Chapter 26
The comfortable warmth of the weekend fades too quickly, and Monday arrives with the heavy reminder that I’ll have to see Alaric tomorrow.
Friday night had stretched into Saturday morning, the five of us sprawled across the common room furniture near the dying fire in the hearth after most of the other students had gone to bed.
We'd talked about all sorts of things, from Callista's latest gossip about other students to Avery's rigorous training regimen to Delilah's planned thesis on ancient spell linguistics.
For hours, I'd almost forgotten about Alaric entirely.
But today, I can’t ignore it anymore. The afterglow of my time with the girls is already fading as I make my way through the cold morning drizzle to my first class of the day.
Unfortunately for me, Clarissa is stationed at the front of the room looking entirely too pleased with herself as she holds a stack of papers. Our midterm essays.
As Professor Showen begins her lecture, Clarissa begins to move through the rows and distribute papers. When she reaches my desk, the smirk on her face tells me everything I need to know before I even see the grade.
I flip the paper, and on the top is a large, red D.
What the hell? I’d spent hours on this essay, researching from various texts in the library, citing my sources, and covering every part of the prompt. I’m sure it wasn’t perfect, but it’s certainly not D material.
With anger flooding through me, I slip the paper into a folder and resolve to meet with Professor Showen about it later. I can only assume that Clarissa was in charge of grading these and decided to let her personal vendettas get in the way of impartiality.
My next class of the day is even worse than the first. I sit by Callista as I always do, grateful for her calming presence as she chatters with the girl next to her. When she sees my expression, she asks, “What’s wrong?” But I simply tell her that my first class of the day was stressful.
Dr. Lowry strides in with his typical stern demeanor, and the class falls silent.
He launches into a lecture about when and why laws about impersonation via illusion magic were established.
I’m diligently taking notes when he calls on me, asking me some obscure question about a precedent set by a specific case that took place in the 1800s.
I try to recall the information, knowing I’d read about it at some point last week, but with the weight of his stare pressing down on me and my already stressed mind, I can’t.
“I don’t remember,” I answer honestly.
He takes a breath, and his gaze burns into me when he says, “Perhaps you should pay more attention if you plan to continue taking up space meant for students who actually care to learn, especially considering your insufficiency when it comes to using magic.”
My cheeks heat with shame as every student’s eyes lock on me, some with sympathy and others with smugness.
It’s one thing to chastise me for not having memorized something from the reading, but it’s another to publicly humiliate me for not having as much magical experience as my peers.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he wanted to use my insecurity against me, and it makes me see red.
By the end of class, I’m fuming with anger.
I’ve done nothing but try to be a good student and be kind to others since I’ve been here, and look what it’s gotten me.
The hatred of one professor and one TA, a reputation as the poor, nearly incompetent scholarship girl, and a minor heartbreak that I can’t even discuss with my friends.
When class is dismissed, I say a terse goodbye to Callista, who seems sympathetic to my struggles, and I rush from the building.
It’s still drizzling outside, but the fresh air alleviates some of the suffocating weight sitting on my chest, and I open my umbrella above my head to shield myself from the rain.
I have almost three hours until my next class, which I could use to eat lunch, study, or even take a nap, but I know I won’t be able to sit still with this frantic nervous energy overwhelming me.
So, I walk. I intentionally avoid the area near the greenhouse, which means no walking past it to get to the forest trails, so I head in the opposite direction toward the freshman dorms. Past the towering buildings is a path with steps that lead down to the beach.
When I reach the bottom, I walk along the cliff face, tiny pebbles crunching beneath my feet. No white, sandy beaches here, just black and gray rocks between the jagged cliff and the churning waves.
The wind is sharp against my skin with the briny spray of the sea, but I don’t mind.
The cold is bracing. But as I walk, my mind whirls with the events of today, and I allow myself to feel everything that’s been compounding.
The pain of seeing Alaric with another woman, the shame at being upset about it in the first place, the despair of trying so fucking hard to do everything right only for it to end with me being targeted by assholes with superiority complexes for absolutely no reason.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I don’t try to stop them this time. I stop walking and lean against the black rock of the cliff face. The tightness in my chest is a pressure that builds and builds until it bursts free into a choked sob.
