Page 23 of The Commons

“Seriously? Do you have to call me by my full name?” Zia snaps, and his gaze shifts back to her.

I had met him before in a competition. He’s Zia’s crush that she constantly talks about.

He turns my way, his eyes suddenly sparking. A single strand of blond hair drizzles down his face, and he flips it back as though in slow motion, staring at me, almost indignantly intrigued. “That’s Shantavia, your best friend, right?”

“Wow. You remember something I tell you,” Zia responds.

“No. I saw her win Nationals in Martial Arts Elective two years ago.”

“That’s some memory!” she says with a slight raise of an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I like a girl who can defend herself. And she made it out of Oblivion I heard, didn’t she?”

Zia opens her mouth in rebuttal, but Zavish heads off to take some books from his two friends, Jordan and Lin.

“So, anything else?” I join Zia and try to cheer her up.

She snaps at me. “Shantavia, stop with the prying! Like my mom always says: The deeds of the Common Wealth cannot be understood by the un-commonized mind. The coins of the Common Wealth must not fund an uncircumcised currency. It basically means what goes on in The Commons stays in The Commons. She doesn’t even give me any clues to Patron culture or any of that. It is all a mystery. That’s what makes it so exciting. They don’t train world leaders by giving out all their secrets. Oh my gosh, why is he coming back?”

I hope it’s not for me… Since Zavish and I had crossed paths that one time in Boston, at Math and Science Nationals, there were several rumors that he had a thing for me, to which I puked about a hundred and eighty-four times in my dreams at the very thought of a “thing” with the infamous aristocrat’s bloodline. I have since learned that the Lumieres own half of everything Boston has, plus the biggest amusement parks, hotels, and casinos in Vegas. And the biggest sense of ego I have ever seen. And I had seen a lot.

Zavish parades toward us, shoulders squared. He stops when he reaches us and begins to speak with the persistent, presumptuous pouting of his lips. “Zavish Lumiere the Third, you might have heard of me. We own everything in Vegas. Run everything in Boston. And you are?”

“Shantavia,” I say. “And no, I haven’t heard of you. Except maybe from Zia.”

“Right. Zia Zamafula’s mouth.” He turns in her direction with a slight disapproval in his gaze. “Everyone talks about me. That’s just the nature of being me.”

“Well, thanks for the introduction. But why are you introducing yourself to me… again?”

“The first time you didn’t seem to compute the manner of person who was speaking to you. So, I thought I’d jog your memory.” He smiles, eying me.

“Since you specialize in jogging, how about you run along and leave me be, Zavish.”

He chuckles. “Shantavia, Shantavia, I can’t believe you got in. What did you do? Sleep with a Patron?”

“What did you do to get in? Hand them a billion dollars to hand you a brain?” I respond with an innocent smile.

“Hmm… you were the smart mouth in Boston, weren’t you? It’s a shame it won’t serve you well here. You should heed my voice. I know the ins and outs of this system. I may be a freshman, but word has it, I’ll be patronized soon, and it will do you well to be on the good side of Zavish Lumiere the Third,” he articulates, laughing in a cynical manner.

“Well, you’d have to have a good side for me to do that, wouldn’t you?”

Again, he laughs. Zavish is the sort of guy who delights in being Zavish. There is no greater honor for him than of himself and for everyone to come into this great enlightenment. “Feisty. I like it.”

The bell rings and we all instantly look at tosh.

Zavish eyes me, then nods to Zia. “Shantavia, pretend all you want, I know you love me.” He winks at Zia and struts away.

Zia stares at him like he is an idol, her mouth open and drooling at his every word. She looks as if she would chase him down, grab him, and shove her tongue down his throat... if she had that kind of confidence, of course.

Zavish is her dream guy. She’s wanted him ever since the first day they met. But to Zavish, Zia is invisible. I mean, he notices her, obviously, but not like you do a love interest. Although Zia’s parents are almost as rich as Zavish’s, she is not as prideful. I take all the credit for that. That’s a joke, but not totally.

At this point, I am getting used to Zavish’s narcissism. I simply let it run its course. I’m wondering if Zavish has a thing for girls who seem unattainable.

Zia turns to me with a peculiar look in her eyes. I know what she’s about to say.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing.”