And the girls that weren’t his classmates? To most of them he wasn’t Zorian Kazinski, but that guy who is a brother of Daimen and Fortov Kazinski. They had this image of what he ought to be like, and once it became obvious that the real him didn’t match their expectations, they inevitably became upset.
Besides, all this romantic stuff… well.
"Well?" Benisek prodded.
"I’m not going," Zorian said.
"What do you mean I’m not going?" Benisek said cautiously.
"Just what I said," Zorian said. "I’m skipping out on the whole dance thing. Turns out I had an alchemy-related accident and had to stay in my room for the evening."
It was perhaps a bit cliché, but whatever. Zorian had already found a particularly tricky potion that was supposed to make a person more outgoing and sociable – something that was entirely plausible for him to try to make – that would make a person very ill when done wrong but wouldn’t actually kill him. If he does it right it will seem like an honest mistake instead of a way to weasel out of the dance.
"Oh come on!" protested Benisek, and Zorian had to pinch him to make him lower his voice. The last he needed was to have Ilsa overhear him. "It’s the summer festival! A special summer festival, with the whole… parallel… thingy…"
"Planar alignment," Zorian offered.
"Whatever. The point is that you have to be there. Everyone who is anyone is coming!"
"I’m a nobody."
Benisek sighed. "No, Zorian, you’re not. Look Zorian, we’re both merchant kids, right?"
"I don’t like where this is going," Zorian warned.
Benisek ignored him. "I know you don’t like to hear this but-"
"Don’t. Just don’t."
"-you have a duty to your family to put on a good face. Your behavior reflects on them, you know."
"There is nothing wrong with my behavior," snapped Zorian, aware that he was attracting stares of nearby people but not caring at the moment. "You’re free to go to whatever you want, but leave me out of it. I’m a nobody. A third son of a minor merchant family from the middle of nowhere. People here don’t give a fuck about me. They don’t even know who I am. And I like it that way."
"Okay, okay!" protested Benisek, gesturing wildly. "Dude, you’re making a scene…"
"Whatever," scoffed Zorian. "Leave me alone and go away."
The nerve! If there was anyone who should take a look at the impression he was leaving to people it should be Benisek! The irresponsible leech would have been dumped into a tier three group if it wasn’t for Zorian’s constant help, and this is how he repays him? Why was he even hanging out with that guy?
He scoffed, trying to calm down. Stupid summer festival and stupid dance. The funny thing is that unlike most people who hate these kinds of events, Zorian wasn’t strictly bad at them. He knew how to dance, he knew how to eat without embarrassing himself, and he knew how to talk to people at these kinds of events. He had to know these things, because his parents used to drag him along with them when attending these kinds of events, and they made sure he knew how to behave himself properly once there.
But he hated it. He had no words to describe how much events such as these sickened him. Why should he be forced to attend something he hates when the academy had absolutely no right to demand it of him?
No, they had no right at all.
Hesitantly, Zorian knocked on the door to Ilsa’s office, wondering why she called him here. There is no way…
"Come in."
Zorian peeked inside and was promptly told to have a seat while Ilsa calmly sat behind her desk, drinking something out of a cup. Probably tea. She looked calm and serene but Zorian could detect an undercurrent of disapproval in her posture. Hmm…
"So Zorian," Ilsa began. "You’ve been doing quite well in my class."
"Err, thank you professor," said Zorian cautiously. "I try."
"Indeed, one could say you’re one of the best students in your group. A student I intend to take under my wing after this whole festival rush dies down. An example to everyone, and just as much a representative of your class as miss Stroze."
Oh, this is bad.
"I don’t-"
"So, excited about the dance this Saturday?" asked Ilsa, seemingly changing the topic.
"Yes I am," Zorian lied smoothly. "It sounds like lots of fun."
"That’s good," Ilsa said happily. "Because I heard that you plan to boycott the event. It was rather upsetting, I must say. I was rather clear that attendance is mandatory, I believe."
Note to self: find something horrible to do to Benisek. A spell that causes the target’s tongue to feel like it’s on fire or something… or maybe piercing pain in the genital region…
"Just a bunch of nasty rumors professor," Zorian said smoothly. "I would never dream of intentionally boycotting the dance. If I am unable to attend-"
"Zorian," Ilsa cut him off.
"Professor, why is it so important that I show up there, anyway?" asked Zorian, a bit of crankiness seeping into his voice. He knew it was a bad idea to blow up on a teacher, but damn this whole thing was pissing him off! "I have a medical condition, you know? Crowds give me headaches."
She snorted. "They give me headaches too, if it makes you feel any better. I can give you a potion for that. The fact is I’m one of the organizers of the dance, and if too many students are absent I’ll end up with a black mark on my record. Especially if someone as prominent as yourself were to not show up."
"Me? Prominent!? I’m just an average student!" Zorian protested.
"Not nearly as average as you think," Ilsa said. "Just getting this far requires extraordinary intelligence and dedication – especially for a civilian-born student like yourself, who wasn’t exposed to magic your entire life. People keep an eye out for people like you. Also, you’re Daimen’s younger brother, and we both know how famous he is."
Zorian’s lips stretched into a thin line. Zorian was sure the last reason was what it all came down to in the end, and all the other arguments were just excuses and attempts to butter him up. Even with his brother on a whole different continent, Zorian still couldn’t escape from his shadow.
"You don’t like to be compared to him," she guessed.
"No," Zorian admitted in a clipped tone.
"Why is that?" she asked curiously.
Zorian considered side-stepping the question – his family was a sore subject for him – but uncharacteristically decided to go for honesty. He knew it wouldn’t do much, but he felt like venting at the moment.
"Everything I do is always compared to Daimen and, to a slightly lesser extent, Fortov. It has been that way since I was a child, before Daimen ever became famous. My parents have never been shy about playing favorites, and since they were always interested chiefly in social achievements, I was always found wanting. My family has no use for a withdrawn bookworm, and made that abundantly clear over the years. Until recently, they ignored me completely, treating me more like I was my sister’s babysitter than their son."