“What story is that?” Alex asked.
Emily’s grin widened, and she sat down next to Alex.
“Well, one version I’ve heard is that you helped Mitsuru fight a whole pack of Weir,” she offered cheerfully, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.
“W-What?” Alex gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me! That definitely did not happen.”
“I didn’t think it was very likely,” she said, winking at him from beneath immaculately styled bangs. “You don’t look the type. Another version I heard was that Mitsuru saved you from being eaten by the Weir.”
“I think that’s probably closer to the truth,” Vivik offered.
“Whose side are you on, here?” Alex complained. “Seriously, though, she did save me. It was a one-woman show. I didn’t do anything except fall down and bleed.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Emily laughed. “So, what was scarier — the Weir, or Mitsuru?”
“Well…” Alex began doubtfully, only to be cut off by the arrival at the podium of what could only be the professor.
He was older, grey haired and slightly disheveled, with several days’ worth of stubble on his chin and a somewhat outdated wool jacket, the same insignia on his breast pocket that Alex had seen on Mitsuru’s blazer. He had a gigantic stack of books that he carried piled precariously on his outstretched arms, while the corners of even more jutted out from the leather messenger’s bag he had slung over one shoulder. As he passed by Alex, he left a wake of pipe tobacco.
“Come to order, people,” he said in a crisp British accent, piling the books on a table to one side of the podium. “Let’s find seats. We have much to do today…”
Emily put down her shoulder bag and started digging through it.
“You don’t mind if I sit here?” She asked innocently.
Alex shook his head more emphatically than he had intended.
“Please, by all means…” he said, ignoring Vivik’s amused snort.
“Alright, alright,” said the teacher, motioning for the class to be quiet. “That’s enough people. We have a new student, today — Alex Warner, could you stand up please?”
Alex stood up hurriedly, bashing his shin against the seatback in front of him in the process. He did his best to act like it didn’t hurt.
“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?”