Page 42 of The Amber Sunburst

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.