Oberon Academy- The Complete Series

by Wendi Wilson

  “This place is so weird,” I mumbled, picking up a piece of the meat and staring at it.

  “It’s fried chicken,” Shaela whispered. “There’s bones in it, so you have to bite the meat off.” She demonstrated as I watched, then bumped her shoulder against mine and said, “Don’t choke.”

  I laughed, her joke easing the tension coiled in my body. I gingerly bit into the chicken with my front teeth, finding the crispy coating out-of-this-world delicious and the seasoned meat juicy. I managed to keep my groan of pleasure locked inside, though. The last thing I needed was a running joke about me getting my rocks off with food circulating the school.

  As I ate, my eyes travelled across the room, really taking it in for the first time. The dining hall was a cavernous space filled with long, rectangular tables that sat eight, four on each side. No chairs were positioned at the ends, giving the servers space to walk through. Most of the tables were filled or had only one or two empty chairs.

  I focused on our own table and realized that, save for Shaela and I, it was empty. I glanced over at her, taking in her profile. She seemed perfectly content, eating her food with gusto and not paying any attention to the students filling the room. Her eyes met mine and she grinned.

  I leaned in, tilting my head toward hers so I could keep my voice down, and asked, “Who do you normally sit with? I don’t want to impose on your social time.”

  Her laughter filled the air around us, like the tinkling of a bell. I could feel a few curious stares land on us, or maybe it was my overactive imagination, but I refused to look up to check. I kept my eyes glued to Shaela’s face, one of my eyebrows arching of its own accord. I waited patiently for her to settle down and explain to me what was so funny.

  Taking a few deep breaths, she turned in her seat to face me, head-on. She cupped her hands around my shoulders and tilted her chin down as she stared into my eyes.

  “December,” she said, her tone turning grave, “I don’t have any friends. You’re my first and only.”

  I couldn’t help it. My head jerked back and I barked out a laugh of disbelief. The absurdity of her statement was extreme, and I knew she was joking. Or lying to spare my feelings.

  “Seriously, you don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can go sit with your friends. They’re probably avoiding you because of me.”

  Her head tilted sideways, her gaze thoughtful. “What makes you so sure I have friends here?”

  “Seriously?” I asked, then counted on my fingers as made a list. “You’re generous. You’re funny. You’re absolutely gorgeous and the nicest person I’ve ever met. Why wouldn’t you have friends?”

  A rush of pink tinged her cheeks, and I swore her eyes got a little watery. Her hands slipped from my shoulders and folded into her lap. She glanced around the room before letting her eyes settle back on me.

  “Thank you,” she said, her lips turning up at the corners, “but it’s those very attributes that keep me isolated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look around,” she said, nodding toward the room in front of us. “Look at their faces, their hair, their bodies. Tell me what you see.”

  I did as she instructed, careful to keep my eyes away from the intense boy. As I focused, really focused, the individual people, a realization hit me.

  “They are all perfect,” I said, my eyes widening as I continued to gaze around.

  Perfectly symmetrical faces, topped by perfect hair, held up by perfect torsos. No skin problems. No unibrows. No flyaways or split-ends.

  “Why am I the only person here with black hair?” I asked, noting again that most of the people in the room were blondes, with only a few exceptions—a handful of students had brown hair, but the shade was so light it was nearly blonde.

  “What? I hadn’t noticed,” she said, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “Shaela.”

  “Okay, I did notice.”

  “Don’t you think it’s weird?” I asked.

  Her answering shrug was about as noncommittal as it got.

  “Anyway,” she said, “you’re right. Everyone here is perfect…in looks. They’re also prideful, haughty creatures that thrive on competition. It’s all about winning, and there’s no room for kindness or support.”

  “All of them?” I asked disbelieving. “None of them are nice?”

  “Maybe they were when they first got here, but there’s a nearly irresistible mob mentality that soon takes over the individual mind— to be the best, you have to beat the best.”

  “Be the best at what?”

  She shrugged again. “Everything. Grades, sports, other…extra-curricular activities. Everything is a competition here. They may look all buddy-buddy with each other, but it’s all superficial. They’d slit each other’s throat in a second if it would give them an advantage.” She paused, then added, “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  “And what about you?” I asked.

  “I don’t care about any of it,” she says.

  “You don’t?”

  “No, but that’s only part of what makes me a pariah,” she said.

  “A pariah?”

  She nodded. “I pass all my classes with flying colors. I excel at music and art. Even the physical stuff comes easy to me.”

  “They’re jealous?” I ask, trying to understand.

  “Yes, it pisses them off that I could be better than them at anything.”

  “But, why?”

  “It’s because of my parentage,” she says. “One of my ancestors was sort of a “founding father” of this school,” she said with a frown, using air quotes.

  “So?” I asked, more confused than ever. “Shouldn’t that make you, I don’t know, elite, or something?”

  She laughed. “Maybe if my last name was Oberon,” she mumbled.

  “My ancestor, Robin Goodman, was a joke. He was a bit of a trickster and ended up getting booted from the council.”

