Chapter 26: 31. Hypocrites

Pak

(After the Incident)

 

I sit at the back of the class so I won’t feel their eyes on my neck. I keep my head low so I won’t see the teacher watching me with baseless suspicion. I draw pictures to distract my ears from my classmates’ whispers. I used to write poetry, but… that was a long time ago.

Today, Mr. Greenhead is late. The classroom chittering grows louder with each passing minute. They joke and speculate. Someone suggests he met an untimely end. The doors fly open, and the din ceases.

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Greenhead says as he struts down the center aisle, though his gait is oddly harried. The class murmurs their halfhearted greeting. I watch him closely. Something is wrong. He glances at me.

“Today marks the end of our study on the Smallfolk kingdoms,” he announces. A cluster of students whoop and clap. He strikes the desk with his pointing stick, and they fall silent.

“Some of you may find this next section disturbing…”

He paces down the center aisle, tapping the stick against his palm.

“The history of these people is marked by all manner of bloodshed and chaos,” he continues. “But, it is necessary to understand our enemies if we are to protect our nation… from the Duén.”

Gasps scatter across the room. A dozen heads turn to face me. Mr. Greenhead stiffens, his eyes twitching, refusing to acknowledge my presence. Dread pours over my body, sticky and slow.

“Our knowledge of the Duén is limited. Few people live to tell of when they surface, and none pursue when they retreat.” He pauses and glances at me.

“Our ancestors who survived the old wars recorded the bulk of what we know now. However, new insights have emerged following the Recrudescence of the past few centuries. Some of your parents may have witnessed attacks on this very city, though many from my generation are simply…” He sighs deeply. “Too traumatized to speak on it.”

He pauses and lowers his eyes. A solemn silence passes. My throat tightens.

“Still, due to the relative lack of knowledge, this chapter will only last for a few months.”

Murmurs of disappointment ripple over the class.

“Truth and understanding are our primary weapons in this fight. It is every citizen’s duty to equip themselves against the greatest enemy of the civilized world.” He scans the room intensely. “Rest assured, you shall be well equipped.”

As he takes his place at the podium, the whispers nibble my ears…

 

…really think he’s one of them?

 

It’s getting hot.

 

… letting him stay for this…

 

I raise my head just enough to scatter the lingering eyes.

“To begin, please turn to page seven hundred and thirty-seven of your textbook.”

The room groans as the students retrieve the massive tome from inside their desks. I stay still.

“Let us first examine the origin of the Duén, as recanted by the scribes of the Larrasinaiae.”

I roll my eyes. Every lesson hinges on the same archaic ramblings.

“They posit that the Duén are demonic in origin,” Mr. Greenhead continues. “Two schools of thought diverge from this hypothesis: One, that they are the result of wayward elves breeding with demons, or, two, that they are themselves demons who take the form of elves, but are unable to disguise the taint in their skin.” The students scribble notes. My ears are burning. My jaw hurts from grinding my teeth.

“However, the nature of their evil god of fire, Ascore, lends credence to the latter notion. It is said that Ascore created the Duén in his image, so that he may have his feet on our world to complete his foul works. Unfortunately, we have no way of divining Ascore’s schemes, and so the movement of the Duén remains a mystery.” He pauses to turn the page, and a chorus of turning pages follows.

“There is very little archaeological evidence to otherwise determine the truth of their origin,” he continues, “but, their origin is unimportant when considering the disturbances they have wrought upon Elvenkind’s shared history. It is prudent, then, that our focus shall remain on their acts of terror—”

Hypocrites.

I sink into my seat, bracing for eons of this inanity. I shut my eyes, wishing, pretending to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but I remain in place…

…Why is it so quiet?

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I look up. Dozens of eyes are on me, with half as many mouths hanging open. Mr. Greenhead’s paper-white face has turned tomato-red.

“What did you just say?” he hisses. I stare at him blankly. What is he…?

Oh no. I tell my mouth to say ‘Nothing’, but—

“Hypocrites.”

Shocked gasps cover the room. Something smolders in my chest. My eyes lock with his, and the red “X” flickers over his face.

He squares his jaw. “You will not interrupt my class with this—”

“You white elves record every worthless detail of your pedigree!”

My voice echoes. I’m trembling. What am I…?

“Some of you have entire libraries dedicated to worshiping your goddamn ancestors – all you care about is where you came from! That’s what the nobility is all about, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what a noble family does, all that matters is how much money they’ve got and how fast they burn up in the sun!”

I laugh. I can’t stop.

“But you say the origin of the Duén doesn’t matter, as if their history had nothing to do with whatever it is that they’ve done? Are you stupid? This is a Cultures class, and you’re saying that their culture isn’t important!”

Mr. Greenhead’s face drains, until he is whiter than he began. He stands there, motionless, shocked, as if he were witnessing a murder.

“You will cease this nonsense immediately,” he finally sputters, “or I will—”

“No!” I shout. “You keep telling me I’m a demon, but I’m not! I’m not a demon! I don’t have horns or a pointy tail, I don’t go around killing people, I don’t worship any evil gods—”

My voice cracks. I whimper, barreling on—

“And you don’t know any more about my bloodline than I do, so stop acting like you know! You don’t know a goddamned thing! You even said so!”

Cold silence settles in the wake of my outburst.

 

I hate this…

 

I jump and look to my left, towards where the weak voice whispered, so close to my ear, but there’s nobody there. Did I imagine it? It sounded so real…

The silence rattles and slithers away. Then comes the murmuring, snickering, chattering, gossiping, giggling. It thickens into sludge in my ears, I can’t pick out a single thing.

 

BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM

 

NO NO NO NO NO NO

 

My hand starts to tingle. I have to get out of here, before I do something terrible, before I hurt someone. I trip over my chair on the way to the door and hurtle down the hall like a stampede of horses, shoes squeaking against the cold stone. I disappear into my room, shut the door with my back, and slide down into a heap on the floor.

“Hey, Pak…”

I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears. My palms muffle the sound of his voice.

“Pak?”

My breathing won’t slow. I’m twitching, rocking, strange sounds scraping my throat. Kano kneels beside me, so warm, and so close…

“Pak, what’s wrong?”

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