The summer semester ended and Meredith Lee's School for boys bustled with activity once more.
Jude sat at his desk and struggled to appear attentive. It was history class, led by the sole male teacher of the school, Johnathan Littlewort. Jude had an interest for history and spent many a summer going through the school's literature on the subject. The history he liked to read was the one regarding the empire, how it rose to prominence and shone its light upon the world. Johnathan's classes, on the other hand, he considered dull. He had no interest in explaining the workings of a society or the different factors which contributed to the lead up of certain events. There was no context whatsoever, only the constant rambling of royalties and their lineages.
"And then Empress Sylvia of the Tacrian alliance ceded the throne to Empress Lalia to ascend through means of marital inheritance."
There was a collective sigh across the classroom as he went about his droning. The boys rested their heads on their elbows, some played with paper and one were soundly asleep, face plastered onto his desk. Jude didn't blame them, he blamed Johnathan. History would be a fun subject if you only immersed the students into the story and made them understand how everything coincided. There were so many heroic tales within the empire's history that could for spark their interest. Why not tell them of the heroes that threw off the tyranny to form the greatest empire known to man? That should catch their attention.
Johnathan cleared his throat and a couple of the boys jumped and realised he'd stopped speaking.
"Until next class I'd like you to memorise all the Tacrian empresses of the Ionesian, Marconian and the Gwach eras."
They boys groaned.
"You need homework for us to advance the class," Jonathan added in his defense.
"Do we really?" Jan said, "I mean, this is history, who cares? Why do we need to learn all this rubbish anyway? No one's gonna ask us about Tacrian empresses from a thousand year's ago."
"Jan, if you don't do your homework you will not get a passing grade"
"So what? Futas don't care if a male is good at history."
Silence spread around the class as everyone waited to see the outcome of their clash. Then someone in the back shouted, "No homework!" The other boys took up the call and soon everyone, except Jude, were shouting and banging their fists on their desks. Mikkel jumped on top of his desk and began shaking his ass to the tune.
"B-b-boys, please listen!" Johnathan pleaded, but no one listened and the ruckus only grew.
"Okay, It's okay if you only memorise the dynasties of the eras."
It was not good enough and the boys kept banging their fists, repeating their demands. Jude felt sorry for Johnathan though he held him to blame. He'd already memorised all the Empresses of the different eras and their lineages along with their dynasties, going so far as to memorise the names of their spouses despite they were seen as nothing more than insignificant footnotes of history. If he'd been asked to explain how the Ionesian era progressed into the Markonian, or how the inner strife in the empire led to the invasion of the Gwach, he could have done so without a hitch, though such questions would never appear in Johnathan's tests.
The door flung open and Fawlorne stormed into the room. The ruckus died down in an instant. Mikkel who had his butt raised towards the board turned around and stared at her in terror, then slowly inched down to take a seat.
"What's going on in here?"
She was met with silence and the boys averted their eyes.
"I could hear you through the walls. This is unacceptable!"
"S-sorry Mrs Fawlorne, it was just a little dispute," Johnathan stammered.
Fawlorne raised an eyebrow at him.
"Didn't sound like it," she said and turned her attention back to the class.
"Well, who are the culprits? Raise your hands."
There was no movement at first but then Jan raised a trembling hand in the air.
"Sorry, Mrs Fawlorne."
"I'll see you in detention after class and Mikkel, you too."
Mikkel slumped his shoulders. "Yes, Mrs Fawlorne."
"Don't let such a display ever happen again. Shame on you!"
All the boys hung their heads, some were close to tears and the boy who'd been sleeping and awoken from the ruckus was taken in by the reproach and looked as shameful as the others.
"Thank you Mrs Fawlorne. Well then, as I was saying, make sure to memorise the different dynasties of the three eras. Class dismissed."
The boys got up from their desks, collected their textbooks and marched out from the classroom in a sullen mood under the disdainful gaze of Fawlorne. Only when Jude passed did her expression ease.
He hurried off to his dorm to pick up his dancing gear and head to practice. He trained every day now, from the moment his classes ended until the dark of night. To have time to study he limited his morning routine to stretches and flexibility, and spent the time studying instead. During the weekends he'd endure eight hour long dancing sessions. It was tough but he hung in there, determined to repay those who supported him.
He thought of Chris, who saved him from Ida in the nick of time. Had she arrived a few moments later Ida would've completed her binding and the life he knew would be over. He'd probably be Ida's property by now, and even if it was a male's duty to accept their lot in life he couldn't force his heart to like it.
Training began with Starigold having him stand at the handrail en Pointe for an hour. It was unlike anything he'd done before and the pain in his feet was excruciating. Massage didn't help anymore, and he felt a fearful anticipation every time he entered the dance hall. After the pointe she had him do basic exercises for hours end until he was soaked in sweat. He was surprised it was all basics. He'd thought that a world renowned teacher would have something else to teach him but Starigold told him there was no need for it, that flawless basics brought out the finesse of the more advanced moves.
