Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
B riony
Like the other new students, I fall into a pattern. Up with the seven o’clock bell for breakfast, and ready to begin class at 8:30. I drag myself around assault courses and cross-country routes, sit through lessons learning subjects I’ll never make use of back in Slate Quarter, and try my best to disappear into the background – which is hard when everyone knows who I am, when they’re all whispering about me. At least none of them are actively trying to kill me right now. Odessa seems content with trashing my room and destroying my belongings – although if she knew she’d missed the one precious thing I own she’d probably have a mega temper tantrum.
The day ends at six and I eat dinner with Fly and Clare, then slump into bed exhausted and ready for sleep.
Before I know it, I’ve made it through another week and it’s Saturday night all over again.
Along with my two new friends, I smuggle my dinner out of the canteen and take it back to Clare’s room. We’re just settling down to eat, when Fly pulls something out from his jacket.
“Something to get this party started.” He produces three tumblers from his pocket – tumblers he’s swiped from the canteen, and pours amber liquid into each.
“What is that?” Clare says, her nose wrinkling.
“What is that?” Fly chuckles. “Liquor, what else?”
“Liquor?” Clare’s eyes widen. “How did you get that?”
“I may not have magical abilities but I’m extremely proficient at smuggling – a skill I bet is underrated at this stupid academy. Anyway, luckily for you, it means I have several bottles of the stuff swiped from my parents’ liquor cabinet. I think it will probably be needed to help us get through the next twelve months.”
He hands me a glass and I lift it to my nose and sniff. I can tell by the aroma it’s much better quality stuff than the bootleg crap brewed back in Slate Quarter – although I doubt it’s as refined as anything available in Onyx.
“I’ve never drunk liquor before,” Clare says, staring into her glass fearfully.
“You haven’t? How is that possible?” Fly asks.
“My parents are teetotal. There’s no alcohol at home.”
“That sounds … dull.” Fly frowns. “I hope you aren’t going to be one of those killjoys who likes to preach to–”
“I don’t really drink either,” I say, although in my case for the opposite reason to Clare’s – when you’ve seen your father become more and more dependent on the stuff just to make it through the day, it loses its appeal.
“Really?” Fly says, surprised, “I’d’ve thought it was a necessity in Slate Quarter.”
“Cause we’re all drunks?” I snap.
“I didn’t say that.” He lifts his glass. “Try it ladies. I promise you, it’s good stuff and we deserve it after the two weeks we’ve had.”
I stare down into the glass. I have no desire to become like my dad. But this is different, right? I’m not drinking to drown my sorrows, to try to forget. I’m hanging out with friends – having a good time with friends. Actual friends.
“To surviving our first two weeks,” I say, lifting my glass and then taking a large gulp, one that has me coughing and spluttering and my eyes watering.
“Can you call it surviving though, when you’ve been beaten up so many times?” Fly says.
I stick my tongue out at him. “I’m still here though.”
Heart still beating, lungs still breathing. I count that as a win in my book.
“That you are, Cupcake.” He smiles at me with affection.
Clare takes a cautious sip, smiling as she swallows the liquor.
“Hmmm, that’s actually really nice. I can see why people like this stuff.”
“They like it because it makes them feel good,” Fly says. “Until the morning anyway. So go slow.” He catches Clare’s wrist as she attempts to take a much bigger gulp this time. “You don’t want to waste your only day off hungover in bed.”
Clare groans.
“Which is a good point,” Fly says, “how are we going to spend our Sunday?”
“In bed,” I confirm.
“Alone or with the Princes?” he says cheekily.
“Alone,” I clarify, “and sleeping.”
“Urgh,” Fly groans. “How about you Clare?”
“Studying. The next trial is only one week away – and I want to be prepared.”
“Exactly,” Fly says, “one week away. We have tons of time. We should do something this Sunday – after a lie in, of course,” he adds.
“We’ve already established, there is nothing to do here,” I say with irritation. Slate Quarter may be a shithole but there were at least parties occasionally.
“We could watch the shadow weavers again?” Clare suggests.
“No.” I pull a face.
“I’ll find something,” Fly says.
“I’d happily stay in bed all day with a good book,” I say.
“Err, no,” he says. “You did that last weekend. You’re not in Slate Quarter anymore, Cupcake. We have to do something entertaining.”
I nod, conceding to him. There may have been parties back at Slate Quarter but it’s a long, long time since I went to one. Hanging out with friends, doing something fun, actually sounds nice.
Fly and Clare argue over the next record to play and in the end turn to me to pick one. Once it’s playing, Fly pours us out another drink and I cross my legs under me and ask a question that’s been bugging me.
“What do you think the next trial will be?” I ask. I know that first one was pretty tame. The next is likely to be a lot more vicious.
“Don’t know,” Fly says, “I’m more interested in the afterparty.”
“You’re not worried about the trial?” Clare says, biting at her fingernail.
“What’s the point? Worrying about it isn’t going to change it. What will be will be. I’ll give it my best shot, hope I don’t end up in a hospital bed and then enjoy the ball afterwards.”
“I’m petrified,” Clare admits. “I wish I knew what it was going to be. At least then I could prepare.” She peers down into her glass, then downs the lot.
“Woah, easy,” Fly says, “this is strong liquor. It’s meant to be sipped.”
“Screw that,” I say, following Clare’s example and finishing my glassful too. The liquor forms a warm pleasant feeling in my belly and in my chest, and my shoulders feel lighter than they have done for weeks and weeks. It’s dreamy – like I’m floating here on the carpet without a care in the world.
