Mortality

4 ~ Calix

North Ward

-Calix

The last bell has me fucked, trudging with Tacitus toward Master Smyrl's classroom. Detention on my first day sounds like an amazing topic to discuss over dinner tonight. Tacitus releasing an exasperated sigh and complains, "With this workload, I'll never have time for Arena practice if I make the cut next week after tryouts."

"Don't fool yourself," I laugh, "you'll be on the team."

"Ms. Russey and her work with the Plasma Refinement class has me thinking I can do well in this class," Tacitus makes his statement, the two of us walking through the door into Master Smyrl's classroom.

While I glance around and don't see our instructor, I do see Aero leaning back in his chair at his desk. Replying to Tacitus, "Ms. Russey is already having her way with you," I chuckle when he punches me in the arm.

The two of us take our seats, Aero musing, "Ms. Russey...you know she's just an instructor, right?"

The bell rings...

...I didn't think they had a detention bell.

"I'm so-" Elafi cuts herself short as she sprints into the classroom, taking one look around and breathing out a sigh of relief. She asks with confusion, "Where's Master Smyrl?"

"Who knows?" I shrug my shoulders as I watch her walk past me and take her seat on the other side of Aero.

Tacitus rummages through his bag, quickly pulling out all the work that was accumulated from the day. He rubs his forehead and groans as I turn around in my seat, his eyes meeting mine as he states, "This might be the only night I get my work done...I can't focus on this crap!"

Aero turns in his seat and pouts, "Awe, why don't you drop out then?"

I shift my gaze to Aero and retort, "Tacitus is going to be the star Arena player...it wouldn't surprise me if he's even Commander."

"Well, well," Master Smyrl's voice breaks up our argument, my gaze drifting away from Aero to see our instructor walk through the door. He comes to stand at the front of the class and states, "If Mr. Dyson ever plans on becoming a famous Arena player...he'll need to keep above an 8.5-point average in combined classes."

"What?" I ask, shaking my head.

Elafi mutters, "I can hardly hold an 8..."

"Mr. Dyson," Master Smyrl address Tacitus directly, ignoring the rest of us.

"Ye-Yes, Sir?" Tacitus asks with hesitation, worry clear in his voice. I know if I turned around right now, he'd be dripping sweat, because I'm sure he's never—

"What is your point average from Primary School?" Master Smyrl asks, a twitch at the corner of his lip turning into a sneer.

Tacitus coughs and clears his throat several times before he replies, "4.3..."

"Ah, so I won't have the pleasure of having such a brilliant player on my team, now will I?" Master Smyrl lets out a bellowing laugh, Elafi's brows rising in confusion.

I clear my throat and ask, "Wait, you're the year one Arena team's trainer?"

"Why do you seem so surprised, Mr. Ravenend?" He asks, arching a brow and waiting for my response. I bite my tongue because anything I say will make it worse if Tacitus is ever going to get on that team.

Instead, I correct my mistake and state, "I assumed it would be Mr. Lexin."

"Presumptuous of you to think that the year one Physical Education instructor would be the Arena team's trainer," Master Smyrl enjoys winning one over on me, but I settle for it. He claps his hands together and continues, "Now, why don't we finish out detention how it's meant to..." his voice trails off, turning away from us as he walks to his desk. He lowers himself into his seat and states, "Do your schoolwork and not a single word."