Jackson tried his best to pay attention in History class. He was still not used to being a good student, but after doing all that homework, he didn't want to waste his momentum.
He ignored his old friends ever since they beat him up. This was Jackson's third day back to school, and he'd mostly been able to avoid them. He caught Beck staring coldly a few times.
Jackson's other two friends—Charlie and Sebastian—were always with Beck, and seemed to follow his lead. Jackson supposed those friendships were over now, but he didn't care. He already had a plan for the rest of the school year, and it didn't involve a social life.
Things in The Interim were going steadily. In just four days of study, Jackson probably knew more Ihmonic phrases than Spanish phrases at this point. If he could somehow do his real world homework in The Interim, he'd be at the top of his class. Everything came to him so much easier there, though Sairia said it would only last a few months.
He was still excited to go there every night, but not as much since last week. The routine of studying Ihmonic day-in and day-out was really weighing him down. He just wished there was something else to do there. For now, he held onto the hope that things would get more interesting.
Jackson shook his head, realizing that he wasn't paying attention to the teacher. He focused again, trying to stop himself from daydreaming. He scribbled notes down into his—previously empty—notebook and copied what he saw on the slides.
Maybe he'd finally get above a 70 on one of his exams. That was his goal, anyway. He continued to take notes and pay attention for the rest of class until the bell rang.
After that, he packed up his stuff and went to the classroom across the hall. Science was next on his schedule, which was unfortunate. It meant he would be seeing his old friends again. He frowned at the thought.
The school allowed five minutes between each class to go to your locker or to the bathroom, but Jackson didn't need it. He waited for the rest of his fellow students in the science classroom. Clique-by-clique they piled in until the classroom was full, and then the teacher came out of her office.
"Good afternoon, boys and girls," she said.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Shilling," only half the class replied. It was a good measure of how much respect she had in the class, not due to any fault of her own—it was just the way of adolescents.
"It's finally time to start the end-of-year project," Mrs. Shilling announced. "Now, this is a group project, so you can stick with your friends, and it'll all go a lot easier. It is required to be in a group; you can't do this project alone. So to start, let's form into groups of three, and then I will explain the rest."
She let the whole class do as they pleased, and it erupted into a bustle. Jackson could see the common friend groups joining together, occasionally someone would be left out and they would find other like-minded individuals.
The whole process went pretty quickly despite the chaos, but Jackson only sat and waited to see who he would get stuck with. It was easier to wait it out and get the crumbs than it was to try and be outgoing.
He glanced at Beck, Charlie, and Sebastian, who had already formed their group. No surprise there. He looked away.
By the end of it all, Jackson could see the only student left sitting alone. It was an Asian boy with glasses that were a little too big for his face—they kept sliding off his nose.
Jackson recognized the boy, but couldn't remember his name. The boy glanced at Jackson several times as well, clearly noting the lack of a group. Jackson wasn't about to get up and talk to him; he knew they would end up in a group either way, but he would let the teacher sort that out.
Mrs. Shilling stood in front of the class again. "Alright, everyone. Looks like almost all of you formed your groups. Just two outliers. What to do with you…," she said, stroking her chin. "I would make a couple groups of four, but I know you, Jackson. I won't let you ride on the backs of your peers this time."
A few students laughed—his old friends laughing the loudest.
Jackson's face grew hot. He tried to bury his anger away. How could he ever improve if people were always trying to keep him in this invisible box of bad behavior? Even if it was a box of his own creation.
"So, in this case," the teacher continued, "I will put you and Ryan in a group of two. Don't make him do all the work, okay?"
More laughs.
Jackson buried his anger even deeper, trying to resist an outburst. He didn't want to get suspended again.
Ryan—the Asian boy—sat next to Jackson, and the teacher carried on. She was explaining the project. It had something to do with testing the acidity of household objects.
Jackson couldn't hear much; his ears were ringing in fury. He hated teachers; they would do anything for a laugh. He sat in his chair, face forward, but not looking at anything, not listening. All he could manage to do was think of some way to get revenge on Mrs. Shilling.
The class went by quickly while he stewed. At the end of it, the boy next to him stuck out his hand.
"I'm Ryan," the boy said in a squeaky voice.
"Jackson," he responded politely, shaking Ryan's hand. He'd seen Ryan around the school a couple of times.
To Jackson, Ryan was just another lonely nerd that was prime pickings for the school bullies. Even Jackson and his old friends pulled a prank on him a time or two. So he was surprised Ryan introduced himself as if they'd never met.
"When do you want to meet up for the project? After school?" Ryan asked.
"Uh, I'm a little busy after school, sorry," Jackson replied awkwardly. "We can figure out a time some other day. We have a few months to finish the project, you know."
Ryan blinked. Then he gave a slight smile and nodded.
