Chapter 14
Now that William is fully immersing himself in Enzo’s classes, it’s becoming increasingly clear the transition is not a smooth one.
Somehow, the rest of the day is ten times worse than this morning.
Two periods later, there’s a rumor the new guy made Ana Rosenfield take notes for him in physics lab, and after lunch I overhear William’s called Inessa “assertive” (derogatory) and Kinsley “boisterous and ungovernable.” By dinner, there are whisperings about an obnoxious new guy with a hot accent and superiority complex, and William is sporting a brand-new fat lip.
“What,” I say as I slam the door of the Forgotten Lounge behind me, “are you doing?”
Lionel’s head snaps up, his metal grin wide.
“Sorry, not you, Lionel,” I say, my focus unwavering on William. Lionel pulls his headphones back on.
William scowls. He’s holding a frozen bag of peas against his bottom lip. “Exactly what you told me to do,” he insists.
“Did we not say to lie low?” I begin to pace. “You going around causing conflict is the opposite of that.”
He removes the bag to reveal the swollen lump. “Clearly.”
“Please don’t tell me that’s from Sumner.”
“No,” he says stiffly. “One of the rowing gentlemen.”
I don’t bother asking what he did to provoke them, since any scenario I could conjure up in my brain is probably correct.
There’s a zero-tolerance policy at Ivernia, and if the entire rowing team was around as witnesses, they’ll likely agree to a cover story protecting whoever threw the punch.
They don’t owe loyalty to the new guy, especially an instigator.
I sigh. “I get that things have changed—”
“Quite the understatement.”
“—but you can’t go around acting like anyone who isn’t a dude exists to serve you, or take your notes or whatever, and oh my god you cannot call anyone ungovernable.
” I fold my palms together, hold them over my forehead, and take a deep inhale before lowering them.
“Please rise above the entitled male arrogance. That’s how you draw unwanted attention to yourself.
You’re on your own here, okay? So you need to remove yourself from your aristocratic high horse and—while we’re at it?
Everyone is your equal. No matter what they look like. All right?”
“Who do you suppose should do my cleaning? Or wash my soiled garments?”
“You,” I emphasize. “Do it yourself. Like the rest of us.”
He straightens. “And when one acts like a bloody bastard, you merely suggest I withhold from proclaiming it aloud?”
“Well,” I say as patiently as my inner turmoil allows, “is that what landed you a fat lip?”
His mouth tightens. That’s enough of an answer.
“Yes.” I throw my hands above my head. “Thought that would’ve been obvious.”
“What’s painfully obvious is the fact that I don’t belong.”
His agitation is palpable. It makes me feel sorry for him. Arrogance and insults aside, he’s had to embrace an exorbitant amount of change in only five days. That’s not an excuse to treat others like seeping hot garbage, but we severely underestimated how much help he’d need.
“Go find Sumner and ask him to give you a rundown on fitting in,” I say, overwhelmed. “I need a minute to parse through…everything else.”
William tilts his head, a gesture that reminds me of a golden retriever who’s heard his favorite word. “I’m not to bother him when he’s on his small telecommunication device.”
“Tell him I got a B minus on my calc quiz,” I insist. “It’ll put him in a better mood.”
“I see.” Then, in two swift movements, he steps around me. “Until tomorrow.”
He disappears out of the door, the latch clicking behind him.
“Good talk.” I sigh.
I move to the other side of the sunken couch Lionel’s sitting on and gesture to the empty space. He shoots me an eager thumbs-up before turning his attention to his game.
What are we doing? This cannot be real. Only it is. Denying William’s presence doesn’t make the reality any less true. And if something can be deemed as factual, even if supporting evidence denies it, then this means it can be studied in some capacity in order to understand it.
This gives me an idea.
I pull my laptop out of my book bag and lean against the thin cushions as I open a new Google search, feeling seven different types of foolish when I type: time travel.
It’s what I expect. Words like hypothetical and science fiction and relativity and Doctor Who populate on screen.
Articles end with phrases like “not possible” and “unlikely event.” People on Reddit argue over time dilation and parallel universes and theories that are suggestions but not definite answers.
Whatever I know, and whatever I hope to find, will not be spelled out in black and white on the internet.
Thinking of this for too long makes my brain hurt. How can you explain the unexplainable?
You don’t Google it, Delaney, that’s for sure.
Wait.
My fingers hover over my keyboard. I’d searched for William on Instagram—with no results for obvious reasons—but I hadn’t thought to browse the internet.
A quick search brings up two William Cromwells: a medical practitioner out of Kentucky and a lawyer in Fort Lauderdale.
Not what I’m looking for, so I backspace and try again: William Alexander Cromwell.
This time, the Ivernia website pops up.
What the hell? An accelerated beat thumps against my rib cage.
I glide my index finger over the trackpad until I’m clicking on the link and bringing up a text-heavy page with the title “Ivernia’s History.
” It’s dense. And because I am too impatient to comb through every sentence, I type his name in the search tool.
And there it is.
Ivernia School, established in 1889, was founded by William Alexander Cromwell.