The Black Stars by Dan Krokos Page A

was long and black and flowed free. Mason was already imagining a series of defensive moves if Juneful attacked. Having long hair was a stupid choice, tactically. Mason could grab a handful of it, and from there the fight would be in his control. But maybe long hair had some kind of ceremonial significance. Or the Rhadgast were cocky enough to just not care.
    Juneful seemed to notice Mason scanning all of his weak points, his pressure points. His eyes narrowed.
    â€œIs there something you wanted?” Mason said. He’d been dealing with bullies his entire life and was a little sad to find out they were no different here. Tremist bullies were just as clever as the slow-witted muscle-bound morons he had dealt with at Academy I and II. He began to wonder what the true differences were between Tremist and humans.
    Juneful didn’t seem to know what to say. Po was staring at Mason intently from across the table—the whole team was—but Mason kept his eyes on Juneful. His three boys were behind him, safely. They were followers. They were no threat.
    â€œI suggest you go back to your table,” Mason said. “I know you’re curious about what humans can do, but I don’t think you want to find out right now, in front of all your friends.”
    Juneful’s mouth opened in shock, just a tiny bit. “What about you, human?” he said to Tom, no doubt ignoring Mason until his dull, aggressive brain could figure out the correct response. “Do you need your boyfriend here to protect you?”
    â€œNo,” Tom replied. “But I like to let him because it makes him feel better, and because he doesn’t mind dealing with scum.”
    Mason laughed. He couldn’t help it; it was the perfect thing to say. Had he not laughed, Juneful would’ve probably sat right back down. But he did laugh, and it felt good to laugh again. It felt good that Tom felt good enough to crack a joke. So Mason laughed, but he never lost his readiness.
    As he watched, the gloves hidden inside Juneful’s robe slipped down over his hands. During school hours, no student was allowed to have his or her gloves over their hands unless they were in a combat-oriented class. Mason didn’t know the punishment for violating that rule, and he didn’t want to find out.
    There was a tray of food in front of Mason. Juneful’s hand darted down toward the edge of it, and Mason anticipated he would try to flip it into Mason’s face. Mason did not want this to happen for a number of reasons, including that the food here was somehow worse than the sludge they served on ESC spacecraft. The refectory had better food available—he’d seen strange and colorful fruits and vegetables being served to the older students—but he and his team got various protein-based gelatins. It would make quite a mess and ruin the robes he’d gone through hell to earn. So Mason grabbed Juneful’s luscious locks and yanked down just as Juneful was starting to lift the tray with his fingers. Juneful’s face smacked into the tray with a wet splat. Some of the gelatins flecked Mason’s robe anyway, but it wasn’t nearly as bad. As Juneful was bouncing up, Mason shoved him one-handed into his three friends, who all toppled onto their butts.
    Everything stopped.
    Juneful blinked goop from his eyes.
    As every Stone in the refectory stood up from their tables.
    â€œNow you’ve done it,” Po said, stretching his arms and yawning. He seemed resigned to their fates.
    â€œYou with me?” Mason asked Tom quietly.
    Tom sighed. “That was ill-advised, but I guess we’ve done stupider things. Of course I’m with you.”
    â€œOkay, then,” Mason said, and stood up, letting his own gloves slip down over his hands. “Who’s first?” he called to the room.
    â€œSit down,” a voice said behind him.
    Mason looked over his shoulder to find Reckful frowning down at him.