Zenith Academy had too many stairs.
I had reached this conclusion yesterday.
This morning merely provided additional evidence.
I walked toward the orientation hall with Dream Haven tucked comfortably beneath my arm while the rest of Class Five moved around me.
Thirty-six people.
My people.
Apparently.
I still disliked the wording.
At least finding my classmates was easy.
Every first-year wore the standard Zenith uniform.
Dark navy jacket.
Silver trimming.
White shirt.
Black trousers or skirt.
Academy crest over the left side of the chest.
Except five of us.
The class leaders wore black.
Same general design.
But the silver lines around the collar, shoulders, and cuffs were wider, and directly beneath the Academy crest rested a silver numeral identifying our class.
Mine was:
V
I looked down at it.
Public humiliation through clothing.
"Can I switch uniforms with someone?"
"No."
Penelope answered without even looking at me.
"I wasn't asking you."
"You were."
