The Academy Read online

  “Excellent, excellent.” He sat in the plush leather chair behind his vast desk and looked at me with a frown. “I’ll be honest, Jameson, You’re a bit, ah, smaller than I’d anticipated—no bigger than a first-form boy. But your father insists you be put into third-form classes. He says you’ve been well tutored in our subject material.”

  “Yes, sir.” I tried to keep my voice deep and my eyes direct. “I, ah, get my size from my mother. She was very petite. But I assure you I can hold my own academically.”

  He frowned again. “Let’s hope that you can. Considering that your father has paid two whole years tuition in full, I’m willing to accede to his wishes in this matter, despite the fact that you have no formal education to speak of. You, Jameson, will have the burden of proving that his faith in you is justified.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.” I shifted uneasily in my chair. Father must really have been desperate to get Kristopher into the Academy if he’d paid such a large lump sum out of pocket. I hoped I was as far ahead academically as Kristopher’s tutors seemed to think.

  “Very well then, you may go.” He nodded at the office door. “Pick up your schedule and uniforms from Hinks on the way out. And then send him in here—I have a task for him.”

  “Yes, sir.” I nodded and got up quickly. Leaving the office, I closed the door quietly behind me. I was relieved that I’d gotten away with my deception so easily—apparently Headmaster Chauser just thought I was small for my age. But the punishment I’d seen still bothered me. I was certain I would get a much stiffer sentence than ten licks with the paddle if my secret was discovered. Well, I would just have to make sure it wasn’t. Lifting my chin, I went back down the hallway in search of the headmaster’s assistant.

  “Here you are again.” Hinks smiled at me and handed me a stack of navy blue fabric, a pair of shiny black boots, and a disposable tablet. “Your uniform, boots, and class schedule for this semester,” he explained, nodding at the tablet. “Also your room assignment—here.” He held out a small black pad. “Press your thumb to that.” I did as he asked and the pad beeped once. “Excellent.” He nodded. “Now the lock is keyed to your print.”

  “Should I get changed and report to class right away?” I asked, looking at the tablet with my class assignments uncertainly.

  Hinks shook his head. “There’s no point—they’re almost over for today. Don’t worry about falling behind, classes have only been underway for a week—you should be able to catch up.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded and started to leave but he stopped me with one long, slim hand on my shoulder. “Try it on.”

  “What?” I frowned at him, my heart pounding.

  “Your uniform—I need to make sure it fits.” He nodded at an open door to one side of the office. “Come on, you can strip down in there. Don’t be shy—I’ve seen it all.” The predatory look in his eyes made me suddenly nervous. And if I let him see me strip, my secret would be out.

  “I…uh…” I began to back away from him but just then the headmaster’s voice echoed down the hall.

  “Hinks, didn’t Cadet Jameson tell you I need you? Come here at once.”

  “Oh, well.” Hinks gave me a pouting frown and sighed. “Just try them on in your dorm room and bring them back if they don’t fit.” With a last, lingering look at me over his shoulder, he scurried down the hall to the headmaster’s office.

  Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, I gripped my uniform and boots and hurried to the entrance of the Administration building. That had been close. But why would he want to see me without my clothes? Did he suspect me of something? Had he seen through my disguise or was this something he did with all new students? As I beat a hasty retreat, I wondered if Hinks had decided I would be easy pickings because I was small and weak looking.

  It was a troubling thought. Growing up as a girl, I had always been sheltered and handled with care because of my diminutive stature. The few times Kristopher and I went out into society, boys had been gentlemanly and careful of my fragile female anatomy. I had taken such deferential treatment for granted—it was simply the way things were done in Victoria, my home province. Now it occurred to me that the opposite might happen in my new life. My slight, weak appearance might make those who had treated me so gently as a female, decide to target and abuse me as a male. For the first time in my life, my slender body and petite stature was going to be a handicap, not an asset.

  I pushed the worrisome idea away from me and went through the front door carefully. I peered around the Administration building, more than half afraid that I would see a still-angry Broward waiting with his gang of chain-smoking cadets to beat me to a pulp. To my relief, the entire area around the building looked deserted.

  Good. Glancing down at my tablet, I looked at my dorm assignment. I was in the Goddard Building, fourth floor, room four-oh-eight. Squaring my shoulders and trying to look everywhere at once, I set out across the campus. It was time to see where I was going to be spending the next two years of my life.

  Chapter Three

  The Goddard building was a loud and rowdy dorm. As I walked up the long flights of steps leading to the fourth floor, I saw many of my new dorm-mates laughing and joking with each other. But their behavior went far beyond any male behavior I had ever seen in the few society parties Kristopher and I had attended. The Royal Academy cadets made rude remarks, told dirty jokes, passed gas, spit, scratched themselves in unmentionable areas, and punched each other frequently.

  I tried not to stare as I went, but it was hard to understand their actions. Kristopher never acted like this—even in the privacy of our home he was always the perfect gentleman. I watched, bewildered, as one student grabbed another around the neck and rubbed his victim’s scalp vigorously with his knuckles shouting, “Noogies!”

  “Let go! I give, I give!” shouted the other boy, but he didn’t sound unhappy. In fact, both of them seemed to be enjoying the rough contact. Why? It was a mystery to me. I wondered how in the world anyone could enjoy hitting someone else or getting hit. Also, how could they study with all this noise going on? Competing music blared from several different rooms, almost but not quite drowning out the masculine shouts and laughter of the roughhousing cadets.

  I was relieved, when I reached the fourth landing, to see that most of the noise had been left behind on the previous three floors. There were a few doors cracked with quiet music coming from inside but no one was out in the hallways shouting or punching or giving ‘noogies'. Maybe this area was for serious students who genuinely wanted to study. I fervently hoped so, anyway.

  Walking down the hallway, I read off the room numbers until I found the plain wooden door marked four-oh-eight. Above the door lock, which blinked red, was a small black ID pad. Remembering Hinks’s promise that it would be keyed to my print, I pressed my thumb to its flat surface and waited. For a moment I thought it wasn’t going to work. Then with a faint beep-beep-boop, the lock glowed a steady green as the door clicked open.

  The room was deserted but it was clear someone else had already moved in. I looked with dismay at the personal items scattered around the room and the handmade quilt on one of the narrow twin beds. Hinks had never said anything about a roommate. In my naiveté, I had assumed that I would have a room of my own, just as I did back home. Was there going to be no place on campus I could relax as my true self?

  Apparently not. With a sigh, I dropped my rucksack along with the pile of uniforms and boots on the unmade bed and went to look around. On a desk opposite the two twin beds was a small holo-pic, about the size of my palm. I picked it up and studied it.

  It showed two boys, one clearly older than the other, with their arms around each other and smiles on their faces. The elder boy was tall and clean cut with dark golden hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp, well-defined features. He had his arm around the younger boy who shared the same hair and eye color, making me think they must be brothers.

  But something was wrong with the younger brother—he