Day after day, week after week, he trained. Piling exhaustion on top of exhaustion. Starigold had a diet plan made for him and stressed it was of the utmost importance he followed it to the tee. His heart sunk when he saw his meagre rations. Jude had never been a heavy eater but with all the exercise his body craved nutrition. He was in a state of constant hunger and it became hard to focus. His studies laxed and his mind always wandered towards sleep and food.
"Wrong, it's all wrong," Ms Starigold called out and struck her cane across his calves. Jude didn't realise he'd been dozing off in the middle of training.
"This is how you do it," Starigold showed the move that Jude thought he knew to perfection.
"It should be simple, even for a boy."
"Sorry, Ms Starigold, I don't know what got over me."
She didn't acknowledge his apology but strode away with her back turned to him.
"Again!"
On and on they trained and Jude dozed off several times more, each time Ms Starigold brought him back with a lash of her cane and a stern reprimand. After the seventh time she had enough. She threw down her cane so hard it bounced off the floor.
"No, no, no! Why can't you do it right? We've been through this countless of times."
Jude didn't know what to say, apologies seemed futile. Why couldn't he get it right? Starigold marched up to him, body stiff in anger.
"Look at me!"
He raised his eyes to meet her intense stare.
"Is this what you call effort, is this what you think my time is worth? To lecture a boy who can't even do the simplest of things? Perhaps I was wrong to put my hopes on you. When I heard of a boy performing the Rougardé, I thought I'd found the talent I was looking for. Now, I'm beginning to doubt that assessment. This has been a waste of my time."
Jude's heart froze.
"Ms Starigold, please, just let me try one more time. I promise I'll get it right this time."
"No, we're done for the day. I'll take my leave now."
She turned her back on him and walked away.
"Please don't give up on me!" Jude called after her.
Starigold snorted and whispered under her breath, "We'll see."
As the season progressed, the trees shed their foliage and the migratory birds fattened themselves to prepare for the coming winter and their escape to southern lands. The forests were bathed in the colours of green, yellow and red.
Jude's dancing classes continued without progression. Starigold found more fault in him by the day and he struggled to keep up with her harsh regiment. His test scores trailed as he couldn't find the energy to study anymore. This day he fell asleep over his books during morning study and awoke to the realisation that class had started ten minutes ago. He was in such a mess this morning, his hair stood in all directions and he didn't have time to put on makeup.
He prostrated himself before Fawlorne, begging for her forgiveness before the entire class, who looked at him in wonder. They'd never seen him in that state before. Big purple rings, under bloodshot, tired eyes. Fawlorne acted as if she'd not heard his apology and hunched down with an expression of worry.
"Are you okay, Jude? You don't look well."
He wished he would've had the time to powder his eyes to hide the discolouration.
"Thank you, Mrs Fawlorne, it will never happen again."
He didn't answer her question but his mind was so starved he struggled to take it all in.
"Are you eating all right? You look thin."
"Yes Ma'm, I'm eating exactly as I should."
"That's good to hear Jude, you must not forget to eat. You can go to your seat and.." She motioned toward the buttons on his uniform. Jude was bewildered but then looked down his own uniform and to his horror he noticed he'd buttoned it askew. His face burned in shame at presenting himself this way.
Starigold had told him to rest until Monday and contemplate where he had gone wrong. Jude didn't like it. It felt as if he was sent off to detention and the reason he was late this morning was because he stayed up all night fussing about it. Furthermore, he didn't reach a conclusion on where he'd done wrong. If he didn't have an answer by this evening, Starigold would be disappointed in him.
"We're now a full month into the winter term and I have some exciting news for you."
Jude realised Fawlorne had been talking and forced himself to be attentive.
"As you know our school have three contenders in the championships this year, and they're all from my class."
Her eyes tingled.
"We have Jan who will be in the qualifiers." There was a round of applause around the class, Jan stood beside his desk and bowed in feigned humility.
"Then we have Mikkel, who will also try to qualify for the finals."
There was another round of applause. Mikkel beamed, his cheeks had a healthy flush and his body was in prime condition.
"And Jude, who received a direct ticket into the finals. One of only seven boys to receive one in the empire."
The applause died down and the entire class turned to look at Jude with worried expressions. He didn't mind the silence, the clapping made his head pound as if someone was beating at it with a stick.
"With the great success of our class the headmistress had given us leave to travel to New York and cheer for your comrades."
The Boys was ecstatic over this and struggled to contain their excitement.
"You are allowed to cheer," Fawlorne said with a wide smile and the boys erupted in cahoots. When the boys showed no signs of calming down Mrs Fawlorne raised a hand and they immediately settled.
"Jude, you must ask Ms Starigold for permission, okay?"
"Yes, Mrs Fawlorne."
"The rest of you should prepare your clothes for the trip. Remember, this is a refined event, so dress accordingly. The school will provide you with pins marking you as students from the school. I'm sure you will all give an elegant impression and represent our school in a beautiful manner."
They spent the rest of class going through proper etiquette in elegant settings.