The Stellar Scholar Trial

“It… can’t be…” Amy mumbles for the umpteenth time, staring transfixed at the bulletin board. She’s not alone in her shock. Plenty other people around her are crying, saying their prayers, masking their distaste behind not-so-subtle eye twitches. It’s that time of the year again, the results for the quarterly exams are out.

“It can’t be!” Amy repeats, spilling on the ground. Her face rests against the tiles and she enjoys the cold, hard feeling. It reminds her of the harsh reality of her grades. In short, she’s doomed. In long, her expectations have been set too high and she has been betrayed by an unjust system.

“Oi,” Ray pokes her with his foot. “Get up.”

She replies with a groan, to which Ray sighs, crouches, then hoists Amy on his shoulder. She groans again, but ends it at that. She doesn’t have the energy to fight him. Her voice is dead and hollow.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the cafeteria. Stellar Scholars need to eat too. Oi, oi! Stop squirming!”

But she wants to squirm. That title and the golden buttons it comes with make her inexplicably angry.

“Woman, I will drop you!”

“Good! May my head smash on the ground and my dry bones serve as a mortal reminder of humanity’s hubris!”

Ray sighs, “I swear, only you could be mad at perfect grades.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe Mia’s mad she didn’t get extra marks!”

“I – could actually see that happening..”

“See? Dumbass.”

“You’re a dumbass! Four quarters running you scored five 99s. Really, it was about time.”

Amy readies a jab, a secret technique she’s developed solely to inflict Ray with the maximum amount of pain. However, her arm deflates just as it hits his chest, limp and weak. Like always, he’s right, but does he have to be right today? She’s told him everything about visiting Mia. Can’t he see the implication?

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god, is she okay?” Ellie’s worried call rings from down the hallway. Amy hears the flurry of her tiny footsteps approaching, then stopping. “Can she walk?”

“Amy?” Ray shrugs his shoulders. Amy doesn’t want to form words, a grumble is enough. “Probably not,” Ray answers.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s… special. Or not. I guess plenty of people fall ill today.”

“Exam fever is for failures not Stellar Scholars!”

Amy moans, her body convulsing in a conniption fit. If she’ll hear that blasted name one more time, she will hold her breath until she passes out.

“Maybe ixnay on the tellarsay? It seems to be her trigger word.”

“What, why?”

“Who can tell? Why you asking, squirt?”

“Mr Astella wants to see her in his office and –“

“Wait what?”

Amy straightens like a board, unaware that Ray has been handling her with the care one hauls around a sack of potatoes. To no one’s surprise, she falls to the ground with a loud, yet surprisingly hollow thud.

* * *

“Can you…not? It t-tickles,” Ellie murmurs.

Amy’s hand retreats from Ellie’s biceps. She has yet to elucidate the mystery of her strength, but thanks her nonetheless. She’s allowed her to poke her enough to ease some of her anxieties. The ones that remain can’t be exorcised the easy way.

“So,” Amy says, “good news or bad news?”

“Umm… yes?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t know? The last piece of good new put you in a coma.”

“Has he told you what this is all about?”

“Umm…” Eline’s brow flickers between calm and worried, her eyes like windshield wipers. “He said he wants to tell you himself.”

She nods towards the door, turning Amy’s attention forwards. It’s just like the one he’s seen at his mansion, black wood and lion ornaments, only miniaturised. He sure doesn’t like leaving home.

“How’s your ankle?” Eline asks, putting Amy down. Amy sucks her teeth, her bad leg almost giving way.

“Brittle and arthritic.”

“Just try not to limp. You don’t want to show him any weakness,” Eline warns, knocking twice on the door. It’s a courtesy, more than a request. With no response from inside, she opens the door and rushes in. Amy hesitates. To earn a visit to Headmaster Astella’s office, you must be exceptional, either the good or the bad kind. She’s neither of those things, but she still has to go in.

Is it always this dark? She can barely see a thing in front of her and her injury doesn’t help her feel any more confident. At least if she fumbles, no one will hear a thing. The soft carpet steals the noise of her staggered steps.

“H-hello?” she says after ten strides have led her nowhere. “Did you want to see me h-headmaster –“

The lights turn on, all at once, blinding her. A trumpet blows, then two louds bangs make her drop to the floor, covering her ears. He wants to kill me!

“Surprise!” she hears Hana and Eline yell. Party horns give away their position; they’re both nearing her. Amy opens her eyes, adjusting to the brightness just as they lift her by the armpits. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Amy takes stock of the room. It’s – surprisingly normal. File cabinets, a very modest display case, the school’s motto written on the far wall – Prestige is our blood – right above the headmaster’s desk. He waits there, a bright smile on his lips. Opposite him Sean fights the urge to clap in derision. He casts her a leer, then returns to hating every second of his being in the room.

