Inside our room, we were tearing through sandwiches we had purchased earlier, anticipating a return of our hunger.
"Today was... eventful," Pelit muttered, his mouth full.
"And we still haven't finished," I noted, watching the setting sun.
"Do you want to talk to your uncle about those... containers?" Rimel asked quietly.
I had time to consider it.
"No. That's not why I'm here. Besides, I have a feeling whatever that room was... it's just the tip of the iceberg."
"Come on. There were definitely a few crazy scientists in your family," Pelit sat up. "Some creeps, sure, but I would bet an arm and a leg it happened ages ago. The Before Fore-Times."
It was his way of trying to alleviate some of the blame that had undoubtedly fallen on my uncle, but I honestly didn't care. Whatever Mengele-level sickness my ancestors carried, it was their burden, not mine.
"Anyway," I got up, looking out into the distance. "You know that forest used to terrify the living crap out of me as a kid."
They stood up, peering out with me.
"Somehow, forests generally seem more welcoming and safer than the city," Pelit broke the silence.
"Not this one, brother. This forest is absolutely soaked in blood. Wars have been fought here since long before the Lyceeys stood. Magician and non-Magician blood... a sea of it spilled right there."
We both looked at Rimel.
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused by our stares.
"How do you find the time to read all about these things?" I asked. I myself had heard some of those stories he mentioned, but that was typically because they all included some idiot last named Aslan.
"It's fascinating stuff, really." He went and lay down on the bed. "At least someone appreciates them."
We shared an evil smile. He obviously meant Irina. It would have been easy to tease, but we refrained, lying down ourselves.
For a while, we didn't speak, letting the sheer weight of the day settle in our minds. Only last night, we had been standing with the Border Control guys, sharing drinks and reminiscing. So much seemed to have happened in a single day.
(KNOCK, KNOCK)
"Who in the hell is that!?" I got up, angrier than I should have been. I had been in a rare pleasant place, and now...
"Calm, kêrdes (brother)... I got it." Rimel sprang up.
Ugh. He seemed too eager and even used his mother tongue, which only happened when he was nervous. Which meant...
"Look... it's the girls. And Milan." He walked back, smiling brightly.
Who would have thought? The three girls and Milan walked in behind him, single file.
"Evening. We thought you might still be hungry, so we would like to take you out for dinner as a small thank you," Irina offered, stepping ahead of the rest.
She had changed clothes; she was out of the robes and looked much more conventionally "girly," which made Pelit and me share an evil smile.
Rimel looked lost. He started to walk back to the bed, then changed his mind and pulled out a chair... only to end up leaning stiffly against the wall.
"Tsk, tsk..." I clicked my tongue.
"Pfft," Pelit laughed.
"What?" Irina asked, switching her gaze between us.
I waved her off, or at least tried to. "It's nothing. Yes, that sounds wonderful. Except we just ate..."
"That was merely a light snack," Rimel stood beside me, pushing lightly. "I barely felt it. Let's go."
He pushed a little harder than needed, and we were soon outside, without a chance to protest.
I saw a lot more students heading in the general direction with us, and Pelit noticed it too.
"When she said 'take us out'..." he whispered, stepping beside me.
I nodded, defeated. "Yeah, she meant bloody school lunch. I'm not even hungry. Let alone school cafeteria stuff..."
"What was that?" Rimel turned around.
"Nothing."
Inside the dining hall were small bistro-style tables with five seats around each, the same number as the students allowed in a single dorm room.
Despite that, Lor and Leyla demonstrated their magic by conjuring their own chairs, and we all sat down. With seven of us, it was still a little snug.
At least Rimel was happy being close to his lady love. I could survive this for my boy.
I looked one way: Milan, all bumbling, goofy expression, wearing an awkward smile.
I turned the other way: Leyla, staring at me like an alien observing human behavior.
I looked up, thinking, This is my life now.
I quickly shooed the depression away and took a sip of water, trying to listen in on the conversation happening at a table nearby.
"I heard the Headmaster's nephew is here..."
"Yeah, there was already a commotion about him not having a wand."
"Hilarious. Anyway, I heard he's average looking..."
Ufff. Well, that's fine. I embrace it, you brainless idiot! I bet you look average in someone else's eyes! I hate this place already.
I pretended that never happened. Kids are cruel.
"...is there a menu or what?" I caught the last bit of Pelit's question.
"Actually, it's just about what you want to eat," Milan took the chance to proudly demonstrate.
He pulled his wand and tapped his plate once. He slowed down the second tap... and voilà... a plate of steaming beef bourguignon appeared.
I was genuinely shocked. How did that even work? The food looked real enough.
Lor leaned forward eagerly, waiting for my question.
"It's a spell created by your uncle. The secret is the plates," she pointed down.
