Kingmakers, Year One

10. Leo

10

LEO

A nna and I are hiking on the east side of the island. It’s Saturday, which means we have no classes and plenty of time to explore. On the weekends everyone takes the chance to get off campus, to go visit the little village down by the harbor or to wander around the fields, farms, vineyards, and beaches.

The village doesn’t offer much of interest—or at least it wouldn’t if there were other options for entertainment. But any change of place seems exciting on the island. So Anna, Ares, and I often walk down to have coffee and scones in the little cafe on the harbor’s edge, or to eat freshly-battered fish and chips at the even smaller restaurant that serves only the one dish.

I’ll admit, it’s the best damn fish and chips I’ve ever eaten, with bass caught the same morning, still cold from the ocean when they throw it in the fryer. That’s the only way I enjoy seafood: battered, fried, and disguised.

I’m thinking we should get some as soon as we’re done hiking. It takes a lot of calories to move this giant body around, and I’m fucking starving.

Anna likes to hike the cliffs right above the bay. They’re not quite as steep as the cliffs directly below Kingmakers, but there’s plenty of parts on the trail where the path becomes so sheer that you have to climb up the rock hand over hand.

I can see Anna ten feet above me, hauling herself up the white rock, nimble as a mountain goat. She always hikes like she’s in a race, trying to power through it as quickly as she can. I’m faster than Anna and stronger, but she’s got an engine. She never seems to tire, or at least she’d never let me see it.

I’m grinning as I climb a little faster, trying to catch up with her.

We wore hoodies when we left early this morning, because the sky was overcast and the wind was chilly. Now that the sun has come out, I’m sweating.

As I get closer to Anna, her foot slips out from under her. I catch her heel neatly in my hand, pushing her sneaker up again so she can regain her position.

“Saved you,” I say.

Anna looks down at me, tossing her long blonde ponytail back over her shoulder.

“I wasn’t going to fall,” she says scornfully.

“Of course not. ‘Cause I was right here to save you.”

She makes a disdainful sound and climbs even faster. She’s smiling, though. I can always make Anna smile, whether she wants to or not.

When we reach the very top of the cliff, Anna sits down on the shelf of rock overhanging the ocean. This is the goal, the reward for the climb. One of the prettiest views on the island.

You can see the fishing boats out on the water, and the waves hitting the rock at the base of the cliff, churning up thick white foam. Down to our left, the half-moon-shaped village clusters around the harbor, each of the buildings perfect and uniform in miniature, like a model set.

Anna looks out over the water, her pale blue eyes keen and intent. I want to know what she’s thinking. I always want to know all the thoughts whirring away inside her head.

I know there’s something fascinating on her mind—she’s never just spacing out, dreaming of nothing. Anna is brilliant. One of the only people who continually says things I’ve never even considered before.

Before I can ask her what’s on her mind, she pulls her sweater over her head so she can cool off in the sea breeze. She’s wearing a leotard underneath—dark gray, backless, with a mesh of fine straps crisscrossing over her spine.

Anna has the clearest skin I’ve ever seen. It’s smooth and flawless all across her shoulders and back, luminescent in the sun. The only marks on her flesh are the finely-drawn tattoos that represent all the people she loves: her mother, her father, her sister, and her brother. None for me, though. I wonder if she’d get one with me if I asked?

I have the urge to run my finger down the script written along the back of her arm, an urge so strong that my hand is already moving before I realize that’s weird, and I clench my fist in my lap instead.

“What’s up with you?” Anna says.

“Nothing,” I say. “Cramp.”

Anna takes my hand in hers and massages my palm with her fingers. She presses her thumbs firmly into my flesh, finding all the tired muscles, bringing them back to life.

It feels good. Really good. Her hands are soft and strong at the same time.

“I never think of you as a girl,” I blurt out.

“What do you mean?” Anna falters in the massage.