“What’s all this?” Amy manages.

“A celebration, dear, do you not know of those? Come! We toast!”

Hiding her limp behind Ellie’s shadow, Amy approaches. Five glasses rest on the desk, filled mostly with bubbles. She takes one, swirls its contents, then takes a cautious sniff.

“Champagne?”

“Yes?” Mr Astella chuckles. “You don’t toast with water.”

“Is this… okay?”

“Worrying about decency, how droll. I am the law, Amy. And if the law says you can, then you can. It’s non-alcoholic, by the way. Day drinking is for waning stars and divorcees. Cheers!”

The glasses clink, all four with Amy’s fifth being late to the party. They each take a sip, give their pleasured sighs with Sean issuing a quiet rasp.

“What are we toasting?” she asks, the weight of everyone’s stare falling over her. Mr Astella snorts, then breaks into a cackle, only to Amy’s discomfort. The rest of them are used to his antics.

He wipes a tear from his eyes, “So innocent, so modest. Ah, as if she hadn’t achieved the greatest feat known to students worldwide. Bless your hummingbird heart, dear. Don’t be a stranger, sit down!”

Amy drags a chair out, settling next to Sean. He mumbles something under his breath, “Commoner,” Amy interprets. It’s enough to make her keep some distance between them, if only to avoid his rueful glares. He downs the whole glass of champagne, then pours himself another.

“You do know that –“ Hana whispers.

“Shut up!” Sean barks.

“As you might already know,” Mr Astella silences them, “our school prides itself in excellence, wherever it might sprout from. We scout talent from every corner of the Earth and provide it with a chance to flourish amongst others of its ilk. But, no talent is born equal. Even in our midst we have the rest –“ he points at Amy “–and the best. That’s what we celebrate, Amy.”

He stares through her, revelling in the uneasiness that bleeds through Amy’s trembling grin. She doesn’t like being the best and he knows it. She steals glances at the exit, her hand trembling on her lap.

“Is that it, sir?”

“Sir, blegh. Please, call me Edward. You’ve earned as much.”

Amy winces, “T-thank you, Edward.”

The name almost makes her swallow her tongue.

“And no, we’re not done. I believe you’ve met Ellie? As for the other two, Sean Murphy and Hana Tasugami. Three other Stellar Scholars, all your subordinates.”

Amy chokes on her spit. Hana and Ellie both make for her, but stop when Mr Astella raises his hand. She was never coughing. She was laughing.

“Very funny, no really! Edward, you scamp! Such a god actor. Saying that with a straight face? I see who Mia takes after.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but his tone stays happy and unfazed.

“I wasn’t joking.”

“A stroke, then?”

“I held a toast, not smelled any.”

“Then you’re insane.”

“Now I see who you take after,” Edward says, turning in his chair. “Good one, by the way. It was very funny.”

“You didn’t laugh.”

“I appreciate brazenness on the inside, especially when I spark it.”

He snaps his fingers, a command for Ellie and Hana to go for the blinds and draw them open. Astella’s majestic garden stretches before him, a maze of alleys, hedge walls sprayed with flowers and artesian wells. Behind it rises the Hall of Titans, the pantheon that has hosted every academy event for more than a century now.

“When you’re on the of the world, it can’t help but look up to you. Every year we hold our Grand Fete just to offer those unfortunate souls a glimpse of who we are and why we’re above them. Be it those who we begrudge on guided tours, the commoners gawking at our booths or the elites enjoying the soiree.”

Edward turns around, fragments of a smirk peeking through the palm over his mouth. He points, “Head of Booths.” Hana. “Head of Security.” Eline. “Head of Tours.” Sean. “Head of Organisation.” Me. “All that’s missing is a Head of Show. Find one. It’s the first and last task you’ll be assigned. The rest are all up to you. Make us proud, Amy. Prove your blood.”

“Again with that tired saying,” Mia sighs, revealing herself at the door. Not even her father has noticed her coming in.

“Not proud of your heritage?” Hana jabs. Mr Astella threatens her with his breath, halfway between a growl and a chuckle. Hana understands the signal and leaves her post, bumping elbows with Mia as they change places. The daughter stands by her father and the servant a bridge between her master and the commoner he detests. Mia hops on top of his desk, casting Edward a warm smile. In turn, he brushes her hair and cups her flushed cheek. Amy bites her lip. She can’t show it, but she’s glad their talk turned out well.

