Page 117 of Kingmakers, Year One

I’m worried about Anna.

She’s not looking well. She seems to be folding in on herself, like a star collapsing. Getting even more quiet than usual in class. No hint of a smile on her face.

I think she might have broken up with Dean. I haven’t seen them sitting together at lunch or walking together across the grounds.

Granted, I’ve barely seen Anna, because she seems to fade away the moment class dismisses, and she must be eating at odd hours, because I haven’t seen her at the dining hall.

I’m embarrassed to ask her friends. They might not know what’s going on anyway—Anna has always been reticent about her romantic life.

The main reason I think Anna might have split with Dean is because Dean is in a foul temper. I saw him snarl at Bram over breakfast, to the point where it looked like the two of them were about to come to blows, and then the next day his knuckles were swollen and bruised from hitting the heavy bag.

He’s stomping around campus just hoping that somebody is stupid enough to get in his way.

A few months ago I probably would have taken the opportunity to do exactly that. But I’m not as interested in butting heads with him anymore.

What I want to do is talk to Anna. I want to talk to her the way we used to—when we communicated before we even opened our mouths, and everything in the world seemed like a joke between the two of us, that only we could understand.

It’s hard to find her, because she seems to be avoiding me. Or maybe she’s avoiding everyone.

We don’t have as many classes together this semester. And the course work is getting more and more difficult. I have to spend several hours a night on homework.

We’re in Marksmanship at the same time, though not much chatting can occur while we’re all wearing protective ear- and eyewear, taking aim at targets. Psychological Interrogation has assigned seating, and we’re on opposite sides of the room. So Chemistry is probably my best chance to speak to her.

Our Chemistry class is more like a lab. Last semester we were studying undetectable poisons. This semester we’ve moved on to explosives.

The desks are rectangular tables that fit two people. Anna’s been sitting with Zoe generally, but Zoe has fallen prey to the flu that’s been sweeping through Kingmakers, so I take my opportunity to slip into the seat next to Anna while Professor Lyons is still writing a list of ingredients on the chalkboard.

Anna gives a little jump when I sit down next to her, and I see her hand clench convulsively in her lap.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hello,” she murmurs.

“Zoe still sick?”

It’s a stupid question. I already knew she was before I sat down, having already asked Chay that question over breakfast.

“Yeah. I think I might be getting it too. My head is killing me.”

She presses one slim pale hand against her temple, trying to ease the headache apparently throbbing beneath the skin.

“They probably have aspirin at the infirmary,” is my genius suggestion.

“Probably,” Anna agrees.

I should have offered to get her some. Too late—Professor Lyons is already starting the lecture, and I wasted those precious moments talking about Zoe and fucking aspirin.

Now we just have to sit here listening, while I’m painfully aware of Anna’s slim frame next to me, the strand of her hair tickling my arm, and the soft puff of air that runs across my knuckles when she lets out a silent sigh.

The lecture seems interminable. I want to look at Anna, not at the professor, but I can’t turn my head without her noticing, not when we’re sitting side by side like this.

She’s not taking notes like she usually does. Her notebook sits closed in front of her, her pens lined up next to it untouched.

Her black nail polish is chipped—unusual for Anna, who is careful with her appearance. She really must be sick. Or upset about Dean.

My stomach clenches painfully.

When the class ends at last, I blurt out, “What do you have next?”

---