The St. Ignatius Academy exam hall was massive, with a high vaulted ceiling and white stone walls.
Sunlight streamed in through the tall frosted glass windows which were set in pointed arches, casting an ethereal white glow across the hall.
Aaron Zakhrov walked through the hall, a backpack neatly slung on both shoulders, and an exam card clutched in his left hand.
The hall was quiet, with other students sitting at their assigned desks, either nervously waiting, or conversing in hushed tones.
"Hey, kid. You lost?" asked a tall, broad-shouldered boy, as Aaron found his assigned desk.
"No, have an exam card, just like you," replied Aaron sitting down and placing his bag on the floor.
"Think you can handle Ignatius? This place is called the Ivy-League crucible, the Jesuit forge of Hell. I've heard that this entrance exam makes the SAT look like a walk in the park," said the boy with a smirk.
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "Which is why we all are here, right?" he asked.
"Man, you are one cold dude. Guess not having your hormones kick in yet is a big help. Name's Jason by the way," said the boy, extending his hand.
"Aaron Zakhrov," replied Aaron, shaking Jason's hand.
The clip-clopping sound of high heels striking stone floors made Aaron and Jason turn their heads toward the source of the sound.
"Woah! Check that babe out!" whispered Jason, as he and Aaron observed a statuesque woman march through the hall.
Her shoulder-length red hair swayed like a flaming curtain with each step.
Her steps were short and measured, the metal stiletto heels and polished black leather of her pumps gleaming and sparkling in the ethereal white light of the hall.
The sleek black skirt-suit and pantyhose she wore, and the sheaf of booklets she carried in the crook of her arm, screamed no-nonsense executive rather than dowdy schoolteacher.
"Welcome to St. Ignatius Academy's entrance exam. I am Catherine Davis, the vice-principal," said the woman, her voice cracking like a whip across the hall.
Silence and tension filled the air as the students nervously waited for her to continue.
"You will have three and a half hours to finish this exam, I will warn you only once. Cheating and copying will not be tolerated under any circumstances. Any violators will be removed and blacklisted from taking the test again." continued Catherine, her brown eyes scanning the entire hall of nervous faces. Her eyes met Aaron's - stern brown clashed with analytical blue - and slight prickling went down the back of her neck. She blinked in surprise that a young boy like him would have such an intense stare, let alone be in this hall. Quickly recovering, she handed out the test booklets.
Aaron received his test booklet and flipped through the sections: physics, chemistry, math, biology, computer science, English and catechism.
At the sound of the clanging starting bell, Aaron picked up his fountain pen and started to work on the test.
Catherine patrolled the hall, the silence broken by the soft scratching of pens, rustling of paper and the sharp clicking of her heels as she walked and observed the students writing their answers, her senses alert for any attempts at copying or cheating.
She paused at Aaron's desk, observing him with a sense of intrigue.
"Damn this kid likes a challenge! Most left-handed students stick to block writing and use gel or ball-point pens," observed Catherine to herself, admiring Aaron's steeply slanting, cursive script.
"Something the matter miss? You've been watching me for a while now," whispered Aaron, startling Catherine out of her musing.
"N-nothing, carry on," she whispered back and resumed her patrol, silently cursing herself for getting carried away in her scrutinizing.
Aaron watched Catherine resume her patrol, he wasn't sure what it was, but something about her stride, elegant black skirt-suit and clicking heels fascinated him. Pushing his fascination aside, he resumed his focus on a particularly challenging compound interest problem.
"I so despise commercial arithmetic!" he thought savagely, while taking comfort in the surprisingly soothing clicking sound of Catherine's heels.
As Aaron finished answering the last of the catechism questions, the bell rang again.
"Time's up! Pens down!" barked Catherine.
There was a shuffling and banging as students packed away their stationery and left the exam hall.
Aaron quietly packed his things and left the hall, returning to the school entrance hall where his parents were anxiously waiting for him.
"How did it go?" asked Ivan worriedly as Aaron approached them. He and Annette had just seen a couple of girls leave the exam hall in tears. "The core science subjects were quite challenging, the computer science section was almost too simple and the English and catechism sections were simple enough, I suppose," said Aaron.