I picked one up and spun it slightly. There it was: his signature. But how did it work? There was no such thing as food appearing out of thin air. That went against everything he had taught me about how magic worked—that it had to adhere to the laws of mass and energy exchange.
And yet, the others around me all did the same, and various hot dishes materialized from nothing.
"Genius!"
"A legend!"
My friends were more of the 'let's just go with it' crowd and less of the 'what the fuck is going on?' type.
"Don't bother. Not everything needs an answer."
I looked over at the Rosewell girl—I mean, Leyla. Another 'just go with it' type.
"Right. I suppose they don't," I found myself very agreeable when it came to her. Funny what a deeply disturbing, genuine fear does to a person.
I tabled that little question for later and tried it myself. I wasn't hungry, but I had to see it. Then I remembered: it was Sunday.
I tapped my plate with my finger twice, and soon, some hot porridge with fruit on top appeared.
The others were surprised, except my friends.
I picked up a spoon and tried it. Hmm, tasteless. The fruit? It's fruit. You can't ruin it.
I sighed, leaning back. It was real. It tasted real, felt real in my stomach, and yet... it couldn't be.
I was ripped out of my thoughts when some adults wearing light blue robes walked in. Among them was the man himself: Mr. End of World Hunger.
He made a face, looking at me with my bowl of porridge, then raised an eyebrow.
'How did I do it?'
Damn him.
"It's odd. The teachers usually eat after the students," Milan observed after they took their seats.
"I bet anything they just wanted to see Ferith," Irina said, as if it were self-explanatory.
I felt a little on display, as I had since we arrived. I didn't let it bother me; if I couldn't handle something like that, I shouldn't be here.
I fished around in my porridge as the others all finished their orders, and the sounds of eating and muted conversations quickly filled the hall.
For some reason, the events of that day at Tupyi came to mind—and that girl. Should I have told my uncle about her? And why hadn't I until now?
Her eyes and demeanor were that of a truly crazy person, so why would I place any stock in her word?
Then the vault room came to my mind.
Despite my friends' encouraging words, somehow I still thought there was more. Even asking him... what for? He could just say anything, and without evidence, I would have to believe him. And what about the promise he made to me? If he was lying, I swore to Merleau himself he would end up...
"You okay, Ferith?"
Milan tapped my arm lightly and recoiled when I looked at him. I quickly wiped my expression and offered a light smile.
"I'm okay, Milan. Hmm... tell me about yourself. We're schoolmates, after all."
I figured it was better to be distracted than lost in my own thoughts. Listening to Milan drone on was enough for any guy to ask for a lobotomy.
"...and then again, who enjoys being around tardy people? I'm sure you hate them as well, Ferith. My sister here can tell you all about how much I can't stand them..."
...Yeah, a lobotomy would do me some good. Release me...
"...as far as my aspirations for the future, I would love to join the Regime and help them in their daily duties. I'm sure you agree the only way forward is if one aspires to work at such storied and..."
...Dum dum dum... dum dadadum dum dadadum...
"...This year, however, will be different, since you guys inject some much-needed flavor into our everyday lives. You've already done that. What about you?"
...Dum dum dum dadadum dadadum... DAMDAMDAM...
"Ferith? You okay?"
I shook myself slightly and picked up my spoon for no reason.
"I'm here. Yes. Absolutely. What a... how's the food, though, boys?" I turned to my friends.
They looked over, showing their plates as I wiped the Imperial March out of my mind.
Simple sandwiches. They had even worse imaginations than me. We'd probably starve soon.
Once the dinner was finally mercifully over, my uncle came over, delighting our table.
"How was the meal, students? Huh?" He leaned closer to me.
He had no shame in directing that childish attitude toward me. As the others praised him for his genius mind, his unyielding spirit... Jesus Christ, Rimel. Stop it.
He walked closer, and I whispered just loud enough for him to hear me.
"If it isn't Uncle Free-food."
"Jealous?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Pfft. How did you—"
"Hahaha!"
The lunatic started laughing out loud, drawing everyone's attention. Not that anyone was surprised; they all looked at him as if they'd gone to a stand-up show and might applaud him at any minute.
"How does that work, Uncle? Can you tell me—"
He started imitating my voice like a child.
"Shûta h'dā d'ābā (Shut up, little nephew)."
"Hāḏā atbarḡā Marcusah. Tōḇ zaḏā (That is cheating, Marcus. Very bad)."
He walked away, still laughing.
"What was that language?" Lor asked.
I had forgotten myself for a moment and used my Aramaic.
"Aramaic."
I looked at Leyla again. She just gave me a thumbs-up. Her smile was nice, I guessed.
"If we're done..." Lor quickly got up. "We wanted to take you guys for a walk inside Ecouves... the safe parts," she added quickly.
We shared knowing smiles with the boys.
The safe parts, huh?