Chapter 2

Warm sweat had cooled by then.

Fabric clung tight; drops threatened to fall. I fought the urge to wipe my brow and aerate my shirt. They gathered at the top of my nose, readying a dive, like a team of bandits before crashing through a glass roof. My steady countenance didn't match my physical state. Breath unwavering. No sign of timidity, grief, or weakness. I huddled my hands around a mug of warm water, looked out the dim windows toward the grey sky, inhaled steam, turned, put it down, and faced the students.

"So, back home, we have a specific curriculum that we're taught when given this assignment. But I thought it only makes sense that for the first day, we begin with introductions in my homeland," I said. "Could I have a volunteer?"

The class sat in silence as I prepped theatrics in my head. I cannot say how they felt at this moment. It must've been bizarre encountering our stark differences for the first time. Skin tone, hair texture, even our features varied. Charles stared forward inquisitively. A slight smile christened his mouth as I looked in his direction. It was as if he was unsure whether to express emotion or not. Phoebe was also present in this class. Around 50 students, give or take, sat in the room. I surveyed the rest of the faces of my class, a brown-haired woman in the back leaning on her hind chair legs, another with fire-red hair and a scowl, a woman with black braided hair and oval frames, a clean-shaven guy with spiky hair, two male friends who both had ear-length hair. Then, I looked toward the entryway where Lilia, and to my chagrin, Vincent waited. Searching for help from Charles earned a reticent shake of the head.

Murmurs drifted in from outside the classroom. Vincent snickered to Lilia, "You should've had some preliminary training with him."

My eyes met Lilia's. Instead of concern, she wore an exasperated look. As he chattered into her ear, a smirk cracked between his cheeks.

"Maybe," I said, "Maybe, we should get to know each other a bit better, right? Right, Charles-Phoebe? I'm staying with these two this year." 

To this, the silence broke and gave way to a slight murmur from several students. Charles hid his face, and Phoebe looked at me. Her icy gaze forced mine away.

"So, what questions do you have for me? This must be the first time you meet someone from the South?"

Another silence followed. However, it broke with a question:

"What did you think of the North before coming here?"

"Do you mean if I had any judgments before coming here?"

"Yeah, that."

"I knew that it was colder, darker," I said and added, "and I learned it was rainier too."

"Is it different in any way so far?"

"I don't think I've had a proper chance to explore yet."

"How long did it take you to get here?"

"It took over two months, and I was exhausted when I arrived," I said. "Must've slept for a day straight." Another student raised their hand. 

"Sorry, but why do you talk like that?"

"This is how I was taught to speak your language. Is there something wrong with how I talk?"

"I don't know. It's like, very formal," she replied.

"Formal, yeah, really formal," another student said.

"Kinda stiff, you pronounce everything. Sounds like one of the old profs here," she said.

"Oh, okay, well I'll do my best to incorporate the local dialect."

To this, everyone laughed.

"How about you?" I said, calling on a person.

"Did you have, you know, a girlfriend or boyfriend back home?"

I looked for the culprit of this question. She had red hair, pinned back into a short ponytail, pale skin, and narrow eyes.

"Well, that's complicated," I said.

"It can't be that complicated," she said. "Either you have someone or you don't."

The classroom bubbled with emotion after this exchange, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"She wants to know if you're single," the student with spikey hair said. She shot a look at him, and several others laughed. The guy behind him patted him on the left shoulder.

"No, that's not it at all," she said. 

"Then, why are you so insistent?"

"Maybe if he'd just answer instead of doddering."

"Well, so the short story of it is.."

"We don't need a story," she cut me off. "It'd be more helpful if you just said yes or no."

"I was just trying to add context," my eyes deadlocked with hers. I grinned, but her nose flared with annoyance. 

"I can see this is quite important here."

"Only to her."

"No, it is important to us, are you kidding," she said to the other student.

"There was someone, and I loved her very much," I interjected.

"Why the past tense?" I looked over to see that Charles was the origin of this question.

"One day, years ago, she vanished," I said.

A drone of whispers enveloped the classroom. I turned away, blinked, and then faced the class. 

