The summons came during second period. A small, yellow slip of paper delivered by the school messenger: *Leya Kapiri. Headmaster's Office. Immediate.*
As Leya walked through the administration wing, the floor felt unsteady. She knew how this worked. In London, if you fell behind on rent, the notice was taped to the door for everyone to see. At ZIA, the eviction came with a polite smile and an air-conditioned office.
Headmaster Chilufya didn't look up when she entered. He was shuffling through a thin folder—her folder. On his desk sat a letter with a heavy gold seal: the Ministry of Education.
"Sit down, Leya," he said, finally looking over his spectacles. He didn't sound angry; he sounded inconvenienced.
"Is there a problem with my enrollment?" Leya asked. She kept her hands clasped in her lap so he wouldn't see them shaking.
"There is a problem with the *funding*," Chilufya corrected. "Your 'Legacy Scholarship' was granted on the condition of 'exemplary conduct and social harmony.' It seems, however, that your return has caused a certain amount of... friction."
"Friction?" Leya's British accent sharpened. "You mean Musi and his friends?"
"I mean," the Headmaster said, leaning forward, "that certain board members—including Musi's father—are questioning why the school is subsidizing the education of a student whose family's assets were the very ones that nearly bankrupted our endowment. They see your presence as a provocation."
Leya felt a cold, sick weight settle in her stomach. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"Reputation is a currency, Leya. Yours is currently in the negative. The board is meeting on Friday to vote on the restructuring of scholarships. Unless you can prove you are an asset to this school's image—and not a distraction for our more... prominent students—I'm afraid your place here is at risk."
He didn't mention Zazu by name, but he didn't have to. The sketchbook. The scene in the quad. It had all been logged.
Leya walked out of the office, her vision blurred. If she lost the scholarship, her aunt couldn't afford the fees. They'd be back on a plane, or worse, in a government school where the Kapiri name was even more of a target.
She was so caught in her head that she didn't see Zazu leaning against the brick wall outside the office.
"What did he say?" Zazu asked.
Leya didn't stop. "He said I'm a distraction. He said your friends are expensive and I'm a liability."
Zazu fell into step beside her, his face dark. "It's Musi's dad. He's pushing the board because of what you said in the quad. He's trying to bully you out."
"It worked," Leya snapped, stopping in the middle of the hallway. "Congratulations, Zazu. You got your sketchbook back, and I get to go back to a council flat in London. Everyone wins."
"I'm not letting that happen," Zazu said.
"And how are you going to stop it? Are you going to go to the board and tell them we're friends? That'll just make it worse. Your mother would have a heart attack if she thought you were 'fraternizing' with the enemy."
Zazu looked at her, his jaw set. He looked less like a teenager and more like the man his father was—stubborn and immovable. "There's a fundraiser on Friday night. The 'Copper Jubilee.' Every board member will be there. My parents are hosting."
"So?"
"So, the school orchestra is performing. If you play... if you show them you're the best musician this school has ever seen, they can't claim you aren't an asset. The Headmaster cares about prestige more than he cares about Musi's dad."
Leya shook her head. "I don't play for crowds, Zazu. Especially not crowds of people who want me gone."
"Play for the scholarship, then," Zazu said, stepping closer. "And if that's not enough... play for the fact that if you leave, I'll be stuck in this place alone with Musi and a bunch of people who think I'm a statue."
Leya looked at him. The "Hero" was asking the "Ghost" to save him. It was ridiculous. It was unfair.
"Fine," she whispered. "But if I'm going to do this, I'm not playing their boring classical pieces. I'm playing what I want."
Zazu smiled, and for the first time, it wasn't the "Golden Boy" smile. it was the smile of someone who was about to start a fire. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
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