Avia Academy

🌊Chapter Seven: Pity and Practice

They were at lunch when the First Quarter Ranking went up, and with it a wave of hushed conversation and staring eyes. Stares pointed specifically at Clarity Sable and Hadyn Trousta.

Hadyn was ranked ninth, the only black lettered name amongst a pristine sea of white. And considering that last week's Incident had landed her in detention and dropped her ranking five places, that meant she had been ranked within the top five. It was unheard of for a black band.

Claire, on the opposite end of the spectrum, was the only white banded student in the bottom 50%. She knew full well it was only her academic grades keeping her afloat. In the three months she'd been at Avia, Claire had made minimal progress with controlling her element. At this rate, her ranking would only drop.

Her hair stood on end. She could feel the stares all around her, the whispered mocking laughter, the frowns of pity. Gods, she hated the pity most of all.

Kayah broke the quiet with a sharp trill of laughter. "Vajra above, I knew you were doing bad but I didn't expect this! What will Auntie think?"

It was a small mercy that Alison was too busy fretting over her own 20th place ranking to care about Claire's, or she'd no doubt be mocking her right along with Kayah.

Claire's eyes found Hadyn and Sylva across the dining hall. Sylva, of course, wore a worried pout. She mouthed a silent "are you okay?" which Claire ignored. Hadyn wore a brilliant smile that threatened to set the whole room ablaze.

But it was Orpheus that hurt Claire the most. His eyes were distant, his mouth curved into a small frown, like he was regretting the past months of their friendship. "Claire--"

She was up and running before he could get out another word. If she remained in that suffocating room much longer she surely would have vomited. As it was, nausea still swirled in her stomach even after she'd escaped to a small balcony off the Academy's entrance hall.

She crouched next to a potted plant, clutching her stomach and breathing quick, shallow breaths. Her tears rolled hot down her cheeks and dampened her socked knees.

A bird perched on the sunny railing squawked rudely.

What will Auntie think?

What would Amma think? Claire was scheduled to write her weekly letter home to Nathan that night. Amma obviously read the letters too. What would she say if Claire wrote about her struggles? Perhaps she would demand Claire come home and muck the stables for the rest of her life. Perhaps she would send Claire cookies as a consolation, only for Claire to learn they'd been poisoned.

A dead child is better than a shameful child.

Grandamma Haima had been the first to say it, but no one in the family disagreed. Whenever someone told a Kishori they were sorry to hear about Keenan's loss, this was the response.

A dead child is better than a shameful child.

Claire didn't want to be either of those.

Her tears rose from her cheeks, floating up to glisten in the afternoon sun. For one hopeful moment Claire thought maybe she was doing it, but then her tears morphed into tiny saltwater birds. They swooped and swirled around her head.

She turned to see Orpheus leaning in the doorway, lazily moving his fingers to control the birds. "Go away," Claire said quietly, but she didn't mean it and he didn't leave.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling?" Orpheus asked. He crouched as well, so they were eye level.

"And have you think less of me?" Claire shook her head. "I'm fine. I'll handle it."