I’m so tired of struggling so much only to feel like I’m five steps behind everyone else, tired of being humiliated for simply existing. Before I know it, I’m uncontrollably sobbing with frustration and anger and sadness, and the emotions continue to build until they explode.
But my emotions aren’t the only thing that erupt.
A surge of magic pulses out of me, and the clawing branches of the shrubs along the cliff twist and writhe as they extend outward.
Moss creeps along the rock faces, covering more area by the second.
I look upward at the sound of creaking, and through my tears, I see the roots of a massive evergreen spiraling down toward me.
I try to reign in my power, but it feeds on my unbridled emotion, and I force myself to breathe deeply and utilize the skills I’ve learned over the last couple months.
A minute or two later, I’ve managed to gain control, and while I definitely affected the sparse vegetation in the area, I didn’t do any lasting damage from the looks of it.
Thank goodness. That would’ve been the final nail in the coffin for me today.
I don’t force myself to stop crying, and I find the delicate balance of allowing the emotions to flow through me without letting them drag me into an uncontrollable spiral.
I find myself making a plan of action as I make my way back up the slippery steps and walk through campus.
First, I’m going to straighten out my midterm grade with Professor Showen then eat lunch.
Next, I’m going to get through my final class of the day and spend my evening journaling through all this bullshit since my walks don’t seem to be cutting it.
Then, I’m going to mentally prepare for the rest of my week and for seeing Alaric in class tomorrow.
I can’t control everything that happens to me, but I can at least prepare for the worst and control my reactions.
When I make it to Professor Showen’s office, I’m grateful to find the light on and the door open. She’s alone, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with Clarissa, either.
I rap on the doorframe, and she looks up. “Oh! Vivian, come in, come in.” She closes the folder of papers she’s working through and gives me her attention. “Is everything okay?” she asks, noticing my red, puffy eyes.
“I just have some personal stuff going on. No big deal,” I say. “But I’m actually here to talk to you about my midterm.”
“Okay, we can do that.”
I pull out the paper and set it on the desk between us. “So, my first question is, did you grade these or did Clarissa?”
Professor Showen gives me a curious look. “Clarissa was in charge of the papers while I handled grading the demonstration portion.”
“Okay, I kind of figured. So, normally I don’t contest grades like this, but this is a special circumstance. For some reason, Clarissa really doesn’t like me, and I have reason to believe that she may have given me an undeserved bad grade because of that.”
She furrows her brow as she takes the paper from the desk and gives it a cursory glance. “I’d be happy to regrade it for you, then. But if she’s grading papers based on personal feelings and not on merit, she’s going to be in some serious trouble.”
“I understand. I wouldn’t have brought it to you if I was uncertain about it, but I really need to make sure my grades stay up and…” I trail off, the implication clear.
“I’ll look into this and speak to you about it after class on Wednesday, if that works for you.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.”
I stand to leave, but Professor Showen stops me. “Actually, Vivian, I have something I’d like to give you.”
“Oh?” I sit back down as she rummages around in her desk drawer.
There’s a solemnness in her voice when she procures a thin, black, braided rope bracelet. “This was your father’s. I wasn’t sure if I still had it, but I spent the weekend searching through my storage and managed to find it. It’s the last piece of him that I have, but I want you to have it.”
I recognize the item immediately. He’s wearing it in the picture I have of him that’s sitting on my bedside table. “Are you sure?” I ask, even though I want nothing more than to put it around my wrist and never take it off.
“Absolutely. He would have wanted you to have it.”
My eyes burn with fresh tears, and hers glimmer with them too.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper as I take the bracelet from her and secure it around my wrist. “This means so much to me.”
She smiles softly, wiping her tears away. “Of course. And please know, even if it’s personal, you’re more than welcome to talk to me about whatever’s troubling you.”
“Thank you,” I say, and even though I appreciate her offer more than I can explain, I’m still aware of the fact that I can’t actually tell her about things with Alaric.
I leave her office a couple minutes later with the knowledge that no matter how alone I might feel, there are people on this campus who truly care about me.