"Well, you'd give MIT students a run for their money with those programming skills of yours," chuckled Ivan, eliciting a rare smile from Aaron.
"How was the English dear?" asked Annette, relieved that Aaron was still capable of smiling, and that he wasn't intimidated by the exam.
"They asked the most rudimentary of concepts in grammar and comprehension, Mother," answered Aaron as they left the school and Ivan unlocked the family's black BMW M5.
"Well, this calls for a treat. How about we go to Tuscany Cove?" asked Ivan as he started the car, its turbocharged V8 engine rumbling to life.
"That sounds wonderful dear," said Annette, her hands tightening on her seatbelt, and her smile growing strained.
"I hate this vile, loud, polluting car so much! I wish Ivan would get rid of this horrible example of toxic masculinity!" she thought furiously, holding onto the seatbelt like her life depended on it.
"I adore the sound of this V8 engine. Father worked really hard to afford this car. Mother's disapproval of it seems a little silly and excessive," thought Aaron somberly as he caressed the black leather of the back seat, reveling in the car engine's throaty rumble, and observing the traffic flick past as Ivan accelerated.
----
"We have a problem," said Father Abel Chang as he entered the principal's office, his face pale and his eyes wide with concern.
"Besides the one where we're being forced to admit a posse of politically connected spoiled brats?" asked Father Joseph Xavier, his deep baritone voice tinged with irritation.
"Yes, besides that. Take a look at this," said Father Abel, handing over a file to Father Joseph.
Father Joseph's expression turned ashen as he read through the file.
"Are you sure this information is accurate?" he asked, his voice low and serious.
"I double-checked with his parents. Aaron Zakhrov is 12, and he's the one who designed our new school ID system's most controversial subsystem. As to why he's applying here to the 9th grade, and not going on Shark Tank or something, it's out of his parents' concern for his social development," replied Father Abel.
"What do you mean? I thought some MIT professor did our system?" asked Father Joseph, confused.
"Ivan Zakhrov, Aaron's father, was the one we awarded the tender to. He's the one who built the whole NFC smart card package which integrates tuition, ID, attendance, grades - the whole shebang - into one convenient ID and system. But that crazy-ass subsystem which turns demerits into escalating fines and grade penalties? That was all Aaron," explained Father Abel.
"Please tell me you've instructed the faculty not to record demerits in the damn thing! If parents get a wind of it, we'd be up to our necks in lawsuits and God knows what else! That thing can bring down even more heat than corporal punishment!" said Father Joseph, his voice rising in panic.
"Yes, don't worry. I've informed the staff to not use it for recording any lapses in discipline. We'll be sticking to the old-school stern warnings," sighed Father Abel.
Father Joseph calmed down with a few deep breaths. "OK, Abel. I want you to keep a close eye on this kid. You know as well as I do that our hazing policy is not without its flaws, a 12-year-old pipsqueak in a sea of 15-year-olds going through puberty is going to need extra protection," he said gravely.
"I understand. I'll keep a close eye on him," said Father Abel, taking his leave.
"A kid who built us a system that weaponizes demerits, is enrolling because his parents think he's too much of a recluse. God help us all," growled Father Joseph.
----
Tuscany Cove was a relatively new and upscale Italian fine-dining restaurant, located not too far from Fenrir Township, where the Zakhrov family lived.
The building was built from white concrete and glass, with large rounded-arched windows that had beveled glass panes.
The interior was partitioned into mahogany booths with glass-topped tables with heavy wooden chairs upholstered in red fabric, and incandescent light bulbs set in large shades bathed the restaurant in a cozy and warm yellow light.
The floor was polished white marble, and the ceiling had ribbed vaulting that was supported by thick white Tuscan columns.
A pretty, buxom young waitress named Annabelle showed Aaron, Annette and Ivan to an empty table.
"May I take your order?" she asked, with a notepad and pen ready.
Aaron's blue eyes roved over her delicate face, large brown eyes, porcelain skin, soft brown hair in a ponytail, and the way the crisp white blouse and black slacks that made up her server uniform accentuated her feminine curves.
Annabelle felt herself squirming under his scrutiny. Aaron's gaze wasn't like the furtive stares from awkward boys or the undressing leers from older men, but seemed more cold and distant - almost like she was a specimen to him.