"Okay, well, see ya," Jackson said, standing up from his seat and heading out the door.
Ryan stood up and walked behind him.
Jackson walked down the hallway toward his next class and noticed Ryan still walking behind. Following him? Jackson made a right turn down the hallway and still Ryan was there.
What was with this kid?
Jackson turned around. "You okay?" He asked rudely.
Ryan looked flustered. "Uh-huh, you have English next, right? I'm in the same class."
"O-oh, sorry."
"No problem."
Just then Beck, Charlie, and Sebastian walked by. Beck glanced at Jackson and Ryan and kept walking. After the three were a few feet away, Beck turned to his friends. "Looks like the nerds are multiplying," he joked. The other boys giggled.
Jackson fumed. So now Beck was going to lump him up with Ryan? Is that how Beck saw him now? A nerd? Well, maybe Beck needed another beating. Would a nerd do that? Jackson trudged toward his old friends and grabbed Beck's shoulder.
Beck turned around. "You got a problem?" He said defiantly.
Jackson wasn't sure what to say. He didn't really want to say anything. He only wanted to punch Beck's stupid face, but he thought twice. It wasn't a matter of controlling anger; Jackson just didn't want to get in trouble.
"Apologize," he said through gritted teeth. He immediately regretted saying it—it sounded so wimpy.
"For what?" Beck asked indignantly.
Jackson still didn't know what he was saying and glanced back at Ryan, who was staring wide-eyed. That was it. Maybe he could turn this into a heroic thing. That way the school might not suspend him if it came to trading blows.
"You can say what you want about me, but you can't treat people you don't even know like they're trash." That sounded even wimpier! What was he saying?
"Pfft, okay," Beck said. "Sorry, kid," he called out to Ryan. He looked back at Jackson, dead in the eyes. "Now back off, nerd."
That backfired.
Beck walked away, leaving Jackson alone and feeling like an idiot. Jackson was still fuming, and now he had lost his chance to take it out on someone who deserved it. He kept trying to control himself, but he wasn't sure how much more he could take.
He walked slowly toward the classroom now, looking down with an angry look on his face. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and turned around aggressively.
Ryan held up his hands and flinched. "Sorry, it's just…," he said, putting his hands down. "No one's ever stood up for me before. Thanks."
Jackson felt bitter about the situation; it wasn't really his plan to save this kid. "Don't mention it," he said, and went right back to ignoring Ryan.
The rest of the school day went by quickly, since Jackson was still replaying the events in his head. First the teacher made jokes about him in front of everyone, then Beck was talking behind his back. The memories just made him more angry, so he tried to put it out of his head.
He was outside when Sophie pulled the car up. His mom was in the passenger seat. Jackson got in and slammed the door a little harder than he meant to. No one said anything, though.
The drive home was mostly quiet, except for his mom giving occasional driving tips to Sophie as they sped down the boulevard.
There were trees on both sides, occasionally interrupted by a lone house with a large front yard. Most of the houses had dogs running around or standing at the fence, barking.
Eventually the family arrived in their own neighborhood, and Jackson recognized the local park. There was graffiti covering most of the playground and swing sets.
Sophie kept driving and soon pulled into the driveway. She parked next to the only other car. Their dad was the only one who drove that other vehicle.
Everyone hopped out of the car, and Mark was the first to enter the house—which was usually the case. Jackson followed and went straight to his bedroom, tossing his backpack on the bed.
Mark was already on his own bed, watching videos on his tablet. It seemed like the events of last week no longer bothered the little boy. He had redownloaded all his apps and games.
So why was Jackson still in trouble?
Jackson sat down at the desk, which was a lot emptier now that all his late work was turned in. He felt a small sense of accomplishment in that. Now if only his grades could recover well enough for him to pull through middle school.
"Jackson Bennett Cooley!" His mom yelled from across the house.
Jackson stood up, startled. Another scolding? That couldn't be good. What was she mad about now?
He paced around his bedroom a little before getting the courage to see what she wanted. He walked out and found her in the hallway outside her bedroom. She was holding his phone, the shattered screen facing toward him. His mom was red with anger.
"Here I was, about to end your punishment," she said, "just to find out you were on your phone the whole time? And not only that, you broke the darn thing!"
"I was not—" Jackson tried to stammer out.
"Do NOT lie to me, I'm already pissed at you!"
"But it was just one time—"
"That's it! You're grounded for another week! And don't even think about asking for another phone! That was the last one!"
Jackson clenched his fists. She wouldn't listen to him. This argument was pointless. "I don't care!" He yelled. Then he went back into his room and slammed the door. This was becoming a regular event, and he was sick of it.
Jackson could still hear his mother cursing in the living room. He heard something hit a plastic sack; it was probably his cellphone in the trash.
