Truancy Origins (6 page)

Umasi couldn't help but feel guilty as he sat in his seat sweating. If it weren't for him, Zen wouldn't have gotten into trouble. By the time a uniformed security guard showed up in the classroom doorway, Umasi was cringing. Zen calmly went along with the guard as he was escorted down to the Disciplinary Officer. Zen did, however, spare Ms. Hill a defiant smirk as he left, which calculatedly put the substitute teacher in a bad mood for the rest of the period . . . if not the entire day.

 

A
s the bell rang, Umasi raised his head and groggily slipped his glasses back on. Rather than spend the rest of the period worrying about what horrible punishments Zen might be facing, he had decided to take a nap. The substitute, who was still fuming in her chair, didn't object, and there wasn't much else to do. The rest of the students had been far from talkative after watching Zen's awe-inspiring display.

Umasi wasted no time in seizing his backpack and joining the queue to leave the class. As soon as Umasi stepped into the hallway, a low voice addressed him.

“Hey.”

Startled, Umasi froze in midstep. His abrupt halt triggered an instant pileup in the doorway, and a number of students began to open their mouths to complain. A second later, they all shut their mouths without saying a word as they realized who had just spoken.

“Perhaps we should talk a few feet to your left,” Zen suggested, eyeing the congestion of students. “You seem to be blocking traffic.”

Umasi didn't need to be told twice. He hurriedly backed aside, allowing
the procession of students to slowly leave the classroom, all of them casting reverent looks at Zen as they passed. Umasi knew why—Zen's standing up to the teacher like that wasn't something any of the students were likely to forget before the day was out. Zen had awed the whole class, largely because all of them had dreamed at one point or another of doing what he had actually done.

Zen nodded at each of the students in turn as they passed, and then finally exchanged glares with Ms. Hill, who exited last and didn't stick around to maintain eye contact. As the substitute strode away without saying a word, the hallways filled with students on their way to their next classes. Now no one paid any attention to the twins as they huddled together by the wall.

“Did you get expelled?” Umasi asked, voicing his worst fear.

“Expelled? For that?” Zen snorted. “Don't be ridiculous. I just told the Disciplinary Officer that the substitute was making fun of my dear brother's name, and that I got called down for standing up for him.”

“And he just let you go?” Umasi said incredulously.

“Oh, he asked a few more questions and I told him what he wanted to hear,” Zen said. “They added a note to my record, of course, and I suppose that they'll notify Father. Speaking of which, I don't think Ms. Hill knew who our father
is,
but the Disciplinary Officer surely did.”

“I guess you were lucky,” Umasi said, relieved. “Why did you do that, anyway?”

“I wasn't in the best of moods,” Zen said, scratching his chin. “And that substitute got on my nerves from the start. Besides, I've always wanted to do something like that, but I've never had a good excuse.”

“But that
wasn't
a good excuse,” Umasi protested. “It didn't bother me that much, really.”

“Well, by the time I was through telling the story, I'd made it sound like she had thoroughly bullied you.” Zen grinned. “And I did get away with it in the end, didn't I? Success is what makes a good excuse.”

“I guess you're right,” Umasi conceded, sighing deeply.

Umasi realized that the hallway was just about empty now, and he cast his gaze upwards at the clock hanging on the wall. He turned rigid upon seeing the time.

“We're going to be late!” Umasi blurted.

Zen looked at him without saying a word, and as Umasi glanced at his brother's eyes he realized that Zen had some crazy idea, and that he would inevitably be drawn into it.

“Speaking of things that I've always wanted to do . . .” Zen began slowly.

“No. You're not thinking of cutting class, are you?” Umasi demanded.

“How perceptive,” Zen's eyes glinted. “But you're only partly right. I think the both of us deserve a good day off. Let's cut
all
of our classes for the day.”

“Impossible. We can't,” Umasi said.

“Why not?”

“You've just been down to see the Disciplinary Officer!” Umasi hissed. “If you get into trouble again, right after that . . .”

