“Perfect timing,” Shanty said as the others returned to the table, “this one was just getting a little excited.”
Micah cringed. He didn’t want to bother her. It was hard not to express his gratitude, but he still had questions he wanted answered!
When they’d left, he had felt abandoned and awkward around the spirit, now he was wrestling with the opposite problem.
Brian didn’t seem to have that issue: his attention was split as he glanced around the ballroom as if he had other places he wanted to be.
Hugh had filled a beer mug with a dense fire potion and was happily drinking. Some clung to his beard and gave it a dark sheen like a rainbow twisted through obsidian. Flames sparked every now and then.
Ms. Denner had also returned, glanced between them, and sighed with a small smile as if checking one issue off a long list.
“I take it your conversation was fruitful? That’s good. Then we can move on to other concerns. Tell me, any of you, how do you think the party is going? In regards to our school.”
He hesitated.
“Awful,” Hugh said between sips.
“Thank you for your candor, Hugh. Could you be a little more specific?”
He looked up with the glass, squinted, and shook his head. “I don’t know. Something in the air. Feels weird.”
“Awkward might be a better word,” Micah spoke up, and her attention wandered to him.
She gave him a look that said, Go on.
“The conversations are … overly formal, ma’am, and the guests ask us pointed questions as if searching for something, though none of us know what …? We say what we were told and it makes us seem … coached?”
He went up with his voice because he didn’t want to upset her.
Hugh lowered his drink. “You were coached. Brian has been practicing lines since he stopped going to class.”
“Not that long,” he scoffed as if he was offended by the thought of needing that much time.
Bastion looked over. “You coached them?”
“Every school does that for major events like this. It’s common practice. It’s not as though anything they say is untrue.”
“I don’t disagree with the practice itself. I remember enlisting in militaries. I just didn’t expect that from you.”
“Military might be the keyword here,” Shanty said in a vaguely accusatory tone. “You all have a piece of it but you’re forgetting, the people here are the type to look beyond today or tomorrow.”
Ten, twenty years down the line … Micah frowned. “Are they afraid of our school’s … future?”
He lit up with the thought of other schools being intimidated or jealous.
“Emphasis on fear. You and your classmates sleep in the same dorms the church’s enforcers slept in not fifty years ago, Mr. Stranya,” Shanty told him.
Oh right. He had almost forgotten about that. Well, he didn’t. His room was new, but Ryan slept in one of the old ones.
“If you’re wondering why people are awkward, look to the past and the future.” She turned to Ameryth. “The Climber’s Guild rejected the initial proposal for your school because it was flawed, yet you somehow managed to convince the Registry, whom they have deep ties with, to fund your school instead on the promise of a social experiment. Now, the guild watches you closely.
“Tell me, if your school thrives, do they reconsider your initial idea and give you additional funding or preferential treatment, or do they just stop working with other schools at all?”
Basion finished sipping his drink. “Every monopoly on the Towers has only ever gone up in flames.”
Oh.
Now, Micah understood why the adults had all been hounding them for information.
And he laughed. “That’s ridiculous. We’re children. It’s not like we’ll stage a military coup.”
“Of course, not,” Shanty agreed, “but they are right to be concerned.”
“No, they’re not.” He turned with a smile. “Right?”
Ameryth smiled but didn’t answer for a second. When she did, she said, “Of course, not. What would they have to be concerned about? I’m simply looking out for the future of our great nation.”
There! he wanted to think. Problem solved.
Except, her voice sounded a little too friendly, her smile looked a little too bright, and there was no sign of the nervousness that had plagued her all day.
Before Micah could linger on the thought, her expression changed back again. “That still leaves me with the issue of solving this particular misconception,” she went on, “because as of now, it’s making us look bad.”
Shanty gave Ameryth the stink eye.
“You could allow us to act more like ourselves …?” Brian said and procured a stack of playing cards out of nowhere. The images shifted on the cards.
Expensive.
Micah nodded along in agreement.
“I cannot. The issue is, I invited two-thirds of your classmates to attend this evening based on the merit of their rather unique abilities—”
She gestured at Hugh, Brian’s playing cards, and … Micah’s eyes?
“—and it just so happens that those unique abilities come hand in hand with some rather … unique personalities, shall we say.”
Micah frowned. Oi.
“What,” Bastion asked with a smile, “are you worried they are going to blow things up?”
“I am exceedingly worried that my students will blow something up, yes. I have seen Mr. Stranya here eying the buffet table like his personal workshop.”
Micah lost his frown, straightened up, and took a sheepish step back.