  “Council?”

  “Yeah, uh, the school’s founders formed a council to oversee its progress and stuff. Anyway, he was ousted and every generation since then has been treated the same. It’s so stupid.”

  I agreed with her. It was stupid. The school was hundreds of years old. And, honestly, with the state of the world and the human population, there really were worse things to worry about than what someone’s ancestors did a couple of centuries or more ago.

  “Well, it’s their loss,” I said, offering her a smile.

  She smiled back and I looked around, worry worming its way back into my chest. If they treated Shaela like an outcast, and she was pretty much a legacy, how would they treat me? A scholarship kid, a destitute orphan with no idea who my parents were? Or if they were even alive?

  I had a feeling things were going to get bad, but I could handle it. I was out of the Holts’ house. I had a full belly, a soft bed, and clean clothes to wear.

  And I had Shaela.

  And she had me.

  We weren’t alone anymore, and that’s what mattered most. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, I put my arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to me. She smiled and picked up her fork. I released her, grabbing my own utensils, preparing to dig into those heavenly mashed potatoes.

  I felt eyes on me and glanced around. My gaze was snagged, once more, by the icy blue stare of the boy from the hall. His face was unreadable, no emotion showing in any of his perfect features.

  Shaela’s knee bumped into mine, and my eyes skittered away, breaking our stare-off. She leaned in close, twisting her body so that her back was to the boy and she filled my line of vision.

  “Careful there, December. Easton Oberon will chew you up and spit you out.”

  “Easton Oberon?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  She nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Steely Gaze over there is the crème de la crème. The highest on the food chain. The number one descendant.”

  “He is?” I asked idiotically, still dazed by that bombshell.

  “Yeah. Just…ste
er clear of him. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed, dropping my eyes to my plate as she moved away so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at him again.

  Shaela told me to stay away from him, so I would. She knew this place. These people. And I trusted her.

  If she thought Easton Oberon was bad news, then I would avoid him at all costs.

  Chapter Eleven

  11

  “The human race took the Earth for granted. They focused on their own comfort, progress, self-worth, and wealth. They paid no mind to what they were doing to their home, to the land that had provided everything for them. They were selfish, self-centered creatures that should have known better.”

  I let my eyes travel from left to right and back again, but none of the other students seemed at all confused by Professor Alfred’s lesson. I shook my head, looking back down at my notebook as I scribbled notes on his lecture.

  Most people were bitter about our ancestors’ choices—they nearly destroyed the planet and killed themselves off. But Professor Alfred seemed angry in the extreme, like what they’d done had personally offended him.

  Not to mention the fact that he was speaking of them as if they were another species. Or from another planet.

  It was my first day of classes, and History set things off on a strange foot that lasted most of the day. Saying the courses at Oberon Academy were different from what I was used to was an understatement.

  Earth science was listed as the second class on my schedule, but when I got there, the professor told everyone to read silently for the entire period. The students at my old school would have cheered over a free period, but not here. There were sighs and grumbles, and quite a few kids shot me dirty looks, like I was somehow at fault and they were pissed about it.

  My third class was sociology and, thankfully, Shaela was there when I arrived. I slid into the seat next to her, and she leaned toward me with a smile.

  “How’s your first day going?”

  I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. But these classes are weird.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well, public school versus private school, I guess.”

  “Hello, class.”

  Shaela straightened and chanted with the rest of the students, “Hello, Professor Dobbs.”

  I looked up and caught Rowan’s sparkling aquamarine gaze on me and couldn’t help but smile. I had a feeling sociology was going to be my favorite class.

  “Okay, students, we were discussing the symbiotic relationship between humans and Zephyrs, and what it means to all living creatures on Earth.”

  Several grunts echoed through the room, and I shot a wide-eyed glance at Shaela. Her blonde curls bounced as she gave a small shake of the head. I turned my attention back to Rowan.

  “Who can tell me what impact the Zephyrs have had on the lives of humans and on society as a whole?”

  I glanced around the room, but no one volunteered an answer. I knew what Zephyrs had done for us. I lived it, every day. I raised my hand, a little, keeping my palm level with my ear. Rowan’s eyes caught the movement.

  “Yes, Ms. Thorne. What have you to say on the matter?”

  I cleared my throat, regretting my stupid impulse to voluntarily speak in front of strangers. But the warmth and acceptance in Rowan’s eyes gave me courage. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, spitting out the answer that I knew I was expected to give.

  “The Zephyrs saved us from ourselves. They brought us back from the brink of extinction and taught us how to live as a society again.”

  “Hardly.”

  I looked behind me, to my right, and discovered the source of the deep, smooth voice. My eyes instantly latched onto his and I sucked in a sharp breath. It was Easton. I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed him in the room.

  “Do you have something to add, Mr. Oberon?” Rowan asked as I swung back around to face forward, my back straight and stiff.

  “The Zephyrs are self-absorbed monsters who stand atop the humans, using them to elevate their own power and wealth. They get everything—money, power, the undying gratitude of an entire species—while humans get whatever scraps the Zephyrs deem them worthy of. What was once a proud and intelligent race has been degraded into the basest version of itself.”

