Page 97 of Two Who Live On

“You’ve been gone for an entire week because you were sick.” He very much used air quotes around my flimsy excuse. “You left us with subs and work after a very traumatic situation, and you’re not so much as going to ask us how we’re doing? What about my feelings, Mr. Frosty? Do they mean nothing to you?”

“Cluck.” His rooster clacked his clawed foot on the desk, disapprovingly glaring in my direction.

“Traumatic situation?” Kenzo huffed. “You weren’t even there.”

“I was there in spirit,” Gael retorted. “Plus, I’m thinking of how this affects everyone.”

“I’m actually fine.” Tara shrugged.

“Yeah, man. It was a little scary but super epic, too.” Gael raised his arms, flexing them and expanding his spikes.

Caleb nodded in agreement. “Are you maybe trying to avoid—”

“I believe they’re putting on a brave face.” Gael gestured, cutting Caleb off and using King Clucks’ well-timed bawks to quiet Tara and Gael. “But the only way to ensure they’re really fine is to put away that horrible, very stressful schedule you’ve got up there and allow us free time to properly reflect.”

I rolled my eyes. There it was. Gael went to bat on everyone’s behalf so he could avoid studying. “Would you like to be excused, Gael? You know, so you can properly reflect on your emotions.”

“Like, I can just leave?” He raised his brows curiously.

“Sure,” I said. “I bet you’ll do fantastic on your final exams without my overly taxing study schedule. You likely won’t have to worry about failing them, about your ranking dropping, or failing out of Gemini.”

“W-wait, what?”

“Yeah,” I said, writing him a pass. “You’re so dedicated, I’m certain you can take this time to reflect.”

“Now, you’re just making things up.” Gael crossed his arms, boasting. “No one fails out of an academy.”

“True, but your second year is twice as intensive and has the highest transfer rate across the state.”

“Transfer?”

Gemini—like most academies—didn’t believe in failing students since it reflected poorly on our numbers. So they’d find ways to edge students out of the academy program if they weren’t on track for success. I hated it. But it motivated me to motivate my students.

“To a less intensive program, something not on an industry pathway. Perhaps taking time to reflect can help you decide if that’s something you’d like.”

“No. I’m fine.” Gael clammed up. “Still should’ve asked how we were before throwing a bunch of work at us.”

“Ba-bawk.”

They were all hyped for summer break just around the corner after such a successful first year, and I didn’t want them to flounder this close to their end-of-year tests. Each of them was more determined than frightened by my comments. Hopefully, it’d ignite a fire in each of my homeroom students and push them through their exams, keep them motivated over the summer and ready to return in the fall invigorated to reach new heights.

I broke them into groups based on which classes they’d need to prioritize and balancing my highs and lows. That was always a struggle. Students who excelled often didn’t collaborate the best with the lowest learners. Those students required someone closer to their level around the mid-tier, but grouping highly skilled students together simply allowed them to collectively rush through their work with ease, so it was also important to partner them with mid-ranged learners. Of course, this all varied based on personality, strengths and weaknesses based on subjects, and a thousand other tiny factors. It was the worst jigsaw puzzle; however, an hour into studying, there weren’t any outbursts, slacking, or breakdowns. Maybe I’d gotten it right.

We’d survived the morning study session, and I sent them all off to classes. Hopefully, the afternoon would go half as smoothly. However, the festering annoyance bubbling on their minds as they left for the first class indicated I had a long month ahead of me. One month. One month, and they’d have their first-year exams completed and be released for the summer, and I’d have a chance to sulk and dwell and rebuild myself. It was like any other year; I could make it until summer break.

Milo’s mind called out to me, syncing seamlessly to the back of my thoughts as I helped students with missing work, exam prep, and evaluating their GPAs and rankings. Some kids were bad at the math involved when calculating the scoring system, and it didn’t help the academies always found new and overly complex ways to grade student standing. It was a nice reprieve having a cheery Milo in my head.

“Thank you both for joining me.” Milo greeted Acolytes Reed and Novak, who joined him in his office, reading over a case file he handed them. “This is top-notch stuff that I think my two favorite acolytes are more than qualified to solve.”

“We’re probably the only acolytes you know the names of,” Novak huffed, reading the file. “Seriously? It’s a lost dog.”

“It’s a Doberman puppy. They’re the absolute cutest one-hundred percent most perfect babies ever.” Reed squealed, her eyes wide with delight over the images in the file.

The sharp pitch of her voice was grating on me and Novak, yet Milo grinned.

“He’s also a lost familiar,” Milo explained, cutting off any commentary from Novak because she needed the distraction, and he’d gladly throw cases at her until her potential futures settled. “And if two very talented acolytes don’t locate him, his witch may lose their license. I suppose if you think it’s beneath you, I can pass it on to others willing to—”

“Not at all,” Reed blurted. “I will find the familiar by the end of the day.”

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