“And that one there, though not officially one of my students, is drinking a fire potion.”
Hugh made a noise in protest and turned away with his drink as if he were afraid she would steal it.
That made Micah wonder how good the potion was, if it was worth something, and … Well, he could see her point.
“What about the other third?” Bastion asked.
“The other third, I invited based on their exceptional performances and reliability. If I told them to act more like themselves, nothing would change.”
So they needed some other way of convincing the guests they were school children?
Easy, Micah thought. Except, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something ‘normal’ for kids his age. He thought of castle building contests with Hannah and the closest thing to that was …
“I have an idea?” he spoke up. “I would need something. We’re in a theatre hall, so there are bound to be all sorts of props lying around, right?”
“I’m sure we can procure whatever you would need, Mr. Stranya,” Ms. Denner said. “Which idea would you like to propose?”
“So uhm,” Micah turned his sponsors, one of which he still hadn’t impressed, “in all of your past lives, you must have played a lot of games, right? Have you played our version of alleyball?”
Bastion paused for a moment and looked pleasantly surprised. “You know, I haven’t.”
“If you could have your attention for one moment, please?” Ms. Denner spoke to the crowd.
She was not the first person to make an announcement or give an additional speech this evening, so though her voice had been enchanted to reach the entire hall, only half or so of the attendants actually listened to what she had to say.
Most of them probably assumed there was another issue with a carriage, or that the hall had received a missive for one of the guests.
The party quieted down. The band paused, using the time to take a blessed short break.
“ … and though they have to leave us so soon,” Ms. Denner was saying, “some of my students feel as though they will leave you with a less than ideal impression.”
She chuckled, as if at her own joke, and some of the listeners joined. Others watched silently.
“One of them, whom I will invite onto the stage in a moment, approached me with a request to rectify that mistake. As a representative of his classmates, he would like to issue a challenge to those of you who are up to the task.”
Most of the chuckles stopped.
Some continued, and some looked at their principal with looks that said, Are you insane?
A challenge, a duel? Their thoughts went to combat, and the idea of pitting a student against someone like the Spring Knight or other guests in attendance was lunacy.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The alley ball flew off the stage and bounced on the dance floor once, twice. It almost hit a table and someone caught it with one hand.
Micah slipped the other ball out from behind his back and took shaky steps up to her side.
“Uhm,” he said and his voice was extended across the entire hall in almost full clarity, also showing his uncertainty in full clarity, but that was good, right? The idea was he should sound as informal and, well, as much like a teenager as possible.
His legs began to tremor ever so slightly. He hurried.
“We were going to have an alleyball match outside, and we wanted to ask if any of you want to join …? Because uhm, there’s twenty of us—and a few extra who showed up on their own. Hey, Raphael. Kyle, I know you’re around here somewhere!”
Raphael awkwardly waved. Cathy stood next to him and smiled when people glanced at them.
No response from Kyle, and Micah squinted but couldn’t find him in the crowd.
“We managed to scrounge up three alley balls. If anyone else our age wants to join in, they can. So we could do girls versus women, boys versus men, mixed, whatever—it largely depends on how many want to join. So like, if you want to, meet us in the alley below the balcony in like five, ten minutes …?”
He made a face, a mix between awkwardness, nervousness, and hopefulness.
He never would have thought of this idea if not for Ryan, who had invited him to play the game with him and his friends after he’d made it out of the Tower.
Micah missed him—he’d missed him all evening, and the last few days, too—but this way, he at least felt as if a part of him was here tonight.
He stared out over the sea of people and gave them a shaky smile. Hundreds of wealthy adults in fine suits and dresses, wearing high heels or polished shoes, with crystal glasses of expensive liquor in hand, stared back. Some smiled.
Good enough.
Gian chased the ball ahead of him on dark pavement toward the imagined enemy ‘goal’—the wrought iron fence that faced the street—and glanced around for a teammate to pass to.
Their team had the agility, and possibly the skill advantage, though not all of them played. But three broad men stood in his way. Most of the older guys could rival the adults in height but not in mass. They weren’t classroom kids anymore. There wasn’t much room to maneuver here.
Gian hesitated, the ball resting under one polished shoe, and Micah and Shala ran past the defenders covering them to call out.
Too late.
Bastion snuck up and used the tip of his shoe to steal the ball out from under him. Gian almost tripped forward.
The man laughed as he rolled it aside and another man charged, da Silva, accepting the impromptu pass as he raced toward their goal.
Their team had moved forward in the charge. While they had the agility advantage, some of the adults had pure forward charging speed.
