The Rithmatist

dress, hair up in a bun, and she picked at her food as she talked to Mrs. Cornelius, one of the other cleaning ladies.
    Joel set down his books, then hurried away before his mother could pester him with questions. He piled his plate with some rice and stir-fried sausages. Germanian food. The cooks were getting exotic again. At least they’d moved away from JoSeun dishes, which Joel found far too spicy. After grabbing a flagon of spiced apple juice, he made his way back to his place.
    His mother was waiting. “Florence told me that you promised to have a summer elective chosen by tonight,” she said.
    “I’m working on it,” he said.
    “Joel,” she said. “You are going to have a summer elective, aren’t you? You’re not going to need to go to a tutelage again?”
    “No, no,” he said. “I promise. Professor Layton just told me today that I’m passing math for sure.”
    His mother stabbed a sausage chunk with her fork. “Other children try to do more than just pass their classes.”
    Joel shrugged.
    “If I had more time to help you with your homework…” She sighed. After the meal, she would spend most of the night cleaning. She didn’t start work each day until the afternoon, since most of the classrooms she cleaned were occupied during the day.
    Like always, she had dark circles under her eyes. She worked far too hard.
    “What about alchemics?” she asked. “Will you pass that?”
    “Science is easy,” Joel said. “Professor Langor already gave us our performance reports—the last days will just be lab, and won’t be graded. I’m passing for sure.”
    “Literature?”
    “Handed in my report today,” Joel said. He’d gotten that assignment done on time—only because Professor ZoBell had given them writing time in class for two weeks while she poked through a series of novels. Professors tended to get a little bit lazy during the end of term, just like students.
    “And history?” his mother asked.
    “Term evaluation exam tomorrow.”
    She raised an eyebrow.
    “It’s on the history of Rithmatics, Mother,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll do fine.”
    That seemed to satisfy her. Joel began to wolf down his food.
    “You heard about Professor Fitch and that awful challenge?” his mother asked.
    Joel nodded, mouth full.
    “Poor man,” she said. “You know that he spent twenty years working himself up to full professor? He lost it in a few moments, back down to tutor.”
    “Mother,” Joel said between bites, “have you heard anything about a federal inspector on campus?”
    She nodded absently. “They think one of the Rithmatic students ran away last night. She was visiting her family for the evening, and never came back to the school.”
    “Was it Lilly Whiting?” Joel guessed.
    “I think that was her name.”
    “Charlington said her parents just took her on vacation!”
    “That was the story at first,” his mother said. “It’s hard to keep something like a runaway Rithmatist secret, though. Makes me wonder why they try to flee so often. They have such easy lives. Barely required to work, ungrateful lot…”
    “They’ll find her soon enough,” Joel said, jumping in before his mother could go off on that particular tangent.
    “Look, Joel, you need to get into a summer elective. Do you want to end up in labor instruction?”
    Many students who couldn’t choose—or who chose too late—ended up helping with the landscaping of the school grounds. The official reason for the program, given by Principal York, was to “teach the generally affluent student population respect for those of other economic statuses.” That concept had earned him some measure of ire from parents.
    “Labor instruction,” Joel said. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Father was a laborer. Maybe I’ll need to do a job like that someday.”
    “Joel…” she said.
    “What?” he replied. “What’s wrong with being a laborer? You’re one.”
    “You’re getting one of the finest educations available. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
    He shrugged.
    “You rarely do your assignments,” his mother said, rubbing her forehead. “Your teachers all say you’re bright, but that you don’t pay attention. Can’t you understand how much other people would do for an opportunity like yours?”
    “I do understand,” Joel said. “Really. Mother, I’m going to get a summer elective. Professor Layton said I could do math with him if I don’t find anything