“What’s my duty for the fete?” Mia asks, giddy like a child.

“Steal the show, as always,” Sean tries. No trace of disgust lingers on his face. He’s got eyes and thoughts just for Mia now.

“And the stagehands, the special effects, the rest of the performers,” Hana adds. “All belong to you, Star.”

“I don’t know, love,” Mr Astella says. “I should think you’ll discuss it with Amy. When time comes, correct?”

Again, she’s the centre of attention, every gaze on her in condescendence, scorn and sympathy. Amy gulps and nods, voice stuck in her throat. Mr Astella lifts Mia off his desk and puts her back on her feet. She flips her hair and turns on her heels. The grace of an actress and the mannerisms to pair it.

Edward claps his hands, “Well, with this matter settled, I believe we can adjourn.”

Amy’s the first to get up and leave, Mr Astella’s magic words all but healing her bruised ankle. Free at last, she could even skip with glee down the hallways. But she’s not free. She’s now in charge of the biggest celebration of the entire school year and the enormous pressure of this duty weighs her steps to a slow trudge.

Our Origins. Last year’s fete, such a striking event that to this day people keep talking about it. Amy remembers it well. The food stalls serving treats from every country of the world, polyglot tour guides and a soiree disguised as a dance competition. From waltz to flamenco to Chinese ribbons, it was electrifying. And special. And unique. And it must’ve been so much work, handled by someone skilled enough to pull out a performance of that magnitude and Amy certainly isn’t one of those people, because she’s just one of the rest who lucked her way into being the ‘best’ and –

A tap on makes her flinch and jump. It’s Mia, blissfully unaware of the hurricane inside Amy’s head.

“Yes?” Amy says.

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Umm…”

So much work. Amy’s gears already grind, trying to churn out plans, themes, charts, deadlines. It’s a month away and she can’t waste any seconds. She opens her mouth, lips curling into a ‘no’, but can’t bring herself to refuse.

Mia was the star of last year’s show. Her ballet has captured everyone’s attention and held it for the best part of ten minutes. And now Amy has the opportunity to be a part of that. To prove her blood, prove that she belongs here with these superhumans, if not on their level, then at least in their immediate shadow.

“Sure. We’ll talk about your part in the show,” Amy says.

“Just that?” Mia replies dejected.

Amy sighs, “And friend stuff too.”

“Yay! Friend stuff!”

“But please, can we not go to that coffeeshop again? My purse is still crying.”

“Maybe if you’d let me buy you a drink…”

“Maybe if you stop giving me that look.”

“What look?”

She feigns innocence, but all she can do is feign.

“That pout. Swell your lips some more and you’ll be Mr Murphy.”

“I heard you, commoner!”

“And the whole school heard you,” Hana chides him. He shoots her a glare back, but it bounces right off her teasing grin. Amy chuckles, relieved to know that Hana will be sitting on the same committee as her, there to protect her against her master’s scorn. But speaking of protecting, where is –

Ellie picks up the bits of confetti sprawled across the headmaster’s floor. She has no broom, nor dustpan, not even a bin to throw them in. Mr Astella ordered her to sort them by size and colour, the eleventh punishment he’s given her since she’s allowed Amy into his house. She doesn’t mind it one bit. Really, she’s thankful it’s ended at menial tasks.

“Ellie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope you understand the sentiment behind these works. Were I to reward misbehaving with positive reinforcement, we’d only have more of it and we can’t have that, can we, Ellie?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m glad we’re clear.”

She feels his gaze turn away from her and onto the garden. A sigh leaves his throat, with enough affection to let her know he’s watching his daughter.

“Strange times we’re living in. I had hoped betrayals and backstabs would remain a fixture of my professional life. Alas, I bring too much work home. My family was soon to follow. Pity.”

His chair slides on the floor and he drops on the cushion with a defeated plop. He gives another sigh, this time full of scathe and scorn.

“When you’re done there, Ellie, I have your final assignment.”

Ellie hesitates, but not for too long. She can’t let him know of her misgivings.

“Sir?”

“It should come to no surprise that the organiser I’ve chosen is a commoner, inexperienced and egregiously underprepared. The fete should run just as I and everyone else expect it to. Do you understand, Ellie?”

She does. It’ll end up hurting Amy and undoubtedly Mia in the process, but it’s a small pain compared to what will happen if she refuses. Still, accepting it doesn’t make it sit right with her.

“Good girl,” Edward purrs. “Hopefully my daughter will learn her lesson. Father knows best., after all.”