“What was that about a ball?” I ask Fly.
“You haven’t heard about that? There’s a ball held after each trial. A celebration. They hold it in that Great Hall we were in the other day and they are meant to be immense.”
“And raucous and pretty notorious,” Clare adds.
“Notorious like the first night here at the academy notorious?” I ask, not liking the sound of that.
“Nah, not notorious in the violent kind, more like notorious in the, who’s going to end up knocked up this year.”
Clare pales. “I don’t want to end up knocked up.”
Fly cocks his head. “You do know how girls end up knocked up, right? They do teach you brainiacs that back in Granite Quarter? You won’t get knocked up if you don’t engage in any fucking.”
Clare hiccups, then giggles – the alcohol has definitely taken effect. “I do know that.”
“Do you have any practical experience?”
She shakes her head.
“Well, if you do want to do that – not that I’m offering by the way, you are not my type – there’s birth control to stop you getting knocked up. We can get you some.”
“Have you, Briony?” Clare asks, pinching the liquor bottle off Fly and pouring three large measures into the glasses. “Had practical experience?”
Usually I would not answer a question like this, but the alcohol has loosened my tongue.
“Yes, once – well more than once but with one person.”
“The cute boy with the black eye.”
“He used to be cute,” and kind and sweet, “trust me, he isn’t anymore.”
“Did you like it?” she asks me next. “I’m so desperate to try it.”
“You are?” Fly says, laughing.
“Just because I’m a girl and smart, does not mean I don’t have needs, Fly Arison,” she says, waving her glass in his direction, liquid slopping over the rim and onto the carpet.
“Oh yeah, we all have needs,” he nods, “but the only one of us even close to having those needs fulfilled is Briony.”
“Do you seriously not find them hot, Briony?” Clare asks. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I wouldn’t be able to help but have my needs fulfilled by those three.”
“I do find them hot.” The alcohol has definitely loosened my tongue because that is not something I’ve even admitted to myself up until now. “Even though I really really don’t want to.”
Fly sighs. “Most of the time attraction is something we can’t help. The last dude I had a crush on was a serious asshole but I still worshipped the ground he walked on … he was just too darn beautiful.”
“I don’t know,” I ponder. “If it was just that, I don’t think it would be so hard. Sometimes it feels like more …” I trail off struggling to articulate my thoughts, to describe how I feel whenever any one of them is close. I roll my eyes and change the subject. “How about you, Fly? Do you have practical experience?”
“Some,” he says a little coyly. “But mostly just head. I’d be very happy to expand that experience.”
“Head?” Clare asks.
“Oh gosh,” he says, rolling his eyes. “My poor innocent sheltered little lamb. Do we need a sex ed lesson?”
“What does it mean?” she says, ignoring his sarcasm.
“Sucking dick. Or licking pussy. I’ve only had experience of the former.”
“And you liked it?” Clare asks, seeming a little unsure.
“Like it? I fucking love it. I dream of it. I’d do just about anything for it.” He cackles.
“How about you, Briony?” Clare asks. “Have you done that?”
I shake my head.
“Not with the psycho cutie with the black eye?”
“No, that was more of a …” I shrug, “fumbling in the bushes kind of thing.”
“Well, you should learn how. Give a good blowjob, Cupcake, and those Princes will be putty in your hands.”
“Uh, no.”
“How do you,” Clare says, hiccuping, “give a good blow job?”
Fly spins his glass around in his hand, clearly considering his answer. “Hmmm, you got to keep it wet. You can never have enough spit in my opinion. And the head is the most sensitive part, so don’t worry about trying to fit it all in your mouth. Then do what feels good, or what they seem to like – suck, lick – and be careful with those teeth.”
Clare nods like she’s taking notes.
“There’s one or two fine specimens here at the academy I’d like to refine my skills on.” Fly sighs.
“That boy from the third group is really cute,” Clare says.
“The one with red hair?” She nods. “Yeah, he is very cute.”
I’m about to ask them who exactly they are talking about, but then the tower clock rings out – eight loud chimes.
“Oh shit,” I say, knocking back what’s left in my glass and jumping to my feet. I discover standing is a lot harder than it used to be. My legs and my feet no longer seem as stable as they once were and my vision is spinning. I sway, grabbing hold of the back of a chair to stop myself from tumbling. “I’m going to be late.”
“So you are going, then?” Fly says.
“Yes, I’m going,” I say, walking a route towards the door that is definitely not straight.
Despite all my best efforts, the Princes don’t seem to have lost interest. They haven’t replaced me with some other thrall. And as much as I’d like to stay here with my friends, if I do I’ve no doubt Beaufort and Dray will be here to cart me away. Kicking and screaming if they have to.
“I think I’d better take you there.” He swings his gaze between me and Clare. “Both of you are a lot drunker than I thought you were. You’re both lightweights.”
“I’ve never drunk before,” Clare protests as I say:
“I don’t really drink.”
Fly takes Clare by the shoulders. “You stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll walk Briony over to the Princes’ Tower.”
“You don’t want me to come too?”
“No,” he says gently, “you stay here and rest. I’ll be right back.”
Then he turns his attention to me, joining me by the door and offering me his elbow. I’m grateful for it.
“Come on,” he says, “we’d better get there quickly. We don’t want Beaufort Lincoln out hunting you down.”
“You don’t?” Clare calls from the rug. “Because that sounds kinda hot to me!”