Star Eater
Chapter Seven

The other boy’s expression told Link that whatever the doctors believed, he didn’t agree. Link had never met a person with narcolepsy before. He didn’t really know if it was rude or not to question the boy further. There was guy in his last class who was diabetic and then there was a girl a grade below with epilepsy, but narcolepsy was out of Link’s wheelhouse. His curiosity was piqued, that was for sure. The boy held out the bear claw, and Link eagerly took a piece. It was just as delicious as all the sugary, flaky goodness implied, and he moaned in appreciation.

The boy shifted on the seat beside him, and Link realized it was probably super weird to have made a noise like that. He felt himself flush.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

The boy nodded once, but didn't make eye contact. He was a skinny, good-looking Asian boy with messy hair and a pale starburst mark at the corner of his mouth. It must have been a birthmark. There was something carefree and unconcerned about him. Even as his eyes fixated on his shadow, Link sensed that despite or maybe because of his condition, this boy had learned exactly what he was, and he was okay with it. Link admired that quality. He introduced himself.

“I’m Kai,” the boy said. “So you’re new?”

“Yeah, I just moved here from Philadelphia,” Link said. He was about to ask Kai more about the school when the principal’s office door opened and his father emerged.

“Lincoln,” he said, gesturing imperiously.

Link’s face lingered on Kai’s for a few seconds to see what his reaction would be to his White father. But Kai never looked up. He kept his eyes firmly peeled to the floor.

“I’ll, uh, see you later,” Link said, grabbing his bag.

Kai only nodded. Link felt another shiver run up his legs as he passed Kai. He searched for a floorboard vent where the draft might be coming in. For a moment, he thought he saw Kai’s shadow flicker. He dismissed the notion as impossible and stepped into the principal’s office with his dad closing the door behind him.

“He seems nice,” Mrs. Sumner said after the principal’s door had closed behind Link. Her shrewd eyes were on Kai, taking in his reaction.

Kai fought not to blush and shrugged to cover it up.

“I guess,” he said, not committing.

“He’s going to need someone to show him around,” Mrs. Sumner added.

The old woman was sharp and it made Kai wonder how long she’d been watching their awkward interaction.

“You should probably send someone who won’t fall asleep on him,” Kai suggested and offered her a guileless smile. “If you’re nice you would send someone who’s popular, too. You don’t want to ruin his chances just yet, do you, Mrs. Sumner?”

“Well, you got me on the staying awake thing,” she said. “You’re a good kid, Kai. And I’d rather send him with a good kid than a popular one.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll find one,” Kai said cheekily.

Mrs. Sumner threw him a look, and he grinned impudently.

“I’m going to have to call your father,” she said.

Kai’s smile fell. “Goody,” he muttered.

This sucks, Akuma added.

Five minutes later, the vice principal showed up and slipped into the principal’s office. After another minute, Link emerged with the vice principal and, Kai assumed, his dad. Link flashed Kai a quick smile that sent Kai’s heart racing before he disappeared into the hall.

Before Kai could really dive into this new attraction, the principal called him into her office. He had already decided to play the victim card. It wasn’t his favorite approach, but it had brought him consistent results in the past. Kai had never been sent to the principal’s office in middle school, but he had come close a few times. It was the victim card that had helped him escape.

“The condition sneaks up on me, sometimes,” Kai said, hunching in on himself. He was already small, but he knew looked downright childlike this way. “I mean I try to stay awake but it’s so hard.” He softened his eyes and told Akuma to freeze his eyes a little, making them glassy. Akuma also slowed the blood in Kai's face, and Kai felt himself go pale. He watched the principal to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were tired and hard.

“It says in your file you’re supposed to be on a strict medicinal schedule, Mr. Davault,” she said. “And that your IED is built around that schedule.”

“I am, ma’am,” Kai nodded submissively.

He was, sort of. He faithfully flushed his pills down the toilet every day. When he had started taking them, his parents and tutors had been on strict instructions to watch him swallow, which he did, right into Akuma’s waiting hands until he could spit them out later. Then they’d resorted to just counting his pills. Now, the pills were delivered monthly, and disappeared on a daily schedule. Kai doubted his father had checked in years, but he didn't take risks.

The principal eyed him some more but could find no trace of guilt. Kai had learned to scrub that from his face early on. What she saw was an undersized kid, pale with glassy eyes that suited a Dickens novel more than an elite prep school.

“Wait outside,” she said. “Your father is on his way.” Either she’d been around long enough to smell bullshit or she was just too jaded to care. But she wasn’t buying it.

Kai swore silently. If there had been any chance they hadn’t called him yet, he might have tried to negotiate with the principal. Apparently, they didn't do that in high school.