  I flipped back around, my earlier embarrassment forgotten, and asked, “You don’t think they are deserving of power and reverence after saving us from our own mistakes? They didn’t have to help. They could have let us die out, then fix the planet and have it to themselves.”

  I didn’t really believe what my mouth was spewing, but something inside me wanted to challenge Easton. I had a feeling that with his good looks and stellar last name, he didn’t get challenged much.

  “Exactly,” Easton replied, his bright eyes boring into mine. “So maybe you should ask yourself why. Why did they supposedly save the humans, when in few more decades they could have had Earth all to themselves? And while you’re at it, ask yourself why, if they wanted to be heroes, did they wait so long? If they had the power to cross realms and save the human race, why didn’t they do it sooner? Why did they wait until the planet was on the brink of destruction and the human population nearly wiped out?”

  The fire of passion in his voice rendered me speechless. The fact that I had asked myself all those questions made me turn around and face the front of the room, conceding our debate. I hated giving in, but he was right. I actually agreed with him.

  My answer had been the one programmed into me since I started school at five years old. Each and every teacher in every school I’d ever attended repeated the same history lesson. We, as a species, were indebted to the Zephyrs and should revere them. We’d all be dead, our planet destroyed, if they hadn’t stepped in to save us.

  My questions to those teachers had been shushed, my curiosity shamed out of me with words like ungrateful and ignorant. So, I pretended to buy into the system. To be thankful and adequately reverent to our saviors.

  My mind, however, raged against the indoctrination. Though I’d never say it to a Zephyr’s face… They. Were. Freaking. Faeries.

  They inhabited this world long before us and would be there long after we were gone. They had the power to step through the veil and fix everything we had ruined, and they had waited.

  They waited until we were at our lowest point. Until things were so bad, we’d have no choice but to accept their help on their terms, giving them whatever they wanted in return. And what they wanted was to see us bow before them and treat them like royalty while most of us became peasants in their messed up caste system.

  “Ms. Thorne?”

  I jumped, the sound of my name jerking me from my turbulent thoughts. A few giggles echoed through the room, but I ignored them, focusing on Rowan.

  “Yes?”

  “I asked if you have a rebuttal to Mr. Oberon’s statements.”

  “No, sir,” I said, shaking my head. “I think he’s right.”

  “Of course she does,” someone fired out on a cough, making several people laugh.

  I looked around, confused. Why was that funny? I glanced at Shaela, who shrugged and mouthed the words, “Tell you later.”

  “Ms. Thorne, perhaps you’d like to explain your change of heart,” Rowan said, the sparkle of kindness still twinkling in his eyes. “Was Mr. Oberon’s argument so persuasive?”

  My gaze chased to Easton, then away just as quickly as I shook my head and said, “No. Not really.”

  “Then why the sudden reversal of opinion?”

  I clenched my teeth together for a moment before releasing a sigh. I hoped I wasn’t going to regret being honest.

  “I have always shared Mr. Oberon’s opinion,” I started, deciding to use Rowan’s formality, rather than calling him Easton. “I was only giving the answer I thought you wanted.”

  “Why would you think I wanted that answer?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

  “Because that’s the answer every teacher I’ve ever had wanted from me. When I was younger, I was r
idiculed for questioning the supposed benevolence of the Zephyrs. I was called thankless and stupid by various people in my life, so I learned to keep my thoughts to myself. To only voice the accepted mantra.”

  “And what do you believe?”

  Rowan’s question resonated in my bones. No one had ever asked me that question before. No one cared what I thought, only that I behaved and brought in the monthly stipend. I had no value above and beyond that.

  I bit my bottom lip, scraping my teeth against it before saying, “I believe that if their only agenda was to save the planet and help out humankind, they would have done it hundreds of years ago. I believe that they waited until we were so desperate, so willing to agree to anything just to survive, we couldn’t refuse what they asked of us in return.”

  “Which was?” Rowan prompted.

  “Our free will.”

  Chapter Twelve

  12

  If I thought the academic courses were strange, then gym class was off-the-charts bizarre.

  I was given a white t-shirt and a pair of navy blue shorts by an instructor and directed to the girls’ locker room. The other students had changed and left before I got there, so I had the place to myself. I dressed quickly and ran out to join the class, which had already been divided into groups.

  I stumbled to a halt as a girl screamed, the sound resembling a war cry. She rushed across a large square mat before leaping into the air, twisting in a full circle and landing her bare foot against another girl’s chest. The second girl stumbled back one step, but quickly recovered, grabbing the foot that hit her and flipping it up. The first girl’s body spun through the air, all the way around until she landed on her feet in a crouch.

  “What the fu—”

  “Hey. December, right?”

  The voice cut off my exclamation, and I jerked toward the sound. Two tall, blonde visions of perfection stood there. One had her arms crossed over her ample chest, the other had a hand up, inspecting her fingernails.

  “Well? Is that or isn’t that your name?” the first flawless creature asked.