Chapter Text
Inej Ghafa was not used to failing.
Most people in her life called her an overachiever, and she could concede to that. She'd excelled at whatever she put her mind to for as long as she could remember: first the high-wire, then the rings, followed by school and extracurriculars, college applications, scholarships. But really, if Inej had to pinpoint where her success came from, it's the fact that she simply hadn't been presented enough with the opportunity to fail. Her competitors were always subpar, average at best- even if they were great, they were never glorious, like her. It was a shame, really.
So failure was out of her realm, something she'd never had to contend with in all the years leading up to her third semester at Ketterdam University. And she still hadn't, technically. So why, when she finally opened the email from Professor Haskell she'd been waiting on for weeks, did the congratulatory words feel like bullets in her chest?
She'd imagined this moment every day since she submitted her application to be editor-in-chief of the Crow Chronicle, Ketterdam University's student-run news publication. The position was a long shot as an incoming sophomore, but the upperclassmen were a careless lot, and readership had been steadily decreasing for the past few years. She told herself it would be fine if she didn't get it this year, because there was always next year, but it couldn't hurt to submit an application anyway.
In her mind, there were only two options: either the email started with Dear Inej, Congratulations!, or Dear Inej, I regret to inform you. Her Saints hadn't warned her about this secret third option, toeing the line between failure and success. She bit her thumb as she clicked on the preview and read through the full email.
Dear Kaz and Inej,
Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you that you have been selected to serve as co- editors-in-chief of the Crow Chronicle for the duration of the upcoming academic year. I was thoroughly impressed with your application essays, and your promising efforts in my Fundamentals of Journalism course last fall. I believe your experiences and skillsets will complement each other nicely, and contribute to the overall success of the publication.
Please respond with your acceptance of the position within the next twenty-four bells, and I will follow-up with some onboarding and housekeeping information.
Congratulations, again. And remember, go Crows!
Professor Haskell
It was appalling, really. She was going to be sick. Before Inej could really let herself process what the next year, possibly more, was going to look like, she dialed Nina.
"Hi gorgeous, did you get the position?"
"Yes, I did."
"Oh, 'Nej, congratulations! As soon as we get back on campus, I'm taking you out to celebrate- "
"So did someone else."
"Oh. Who?"
"Kaz Rietveld." The name felt strange in her mouth, her tongue tripping over the hard stops and jagged R's of the Kerch language. She'd never said it out loud before, though the combination of letters were burned into her brain. She’d read it several times through the class portal where Haskell posted example snippets of the top-graded assignments each week.
Nina snorted. "Good luck with that. I was paired with him for that media bias project last semester, and he's a total prick. Takes everything too seriously."
"I take things seriously. Does that make me a prick?"
"Inej, darling, you could never be a prick. Only the rose."
"That was almost poetic."
"I try my best. It must be all those proverbs you've indoctrinated me with. Anyways, I'm pretty sure Kaz is rooming with Jesper this year in the Slat."
"Really?" (This was extremely interesting news, considering the last time she'd spoken to Jesper, he was rushing every fraternity on campus. Inej assumed he'd be living in a house this year, indulging in all the parties and booze and boys and girls his wild heart desired. Besides, she wasn't aware that Jesper was close with Kaz.)
"Yeah, Matthias would know more about it than me. I'll have him ask."
"Matthias didn't want to room with Jesper again?" Inej couldn't help but tease her friend about her boyfriend's freshman year room assignment. Even before the two started officially dating, Matthias would seek refuge in Nina and Inej's room, groaning over Jesper's mess-making tendencies. Inej didn't mind, considering she spent most of her time in the library, the newsroom, or at Sasha's- plus, she liked hearing the tow-headed Fjerdan tell his stories (that, and whenever he stopped to pick up food for Nina, he'd always make sure to order Inej some, too).
She could practically hear Nina roll her eyes through the speaker. "Don't get me started."
Inej felt her phone buzz once against her cheek. She peeked at the notification, her mood already plummeting again. "Kaz just replied to Haskell's email accepting the position."
"Ugh. Seriously, Inej, you cannot let him take over this club. I want to write my food reviews in peace."
