Ch. 2: Why the Harkinians are Probably Robots

Day two.

Today was going to be different. I was going to make some serious progress today—I mean, I had my blazer buttoned and everything. Plus, my hair was slicked back. I mean, I looked like the freaking lovechild of a shampoo commercial and an insurance commercial. Girls love that kind of stuff, right?

Wrong.

The first thing Zelda said when she saw me that next morning was, "Go away." Not that I blame her, I mean, I was in the way of her locker. But I figured she would need to get inside there at one point, so when she did she'd be forced to take a gander at my well-kept features.

Now, don't get me wrong. I can pretentious at times, but I'm not vain. I tried being vain once- it didn't work. I took really good care of my skin; dressed nicely, even did my hair. Apparently I sent out the wrong message, because after a few days the town creeper—his name's Ghirahim— started shamelessly flirting with me. Haven't gone back since. (Note: Ghirahim kind of looks like a flamboyant clown. If you see him, stay away.)

Anyway, Zelda got really frustrated after that.

"I thought I got rid of you in the hallway yesterday," she mumbled when I refused to budge.

"Nah. I'm pretty persistent, actually. I don't do well with authority. Not a rule follower, to be honest. Never have been, never will be."

"If you don't move, I'll—"

"—Report me to the professors," I finished. "Yeah, I know." Her lips pursed in anger and I let out a long, dramatic sigh. "As you wish, Your Majesty," I finally said with a sidestep.

"Please don't call me that," she said quickly, attending to her lock.

"Fine, Zelda."

Her eyes fell shut in exasperation and I could see her teeth clench. After a split-second, she let out a puff of air and drew the locker open.

"I take it you have something to talk about, since you refuse to leave," she said, sliding books out of the locker and into her waiting arms.

"Perhaps."

"Well? Out with it, then. My patience is running thin."

I smirked. "And snarky, to boot. I like it."

For the very first time she looked me in the eye. Her eyes were actually quite stunning: a clear, icy blue color that gazed with a cold intensity. Those eyes were so interesting to me, and for awhile, I didn't quite know why. Perhaps because she used them as a shield. She always looked like she meant business, like she didn't have time for my bullshit games. Gods, those eyes were terrifying. They thrilled me. Who knew that a girl could harbor such passion, such determination?

It sent me weak at the knees, because in that moment I was almost positive that Zelda Harkinian was indestructible.

I was drawn out of my trance when someone called me to my senses. It was a new voice, somebody I hadn't met yet. I glanced up, irritated. Some slick-haired guy—even slicker haired than me—was eyeing me coolly.

"Hey!" he called. "Are you picking on Zelda?"

Zelda rolled her eyes. "Go away, Link. I can handle him myself."

"Link?" I repeated. "Zelda, you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!" I scrutinized him. Impeccably ironed clothes, a tight scowl, and a helmet of stiffly-gelled hair. "Bit of a tightass, though," I added.

"He's not my boyfriend," Zelda clarified. "He's my brother."

Oh. I guess that made a little more sense. They looked similar; their faces were alike, and they both had that white-blonde hair.

Gods, Link kept looking at me. He looked almost baffled. Finally, I groaned.

"Hey, you," I said, calling him back to attention. "Quit staring, or I might start to think you're checking me out."

Link narrowed his eyes. "You want to play that game? Fine."

Now Zelda was doubly-aggravated. "Calm down, Link," she insisted. "Get out of here, or I'll report you both. Is that what you want?"

We both glanced around. The hallways were packed with students; getting into a fight would just lead to more trouble. Not to mention that we had Hyrule City's Queen Bee glaring at the both of us, ready to smack us both across the head. So I just looked at Zelda, who I was starting to despise, and Link, who I was pretty sure I already despised, and then I stormed off down the hall, throwing my arms toward the ceiling as if in surrender.

…

The rest of the morning went by slowly. Since Zelda was a senior and I was only a junior, she and I didn't share any classes. I suppose it gave me plenty of time to plot; I kept thinking of ways to get her attention, ways to make her give in. The faster she fell for me, the faster I could break up with her, and that sounded like a pretty good deal to me. I let my imagination run wild during my dumb composition class.

The instructor's name was Ezlo—I affectionately called him 'teach' in my head, as I tended to do with all professors—and he was absolutely out of his mind. He always went off on tangents during class, his conversations never ending up close to how they had started. He kept going on and on about the "price of success" and the "value of strife." He was this tiny old man with a green flat cap that he always wore a little crooked. He liked to smile and I could tell he always had because there were crinkles around his eyes. From years of smiling, I reckon.

Sometimes old Ezlo had to stand on a chair to get our attention because he was so short. When he sat, he plopped a stack of books on his stool so that he'd be up to our height. There was a part of me that, even after only a few classes, admired him, but I mostly figured he was insane. So I tried not to admire him too much.

