Oralie had arrived at the Academy two hours before
Cosmo and Aleric. Being a janitor sucked, but it was valuable. She had gotten uniforms for her comrades and had mapped out the place well for them. Although she had yet to hand them the maps but she felt soon enough she would see them. She had even snuck into the office to change their schedules.
Aleric and Cosmo were older than Cecil, the oldest son, and even putting them both as seniors was risky business to her. As she had come to realize, the students at the school were immature. It seemed every class had a clique and the students seemed to constantly brag about their parents worth. Every single child when irritated would use their last name or their parents pocketbook to try and make others submit.
Oralie couldn’t wrap her head around kids doing such a thing. She knew
Vel Anir was rotten, after all, look at how they had infiltrated
Aina O Ka La and ruined it. Despite her tribe’s graciousness, the Anirians had mocked them while they took everything from them. Even Oralie’s name, turning it into something Anirian.
At times she felt sick when she thought of herself as Oralie instead of Orasa’i Olioli.
She was taken aback from her thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to pity herself and her predicaments. If she wanted revenge, and she craved it like nothing she ever had before, then she had to be smart about this. And so she waited for Aleric and Cosmo, two poorly drawn maps folded up and hidden within her fist.
Cecil and Deacon Auclair had an appearance to keep up. While Deacon was months away from turning nine, Cecil couldn’t deny the fact that his little brother was the favorite. And of course he was. Last night they had brought home their midterm exams.
His mother did the same as she always did: she would cook her sons favorite food. Despite being wealthy and having amazing cooks, both Cecil and Deacon were in love with Mother’s pancakes. No cook they had could make the same sort of rich, fluffy pancake as their distant mother.
Or maybe it was just the fact that this was the only thing she ever cooked for them, and you could only eat it if you were exceptional.
Cecil and Deacon had walked into the kitchen, midterm reports in hand. They both already knew their scores. The envelope in Cecil’s hand soaked up the moisture in his clammy hands and it felt heavy despite only containing a single piece of paper. Their father was gone, as was to be expected. They only ever saw him three times a year now, but business wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. Especially after the revolution.
The Auclair boys presented their grades to their mother. She looked at each one carefully.
“Both of you. Sit.” Henrietta commanded of her two sons. They both sat down in their seats. Deacon was beaming and Cecil knew his little brother’s mouth was watering. “Deacon.” Henrietta continued. “Perfect marks in
Literature, Geography, Science, Arithmetic, History, Art, Physical Education, Grammar and Speech. Your home room teacher even left a comment saying your autobiography will be published in the school’s newsletter for all staff, students and alumni to see. You succeeded. I’m glad you made good choices.” She gave a single pat to the dark-haired child’s head. Then she turned her withering gaze to Cecil.
“Is there a reason you decided to embarrass me with your history score?” She asked her older son.
“
I still am first in my class. It was only one question.” Cecil whispered, looking down into her lap. He hadn’t realized his hands had turned into fists. “
I got two battles confused. They happened back to back and the question was written in such a way that I couldn’t—“
“What does your father say? Even the smallest mistakes can lead to big consequences. I don’t know what’s happened to you this year. Last semester it was calculus and now it’s post-second
Elven War history.” She sighed, and shook her head. She walked around the table until she stood behind Cecil. She picked up the plate of pancakes and began to walk away.
“Deacon, you may eat. Cecil, watch your brother and remember to make better choices next time.” She didn’t say or else, but Cecil thought she might as well. It wasn’t the first time his mother had reminded him that if he couldn’t be the best, she had a second child that could fit the role.
This thought had plagued Cecil as he watched Deacon eat (and who offered his older brother some when he thought no one was looking but Cecil couldn’t eat anything that night) and when he lied awake in bed, staring at his ceiling and thinking. He didn’t sleep and the birdsong that morning did little to relieve him of his anxiety. When he got ready for school it still plagued him and when he looked in the mirror, he thought of nothing but his failures.
He skipped breakfast as well. His mother said nothing, didn’t even look at him which was the norm. At least, that was the norm this year.
On the carriage ride to school he was quiet, pretending he was studying but he could hardly read the thick novel in his hands and Deacon had chatted away about the day he should have today. Deacon never studied, at least not the way that Cecil had to. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair.
So when the Auclair’s carriage pulled up to the front gates of the school, the Auclair family’s insignia embossed in gold on each carriage door, Cecil let Deacon get out first. He followed after his little brother and without thinking, right before they walked through the intricate iron gates, shoved Deacon to the side, causing the little boy to crash right in Cosmo.
Quickly, Cecil stalked off, picking up his pace before Deacon could do anything other than shout “
hey!”
Cosmo Aleric