"Okay, so maybe that's enough getting to know each other," I said. "Could I now have a volunteer?"

Several hands shot up. I glanced at the door. Vincent and Lilia had left.

After class, as the last soul, I wandered around the premises with complete freedom. The academy was an expansive complex with a wide courtyard in the middle. Forged of white, pristine stone, the floors and walls of the facilities stood without corrosion or cracks. A towering skylight raised by eight limestone columns covered the tiled courtyard. On each side, there were four classrooms, one for each of the four grades at the academy. Along with the cafeteria, and the teacher's office, six spaces encircled the courtyard. Near the restroom, lockers for students rested. The place seemed holy and untarnished by society's failures. The moment I left campus, society returned. 

Even the royal facilities back home often had sand. They had debris, deficiencies, signs of decay. We had nothing comparable to this wealth. The surviving structures in the South had notable flaws due to lack of maintenance. Our sidewalks run down, squalor spread in the streets. Men huddled with wrinkles, bony faces, rib cages, bald heads due to lack of nutrition. Sorrow rushed over me. It was difficult to see the advantageous nature in which the North lived. Our intertwining history was long and complicated, the North suffered just as the South did, however, noticeably less so. 

Nearly complete with my tour, I spotted an irregularity in the building structure. Between two classrooms, unassumed by either of the classrooms, there was an irregular gap. Moving closer, I pinched my pointer and middle finger together. Then, I swung them in an arc-like shape.

That evening, the riverside was dreary and desolate. With each step, I avoided cracks and pooled rainwater. As the sky fell into night, men in robes traveled down the river by foot. They lifted torches in midair and illuminated lanterns on both sides, two by two. The oil lanterns lit, they'd place the cap back to protect the flame from the moisture.

Back at the apartment, Charles' grandmother, Louise, exited the kitchen with a wooden plank of steaming hot bread. The loaf was round, chestnut colored. "I sometimes bake for special occasions," she remarked and smiled. Ravenously, we tore the warm insides from the loaf, dipped it in oil and salt, and ate it with vinegar-cooked endives. We smiled and ate in silence for minutes.

Then, Charles asked, "What'd you think of the school? How does it compare to back home?"

Louise turned to me and watched attentively.

"It is really a remarkable structure," I said in earnest. "I don't believe that back home, we have anything that comes close in equivalence."

"Oh, wow," Louise said. "You're quite passionate about it."

I laughed, "It could, again, be how I learned to speak your language. We had this slight confusion in class today because the way I speak is too formal for the others."

Both she and Charles laughed.

"Well, learning another language is always impressive in itself," she said.

"Onu captured the hearts of half the girls in class too," Charles said.

"Oh really?" Louise said.

"That's funny Charles."

"Yes, this one girl, I think her name is Miranda, prickled him with questions about his status."

"How about you? Anyone you have your eye on?" I jested.

His face flushed in red, he put both of his palms up, grimaced his teeth, and motioned back to his plate. With the remainder of my crust, I brushed oil around the edges of the plate. Silverware clinked over an ambiance of rain.

"By the way," I said. "Your sister, where does she go at night?"

Charles looked inquisitively, a flash of concern passed his brow. "Beats me," he said.

I took this response as a courtesy, a show of politeness, but my gut told me it was a subject that I shouldn't have broached. After dinner, I stood and motioned for the plates, but Louise also stood. She snagged mine before I could grasp the porcelain. I lurched backward.

"I apologize if I committed some sort of faux pas," I said, straightening my posture.

"Not at all," she said, continuing to focus on the dishware. "Guests don't clear the table here."

I nodded in confirmation, but then said, "I understand. But I'll be here for several years. At some point, I must help out around the apartment."

"I guess you're right, Onu. But still, I would like to do it since tonight is...well, celebratory."

"Understood."

At the desk in my room, I'd sat with a candle illuminated, so that I could write. I looked to the neighboring window. Motionless, dark. In my notebook, I'd written the following notes:

*Charles:

*Phoebe:

*Louise:

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

*Lilia:

*Vincent:

*Rowan:

Conceal, I whispered. The notebook vanished. I shed my clothes, snuck under the linens, and closed my eyes.