Chapter 12
twelve
ASTRID
I stared, searing a hole into the back of the Dickish Duke’s head. He watched our students file out before turning back to collect extra syllabi. Catching my eyes with his gaze, he grimaced. I wanted to tell him he was an asshole, but I figured that was a no-win situation. I didn’t want to stoop to his name-calling game plan. Instead, I signed out of the computer and threw my bag over my shoulder.
“You just… you want to leave it there with no explanation?”
He called after me as I left. I turned around in the empty computer lab, hand on hip.
“You gonna apologise for calling me insufferable and making me cry?”
He took a deep breath. “I am sorry… really… what is your name? Your Royal Highness?”
I chuckled, annoyed. “Astrid. My friends call me Asti. We are not friends, Your Grace.”
I rolled my eyes and turned, walking steadily away, the sounds of my boots clicking definitively on the corridor floor. I wasn’t going to give the Dickish Duke a moment more of my time. I also wasn’t about to stay here while a bunch of students stared at the literal princess among them. How did anyone even know me? I wasn’t the queen. I was nothing. God!
I trekked to my office only to discover I now shared it with dozens of students. I passed two boys throwing a ball against the ceiling—nearly running into another student while trying to avoid them.
I read my name on a desk—Deschamps. I set my bag down and collapsed into a chair. As I did, a girl in black stared at me—glared, rather.
“You are who?” She asked.
“Astrid,” I answered. “And you?”
“Etta,” she said, monotone. “You’re new.”
“I am a first-year accelerated student.”
I turned back to see my colleagues playing with the ball. They were laughing and carrying on like it was the greatest game.
“Sorry, but what are they doing?” I asked.
“Pipe ball,” she answered as if I knew what she was talking about.
“Oh… uh… pipe ball. What is that?” Was this a Britishism?
“It’s a game Niklaus made up with Pete. You get a point if you can get the ball over the pipe without hitting it.”
She turned back to her computer. I couldn’t understand if she was angry, bored, or otherwise.
“So, are you… a second-year student?” I asked.
She answered, not looking away. “Fourth.”
Three more students pushed through, laughing about something. No one stopped to introduce themselves.
“How many students are there down here?” I asked.
“About fourteen,” Etta answered. “Pack ‘em in like sardines. I like it, though. I prefer the basement. Better to not have light.”
What a strange girl!
My phone buzzed.
Amara
Got a table.
Amara and I were meeting for lunch.
Me
Just dropping my stuff. Be right there.
I dropped my bag and took only my pocketbook with me. Walking across the courtyard and into the big doors that led to the next hall, I found Amara. Addison College, home of business programs, appeared glamorous compared to ours. Around me, students laughed and waved at their friends. It was a new school year and a new term. Everything was in full swing.
I remember my first day on campus in Neandia feeling very different. I focused solely on striding across campus, followed by a security detail. Today, I was free. Able to walk on my own, I held head held high. I sat at the table, relieved.
“So, how did it go?” Amara asked.
“You’ll never guess who my co-teacher is,” I said.
“Jeremy?”
“God, I wish! I laughed. “No. The Dickish Duke! He treated me like I was an idiot. Makes me angry.”
“Oh, darling, don’t be. Fuck him.”
“He did apologise for calling me insufferable.”
“As he should!”
“And my office? It’s 14 students!”
“Not luxury accommodations?”
I took a deep breath before I dove into a rant about how ridiculous it was. If I went on a rant, I’d be an entitled princess. People like Parker Westfall wanted me to do that. I took the high road. I may be in a basement with bunches of first-year students, but I wouldn’t ingratiate myself if I went off like a diva. I accepted the assistantship because I wanted to be normal and have a job. I could busy my ass and fit in, right? Complaining did me no favours.
“It’s fine. A bonding experience.”
Amara smiled. “You’re cute. Any fit boys?”
I shrugged. “No clue. Didn’t look. Ugh… I just… looking at him glare at me and judge me?—”
“The Duke? ”
I nodded. “He fully underestimated me!”
“Let’s ignore him! Let’s talk about the boys—fit boys.”
“Yes, I suppose,” I said.
Amara patted my arm. “Let’s not let you be both underestimated and underfucked! You’ll show him, Asti. Promise. This is day one. It will get better!”