Precedent

Chapter Three

"We should really get you a uniform," Taylor says. He isn't aware that he just gave me mind-blowing information. I can't let him know though. He wouldn't understand.

I nod numbly.

As Taylor leads me to the building that stores and distributes the uniforms, I think about Venus, a.k.a. my mom. Is she dating my father? Has she met him? How soon will she and he conceive me? I shiver, deciding I don't want to know the answer to that one.

The building that houses the uniforms looks like how I invasion a tailor's shop. There are in-process clothes everywhere. There are stools for people to stand on while they're measured and fitted. I've never seen a place like this before. Actually, I've never even seen the interior of a clothing shop before.

"Mrs. Hopkins!" Taylor calls out. "Mrs. Hopkins!"

A squeaky voice replies, "Over here with Mister Mason." Taylor raises an eyebrow, but leads me to the back of the store.

The woman I guess is Mrs. Hopkins is tall and bony. She has a short neck and high cheek bones. She wears a turban and shawls that, if she isn't holding them close to her chest, fall to the floor.

The boy on the stool being fitted is just that, a boy. He looks twelve, thirteen at most. He has brown-blonde hair that doesn't look like it's been combed. Brushed, yes, but not combed. He is wearing a uniform that is too big for him. It is clear Mrs. Hopkins is trying to adjust.

"I told you Mister Mason," Mrs. Hopkins tells the boy, "I don't think it's going to come in anymore." The boy looks really upset about this.

"I can't have people calling me..." He trails off. His voice is deeper than I expected. If he didn't look like he was wearing a circus tent, he might be attractive, especially with his beautiful green eyes. I mean, I wouldn't date him. He's probably three years younger than me. That means, in my time, he's thirteen years older than me.

"What, dear?" Mrs. Hopkins asks. The boy turns a deep shade of red.

"Stuff," he mutters. Mrs. Hopkins clucks her tongue.

"Well, they don't know what they're saying, Mister Mason. They tear down the people they're jealous of."

I turn to Taylor for an explanation. Taylor obliges.

"That's Drew Mason," he says. "He's the youngest student to come here, ever. He's twelve and graduated college at ten, finishing it in two years. He's a total genius in pretty much anything. After he graduated college, before coming here, he did a tour of the world. He studied the cultures and art. His family has no money, so he's here on scholarship."

"Why would other geniuses bully him?" I ask.

Taylor grimaces. "He's young. That's it. They say he's not only a prodigy, but a nerd, a dork. They also criticize that he was homeschooled." I don't recognize that term, but I don't say. If he's throwing it out like that, he expects everyone to know what it is.

"Oh! Mister Greycen!" Mrs. Hopkins suddenly exclaims. "Finally get Miss Ardal I see."

He shakes his head. "Not yet, ma'am. Still working. This is Olivia. She's a new student."

"Hmm," Mrs. Hopkins says. "Darlin Olivia, you do look like Miss Ardal." I wince. She laughs. "Venus isn't so bad."

"I'll bet you say that about all rich geniuses." This throws her for a loop. She stutters, but then seems to come up with a god answer.

"I'm ever the optimist. I believe that all the young Ardal needs is something to make her care about others rather than herself," Mrs. Hopkins replies.