“The Disciplinary Officers don't handle attendance,” Zen said dismissively. “That's an entirely different department. He'll never even find out.”

“But what will Father say?” Umasi demanded.

“Father is busy with his work, and probably will be until dinnertime,” Zen pointed out. “I doubt that he'll find out until the next attendance report, if I don't manage to tamper with it by then.”

“But . . . but the limo will be waiting!”

“It wouldn't be the first time we decided to walk home. When we don't show up after a while the driver will go on his way.”

“Rothenberg's been stepping up the Enforcer patrols. What we'll be doing . . . it's illegal!”

“So is killing, but hey, people still die.” Zen shrugged.

Umasi opened his mouth to renew his protests, but even as he did the bell rang again shrilly, indicating that they were both late for class. Umasi slowly shut his mouth and looked over at Zen, who was now smirking triumphantly. Umasi suddenly realized that Zen had meant to keep him talking until they were both already late for their next class. It was too late now, and Umasi knew it.

“All right, fine,” Umasi sighed, admitting defeat. “But how are we going to get out? If the security guards scan us, they'll know that we're cutting class.”

“Oh, that's easy,” Zen said confidently. “Follow me.”

With no other choice, Umasi followed Zen as he led him to one of the dim staircases and down to the basement, where the cafeteria and gymnasium were located. Instead of heading to either of those places, however, Zen led Umasi down a side corridor he had never ventured down before. The fluorescent lighting gave the basement an eerie ambience as they walked through the hall, mercifully without running into anyone. At the end of the corridor, Umasi saw a forklift and what looked like loading trolleys grouped around a big set of double doors. Large signs on the doors warned that an alarm would sound if they were opened.

“These are the service doors. They bring in all the supplies and food for the cafeteria through here,” Zen explained. “Ignore the signs, that alarm is actually broken.”

“How do you know that?” Umasi asked.

Zen cocked his head and glanced over at Umasi, the fluorescent lighting flickering oddly overhead.

“You should really try to make more . . . friends,” Zen suggested. “They can be useful on occasion.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Umasi murmured.

With that, Zen shoved the doors open, and despite everything Umasi cringed, half-expecting the alarm to ring. After several seconds passed and nothing happened, Umasi opened his eyes to see Zen holding one of the doors open with an “I told you so” look. Embarrassed, Umasi straightened up and cleared his throat as he looked out at the inviting sunlight.

“Let's go,” Umasi said.

“After you,” Zen replied, spreading his arms gallantly.

After a moment's hesitation, Umasi broke into an excited run and burst outside, blinking to adjust his eyes to the sunlight. He discovered that he was standing in a small, overlooked corner of the courtyard. Hearing the door shut behind him, Umasi spun around to see Zen walking towards him, rubbing his hands as he took a deep breath of the crisp, cool open air.

“They ought to hold classes outdoors,” Zen said wistfully. “I can't remember the last time I breathed fresh air in a classroom.”

“Yeah . . . so, should we just go straight home?” Umasi asked.

“I don't see why not. It's not like there's much else to do right now,” Zen observed.

“Well, we could . . . uh . . .” Umasi glanced around, looking for ideas. His gaze came to rest upon a large billboard advertising an upcoming movie. “ . . . see a movie, like that one there! I've been wanting to see that!”

“Umasi”—Zen looked up at the billboard impatiently—“that movie comes out months from now.”

“Oh, right,” Umasi said, spotting the date on the ad. “Sorry.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Zen said. “Listen, Umasi, when the film comes out we'll see it together. Opening day, first showing. In the big District 1 Theater.”

“Really?” Umasi blinked. Zen didn't make promises like that very often.

“Really.” Zen nodded. “But seeing as it's not out now, I think that we'd best be on our way.”

“Of course,” Umasi agreed. “Lead the way!”

Umasi was soon struggling to keep up as his brother led the way out of the courtyard and onto the streets. As they walked beneath the shadows of the towering buildings that lined each street, Umasi had to admit that Zen's idea had been a good one. Umasi for once got a chance to look at every building and appreciate its uniqueness, from its colors to its bricks to
its windows and its height. Umasi couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been too rushed to spare the buildings anything more than a passing glance.