They gave chase and da Silva kicked the ball toward their ‘goal’—two tall hedges in immaculate brown pots on the other end of the tiled alley, toward the service entrance.
Their goalkeeper, Yasin, stared with wide eyes. He was too far out. He glanced back as he tried to fall back to the hedges.
The ball shot past him. It brushed the right hedge on the inside and the green shape swayed.
“Goal!” The enemy team thrust their arms up and cheered, running back to their own side of the match. The adults on the sidelines chuckled.
“Oh, come on!” Brian roared with an arm out. “Just block the f—ing ball! How hard can it be?”
“You do it if you think it’s so easy!” Yasin yelled back as he chased after. “I’m not a [Guardian].”
“You don’t need a Class to know you have to stay near the f—reaking goal, you idiot!”
Micah caught his breath with a smile. Like everyone else, he’d taken his coat off and hung it over the railing to the side of the alley.
His new wind spirit wristband was inside its coat pocket, but he wasn’t too worried about someone stealing it. All the men had nicer coats than him and they’d done the same.
Also, if a [Thief] stole the wristband and ran away with it, they’d get what they had coming.
He had done some warm-ups with the other guys down here earlier, still wearing his jacket, and the wind had suddenly grown thick around him like he was running against the headwind of an untamed storm. A sudden gust had almost knocked him off his feet, and he’d scraped his hand as he caught himself on the ground.
Nice to know it worked.
The evening was warm as the sky darkened. Tower essence oozed out of the cracks in the stone. He sweated a little, and it made his skin feel clammy underneath the make-up.
“I need a drink,” he huffed. Ice cubes. It didn’t really matter what he drank. He wanted ice cubes.
The alley they played in was dark and rung by high walls. A wrought iron fence faced the street, a large shutter where he assumed they accepted food or other goods was on the other end, and a small service entrance was hidden directly below the balcony.
A thin staircase extended along the side of the building from the balcony down to a walkway that connected to the raised platform before the shutter, with a smaller staircase branching off to the ground level.
Potted hedges stood near the wall that was visible from above, to make it look nicer, he supposed. They’d stolen two to make their goal.
Some guests leaned over the stone fence of the balcony above to watch them play. Entertainment.
There were enough people milling about that Micah could find Raphael to tag in for him. He headed up the stairs, smiled at Cathy in passing, and swooped up his jacket.
The others continue arguing. “I’m telling you, we put Shala in the goal. He’ll have a better time deflecting.”
“Do you really want to cheat with Skills?”
“It’s not my fault they’re all managers who sit on their a— uh, butts all day.”
“Ha! Someone’s upset they’re losing,” one of the men called over.
“I’m not using Skills?” Bastion called. “Aside from passive ones, I mean. But I could make this a lot more interesting if you would like?” He grinned.
The guys glared at him and grumbled. They hadn’t practiced one bit, and they were having some difficulties with their teamwork.
Micah also had the sneaking suspicion some of their players were letting the adults win—cough, Shala, cough—maybe because they didn’t want to make them look back?
Not that he was good enough at the game to point fingers. That was another reason to duck out.
“Tor! You’re switching in?” Yasin asked. “You have got to be a [Guard] or something, right? Wanna’ be goalie?”
He sighed. “Sure. Put the Tor in the goal. What else is new?”
“You can switch around your players however much you like,” da Silva called. “It will not save you!”
Shala spotted Micah on his way toward the staircase proper. One foot on the ball, he asked, “Stranya, are you with us or what …?”
He shook his head and looked up. Anne was somewhere up there, and they would have to leave soon.
Shala must have understood his expression. After a moment, he shook his head and kicked the ball.
Their voices faded as he stepped onto the balcony. More people stood outside in the fresh air now. He caught snippets of conversation.
Shanty took side-steps over to his principal and mumbled, “Ameryth, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I have misplaced a bracelet. It may have scuttled off and … Well, suffice to say it’s quite dangerous to have roaming free right now.”
She rounded on her with a look usually reserved for her students.
He thought he might have glimpsed Kyle in a corner, near a curtain, when he walked through the glass doors.
He’d seen him around, and he wore a fancy red glove he suspected their principal had procured for him, with a slightly different outfit. Had she invited him separately? Why?
It didn’t really matter right now. Kyle would tell him if he wanted to talk.
He got a lemon water drink with some ice and found Anne speaking to a woman. He waited.
The elderly woman was facing away and held a hand against the side of Anne's arm. She glanced back every now and then—they looked like they were about to part ways.