“You know how some people are sort of a cliche of themselves? I never think of you as a girl, or a ballerina or whatever category. You’re just . . . yourself. Your own combination.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Anna says.

She’s not meeting my eye. I think I insulted her accidentally.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a girl,” I say, wishing I could explain better what I mean.

“I know,” Anna says.

“I only meant?—”

“It’s fine, Leo. I understand you.”

She always does. But she looks troubled. Not entirely happy all of a sudden.

“How’s your banking class going?” I ask her. It’s one of the only classes we don’t share.

“Fine.”

“Pretty dull with all those Accountants?”

“No. It’s not dull. I’ve always liked numbers.”

There’s silence for a moment while I try to stop myself from asking what I really want to ask. Anna is stiff, anticipating it.

At last I say, trying to sound casual, “I hope Dean’s not giving you any shit.”

I don’t like that they have that class together, without me there.

It shouldn’t matter, but it irritates me, like something caught in my teeth.

When Anna’s in that class and I’m in Torture Techniques, I can’t stop thinking about her and that asshole trapped in the same room together.

I’ve seen how he looks at her. Like she’s a piece of meat and he’s starving.

Knowing he’s leering at her all hour long is almost worse than the actual torture techniques that our professor occasionally demonstrates on an unwilling volunteer.

“He isn’t bothering me,” Anna says.

I see her cheeks flushing pink, and I know there’s something else to be said, but she doesn’t want to tell me.

“What is it?” I say.

“I . . . we’re working on a project together.” Anna hurries to add, “The professor assigned the groups.”

“Just the two of you?” It comes out harsh. I don’t know why my heart is beating so fast. It’s just a school project.

“Yeah,” Anna says, feigning casualness.

I try to sound even more casual. Like I don’t care at all.

“How’s that been?”

“Surprisingly good.”

My stomach gives a hard twist. It’s stupid—I don’t want Dean to be an ass to her. I don’t want her assignment fucked up—Anna’s grades are important to her. But somehow the fact that it’s going well makes me feel even more shitty and anxious.

“Well, he’s . . . smart,” I say grudgingly.

“Yeah, he is,” Anna agrees.

She agrees too easily. Too enthusiastically. My stomach clenches up even harder. My face is hot, the sun feels too bright. I pull my own sweater off with unnecessary aggression.

“The weather’s all over the fucking place here,” I grumble. “One minute you’re freezing and the next you’re sweating your balls off.”

“Not me,” Anna says, a strange edge to her voice. “ ‘Cause I don’t have balls. ‘Cause I am, in fact, a girl.”

“I know that.”

“Come on,” she says, standing abruptly. “Let’s walk down the long way so we can go into town. I want to get more stamps.”

She’s always writing to her little brother and sister. Probably her parents, too.

My mom expects me to call every week, and my dad gets on the line for at least part of the time. He’s genuinely curious about Kingmakers. My mom’s questions are mostly intended to reassure herself that nothing horrible is about to happen to me here.

As Anna and I walk down the gentler slope toward the town, I find myself following along behind her again, so I can watch her without her knowing.

I watch her smooth gait, her long legs striding down the hill. Her sheaf of silver-blonde hair swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The edge of her face in profile as she glances back at me.

For one brief moment, I remember the dream I had about Anna during our first week at school. And then I stuff that memory back down inside of me, like I’ve tried to do every time it pops up in my brain.

We’ve barely stepped foot on the main street of the village when we bump into Ares coming out of the post office. He’s got a couple of letters in his hand. When he sees us, he stuffs them into his pocket, not caring if they get crumpled.

“Hey!” I say. “I thought you were studying this morning.”

“I finished.”

“I think you were just trying to get out of hiking.” I grin. “I don’t blame you. Chasing Anna up the cliff is brutal. Not everything has to be cardio you know, Anna.”

“Everything should be, though,” she says, smiling.

“You’re a masochist.”

“What does that make you ?” Ares says.

“A hedonist.” I grin. “I’ve been dreaming about fish and chips all the way down the hill. You want to come?”