“Look at that.” Zen pointed as they crossed a street.

Umasi followed Zen's finger and looked up to see the greatest building of them all—Penance Tower, a massive skyscraper that dwarfed every other building in the City. Catching the morning sun, its distant windows glittered, a hundred times more radiant than flashbulbs. The tower lay at the center of District 1, a government building from which everything from the City's stop signs to its bridges was managed remotely. Umasi had seen it before, of course—it was so tall as to be impossible to miss. But he had never seen it in such an impressive light, and stood staring at its glittering form for several dumbstruck seconds before Zen yanked him forward and out of the way of oncoming traffic.

The rest of the trek passed quickly for Umasi, for he saw nothing that could equal the impressive sight of Penance Tower. As they walked, Umasi was uncomfortably aware that some adults turned their heads to look suspiciously at the twin students, but none of them were concerned enough to interrupt their own business to mind someone else's. Before long, Umasi and Zen arrived at the sizeable Mayoral Mansion. The guard at the gate raised an eyebrow when he saw them, but said nothing, as he wasn't being paid to ask the Mayor's sons any questions.

“Today is a Friday. I think Dad is probably working at home,” Umasi realized as they walked across the fancy marble floor of the lobby.

“Even if he is, he'll just shut himself up in the conference room for hours as usual,” Zen said. “He never comes out until after five at the earliest.”

They pushed open the polished wooden doors into the foyer of the mansion, and then Umasi froze.

“What's wrong?” Zen asked, turning back to look at Umasi.

“Have you ever been . . . curious about what Father does at work?” Umasi said. Maybe it was the liberating thrill of cutting class, but he found himself feeling unusually brazen.

“He holds meetings and runs the government,” Zen said, looking away.

“No, that
is
his work,” Umasi said. “I'm talking about what he
does
at work. He never talks to us about it. He gets nervous and changes the subject whenever we ask. If I've noticed it, then you've definitely noticed it too.”

Zen spun around to glare at Umasi through narrowed eyes.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Zen demanded softly.

 

I
've reviewed the proposal.”

“What are your thoughts, sir?”

“Interesting, though potentially expensive. We may have to hire additional security guards to make it effective enough to produce results.”

“Well, we do have the budget for it, sir.”

“Indeed, which is why I'm giving it the green light. I want the program up to speed within a week, with initial progress reports the week after.”

“Consider it . . . done . . . sir, did you just hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I could've sworn I just heard something outside the door just now. . . .”

“It's probably that blasted maid again or something. Now pay attention—you're too easily distracted.”

“I'm sorry sir.”

“Accepted. Now, I've been drafting a little proposal of my own in my spare time.”

“I'm all ears, of course.”

“It's very simple—immediate school banning of all items not pertaining to a student's education. It would of course include any nasty recreational devices that students have been using to distract themselves.”

“That's . . . quite a radical proposal, sir.”

“And I think that's exactly what we need right now. Small, subtle, incremental changes are fine, but our most effective experiments in controlling students have always been our boldest.”

“What justification are we going to give for this?”

“The usual one. We'll label the items a threat to student safety and be done with it.”

“A threat to safety? Do you think they'll buy that?”

“No one complained when we classified scissors and compasses as weapons.”

“Well actually . . .”

“No one complained
officially.
”

“So how are we to enforce this?”

“With metal detectors and mandatory searches.”

“Won't that be . . . expensive?”

“Like you said, we do have the budget for it.”

 

U
masi sat there in stunned silence, one ear pressed tightly against the door to the conference room. Next to him, Zen quietly stood up to leave, an unreadable expression on his face. Not wanting to hear any more, Umasi held his glasses in place so that they wouldn't fall off as he rose hastily and trotted after his brother. Zen paid him no attention, walking away wordlessly, his fists tightly clenched. His own head swimming, Umasi struggled
to find something, anything to say that might make sense of what they'd just heard.