He lay down with his back on the bed and started hitting the mattress furiously with his elbows. Then he started kicking and punching and headbutting. Anything he could do to get out his frustration. There was so much of it.
Mark hurried out of the room in a panic.
This whole day was the worst. His whole life was the worst. No one was on his side. Why couldn't it all be easier? Even when he tried to change, he kept getting more and more garbage piled on top of him. When would this nightmare end?
______________________
Sairia gripped her hands together to settle her nerves. She still didn't feel like she belonged in these council meetings, but Abshak insisted. "Just give a report of the boy's progress," he had said.
Well, if it was that easy, then why couldn't she just say what needed to be said directly to Abshak? Then he could tell The Council.
She knew she didn't belong in the meeting and, judging by the faces of the members, they knew it too. All she could do was stand beside Abshak and keep her head down until it was her turn to speak.
"I have more news of the assassins from Ma Nasan," Sallion said. "This time a body was found in the Colad District, with the fingernails pulled out and lesions on the throat. They have moved on to torture." He paused grimly. "This must be brought to an end before something worse comes."
"Devastating news," Abshak said. "Nasanites, you say?" He asked curiously. "I heard about the man who was killed. He owned a thriving company of miners. A true tragedy. Did you know him, Member Sallion? From the Trader's Guild, perhaps?"
"I… did not know him personally, no," Sallion said. "But his status speaks volumes about the severity of these assassins. It isn't just peasants being killed; these are high ranking officials, aristocrats, dignitaries! It can't go on! I urge The Council to put more guards in the upper districts."
"Can we spare the manpower, Member Mandiff?" Abshak asked, turning his head.
Mandiff looked like he was sweating. "I suppose… a few…," he said.
Sairia knew that Mandiff was in a tight spot. The amount of goodfolk joining the military had diminished by half every year for the last decade. Collecting food and resources was far more urgent for those people—and The Council knew it.
Sallion might be ready to begin drafting people, but the other members knew it was not a good time. Some needs just had to come first.
"Well, I hope that helps until we can find a more permanent solution," Abshak said. "On to other business. Member Olek, how are the coffers?"
"Continuing to deplete, Great Head. Without external trade, I'm afraid that will always be the case. I already fear we are taxing the goodfolk too much," Olek said in his shaky voice.
"Yes, I believe you're right," Abshak replied with a frown. "If only there was some way to end The Embargo and make a treaty with Ep Liam. Any news on contacting them, Member Mandiff?"
"None, Great Head," he said. "They continue to sink our ships before we can get within speaking distance. Even the royal messengers are treated this way."
Abshak pursed his lips grimly. "Keep trying. This can't go on forever."
Sairia felt shame surging up inside her and tried her best to suppress it. She knew how to end The Embargo—as did the other members, she suspected. No one would say what they were all thinking. Had Abshak forbidden it?
Abshak turned to face her. "How is progress with the boy, Sairia?"
"I-It is going very well, Great Head," she said. "He has already learned the Ihmonic alphabet and his pronunciation improves daily. There is just one thing… if I may."
"Of course," Abshak said, gesturing for her to continue.
Sairia held her breath. She was afraid that any suggestions she offered would be out of line, but she wanted to try.
"I know we decided to keep him in his quarters so as not to overwhelm him. And I agree with that plan—I would have loved it if I got the same treatment—but this Alma Ni is a little different. He yearns to get outside and experience the world firsthand."
"You're suggesting he leave The Heart?" Sallion objected.
"Not at all, Member Sallion," Sairia protested. "I was going to suggest he be allowed intermittent breaks in his study, in which he can leave his room and roam The Heart. I think it would improve his morale—which has been steadily dropping since we began his training."
"I like the idea," Abshak said. "It would allow the other members of The Council to talk with him more often, too. Any objections to Sairia's plan?"
Sairia could see that Abshak was trying his best to improve The Council's perception of her, but it wasn't going to work. She hoped it wouldn't.
None of them raised an objection and Abshak took that as a sign of agreement. "Let it be done," he said.
The last to speak was Jun, who took a good hour explaining about all the great new irrigation systems the farmers have out west and that it would mean a plentiful harvest next year. It was good news, but it could have been summarized so easily.
The other members tried to pay attention to his words, but it was clear from their yawning that it wasn't easy. Olek even fell asleep.
When Jun finished his discourse, The Council was dismissed, and Sairia was the first to leave. She imagined that Taft had already finished his breakfast.
______________________
Taft saved the best for last. The basket of sweet rolls was calling his name, beckoning him toward that flavorful goodness. They weren't served to him everyday, which was a shame. He wished he could communicate with the cook.
He grabbed one sweet roll delicately and took a bite, savoring every chew. Why couldn't they make something this good back home? Earth had some serious competition.