“I just ate breakfast . . .” Ares muses. “But hell yes, I want chips.”

We wait while Anna buys her stamps, then head over to the tiny restaurant that barely looks bigger than a phone booth from the outside. There’s no tables or chairs to sit down at once you’ve got your order. You just take your hot, greasy packet, wrapped up in newspaper, and it’s up to you to find a comfortable rock or curb so you can attack the food.

We order from the local who always scowls at us like he’s in a terrible mood, but still gets our order out in less than five minutes, in hot, crispy perfection every time.

“He doesn’t look like a magician…” I bite into a golden-brown chunk of bass. “But he’s doing some kind of sorcery back there.”

“His apron’s always clean,” Anna says. “And so are his hands. I bet his kitchen is perfectly organized.”

“Do you think the locals hate us?” Ares asks, in an undertone. “Sometimes I feel like they’re glaring at us.”

“The village couldn’t exist without Kingmakers…” Anna shrugs. “Most of the people on the island work for the school in one way or another.”

“Who cares,” I say. “As long as they keep cooking for us.”

Ares attacks his fish and chips like he hasn’t had breakfast in months, let alone an hour ago. He’s filled out a little since we’ve been at school, but he’s still lean. Apparently he’d need an IV drip of pure butter to actually get chubby.

Anna douses her chips in malt vinegar until my eyes are watering.

“What’s wrong with ketchup?” I ask her.

She says, “I like ‘em this way.”

“It’s the European way,” Ares informs me. “Vinegar is better than ketchup.”

“Oh yeah?” I say. “What about fry sauce?”

“What’s fry sauce?” Ares looks concerned.

“Mayo and ketchup mixed together.”

“No.” He rejects that at once. “Only Germans put mayonnaise on fries.”

I’m starting to cheer up a little, sitting in the warm sun with two of my favorite people. Both Ares and Anna are supremely relaxing company. Ares is so laid-back that I think he’d stay calm even if he woke up with his room on fire. And Anna is just . . . someone I could be around forever.

As we’re eating, two girls from the school come strolling by, each carrying a little bag from the tea shop.

“Morning,” the girl nearest to me says as she passes. She’s got blue-black hair and straight brows that go up at the outer edges like a Vulcan. She’s in our Environmental Adaptation class—I think her name is Gemma.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask her.

“Crystals.” She stops to show me. She pulls out several small crystals, wrapped individually in tissue. One looks like rose quartz, one might be amethyst, and I don’t know the others.

“Pretty,” I say.

“Thanks.” She smiles at me like I complimented her personally, not just the crystals.

“What are they for?” Ares asks.

“They have healing powers.”

I hear Anna let out a little puff of air next to me, which I know was a very quiet snort. Anna doesn’t think much of mysticism.

As quiet as she was, Gemma zeroes in, her dark eyes narrowing. “Not a believer?”

“No,” Anna says coolly.

“That’s fine…” Gemma tosses her head. “Most people don’t understand it.”

“It’s hard to understand things that are made up,” Anna agrees with maddening calm.

Gemma’s redheaded friend quickly interjects, “Are you all coming to the party tonight?”

“What party?” Ares asks.

“A bunch of us are going down to Moon Beach once it gets dark.”

“You should come,” Gemma says, her eyes focused intently on me alone.

“Maybe we will,” I say.

“See you tonight, then.” Gemma wiggles her fingers at me.

“Bye.” Her friend waves to Ares.

Anna crumples up the newspaper containing her last few fries.

“You’re coming, too,” I inform her.

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t like those girls?”

“I like Shannon. She’s in my contracts class.”

I notice she’s avoiding mention of Gemma.

“Come on,” I coax. “You love parties.”

Anna looks at me, her blue eyes clear and steady. Quietly, she says, “Do you want me to come?”

“Of course I do.”

She’s silent for a moment. Then says, “I’ll come.”