When class got out that day, I rushed to gather my books. I had lunch next and was eager to get a move on. Academy classes were hard and my brain was already fried. Unfortunately for me, Ezlo halted me at the door before I could make a break for it.

"I hope you're liking it so far," he said when I asked him what was up.

"What—the school?"

"No, the feather bonnet I left under your chair."

He said it with a totally straight face. When I couldn't find the words to respond, he just snorted.

"Of course the school! Our beloved Hyrule City Academy is an enchanting place, filled to the brim with history… I assume you are going to be staying for awhile?"

"Not sure," I answered as the room cleared out, leaving just Ezlo and I. The professor cocked an eyebrow.

"Not sure? Why not?"

"Money," I answered, and he nodded in understanding.

"I had your sister last year," he now mused. "She was bright, yes, very bright. A talented writer, too, although I don't think she liked it very much. What about yourself? Are you at all inclined toward writing?"

Oh, so that's what this was about. Whether or not I took after my exalted sister.

"I'm not good at anything, Tea- Professor," I answered after a moment of hesitation.

There was a twinkle in the old man's eye when I spoke. "Oh," he said after a moment, "we'll see about that."

…

Next to the entrance hall, the dining hall was probably the most cavernous and aesthetically appealing room in the castle. (Did I say castle? I meant academy.) One nice thing about it was that they served meals on a daily basis, and the food was pretty good. It wasn't like my old place, where they'd serve sludge on a tray. Every. Single. Day. I qualified for free lunches there—can't help that Nabs and Aveil could barely scrape in the money to feed us, much less pay the rent.

But the food here was good. I always felt a bit sickly at the old place—malnutrition, I think. But after the first few days of Hyrule City Academy, I could feel myself gaining a little more energy, a little more strength. As much as I hated my reasons for being here, I think that I recognized early on that this new place might actually do me some good.

And not just because there were girls in pencil skirts.

The Academy didn't serve food like the old place did; instead of a line, the food was set out in a buffet and you just nicked whatever you liked and set it on your plate. It was a lot easier, a lot swifter, I think, than a lunch line. I picked up my plate from one end of the table, loaded the dish up, and then- balancing the load best I could- made the trek towards the center of the dining hall.

The hall had a high, vaulted ceiling supported by Gothic-styled beams. Arched windows lined the hall, warm white sunlight streaming through onto the mill of students down below. There were three long wooden tables that stretched lengthwise across the room, and the rumble of student chatter filled the air; overall, it was a lively, light hearted room.

The only problem was, I didn't have anyone to sit with. I'd been allowed to sit with Nabooru yesterday, but I doubted she would let me sit there again. I found her table anyway, placing down my plate tentatively to see if she would react.

"No," she said immediately, even though my plate had barely touched the table.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a boy, and boys aren't allowed to sit with us," Nabooru explained. She gestured to the girls sitting around her. "You see them?" she asked. "They're a part of the Organization for the Rights of Gerudo Youth. And since the organization only applies to women, you're not allowed to join in." She paused. "We cut you some slack yesterday, but it's not happening again," she decided.

I sighed. "Well where am I supposed to sit?" I complained.

"I don't know. The floor?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Not amusing, Nabs." She gave a small smirk and rolled her eyes. She stood up suddenly, scanning the hall for someone. Her eyes lit up when she hit her target, and she wagged a finger in that direction.

"Look!" she said. "Zelda's sitting over there. Go flirt with her."

I felt my stomach turn.

"Do I have to?"

"What is it now?" Nabooru accused. "Afraid of her already?"

"Not afraid of her," I explained. "Just tired of her. All she does is yell at me... gets on your nerves after awhile."

"You could try being nice," one of Nabooru's friends piped up.

"I did try being nice. I told her she was good looking, that's pretty nice."

The girls surrounding Nabooru let out a collective sigh.

"You're doing it all wrong!" one of them announced, and I stared at her in confusion.

"What does that mean?"

"Girls don't want to be valued for their looks, they want to be valued for their personalities!" Nabooru explained. "By complimenting her aesthetic appeal, you were objectifying her. Girls don't want to be objectified, they want to be important!"

That seemed pretty hypocritical to me, since Nabooru was the one who wanted me to treat Zelda like a prop in the first place. Nevertheless, I decided to take their advice. Not really wanting to spend anymore time around Zelda but figuring persistence was key, I moseyed over in Zelda's direction.

She was sitting alone. I figured that nobody had shown up yet since I had seen her sitting with Link and Malon yesterday. She wasn't really eating; she had a plate, but it had gone untouched. Instead, she was poring over a stack of handwritten notes.

I took a deep breath and walked over, setting down my tray and plopping down in the chair across from her. I swear to the Din, that girl didn't miss a beat. Before my butt had even hit the chair, she was on her feet, swiping her books and plate into her arms and marching away wordlessly. I sighed and watched her go, not really up to following her. A few seconds later, somebody new entered my line of vision.

