Page 102 of The Amber Sunburst

When Alexander peers over at the desk next to him, he sees some biography on Copernicus, their history book nowhere in sight. Teachers seem to love catching Kallias red-handed in his distractions, and usually he makes fools out of them, but Alexander’s not sure how he plans to get out of this one.

The teacher watches closely, waiting for him to surrender and pull his textbook out of the bag at his feet. Instead, Kallias stays still.

“Remind me the page, professor?”

“You should be reading along.”

“I got sidetracked, sir. My sincerest apologies.” Alexander stifles a laugh. The sarcasm doesn’t go over the teacher’s head—not if that angry old-man scowl is anything to go by.

“Page four hundred and fifty-three.”

Alexander starts sliding his book to Kallias, but Kallias taps his desk quickly: -. ---

No?

Then the impossible happens. Kallias makes direct eye contact with their teacher and starts reciting the page word for word.

“The Third Arc is known for its colorful hues and happy people. Wealth is not abundant as in the Second and First Arcs, but quality of life is known to be superb. The unique founding of the Third Arc is the most likely culprit for its very individual cultural and architectural makeup…” Kallias drawls. He ‘reads’ for minutes, eyes never leaving the teacher.

Eventually, the professor admits defeat. “Thank you, Kallias,” he seethes through gritted teeth. “Lazarus. You.”

“Yes, sir,” Lazarus responds.

Kallias goes right back to Copernicus.

“So, class today?” Alexander asks, sitting with Kallias on the beanbags in the Library. The others are already gone, off to sleep or to hang out in Xia’s room.

Kallias seemed to get the hint when he stayed back, dropping into the beanbags with him, without a word.

“What about it?”

“The crazy shit you pulled with the textbook, maybe?”

“We use the same book every year. It’s not a big deal.”

“You recited it word for word with just the page number.”

“And?” Kallias asks, dropping his head back to look at the night-sky fresco on the ceiling.

“You have a photographic memory, don’t you?”

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander says, shrugging. “It’s cool.”

“I guess so.”

This explains all of the random tidbits of information that Kallias remembers here and there. Exact conversations, specific homework problems, names of obscure books.

But when Alexander looks over, Kallias’ face has lost its expression, settling into his usual blank mask. Maybe he has memories he’d prefer to forget.

It’s like a routine at this point. He pushes on a boundary—Kallias doubles up the walls. Alexander doesn’t mind. He loves watching the bricks come tumbling down, watching his Kallias emerge from the rubble.

Alexander props himself up on an elbow and leans over Kallias as much as he can without touching him. Then he taps Kallias’ nose. “Boop.”

His face scrunches up in response, and Alexander can’t help but smile.

“Airhead.”