“Good.” I grin. “I know Ares will be there. That Irish girl invited you particularly.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “She was just being friendly.”

“Oh yeah…” I snort. “I think she wants to be very friendly with you.”

Anna’s quiet on the walk back up to the school. Ares is talking about our upcoming Security Systems exam.

“I thought it was going to be security in general, but it’s almost all electronics and computer systems,” he says glumly.

“You’ll pass,” I say. “You’re in the library more than both of us combined.”

“Because I have to be,” Ares sighs. “I don’t just read something once and remember it forever like you two.”

“Just Leo,” Anna says. “I actually study.”

“I study, too.” I’m wounded.

Anna snorts. “For five minutes before the test.”

“That counts.”

As we head through the heavy stone gates onto campus, I hear students congregating in the commons—excited whispers and groans of irritation.

Before I can even get close to the message board to see what’s been posted, a heavy hand claps me on the shoulder.

“Congratulations.” Hedeon Gray grimaces like it hurts him to say it.

“For what?”

“They posted the Captains.”

I rush forward, needing to see with my own eyes if Hedeon told the truth. Sure enough, a paper has been pinned to the board, bearing four names in fresh blue ink.

Team Captains:

Freshmen: Leo Gallo

Sophomores: Kasper Markaj

Juniors: Calvin Caccia

Seniors: Pippa Portnoy

“You got it,” Anna says with real pleasure.

I pretend nonchalance. “Of course I did.”

In truth, I wasn’t that certain, and seeing my name written down sets me on fire.

I wanted that Captainship, I really fucking wanted it.

And obviously I thought I was the one for the job, but there was pretty tough competition. I didn’t have the highest grades in our year, so it must have come down to practical performance or the student vote.

“Nice.” Ares bumps my fist. “I really didn’t want it to be some asshole like Bram.”

I just didn’t want it to be Dean. He was my biggest competition.

I look around gleefully, wanting to see the rage in his face when he reads the list. Unfortunately, he’s not around.

That’s fine. I’ll rub it in soon enough.

I wish the competition started today. I’m so fucking ready—I’m gonna be the first ever Freshman to win this thing.

“Looks like most of the team Captains are Heirs,” Anna muses, reading the rest of the list.

I’d barely even glanced at the other names. Now I read them more carefully, considering who I’m up against.

I know who Pippa Portnoy is, because she was Anna’s guide on the first day of school. She’s the least physically intimidating of the Captains, only five feet tall and pixyish. But that doesn’t fool me—Anna told me Pippa’s top of the Senior class in grades, and sly as well as smart. She’s always surrounded by friends, who pay her obvious respect despite her tiny frame.

“Where’s Pippa from, anyway?” I ask Anna, thinking I better do a little research on my competitors.

“She’s the heir to the Liverpudlian Mafia,” Anna says. “And she’s betrothed to the heir to the Real IRA, Liam Murphy. Her family specializes in drug trafficking and contract kills, so don’t think she’s a sweetheart just because she looks like Audrey Hepburn.”

I assure her, “‘Sweetheart’ is not an assumption I make around here.”

“Calvin Caccia’s the one Miles pointed out to us in the dining hall,” Ares says.

“Right,” I nod. “From New York. What about the other one—Kasper Markaj. Anybody know him?”

“He’s the only one who isn’t an Heir,” Anna tells me. “He’s an Enforcer for the Albanians. Big dude, longish hair—the one always playing soccer outside the walls.”

“Right.” I nod.

The competition seems a lot more real all of a sudden. Particularly with the other Freshmen eying me, sizing me up. Hoping that they picked the right person to lead us. Plus a few resentful side-eyes from those who wanted the Captainship themselves.

I’ll have to get them all behind me, one way or another. Or we don’t have a hope of winning.

I look across the commons at Bram Van Der Berg, who’s glaring at me with pure loathing, arms folded stubbornly across his chest.

I have to get them all in line, one way or another. Even the ones who hate me.