After that, it was just a lot of sitting around. Kai spent most of his time making trips to the bathroom, building a sculpture out of paperclips from Mrs. Sumner’s desk, and sneaking pictures with his camera of the kids walking by. Classes changed once more and Kai grew bored. He lounged on the seat, his feet stretched all the way out in front of him. He amused himself by kicking in different rhythms for a while and then, when that got tiring, he turned to sit upside down.

“Kai,” Mrs. Sumner warned without looking up from her computer. He sighed and turned himself right again.

Checking his camera, Kai saw he had four pictures left. He’d found the old Pentax at a flea market three years ago and fallen instantly in love. It had been in a box of secondhand shoes and discmans. Kai was convinced it was fate. It was like finding the ideal pair of running sneakers, or the right combination of coffee and syrup at Starbucks. Something about him and this camera just clicked. Out of all his cameras, this was his favorite.

He’d spent a week taking it apart and cleaning every single piece meticulously. And then spent a week taking shots in every kind of light with every single setting to learn its moods and angles. Mostly he took pictures of people doing people things—checking their cell phones, picking wedgies, and trying to decide which flavor of ice cream they wanted. He had one picture of a toddler on the beach laughing with delight as the surf surrounded her feet for the first time. He had another photo of a man letting his dog pee on someone’s car tire, an expression of vengeful satisfaction on his face. Kai liked to think it was an ex he was punishing, but he didn’t ask. He captured the moments where people thought no one was watching. He glanced around for a subject but the front office was less than inspirational.

“Hey, Mrs. Sumner,” Kai said straightening on his chair, “let me take some portraits?”

She snorted. “No,” she said blithely. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Please, I have four more frames to use up.”

Mrs. Sumner refused him again and Kai slumped back into his seat, annoyed.

Take a picture of me, Akuma insisted. You never do.

That’s because I don’t want there to be photographic evidence of you, Kai thought.

Before they could get into a solid debate on the subject, they both became cognizant of the clicking of wooden heels down the empty hallway.

Holy shit he came himself, Kai thought.

Akuma fluttered uneasily. The last time Dad had shown up in person was at the police station after the jewelry store event. Since then, if Kai required attention, which, to be fair, was very rare, he sent his assistant.

We’re in trouble, Kai thought with dread.

I will protect you, Akuma promised.

Kai stood and walked to the office window. He watched Dad come down the hallway, on his phone, talking rapidly in Japanese. He stopped just before the doors, yelled into the phone, and hung up. Then he whooshed into the office, bringing with him a gust of hot hallway air. Kai clicked off a picture.

“Kaito,” he said, “I’ve asked you not to do that.”

Kai said nothing, but glanced at Mrs. Sumner who was trying hard not to gape. He couldn't blame her.

Dad appeared closer in age to an older brother than a father. He dressed to appear like he was in his twenties. Today it was a brown-and-black-checkered suit, complete with a lapel pin of a breast cancer ribbon—not because he knew anyone who had breast cancer, more because it was pink—and a pale blue pocket square. Instead of a button-up shirt, he wore a graphic tee underneath the suit jacket with a logo splashed across in white. His black socks featured a yellow arrow design and black sneakers completed the look. His face was ageless, his smile movie-star white and charming, which made him exceptionally good at convincing people to donate money for his fundraising events.

Dad gave Mrs. Sumner a sickeningly sweet smile. Kai could see the acting and, knowing that’s where he got it from, felt his lip curl slightly in disgust.

“I’ll tell the principal you’re here,” Mrs. Sumner said politely. The receptionist had recovered in the interval and her face was now neutral. The waves of charm Dad was throwing at her bounced off like a rubber ball. In that moment, Kai like Mrs. Sumner even more.

For his part, Dad nodded and turned back to his son. The look he gave him was of nauseating concern. Kai took a picture of it.

“Kaito,” Dad snapped.

Kai fidgeted with his camera and heard Dad sigh. He hated when he did that. All he ever did around Kai was sigh, like he was some great big burden. Then, Dad walked forward and cupped his face in his hands. He bent closer to him.

“Did you have a fit?” he asked.

Kai rolled his eyes. “No,” he said. “I fell asleep in Mr. Rump’s class. It wasn’t my fault. His voice is totally monotone and there were two other kids passed out.” Not true, but Kai’s liar’s instincts were in high gear and it sounded better.

“Kaito,” Dad rebuked. He didn't believe him. He never believed him even when he was telling the truth. Then he switched to Japanese. “You know how busy I am with my job. If you’re having trouble, you need to tell my assistant and she can book you a doctor’s appointment.”