"A question if I may Ms. Annabelle, are those shoes standard issue? I don't think I've seen the other waitresses wear them," asked Aaron.
Annabelle blinked in surprise, then blushed and giggled at Aaron's observation that she was wearing black leather pumps with chunky six-centimeter heels.
"No they are not. I'm quite short, you see, so I prefer these shoes to give me some extra height," she said, bouncing up and down in them.
"I see, and do those shoes affect the way you walk or is that elegant gait your natural way of walking?" asked Aaron again.
Ivan decided to intervene before Aaron made things awkward with his probing questions. "I apologize, Ms. Annabelle. Aaron's not used to dealing with people, please don't be upset," he said.
To Ivan's surprise, Annabelle giggled again. "It's quite alright, sir. I'm actually quite flattered that he thinks my walk is elegant." she reassured Ivan, still blushing crimson.
She smiled at Aaron and explained: "Yes, heels affect the way people walk. It's kind of like you are walking on tiptoes."
"I see, I wondered why you were walking differently from the others, the heels change your balance and center of gravity.
I'm surprised that they have such a profound effect," murmured Aaron, more to himself than to her, before he inclined his head to Annabelle.
"Thank you for that information Ms. Annabelle. I shall have water and garlic bread to start, and a pepperoni pizza as my main course," he finally placed his order.
"Alright" said Annabelle scribbling his order down. She then took Ivan's and Annette's orders and left, her hips swaying and her heels clicking.
Ivan sighed in relief, and gave Aaron a look that was half impressed, half amused. "You really need to work on your demeanor and small-talk, son. It is one thing to want to talk to a pretty girl, but direct questioning like that can make people uncomfortable. Next time, don't just directly ask her about her shoes," he chuckled.
Annette gave a worried look to Ivan. "Why is he so curious about high heels?" she whispered to him.
Ivan squeezed her hand. "It's his natural curiosity. He'll get over it," he reassured her.
Clearly unconvinced, Annette pursed her lips, as she observed Annabelle out of a corner of her eye.
Aaron was lost in thought about Annabelle's high heels.
He now realized what had intrigued him about Catherine's gait.
While Catherine's heels were not the same style as Annabelle's, they still had the same effect.
He watched Annabelle out of the corner of his eye as she walked or rather strutted in her heels with a swing in her hips and stride.
Her heels also made a distinctive - and pleasant - clicking sound on the marble floors of the restaurant compared to the other servers' more practical flat shoes.
"Why don't you wear high heels, Mother?" he asked Annette, catching her off guard.
Annette took a deep breath as she tried to formulate an answer.
"Well, I've never worn them because I'm already pretty tall, and those things can hurt after a while. Not everyone wants to sacrifice comfort for style Aaron," she explained.
"I see," said Aaron, as Annabelle returned with their first course.
"Another question if I may, Ms. Annabelle. My mother says she doesn't wear high heels because they are uncomfortable to stand in for long periods of time. I would like your opinion on the matter," he asked her as she set down his garlic bread.
Annabelle giggled at Aaron's childish yet surprisingly mature questions about her heels.
A refreshing departure from the usual awkward attempts at flirting and canned pick-up lines she usually encountered, and a subtle validation in her choice of footwear.
"Well, I can't speak for your mother, but I'm quite comfortable and confident in mine." she said, twirling gracefully in her heels while Annette glared at her in disapproval.
Annette gripped the table, resisting the urge to snap at Annabelle for twirling in a way that she felt was inappropriate in front of her baby boy.
"I see. Thank you for sharing your views Ms. Annabelle. I agree with your assessment," said Aaron, inclining his head in thanks to her.
She giggled and gave him a curtsy.
"You're welcome, young man. I do hope you come again," she said and sauntered away.
"What do you mean you agree with Annabelle?" demanded Annette, once Annabelle was out of earshot.
Aaron gave her a stare. "I believe Ms. Annabelle's opinion is the valid one here, Mother. She wears high heels every day and finds them comfortable. Why should I consider your assessment when you don't wear them?" he asked, his voice like ice.
Annette felt like she had been slapped in the face. Aaron's cold gaze and icy voice had an edge of contempt in it.
