Lumia

“Welcome, students, old and new, to the first school assembly of year 311, Semester One.”

The Principal stood proud and tall before the podium, her gravelly voice echoing through the theatre, amplified by the overhead speakers. She didn’t need those speakers to be heard, but it ensured that, should the rustling and coughing of the audience rise to challenge her, she would always be loudest. Class Euripides remained seated behind her high up on the stage. Where every student in King’s College could see them.

To Lumia’s distress, it was the same theatre as the one that their test had been conducted in. Educators stood guard between the divided columns of seated students, hushing anyone who spoke or snapping fingers at anyone who appeared somewhat disinterested. It was as though the Principal, using the Educators as her club, had felt it necessary to impress her position on the students, reminding them that they would always be under her watchful eye, that not only their actions but their very thoughts were under regulation.

The Principal laid out a reverie of school policies and ideals, from good conduct in class, to expected test scores, to a lengthy diatribe about their discipline system. It was a dry speech, and Lumia’s thoughts wandered aimlessly. Mostly, that wandering was a deterrent to realising that everyone was watching her.

I guess I’d never considered it before, but in Plato, you’re trapped in school until you pass all your tests. That didn’t help.

Her mind turned to poetry. She juggled rhymes and metres in her head, played with words like they were water. A dreamy smile stretched onto her face, which if anyone in the crowd saw they may have mistaken for pride or eagerness.

Lumia just wanted it to end. It helped a lot for her nervousness that it seemed every other student felt the same.

Many students within the crowd appeared to be nodding off: drooping eyes, slouching in chairs, a tide of black-uniformed sleep being fought back by the Educators’ persistent prods. But sleep even seemed to be taking the Educators. Their eyes were puffy and, as the dreary list of principles and penalties lulled on, they too would let out the occasional stifled yawn.

She risked a glance sideways to see what her familia were doing. Morgan sat erect and proud. Her arms were crossed and, though the crowd would not have seen it since Morgan hid her hand under an elbow, Lumia could see clearly from her angle that Morgan was pinching her ribs hard. Tock’s face was blank but her legs trembled violently. Alan toyed with his pocket—most likely where his meus was. He was slouching so hard in his chair that Lumia worried his back would stay bent like that. Raphael sat at a perfect ninety-degree angle with his hands balled into fists on his knees. Sweat dripped down his forehead. And Leo was shaking. No, not shaking, but stifling a laugh.

Oh no, Lumia thought. Is he planning to be a fool today?

“And now,” the Principal said, raising her voice to snap the room to attention, “I present your new Class Euripides.” She swept a hand towards the six students seated behind her.

Lumia’s back stiffened and a rigid smile cemented itself onto her face. Every eye was properly on her now, which made her feel exposed, naked to their judgements and ire. Beside her, Morgan’s face drained of blood, but other than that there were no visible signs of distress. The others perked up slightly, either from nervousness or having their interests peaked after being addressed.

The Principal continued without so much as looking at them. “These six students will be the guiding beacon of King’s College. Should they complete their tenure without a hitch, they will go on to become the brightest stars in all of Plato. All of you will do well to follow their example, as once they push their way through their gruelling classes, you will all seem dull compared to them.”

The Principal continued her babble, and Lumia forced her thoughts elsewhere. The room was divided by age. At the front were the oldest students, identified by their height and maturing features. At the back, Lumia recognised some of the students she’d seen during the test. She paid close attention their expressions: jealousy, spite, and the hot flickers of hatred. In particular, the students at the front held the greatest resentment. The oldest ones, the ones who had worked hardest to remain in this school and were denied time and again a tenure in Class Euripides, they were the ones most jealous. As Leo had put it, they felt like they deserved their cake, but instead had to watch as Lumia and her classmates gobbled it up in front of them.

It was odd. Wasn’t the intent of parading one’s achievements to encourage others to live up to such ideals? Sure, it might seem pompous, but also not something that would draw ire to those on parade. Rather, people’s frustrations ought to have been aimed at those forcing them to sit through such a monotonous event. Lumia would have expected that the students would have at least felt bored or condescending. But outright hatred of Class Euripides? Leo’s slice-of-cake theory held merit.

Lumia came to a conclusion. On top of making us a target, would it not also make us fight harder? Should we remain without a worry of what’s behind us, we’ll forget our place and become all the more slacker. The Principal’s plan is devious, callous, but shall succeed in making us shine brighter.

The Principal adjusted her glasses and, though it might have been Lumia’s imagination, the room felt a little colder. “However, should the students of Class Euripides fail any of their tests, fail to turn in an assignment, or otherwise act in a way that does not live up to the ideals of King’s College, then their class will be terminated. And all of them will be expelled.”

Lumia’s smile slipped completely. It was hard to breathe, like a rope had been tied around her neck. Her head whipped around to her classmates—they looked just as terrified. Morgan was outright trembling. Tock buried her head in her hands and her bob of hair jiggled nervously. Alan was now sitting up, alert, and Raphael breathed rapidly, his chest heaving. Only Leo seemed calm. Too calm. He was grinning like he’d just heard a wonderful story. Perhaps he had. Perhaps in some twisted way, he wanted this.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Why do this to us? Lumia reasoned, biting her lower lip. This isn’t a push. It’s not encouragement. It’s a threat. It’s—her eyes bulged as understanding weighed on her—this is persecution. Oh, you demon. You’re not satisfied with gold and instead demand a diamond? But the pressure needed to make such precious jewels may shatter them.

“Now, we’ll have a member of Class Euripides give a prepared speech,” the Principal stated. Without ceremony, she vacated the podium, leaving it for one of Lumia’s group.