Anne noticed him and smiled. When the woman left, he walked over to her.
“Is the match over already? I thought I would have heard the cheers. Or boos.”
“Nah, I’m just rusty,” he admitted, “or rather, I was never that good without fouling the other players in the first place, and … well …”
Her eyebrows went up. “Can’t foul these players.”
“Nope. And the others are kind of super into it? I tagged Raphael in.”
Her smile wavered for a second when he mentioned him, but she brought it back up. “It was a great idea, Micah. I was surprised to see you up there.”
“Oof. Yeah, that was uhm …” He would rather not have to do that again. When they walked out, he had been distracted and overwhelmed to the point where it all slid past him.
The second time, he’d just been overwhelmed. He’d had to talk. Alone. Everyone had listened.
“I don’t have that much experience with being on stages myself, but people tell me you get used to it over time. Maybe it’ll be easier next time?”
“Assuming there will be a next time,” he said in a self-deprecating tone, but changed his mind. “I hope there will be. Today was awesome. It’s a shame we’ll have to leave soon.”
She smiled and looked around. There was a lull in their conversation, and normally, he would have panicked. Whenever there was a pause, Micah assumed it was an awkward pause and he longed for something interesting to say.
This was just a pause. He enjoyed the respite for what it was and took a sip of water.
“The band is still playing, and I mean, the dance floor is kind of chaotic right now, but uhm …”
He gestured, his red coat still folded over his arm. As the evening had gone on and the adults relaxed more and more … It wasn’t that more people were dancing. They just did whatever they wanted.
Anne waited. He was pretty sure she knew where he was going with this. She didn’t seem excited, but she didn’t glance aside or look like she wanted to escape either.
Her eyes were on him.
“Would you like to dance one last time?” Micah asked. “Just … you and me?”
She glanced down and aside, as if she had to consider it, then smiled. “I would like that.”
If he had been walking, Micah would have skipped a step or hopped. As it was, he straightened up and smiled. He noticed his glass and rambled, “Ah! Uhm, let me just … One second!”
He speed-walked over to the table they’d sat at earlier and put his glass and jacket down, then found his way back over to Anne and headed out to the dance floor.
He offered her his arm. She held his elbow just below his buttoned-up shirt, touching skin.
Micah tried not to panic.
He thought she might have given his arm a light squeeze and when he looked, her eyes went back up and she asked, “So what did you have in mind? The routine?”
He felt electric, suddenly full of energy again, and he could feel his own heartbeat in his chest.
But that feeling was temporary. It could only fade or build up to something, and he wasn’t sure he liked either option. “How about something slower?” he asked.
He thought of the second dance he’d taught Ryan. A little slower, still proper, perfect for when you wanted to savor the moment, have a conversation, or time to breathe.
He wanted to make this moment last, even if the music wasn’t a perfect match for a slow dance, but you didn’t really need the music at all, Ryan’s parents had taught him.
Anne agreed and they found each other with the ease of practice in a less crowded spot on the corner of the dancefloor. His hand on her side, hers on his shoulder, palm to palm.
Micah stared at her. She had to know how he felt.
The thought surprised him, but it rang true, unburdened by his usual doubts. They had spent so much time together this summer. He wanted to be open about his feelings. Or rather, he didn’t want to lie to other people anymore …
Even without her sight, there was no other reason a guy would ask a girl to one final dance.
She’d accepted. Even now, her eyes were on him. She didn’t look nervous or afraid. Her hands didn’t tremble. She looked confident. It was one of the things he admired about her.
So if she knew, was she confident because she was already planning on saying yes, or because she had prepared herself to let him down?
What if she only saw him as a friend, and that was why she could be so comfortable around him?
Or what if Shala was right, and she knew how he felt but didn’t expect him to ask her out tonight of all times because it really was a bad idea, and she assumed he knew that?
You will, Ryan had told him, sure as sunrise. I think she’s already pretty impressed by you, Micah.
His thoughts spun in circles, as other couples spun around them, but the thought of his voice steadied him.
“Anne?” Micah started. No electric energy to mislead her. No need for a fancy dance routine.
Just her and him, walking back and forth in circles as the music flowed.
“Yes?”
Their voices suddenly sounded strangely out of place, as if they had to drag himself out of a wonderful dream to speak.
He shook his head. “Nevermind.”
She watched him for a moment, gave a hesitant smile, and nodded.
So maybe she knew. He was sure of how he felt by now and he wasn’t trying to hide it. So maybe, he didn’t need to say anything at all because it didn’t need saying. They could just enjoy the time they had left. Together.