“I don’t need a doctor's appointment,” Kai said hotly.

“It’s either an appointment or boarding school,” Dad said, straightening. He checked his phone. “I’m in the middle of planning our biggest event and I don't have time to go through that entire mess again.”

Kai said nothing. This was the longest conversation they’d had in months, maybe a year. He’d flown under the radar, worked his entire life around not coming to his parents’ attention and it was still not good enough.

Dad took his silence for assent. He finished texting his assistant and sighed again. Then he gave Kai the look. It was a disappointed expression, a pout to his mouth and crease in his forehead, a weariness around the eyes that added up to him telling Kai that he was a broken little bird and Dad was exhausted with handling it. Kai hated it. Angling the camera in his hands up towards his face, Kai hit the button again. The click betrayed him.

“Kai,” Dad snapped a warning. At least the look was gone.

How many is that? Akuma asked. He was referring to the number of photos Kai had taken of his father giving him some version of this expression. Kai turned away from his father, feeling resentment. He went back to his seat and fiddled with the camera’s settings.

In Japanese Dad warned Kai not to take any more photos. Kai almost hit the button again, but stopped himself. Dad already had enough reason to yank him out of school and Kai did not want to add another. Instead, he put the camera back in his bag.

“Did you take your pills today?” Dad asked. Kai nodded. He didn't even look up to see his response. “I’ll have my assistant make an appointment with the doctor.” He was on his phone typing before Kai could protest.

“I’m fine, Dad,” he said. “I fell asleep in class. Lots of kids do it. It’s the pills that make me do it.”

“Maybe I’ll have her schedule another sleep session,” Dad murmured.

“No!” Kai protested. “I’m fine.”

“It’s been a while since you had a checkup for,” Dad made a gesture taking in his entire body, “your disability.” His mouth twisted around the words.

Akuma growled inwardly. He didn’t attack Kai’s parents at Kai’s request. If Akuma attacked Dad every time he said something stupid, his foot would have fallen off from frostbite years ago. Mom would still have her feet, but only because she was never home.

“It’s just that teacher,” Kai snapped, losing his temper. He hopped up and wrapped his fingers around the phone before the text could be sent. The phone died instantly. Dad did not have a military grade phone like Kai. “I’m doing fine in my other classes.” That was a flat-out lie, but Kai wasn’t about to impugn himself.

“Kai, I don’t have time to come here every time you fall asleep,” Dad snapped, snatching the phone back. He stabbed the buttons in frustration trying to get it to turn on again. Kai wondered for the millionth time why his father refused to acknowledge his effect on electronics. It wasn’t like the evidence wasn’t there.

“If you can’t handle school, like I said you couldn’t, then we’ll just send you away to that boarding school for people with disabilities.”

“If I can be transferred to another science class, I can stay awake,” Kai needled. “Seriously, if you met the teacher you’d understand.”

Fat chance of that; Dad never attended Back to School Night. Neither of his parents did. They signed the monthly IEP reports that were sent, or at least Dad’s assistant did. Kai doubted they actually read the reports every month, or cared.

Dad didn’t reply. He was no longer listening. Instead, he went over to speak to Mrs. Sumner.

“The principal is on the phone,” Mrs. Sumner explained. Dad asked what could be more important than dealing with a student’s parent. “There’s been an issue with one of the other parents and,” Mrs. Sumner paused, “with law enforcement.”

“All a misunderstanding,” the principal said, sweeping out. She gave Mrs. Sumner a warning look, and then smiled at Dad. “Nothing that reflects on the school, of course. I’m sure it’ll be cleared up soon enough. Sorry to keep you waiting. Right in here, Mr. Davault.”

There was a second when Dad’s eyes tightened at his married name; he’d taken his wife’s after some blowout with his own family. Kai wished he hadn’t put his camera away so he could take a picture of that face. His father recovered gracefully and smiled, the boyish charm coming out, then followed the principal into the office.

Kai trudged back to his seat. He slumped into his chair, dreading the ride home.

I wonder what other pictures are on that roll, Akuma said, also trying to distract Kai. When did you start this one?

Kai didn’t answer. Instead, he looked through the viewfinder at the linoleum floor and used up the last frame. I hate it when he looks at me like that, he said.

He doesn’t get it, Akuma said. He’ll never get it.

I know, Kai snapped.

I get it, Akuma tried gently.

Of course, you fucking get it, Kai thought. You’re the reason for it.

The meeting didn’t take long. Dad swept out again with his lips puckered and collected Kai. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Kai glanced over to the main entrance of the school and wondered if this was the last time he would be seeing it.

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