"I won't. Can you confirm with Matthias that he's at the Slat with Jesper? I think I already have an idea."
"Oh, how I love your wicked brain. I'll text him right now. What did Sasha say when you told him?"
"Hm?" Inej was already lost in thought. "Oh, I haven't told him yet. I will later tonight. We have a call scheduled."
"How romantic." Nina's voice was flat. "Okay, 'Nejjy, I really have to go. I've got to get this Instagram post up by midnight. I'll see you in a couple of weeks, alright?"
"Alright, love you, Neens."
"You too. And congratulations again. We're so going for waffles as soon as we get back."
"I'm counting on it."
After Nina hung up, Inej stared again at the email thread. Kaz's reply was short, to the point: Professor Haskell, Thank you for this opportunity. I would be honored to serve as co- editor-in-chief. Inej promptly typed up her own response, read it over once, then twice (and a third time, just to be sure) before hitting send.
It was a miracle, really, that she hadn't yet encountered Kaz in person. He was always in Haskell's morning section, while Inej attended the afternoons. They were assigned to different departments their first year working for the Chronicle, and, well, Inej was involved in almost everything on campus, which meant she was always coming and going practically anywhere she went. If she did cross paths with Kaz, her mind was likely too preoccupied to even notice him in the first place.
But she definitely knew his name. Apparently, Kaz was the one who'd come up with the idea behind the Squabble, an opinions-based section that surveyed students on campus about anything and everything- including the food in the dining halls, the infamous biochemistry midterm, and the noticeable lack of feminine hygiene products in the engineering building (the last one Inej had to admit was quite fascinating).
The only thing people love more than complaining, Halle, last year's editor-in-chief, told Inej when she'd inquired about the section's rapid popularity, is collective complaining. It builds community.
It was genius. A test from her Saints.
It inspired Inej to advocate for her own idea, which was a series of interviews spotlighting local Suli community members and their connections to campus. She tried not to let it bother her that Halle barely made room for it, squishing her work between the ethics statement and half-hearted land acknowledgement all the way in the back, while the Squabble rocketed to the top of the lifestyle section in less than a month.
Regardless, she was going to have to establish her ground early if she wanted to make the most out of this year and eventually land that summer internship with the Ravkan Reporter. Nothing was going to take that from her, certainly not this Kerch boy who was probably already planning ways to diminish her credibility.
Inej chucked her phone onto the bed and assessed her little room attached to her parents' caravan. Silks, leotards, and everyday clothes were strewn across the floor, a stack of books teetered over the edge of her nighstand, and her mother's hairbrush (hers now, technically, since she stole it) was somehow on the ground all the way near the door. It was a disaster.
She needed to pack, but she found she just couldn't muster the energy anymore, so instead she closed her eyes and tipped forward onto the mattress, screaming in frustration into her pillow.
Across the True Sea, Kaz Rietveld, on the other hand, needed this win, if only because he was all too used to failing.
The sun was beating down on his father's farm when Professor Haskell's email landed in his inbox. He'd been in the middle of cleaning the cow stalls, dropping his shovel as he squinted, reading over those marvelous words again and again, committing them to memory.
"Holy fuck," he breathed.
In a frenzy, he grabbed his outdoor cane and marched out across the fields towards his house. He was probably moving a little too fast (his knee would certainly pay for it later), but he didn't care. "Da!" he shouted once he'd made it up the porch steps.
His Da barreled through the screen door. "What? What is it? Are you alright? Oh, Ghezen, you're covered in shit."
Kaz handed the phone over. "I got it. The Chronicle position."
"Oh, Kaz, this is incredible."
As his Da's eyes darted across the screen, Kaz studied the wrinkles creasing his forehead and the corners of his mouth. His blue eyes looked nothing like Kaz's, but he knew how to identify almost every emotion in them at this point. In this moment, he saw pride tinged with a bit of worry, though the latter was always present these days.
When he finally finished reading, a warm smile stretched across his face. He stepped forward, arms open, before noticing the tense set in Kaz's shoulders. He coughed and stepped back, pivoting to a small, supportive nudge against his shoulder.