"Now you listen here young man! You asked me why I don't wear high heels. I told you why I don't wear high heels. It boils down to personal preference. End of discussion!" she snarled.
Aaron shrugged nonchalantly before starting to eat his garlic bread.
----
The somewhat tense atmosphere continued until Annabelle arrived with their main course. Annette glared at her as she sauntered towards them carrying a large tray laden with their dishes.
"Can you recommend a shoe store with staff that is experienced in high heels Ms. Annabelle?" asked Aaron as she served him his pizza.
"Well, there is Summer's Shoe Shop not too far from here. The owner Kate is very knowledgeable and helped me pick out my shoes," said Annabelle.
"Thank you Ms. Annabelle," said Aaron, saving the location of Summers Shoe Shop to his phone.
"Just what do you think you are doing, Aaron?" asked Annette suspiciously as Annabelle left.
"I was thinking that the high heels you have experienced were not comfortable and has therefore, clouded your judgment. Perhaps an experienced staff member would be able to help you appreciate their beauty and elegance," said Aaron.
"High heels are neither beautiful nor elegant! They are harmful for women's health, and symbols of patriarchal oppression towards women! I refuse to go near them!" snapped Annette, her ideological principles finally boiling over her patience.
"Ms. Annabelle doesn't look oppressed or uncomfortable. However, you have made your position on this quite clear, Mother," said Aaron before starting on his pizza.
"Relax Annette, Aaron's just curious. It will pass," said Ivan soothingly as Annette grew increasingly upset at Aaron's cold tone.
"This is bordering on obsession, Ivan!" said Annette fiercely
"I don't think that's fair Annette. I remember being curious about high heels and other women's things when I went through puberty. I'm pretty sure you had a similar experience," said Ivan frowning at Annette.
"I didn't! And stop trivializing the issue, Ivan!" snapped Annette.
"OK, OK, relax. Aaron's only twelve, plenty of time for him to get over it," placated Ivan, gently stroking Annette's arm to calm her down.
----
"You seem to be in good spirits today. Found a gentleman who piqued your interest?" chuckled Lisa the manager as Annabelle entered the kitchen area with a spring in her step and a happy blush on her face.
"This particular gentleman still has a bit of growing to do. A shame really," responded Annabelle.
"You mean the kid at table 7 with his parents?" asked Lisa in surprise.
"He's the only person who realized I'm wearing heels. And he called the way I walk 'elegant'. Plus he's got this really intense and mature stare and demeanor," said Annabelle blushing at the memory of Aaron's adult-like piercing blue gaze that seemed to analyze her very soul, and his clipped, precise questions.
"Get a grip, girl!" snapped Lisa, alarmed at Annabelle's far-off look.
Annabelle gave a yelp and shook her head to regain her bearings. "Of course, sorry Lisa," she said contritely, before snatching up the bill for Aaron's table.
"What time do you finish your shift Ms. Annabelle?" asked Aaron as Annabelle returned with their bill.
"Not for another 2 hours. Why?" asked Annabelle, a little more cautious this time.
"I see. That is a disappointment. I was hoping you would be able to accompany us to Summers Shoe Shop and help me understand more about high heels," said Aaron.
"That's an extremely selfish and rude request Aaron! Annabelle is a person! Not some dress-up doll!" gasped Annette, shocked that Aaron would ask a complete stranger something so inappropriate.
Even Ivan was startled at Aaron's sudden request.
"In which case it should be Ms. Annabelle and not you, who should take offense at my request Mother," shot back Aaron.
"I-It's quite alright Mr. and Mrs Zakhrov, I'm sure Aaron wasn't trying to be rude. Um, why did you want me to model heels for you Aaron?" asked Annabelle hoping to placate both parents, particularly Annette, who looked increasingly more agitated.
"I wish to learn about how different heels look on an elegant, sophisticated and civilized person such as yourself, Ms. Annabelle. I apologize if my request was rude," said Aaron, looking up at her.
Annabelle struggled to remain composed.
"Nobody's ever called me elegant and sophisticated. They usually say I'm cute," she whispered, blushing crimson.
Hearing Aaron's answer, and seeing Annabelle's reaction, Ivan's look of worry dissolved, and he burst into uproarious laughter.