"Where did Zelda go? I swear she was here a minute ago."

I glanced up. Malon was standing where Zelda had been only seconds before, looking at me inquisitively. She had a plate balanced on one hand, a stack of heavy, colorful books on the other.

"I sat down and she left," I recounted. "Guess she's just too in love with me to handle me..." I sighed dramatically. Malon giggled and, much to my surprise, took the seat that Zelda had abandoned only seconds before.

"I'm Malon," she said, and I just smiled.

"I know," I answered, watching her as she set her books to the side and took the lid off of a cup to reveal a watery green liquid.

"What is-"

"I'm a vegan," she explained quickly, "and this is asparagus soup. Care for a slurp?"

I frowned. "No."

"Your loss." She filled the spoon with some of the liquid and then stuck the spoon in her mouth, leaving it there as she reached over to open one of her brilliantly colored books. She flipped through a few pages before landing on one that seemed to satisfy her. She had been focusing on something for a few seconds before I decided to interrupt her reading.

"Malon?"

She removed the spoon from her mouth. "Yes?" she answered, glancing up with wide, bright eyes.

"Why does Zelda... How come Zelda... she kind of, why does she-"

"-Hate you so much?" Malon cut in.

"Yeah. That."

She seemed to consider it for a minute, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as she pondered my question. "I think," she said, her voice airy, "that you bother her because you're... different. You two aren't anything alike; you don't fit her mold."

That was the first time anyone had used that word to describe Zelda's lifestyle. Mold. Malon put it like Zelda and Link were processed, programmed, like robots. It was like they had been created in a factory; their father's factory, I assumed. They were raised to be just one certain way; to differentiate would be to cut themselves off.

"I suppose the headmaster has something to do with Zelda's attitude," I surmised.

"Oh, certainly."

"And her mom?" I asked. Malon bowed her head, giving a short, wordless shrug. "Oh," I answered quietly. "No mom. Same here."

Malon took a thoughtful slurp of soup. Once she had swallowed, she grinned. "You know," she mused, "you're not nearly as bad as Zelda's been saying you are."

"What's she been saying?" I asked, not sure whether I wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, that you're a bully. That you won't respect her personal space, that you prevent her from getting things done, that you're a distraction..."

"A distraction, huh?" I asked with a smirk. "Sounds like progress."

Malon giggled. "Anyway, my point is, I don't see why she hates you. I think you're perfectly friendly. A little weird, though."

Wait. What? Me, weird? Sheesh.

"I'm having a bonfire this Saturday," Malon informed me, "want to come?"

"I don't know. Who'll be there?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Whoever knows about it. My parents are out of town, so my sister Cremia and I are taking advantage of it. We live awhile out of the city. My father owns Lon Lon Ranch, so..."

I almost choked on my fork at that. "Lon Lon Ranch? Like, the major farming corporation? With the Lon Lon Milk gallons lining grocery shelves? With the Chateau Romani commercials?"

"Um. Yeah, I guess," Malon answered with a shrug. "Anyway, you're invited."

She shrugged all that off like it was no big deal. But her father was a multi-millionaire- didn't she care? (Was everyone a millionaire here?)

"Yeah," I now said. "Count me in." I finished speaking, the click click click of someone's heels calling me to attention. Malon and I glanced over to view a very irritated Zelda glaring at both of us accusingly.

"I didn't realize you two were friends," she said, a sharp edge to her voice.

"We weren't until now," Malon clarified. "You know, Ganondorf's really nice-"

"Malon," Zelda cut in, and I could hear the bitterness spilling out in each syllable. "Let's go."

"Not jealous, are you?" I joked as Malon was starting to stand up. Zelda didn't even bother to react. She just helped Malon gather her books and made to walk away.

"Wait!" I called. Zelda halted and turned, eyebrows raised.

"What, Mr. Dragmire?"

"I was wondering whether you needed a date to Malon's bonfire this weekend!" I said. A few nearby kids who had been paying attention to the conversation snickered before turning away. Zelda just rolled her eyes and stalked away. Apparently, she didn't feel like dealing with me any more.

"Let me know if you change your mind!" I yelled towards her retreating figure. And then I returned to my lunch, absolutely certain that Zelda Harkinian was, by all definitions, a robot.

Some of these older chapters were written nearly a year ago, and looking back at them makes me realize the extent to which I made Ganon bully Zelda. I want to add a bit of a disclaimer right here- I don't endorse the way that Ganon treats her in these early chapters, and I definitely don't approve of the disrespect he has for her family. He's just a real asshole, and I'd like to acknowledge that.

...But alas, such is the nature of the bildungsroman.

As usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks to those of you who reviewed- please don't abandon me now!

-Ctj