He finished the first one, and then Sairia opened the door. He almost hid the last sweet roll but figured the woman probably wouldn't eat anyway.
Sairia sauntered by and grabbed a sweet roll, taking a big bite. She swallowed. "Thanks for saving me one this time," she said, waving the last sweet roll in the air.
Taft's mouth hung open for a second. He'd never seen Sairia eat before. He was beginning to think she never did. "Uh yeah, well, don't mention it," he said.
"I've got some good news," she said in her serious tone. "Looks like you can finally leave your quarters."
"Wait, wait. Are you saying I can get out? Are we gonna see the city? Stop some thieves? Aw, I can't wait!"
"Don't be so sure!" Siaria objected quickly. "I didn't say any of that. Where are you getting these ideas, kid?" She cocked her head at him. "I'm just saying you can leave your room, roam The Heart. Hey, it's better than this." She took another bite of the sweet roll.
"Yeah, I guess so," Taft said disappointedly. "When can I do that?"
"I'll give you a little recess time here and there throughout the day. The Heart isn't very big, and you can't go into people's rooms, but at least you can be outside and see past the confines of these walls."
"Yeah, that's good," Taft said, sounding a bit more excited.
"For now, let's get back to your training. Do you remember what you learned last time?"
"Of course, the six vowels and two half-vowels."
"Correct," she said. "So let's move on to some simple sentences today. That way you can learn basic grammar."
The lesson went on for a few hours. Taft was starting to get an ear for the pronunciation and it no longer felt as foreign as it had before. Granted, he still couldn't understand when the ladies of The Heart spoke to him, but it just felt more familiar.
He continued practicing his reading with Sairia, who was a very patient teacher. Taft would often come up with a random question, and she would take each one in stride and do her best to explain the answer, even if the answer wasn't a simple translation.
"Alright, I think you've earned a break," Sairia said. "Well done."
"Thanks," Taft said. "But, uh… do you want to show me around first? I don't want to accidentally go somewhere I shouldn't."
"Good idea."
Taft followed Sairia out of the room and into the morning sunlight. It felt warm on his face. The flowers in the garden were still blooming, though a few of them were starting to wilt. He wondered if they had winter here.
In Florida, the climate was pretty warm year-round, except when it got especially rainy. He always wanted to experience winter; it might be even more exciting in The Interim.
"This is the garden. The center of The Heart," Sairia said. "The hallways surrounding it are where all the rooms are located. Some rooms are on the bottom floor and some are on the second floor. All the public rooms are here on the ground floor."
Taft followed her around the courtyard where she pointed out the various public rooms.
There was the washroom where the residents bathed. Usually they were bathed by the ladies of The Heart—Taft would have preferred to avoid that embarrassment again. The two walked into the bathroom.
"You're welcome to come here at any time. I think the ladies of The Heart are getting tired of changing your diaper."
Taft cringed. "Oh, that's why I haven't noticed… that."
"You've been asleep most of the time it happens, but things are different now. You'll be spending a lot more time awake."
"Yeah, right," Taft replied, walking up to the sink he saw on his first day here. They had replaced the hand mirror. He picked it up and looked at himself.
There were those red eyes. That dark brown hair with a white stripe in the shape of a V. The point of the V was at the tip of his hairline. He touched it.
"That's a mark of the Alma Ni," Sairia said. "We all share it."
Taft turned around, noticing again the white streaks of hair surrounding Sairia's face like beams of sun. "Yours is different," he said.
"The pattern varies, but every Alma Ni has some kind of white hair to mark them."
Taft looked at the mirror curiously for a few seconds, then placed the mirror down gently.
Sairia led them to the next room over. It was a small room stacked with papers and quills, as well as other boxes. The supply room.
Next, the two walked near a staircase, and Sairia decided to bring him to the second floor to explain some of the other rooms.
"This is my room," she said, pointing to a plain wooden door.
There was a lock on the outside, which Taft thought was strange. "Can I see it?" He said playfully.
"No," she said. Another cold response. She continued down the hall and Taft followed. "These are the quarters of the members of The Council. Off-limits obviously."
Finally, they stopped outside a familiar-looking door with gold trimmings.
"This is the councilroom. The place they meet every week and make all the big decisions. It's also the room they used for your Name Day ceremony. Remember?"
"Yeah, that's right, I remember."
"I think that's about it."
"But I remember seeing one more room on the ground level," he said.
"Oh, was there?" Sairia asked quizzically.
Taft followed her through the hall and down the stairs again. He pointed to a room that was to the right of the garden.
"Yes, of course," she said, remembering. She walked down to the end of the hallway. "That is the kitchen. Also a public area."
Taft smelled the familiar scent of… sweet rolls! He knew exactly where he'd be going on his breaks.