Kaz looked down, suddenly feeling stupid for tracking hay and cow manure all over the place. He nervously wrung the barn gloves in his hand. "Sorry, I just- "
"No. Don't be sorry. I'm the one who keeps forgetting."
"I should clean up, send a reply. There's probably a lot to do, the semester starts again in just a couple of weeks."
"It looks like you'll have some help. Who's this Inej?"
"Another journalism major. She's usually in Haskell's other sections. She's incredibly smart, writes these really great articles about the Suli in Kerch. We were in the same ethics discussion last semester."
Not like it was a big deal. Despite there being only twelve people in their section, Kaz still hadn't worked up the nerve to talk to Inej directly after several months. It wasn't like he wanted to- that would be ridiculous. He just figured complimenting her work would be the polite thing to do, since their scores were always so close within the program. As in, networking and all that.
"She'll challenge you."
"Probably," he admitted with a shrug.
His Da smiled, handing his phone back. "Good. Wouldn't want you slacking off now that you're a big shot."
"Right." (Kaz was already typing his response to Haskell.) "A big shot cleaning up cow shit."
"Hey! Didn't we talk about swearing in front of the cows?"
"You said 'shit' like thirty seconds ago. And the cows can’t hear us, they’re all the way on the other side of the fucking pasture."
His Da buried his face in his hands. "Just go finish cleaning up. Maybe tonight we can head into town and have dinner to celebrate." Then, after a beat, "Oh, don't make that face. You're already scheming, aren't you?"
"We should go to Dolly's."
"For the overpriced ice cream," his Da deadpanned.
"She calls it gelato."
"Drain my pockets, kid, why don't you? Now get ready before I change my mind."
Kaz saluted before shucking off his boots and hurrying upstairs to take a shower. This must be it, he thought. The moment everyone always talked about, when the pieces finally started clicking into place. He'd dedicated so much time and effort to making sure he got into Ketterdam University. He'd saved up, crunched the numbers, picked up two part-time jobs (and maybe gambled a bit on the weekends) just to pay for his room and board since his scholarship only covered tuition.
He even managed to secure a place off-campus for the upcoming year. It was almost too easy to wrangle Jesper Fahey into a lease, considering they were both looking for somewhere cheap, and Jesper would rather roll over than go through the painful logistics of apartment searching, which Kaz actually quite enjoyed since he could make an organized spreadsheet out of it.
Maybe he was even excited to live with someone else. Last year, the accomodations office put him in a single dorm with a private bathroom on the first floor, which was great and all (especially when he had his flare-ups), but most of the freshmen stayed and mingled on the higher levels.
The Zemeni boy was friendly- loud, too, which Kaz didn't mind. They'd met through the Chronicle, both assigned to submit draft articles for the lifestyle section to a burly guy named Keeg, whose own “life style” consisted of eating bags of chips in the newsroom and playing MMORPGs on the university computers.
Whatever, it all led to this moment. Kaz threw on Jordie's hoodie- the one with the little crow embroidered on one sleeve, and a rolled-up newspaper on the other- before fixing his hair in the mirror. He wanted nothing more than to text him, share this moment with him, maybe even rub it in his face a little (Jordie hadn't earned the editor-in-chief title until his junior year at KU). He wanted to ask for three spoons when he ordered dessert tonight, instead of two.
Kaz couldn’t dwell on it. He was already consumed by grief every day of his life, he should focus on celebrating the fact that he was finally on track to follow in his older brother's footsteps. From here on out, it was only a matter of time before he'd be charging past them, continuing all the way until he reached the Lij Examiner.
I'll finish it, Jordie, don't worry. One step at a time.
"Let's go, kid," his Da's voice boomed from downstairs. "Miss Dolly's a sweetheart, but her ge-la-to won't wait for even the biggest of big shots."
"Coming!" Kaz called, grabbing his indoor cane (mud-free) and sliding down the banister, letting his newfound glory carry him all the way to the passenger seat of his father's pickup truck.
When they arrived at Dolly's, he didn't even notice he'd ordered three spoons anyway until dessert was served and they were all sticking out the top of the gooey, chocolatey mountains. Neither Kaz nor his Da addressed it, they never needed to anymore.
They simply picked up their spoons and clinked them together before unabashedly digging in.