Chapter Seven: Man of the Hour | Part 6
So he went back to tallying, stopping occasionally to watch Mercuria toss discarded streamers at Seerla, which she wove around her braid with a heaping dose of sass. He was honing in on the final count when Seerla wandered over. She leaned conspicuously over his shoulder to check his work. He rolled his eyes but continued to tally before drawing a dramatic circle around the final number. He turned to look at her.
Her face was outlandishly close to his.
“You’re kidding,” Seerla breathed.
“I’m not.”
“No, no, I need to hear you say it out loud. In a full sentence. I need to know it’s real.”
“Seerla Devinsmeade, our auction raised 8,752 coin.”
“I… I can’t believe it.”
“If we’re being honest, neither can I.”
She nudged his shoulder with hers. “I don’t think you, of all people, need to clarify when you’re being honest.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. This week has me questioning that. Apparently Veriths can be delightfully deceptive when we want to be.”
Seerla sighed. “Oh no. We’ve created a monster. Guys!” She raised her voice to garner the attention of the few remaining club members. “We made over 87 hundred coin, but Thirtyx has decided he likes being a Verith and plans to deceive us for the rest of eternity.”
“Small price to pay!” Mercuria laughed.
“I mean, I tried to tell him that we all assumed he was doing that anyway,” Dain chimed in.
Thirtyx grinned. “Well if you’re all going to punish me for the crime, I may as well commit it, right? Say, the more you hang out with me, the more likely I’ll slip up about what’s going on at the palace.”
“Booo!” Mercuria called over Dain’s groaning. “Alright, you told us the total. We don’t need you anymore. Come on, Seerla. Let’s let him go hungry for a while and rethink his approach.”
Seerla giggled. “Nah, I have to ask him a question about our rhetoric class. You guys go on. Great work, though!”
As they headed out, Thirtyx frowned at the circled number. “You think we can hold a little back for a party to celebrate how well we did? We can’t hire Professor C to sing for us, though. Not at her insane rates.”
Seerla settled herself on the edge of the table with a contented sigh. “We need the president’s permission for a party. You think Rhea will let us do it after she missed all the fun?”
Thirtyx snorted. “I think she’ll let us do it because she missed all the fun. Especially if we get those little cakes they bring out for the holidays—she’s obsessed with them.”
“Oh, I don’t blame her. I swear they’re enchanted or something. I even feel sort of bad that you’ll never get the joy of trying one.”
Thirtyx leaned back in his chair and eyed Seerla critically. “Seerla, you… you know that I can eat food, right? I even get a little bit of energy out of it. It just won’t sustain me for long.”
Seerla gaped at him. “Seriously? How have I known a Verith for ten years and never known that?!”
“I mean, according to Dain, I’m a pretty poor example of a Verith. If they put me here to show the world what we’re like after decades of exile, they probably should have taught me how to act like one first.”
“But see, that’s the thing,” Seerla said with a frown. “Maybe their attempt to spread awareness was misguided, but that doesn’t mean it has to fail. You don’t have to show the world who they are. Show them who you are! Y’know, the kind of Verith who uses sneaky charisma to trick rich folks into helping the needy.”
“Ehh… it’s going to take a lot of overcoming what people think they know about Veriths to make whatever the heck I am plausible. I guess that’s why it seems easier to keep to myself.”
“Well, of course you feel that way. Look at what you’ve been through. I remember what it was like back when no one would give you a chance, but look at what you managed to do in three days by being yourself.” Seerla began picking at the ends of her braid. “Watching you come out of your shell like this is… well, inspiring. I was forced to do that at a young age. My parents knew my birth was a statement, so they constantly told me how important it was to be my authentic self. But you never had anyone like that.”
To the contrary. The authorities who sent him here had coached Thirtyx to avoid unnecessary attention and be anything but authentic. Then, they stopped coaching him at all.
Calley Jones 