Eyes darted frantically between the members of Class Euripides. Nobody had a planned speech. They hadn’t been told to prepare one! Accusatory stares whipped left and right as the class tried to vote for their speaker via stare counts. They all quickly landed on Morgan. Panicking, the black-haired girl sought out another potential victim, except that everyone beside Leo had fixed their stare directly on her. Even Lumia had participated in the vote, though she felt a touch of guilt for it. Morgan was good at making spontaneous speeches. It was only normal to have her show her worth after she’d recited such a beautiful, improvised speech during the first test.

Sighing, Morgan motioned to stand. But before she could, Leo was already up. Class Euripides watched him saunter across the stage, their jaws hanging slack. Unlike the rest of the class, he was completely calm, as though unfazed by being put on the spot so suddenly.

Like he knew this would happen.

Morgan settled into her chair and leaned forward, tense. The Principal was standing off to the side by a shadowy wall. Her lopsided mouth jerked up on one side in what Lumia thought might have been a sneer. Lumia waited with her heart racing, fully expecting something ridiculous. She hadn’t forgotten that Leo was a loose joint. Forcing a smile onto her face, Lumia did her best to act confident.

Leo approached the microphone with an air of certainty, as though the stage belonged to him. He adjusted the microphone higher and tapped on it, sending a crackling thump across the room. As the students winced from the sudden noise, Lumia caught him slip his meus onto the podium. Then the speakers started humming.

The hum grew louder and louder until it peaked and popped. Students and Educators covered their ears, cries sounded out from the audience, which were drowned out as the humming grew louder and turned into a screech.

Leo appeared panicked and adjusted the microphone. The Principal stepped forward with a deep scowl on her face. With his elbow, Leo swiped his meus off the terminal, caught it with his other hand, then pocketed it. As soon as his meus was gone, the sound disappeared. The Principal stopped dead in her tracks.

“Sorry,” said Leo into the microphone. “I must have bumped something.” He chuckled and the room broke out into excited conversation. He turned to the Principal. “Sorry, sorry. Let’s continue with the speech. Come on, everyone, let’s continue.”

As the speakers were directed away from the stage, Class Euripides as well as the Principal were saved from the worst of the noise. But Lumia could see quite clearly that Leo was enjoying himself. Sure, he was pretending to be flustered, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled with amusement.

The Principal stared out at the crowd, turned back to Leo, then nodded somewhat awkwardly. She then slinked back into the corner with a scowl. Lumia understood what the Principal was feeling, though she had never felt that way herself. The stage had been wrestled from her and now she was no longer in control. Her attempt to step in was thwarted by Leo who, after manufacturing the problem, solved everything on his own. Her position had been rendered irrelevant. For those who prided themselves on their place, nothing could be more galling.

Gradually, the Educators hushed the class into obedience. When all was silent, Leo cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Students of King’s College.” He neglected to address the faculty. “I think in situations like this, it’s best to tell the truth. I didn’t prepare a speech. None of us did. Because we weren’t asked to. Thank you.” Then he dipped his head to the audience, turned, and strolled back to his chair.

Titters rose from the crowd. Whether they were laughing at his joke or expressing their satisfaction at seeing Class Euripides flounder, Lumia didn’t know. Morgan made a choking noise as her jaw dropped to the floor. She’d paled so much that Lumia worried she might pass out from a lack of blood to the head. Bullets of sweat ran down Raphael’s face, and his whole body was trembling. Tock buried her head in her hands. Alan had taken his meus from his pocket and rhythmically turned the screen on and off. Lumia herself made a conscious effort not to let her smile slip. The last thing she needed was for people to see just how mortified she was by all of this. Her blushing did not help.

What is Leo thinking? Has his mind gone slack? All he has done is paint a target on our back. By attacking the Educators he’s made them our rivals. Now if the students want to bring us low, we’ll have no aid in our survival.

She leaned over to observe Leo, and just as she expected, he was stifling a grin. Either he did not understand what he had done, or he understood perfectly that he had invited every student to try and tear them from their throne and was proud for doing so. Every student of King’s College would return to their cliques and form a similar conclusion within the day: that Class Euripides was a cornucopia of fools, fragile, easy to pluck, an outlet for all of their grievances.

From the side of the stage, the Principal stomped forward. Her footfalls were usually heavy, but now they practically boomed over the excited hum of conversation that had engulfed the theatre. She sneered at Leo, then turned to the microphone.

“Enough!” the Principal bellowed. The room immediately went silent. Every student watched her intently. Those at the front were completely rigid, while the students at the back, the newest students, seemed confused by the sudden onset of quiet. They were yet to know their place, it seemed. When the Principal was satisfied, she continued.

“I think it goes without saying that any Platonian who wants to lead the world to a brighter future should take the initiative. If someone has to tell you what to do, then how will you learn, how will you discover, how will you innovate? We must be willing to act in the face of the unknown, not cower behind excuses and blame. Otherwise, we will never grow, nor change, nor overcome the challenges that face us.

“The shadow of the world’s end looms over all of us. To ward off the destruction of mankind, Plato must shine brighter than ever.”

Lumia was rather stunned by this speech. Opposed to the Principal’s harsh demeaner, it was a strong message of hope. For something so positive to be spoken by a woman so cold…

Maybe I’ve misjudged her, she wavered.

Morgan seemed to think the same. She bared a smug grin Leo’s way, as if to say, the Principal is right and you’re just a fool. Leo glanced at her, furrowed his brows, then looked away.

The students were attentive to the Principal. As the middle-aged woman laid out her desires for the future, they soaked in every word. She was a brilliant orator. It was clear that she had taken control of the situation, and with every word, with every intention and desire electrified to life, Leo, and all of Class Euripides by extension, looked the fool.

Lumia did the only thing she could do and kept on smiling. There was no point in drawing the students’ ire any further, and a smile never upset anyone. She hoped.