"You and I, need to have a talk about the nuances of flirting Aaron," he chuckled.
Annabelle recovered slightly, and giggled as well.
"I'm flattered, but a little too old for you to ask on a date, kid. You should try those lines on girls closer to your own age," she said before sauntering off, while Ivan still chuckled.
"Am I the only one who still thinks this was inappropriate?" demanded Annette as they left the restaurant.
"A little direct perhaps, but not inappropriate," chuckled Ivan, starting the BMW M5, its V8 engine rumbling to life.
"How can you be so cavalier! Your son just propositioned a complete stranger to model high heels for him!" shouted Annette.
"That's enough Annette! Don't try to twist Aaron's innocent attempt at understanding something into something else!" snapped Ivan, as the car sped homeward.
----
"Thank you for supporting me back there Mr. Zakhrov, that was very chivalrous of you," snarled Annette.
They had reached home, and Aaron had disappeared into his room without talking to them any further.
Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Annette, Aaron is intelligent and perceptive, but also naive and inexperienced. What he said and did was logical, even if it seemed rude and inappropriate," he said wearily.
"How was it logical?" demanded Annette, shocked that Ivan was defending Aaron's appalling behavior.
"You made it crystal clear that you would never go anywhere near high heels, so Aaron did the logical thing and asked the only other woman he's interacted with whose preferences align with his! It was an innocent request from an innocent child!" said Ivan, his frustration boiling over.
"I'm his mother! He should accept my views, and not the views of some stranger who's trying to appear taller!" shouted Annette.
"To what end? Indoctrination? Hate to break it to you, but Aaron's not some mindless drone who will blindly accept our views just because we are his parents." snapped Ivan, his patience wearing thin.
"So we just sit back and let him treat people like science experiments?" asked Annette.
"No. We give him guidance! Teach him what is right and wrong, and explain why it is wrong!" said Ivan.
Annette folded her arms and glared at Ivan. "I don't like this, Ivan. I don't like how Aaron is treating people like objects to be studied and dissected," she said, her voice low and tense.
"You know, we both neglected Aaron's own feelings on this matter. His cold demeanor blinds us to the fact that he has his own emotions as well. I'm going to check on him," said Ivan, getting up from the living room couch and going up the stairs to Aaron's bedroom.
----
In his bedroom, Aaron sat on the bed in deep thought.
His initial curiosity about high heels had morphed into something deeper.
Annette had spoken of discomfort and pain, but Annabelle had shown comfort, confidence and poise.
Acting on the hypothesis that Annette's stance came from a bad experience, he had asked Annabelle for a shoe store recommendation to correct that bias.
However, Annette made it clear that she viewed high heels as a symbol of oppression towards women, which he found perplexing.
To test that theory, he had asked Annabelle to help him understand those effects, even if Annette disapproved of them.
There was a knock in his door and Ivan entered the bedroom. "How are you feeling son?" he asked coming in and sitting on the bed beside Aaron.
"I'm fine Father. I just find Mother's opinion of high heels irrational, and her disapproval of Ms. Annabelle's liking of them unwarranted," said Aaron.
"I agree with you. But it is important to respect other people's viewpoints and opinions even if you don't agree with them. Your mother hates high heels and refuses to wear them. That is her choice, and you must respect that choice. Just like how others respect your choices," explained Ivan.
There was another knock on the door and Annette entered the bedroom. She looked a little contrite.
"I'm sorry for being so harsh with you Aaron. I understand that you are a curious boy," she said and sat on his other side.
"I still think your opinion is wrong, Mother. And you were not very nice to Ms. Annabelle," said Aaron.
Annette fought down the fresh anger that bubbled up in her.
"Let's make a deal. I will try on heels for you tomorrow at that shop Annabelle mentioned. But after that, I don't want to hear another word about it. Deal?" she asked attempting a compromise.
"Deal," said Aaron, a flash of excitement in his normally Stoic and cold eyes.
Annette and Ivan bade him goodnight and left his bedroom.
"Do not say a single word, Ivan Zakhrov!" said Annette through clenched teeth as Ivan shook with suppressed mirth and excitement, Aaron had managed to convince Annette into doing something her own mother had failed to do.