“Impressive,” Sir Edward said.
“So we shouldn’t rule out holy water,” Becky chirped, and the class broke out in laughter again. My lips curved.
“No, they tested that theory,” he said. “Who can tell me what the Japanese call it?”
The know-it-all, Riley, was the only one who knew the answer this time.
“Riley?”
“Shishiwo,” she said.
While she was answering, Becky was doing an accurate impersonation of Riley, and I pressed my lips tightly against each other to keep the laugh from exploding. She seemed cool. Like someone I could be friends with. Someone I wanted to be friends with.
“Here, you deserve it.” Sir Edward tossed Riley a chocolate bar.
“Who can tell me how many King of Lion weapons we have?” he asked. This time, everyone’s hands went up, except for mine. One, I knew the answer, but I would not pretend to be a know-it-all.
“Charlie?” He pointed to a boy with carnival red hair in the first row.
“One,” the boy said. “Now where’s my candy?”
Sir Edward tossed him one too.
“So if something happens to the King of Lion, we’re basically screwed?” another boy with mousy blond hair asked.
“Don’t think of it that way. Hope is always near to those who believe. The sword is well protected in the city of Elm.” Turning from the front of the room, Sir Edward walked my way. As he passed our row, he dropped a handbook on my desk. “Please, if you can open to page sixty-seven.”
For the next few minutes, flipping through pages reached my ear. Mysteries that the other side questioned covered the pages of this book. I finally reached the page, which was a drawing of the sword.
I looked over my shoulder at the glass case that carried a sword. It wasn’t the same sword. The marking on the sword behind the glass were different. My eyes scanned over the title at the bottom. The King Of Lion Sword.
An image of Excalibur popped in my head as I looked over the page. It had a golden hilt that curled up the divine blade with a lion’s head emblazoned on the hilt. The text below the image explained that Richard the Lion Heart once possessed the sword.
“The story we’re going to cover is the recovery of the King of Lion. The year 1320 BTW.”
“A Japanese folktale of danger, love, sacrifice, and adventure in the Daki islands,” Sir Edward began. “A chieftain called Hio Tukituki banished a samurai named Kalibi Shima. They exiled him to a small island called Yamasaki, of the Oki Islands. Kalibi had an eighteen-year-old daughter, Kayatan, whom he loved very much.”
I became lost in his tale of a brave Kayatan who saved her father and slayed a dragon that was torturing the villagers. In return, the town gave her the King Of Lion Sword. I wondered if Dad told me this one, too. I could never have done what Kayatan had. They had to force me.
The bell rang and the students began packing up their books. I lifted the book and Professor Edward shook his head with a smile. My lips curved as I put the book in my backpack and got up.
I looked at my schedule for the next class: arithmetic. The map showed me where it was and I followed it all the way down the hall opposite the cafeteria. An ocean of people scattered to get to their classes and the kids with the crazy color hair stood out the most. There was even one guy that had green hair.
I walked into a similar class to mysteries. More tiered desks that looked onto a podium with the lecturer’s desk and chair in front of a blackboard welcomed me. But the decor slightly differed. Art of equations mixed with magic symbols hung against the wall.
I took a seat, and the lecturer, who was a woman, started the class. All the professors here seemed way too young. This one wore a pencil skirt with a white button blouse. She took her brown hair into a messy bun and she had the darkest eyes I’d ever seen.
She walked to my table, smiled and plopped a thick textbook in front of me. “Welcome, Elena,” she whispered, and I nodded. She walked back to the front. I got a feeling that they all knew me.
I hated maths, and this was plain torture. The math part didn’t even make sense.
But the torture ended after forty-five minutes and then it was the last class before lunch, which was served to us at eleven.
Professor Pheizer’s class was interesting. She was old with gray hair, but the friendliest face you could ever imagine on someone. Her eyes were bright blue as she smiled at all of us.
I grabbed a seat in the fourth row and looked around. Pictures of dragons and Dragonians on top of their back, a yin-yang symbol that wasn’t one either, lined the walls.
The class finally calmed down. There were no textbooks in this class and thank heavens I had this one from Bayleaf.
