if they so much as trip down a stair.
The Educator who looks stern but fair, smile lines on his face and, for lack of a better word, focus in his expression.
Zeno can’t look for too long.
Alexander’s eyes narrow, scarily analytical. He gets that expression now and again, and it unsettles Zeno a little more every time he sees it. Mostly because it doesn’t fit into what Alexander is—or, at least, what he presents himself to be.
It makes Zeno think that maybe Alexander isn’t a charismatic person with an occasional edge, but a manipulative person with an excellent handle on charisma.
Then Alexander notices Zeno’s staring, and he smiles with a wink, and all of Zeno’s worries fade away until he questions whether Alexander’s demeanor changed at all.
The Educator clears his throat, shifting Zeno’s attention back to the front of the room.
“Thank you all for your timely appearances,” the Educator says pointedly when Kallias slips in late and into the closest available seat, which happens to be next to a clearly pleased Alexander.
“I understand that your classes begin in forty minutes, so I will keep my announcement brief.
“As you are all aware, the Trials are imminent. Very few are granted the opportunity to participate in them. I expect you all to take full advantage of it.
“For those of you who were pulled up recently—” Zeno swears the Educator meets Alexander’s eyes for a moment “—there is nothing more important than this competition.
It solidifies the future of the Republic.
It is a show of strength to our subjects.
It determines the Council of Kings and my very own successor, your future Educator.
“Most people are never gifted this chance. You are lucky. Luckier than lucky. No matter if you are of the youngest cohort allowed to take part in the challenges at fifteen, or the oldest at twenty-four, you must believe that you can succeed or else face a life of mediocrity.
“Your post-lunch classes are canceled today for planning meetings with your cohorts, led by your cohort leaders. Most of you have known these cohorts since your childhood. You are aware of all their weaknesses and strengths. And though trust in each other is vital, do not forget to be wary. There can only be one Educator. There can only be twenty Council members.”
He pauses, letting it land. Then he continues, “A little less than three weeks from now, you will all be given the theme of your first Trial. May the Forms grant you wisdom in Justice.”
The Educator claps, and it echoes through the room even once he’s walked leisurely out of the hall. A pair of Guardians hastily fold up the podium and follow after him.
Then the room erupts in chatter.
“He’s kind of scary,” Alexander observes, and Kallias rolls his eyes at him, leaving to find a less populated area to sit. Alexander watches him go.
“He’s definitely severe,” Eudoxia says. “Makes sense given how early he ascended to his position.”
Alexander hums, eyes unfocused.
Eudoxia notices his distraction too, because she snaps her fingers in front of his face and scolds, “Look alive, stupid. Eat your food. We can’t be late to class again.”
“That was only one time, and I maintain that it was worth it,” Alexander says.
“Your hair was more important than our joint punctuality?”
“Is that even a question?”
Zeno throws his head back and laughs.
As always, class is horribly boring. So much so that, at its end, Alexander whoops in excitement all the way down the stairs to the dining hall, eliciting a cheer from anyone he passes.
Zeno can’t think of one other person who could do that and not be scoffed at, but Alexander is special.
Once they’re all seated—Alexander complaining about the quality of the food and Eudoxia chastising him for his ingratitude—a shout echoes through the hall.
“Kallias!” Kleitos yells.
Oh, Forms. Not again.
Kallias raises his head just slightly, finds Kleitos halfway across the room, and rolls his eyes. Then he’s back to his book.
Kleitos stalks over, ready for a fight.
Zeno can only find it in himself to sigh.
No one likes Kleitos. Really, no one. But what they all tend to give him is attention. He’s a loose cannon, dangerous when left unattended. There’s only one person with the guts to leave him unsatisfied.
“Kallias,” Kleitos growls again.
Kleitos finds a reason to publicly confront Kallias at least once a month. It’s always embarrassing to watch, and it always ends with Kleitos storming off in a huff. He just never learns.
Today Kleitos slams a book down on Kallias’ table.
“I know you had something to do with this.”
Kallias doesn’t close his own book, but he does glance up to see what he’s being accused of. His mouth tightens like he’s trying to hold back a laugh. It’s a rare expression for him—makes him seem sweeter than he is.
“Looks like someone was trying to help you out,” Kallias says before returning to his reading.
“Bagging Baddies for Dummies on my doorstep?” Kleitos shouts, and everyone in the room manages not to laugh except for Alexander. Kleitos throws him a quick glare.
“I didn’t leave that at your door, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kallias responds without looking up.
“You really expect me to believe that?” Kleitos asks.
No response.
“Kallias,” Kleitos demands. He snaps in front of Kallias’ face, a menacing mirror of what Xia had done to Alexander that morning, but Kallias doesn’t even flinch.
“Forms, you’re insufferable,” Kleitos groans. There is nothing he hates more than silence. “Do you think anyone is convinced by your quiet act? I see the marks on your neck. I know you’re not as shy as you want everyone to think.”
Not even a hint of a reaction.
“You think you can pull the shit you pull—” he points at the prank book still sitting on the table “—and not expect consequences.”
Nothing.
So Kleitos tries a new tactic, rage turning to menace in an instant. “You know what I think?” Kleitos says, tugging Kallias out of his seat by the collar. “I think you need someone to teach you how to pay attention.”
Kleitos’ hand moves from Kallias’ collar to hold his throat. Kallias doesn’t move, but he’s not wearing his normal indifference anymore. Now he looks like he’s frozen, dissociated.
Zeno feels Alexander start to jump out of his seat and reaches out to yank him back to the table.
“Alexander, don’t.”
When Alexander glares, Zeno shakes his head. “Trust me. Don’t.”
He’ll see soon enough. Kallias doesn’t need his help.
“Or maybe,” Kleitos says, hand going down to pin one of Kallias’ hips against the table, “I’ll just take you upstairs and we can finish this conversation alone in my room. We both know that’s all you’re good for.”
Kleitos pushes at Kallias’ other hip and moves to hold him against the table with his own body.
“Zeno,” Alexander hisses, eyes screaming do something, and Zeno’s tempted to. Because Kallias isn’t moving, still frozen. But before he can jump up, Kallias shakes out his hand almost absentmindedly and slugs Kleitos square in the face.
Kleitos staggers back, cursing, and Kallias grabs the front of his shirt and hooks his ankle out from under him. Kleitos stumbles to the ground.
Kallias stands still for a moment, eyes vacant but vaguely aimed at Kleitos on the ground, then blinks back into himself. He tosses Bagging Baddies for Dummies down at him.
“You need this more than I thought,” he says, a hint of a forced smirk on his face. Then he’s back to his book like nothing happened.
Zeno shakes his head as Kleitos’ lackeys drag him, groaning, out of the dining hall.
Alexander stares in awe at Kallias and, as if he can feel it, Kallias puts down his book and stares back.
Zeno doesn’t even try to stop it. He just sighs and turns to Eudoxia to commiserate over their crazy friend’s choice of crush.
But Eudoxia doesn’t look like she’s commiserating. She looks guilty.
“Eudoxos,” Zeno says, not quite a question, but not not a question either.
Eudoxia smiles nervously.
“Oh, Forms, you did not.”
“I didn’t know he’d go after Kallias for it!”
Zeno snorts, and, after a moment of stifling it, Eudoxia breaks down laughing too.