JUNE
1236 HOURS.
DRAKE UNIVERSITY, BATALLA SECTOR.
72° F INDOORS.
"Do you know why you're here, Ms. Iparis?" Ms. Whitaker asks.
The other seven times I was called to my dean's secretary's office this quarter, I always knew exactly what I was being called for. Various stunts, all for the good of our country. Each of them followed by a report. The truth is, they just don't challenge us enough here at Drake. And, sure, I was on my way to my next scheme, but they couldn't possibly know that; I wasn't even off campus grounds.
"No," I say, not sure if it's the right answer or not.
Ms. Whitaker narrows her eyes at me. "Despite whatever they might think–" she gestures to the group of students assembled outside of her office. They seem to take particular interest in the times where the "Republic's little prodigy," the freakish 15-year-old senior gets in trouble. "–you are not in trouble."
I can hardly say that's a relief. Though I wasn't hoping for an eighth report, I wouldn't be new to me. Now the only question is "Why am I here?" I voice my thoughts aloud.
"We have a new student joining us here at Drake University. I would like you to show him around," Ms. Whitaker says simply.
"What!? Why?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. Out of all the things she could've said, this is the one I had never expected to hear from Ms. Whitaker's mouth. I had never been much good at making friends, here at a school where the kids are four years older than me, where I am envied or idolized. I can't imagine why the dean of students is asking me to show around a student. I never got that kind of treatment when I joined Drake. And you'd think I'd need it most, being a younger student. Besides, I am in no mood to show around anybody.
"I think you will find that you two have many things in common," I open my mouth to say something, but she ignores me and continues. "And, you have had seven reports this quarter, I'm fed up with the impunity you've received. The school board has decided that if you show this new student around–and dare I say, keep him out of trouble–"
"You want me to keep someone out of trouble?" I look doubtfully at Ms. Whitaker, who knows best of all people how bad of an idea this is.
She ignores my protests and continues. "-we will give you a clean slate in terms of reports. As you know, typically after a certain number of reports, you could be expelled. We sincerely hope that you don't reach this point, as you are one of our most promising students."
This makes me want to laugh out loud; there is no way that they would expel the Republic's little prodigy, the second person–and only girl– to receive a 1500/1500 on the Trial. The only other person with the same score as I is Daniel Wing.
I have only met Daniel one time in my life, though I have heard about him plenty, poor kid from Lake, two brothers, dead father, got a perfect score and his whole family was upgraded to the gem sectors. Six months before my birthday, Daniel took his Trial and received a perfect score. Three months after my birthday, we both received twin awards and congratulations from Dr. Chian, the head of the judging of the Trial. Two days later, after interviews and photo shoots, we parted ways, onto not-so-different paths–he, like me is a senior, skipped many grades, I think he's at Stanford now (Though he's got a genius Trial score, he's not very good at staying in one school–shenanigans and stuff. Basically, he's been expelled a lot.). I'd be lying if I said he doesn't ever cross my mind. If I ever screw up–which, mind you, doesn't happen much–I'll think to myself Would Daniel have done any better? And then, I'll dismiss the thought because though he is the first person to complete the Trial perfectly, I did it faster. And twice.
Take that Daniel.
"I won't do it," I say suddenly. I don't know whether I'm being lazy or defiant or just plain stubborn, but I have no interest in a poor new kid. He can fend for himself.
"June," this gets my attention fast. Ms. Whitaker never uses my first name. It is all formalities and 'Ms. Iparis's with her. "We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have to. Plus, your brother already agreed to it."
Metias, you traitor. "My brother doesn't make decisions for me," I say blatantly.
"Ms. Iparis," so we're back to that again, "The least you could do is give him a tour and make sure he makes it to all of his classes in time. Just for a week. Your penance will be paid."
I hate it when I'm treated like a child, like I have to be goaded into this, find a compromise for this stubborn little being. I open my mouth to argue, but I stop suddenly, hearing gasps from the other side of the glass. I turn my head and out of all the surprises today, this hits me the hardest. He opens the door and plops down in the chair next to me that is usually unoccupied.
Ms. Whitaker nods politely at him. "Hello, Mr. Wing."
The new student is Daniel Altan Wing. I am going to be showing around the other Republican prodigy. It all makes sense. Keeping him out of trouble, having much in common.
"Alright, so this is Drake." He doesn't sound particularly thrilled, and his voice is nothing like I remembered it. It is deeper, more masculine, and sends unwanted tingles down my spine.
"Mr. Wing here has had some...complications with other schools–" Ms. Whitaker begins, but Daniel cuts her off.
"I was expelled," he corrects.
"Yes," she looks at him with disdain. "In any case, he is here at Drake now. Daniel, this is–"
"June Iparis, I know," he says. He smirks at me. "You grew up nice."
I struggle to keep my face straight.
Beside me, Ms. Whitaker is certainly dumbfounded at his frequent interruptions. I hope I don't look as bewildered as I feel when I hold out my hand. "Hi Daniel, it's nice to see you– again," I choose my words carefully. I wouldn't describe my tone as friendly exactly, more like suspicious with mild hostility.
He takes it in a firm grasp. His hand is warm. "Feel free to call me Day."
I wrote this a while ago and I just thought I would touch it up and see if it was something worth continuing.
Tell me what you guys think about it! Review are very welcome *wink wink*
Still debating whether or not to write this entirely in June's point of view or not, so opinions for that are welcome too.
