Chapter 38 #2
Julien frowns at me, but he doesn’t have a reason to think my intentions toward Elodie are anything other than professional. And no prestigious lucent family wants their offspring falling behind at school if they can help it.
He hesitates for a moment and then motions for me to stay where I am. “I’ll see if she feels steady enough.”
I watch him climb the stairs, grappling with a twinge of a very different sort of jealousy.
It must be nice having a parent who cares about what you can handle. I wouldn’t know.
Then again, I suppose my parents weren’t even good at keeping track of what they could handle.
Another figure appears at the end of the hall: a woman not much younger than Julien, with a froth of unruly brown hair around her pale face.
I have a vague memory of Elodie’s aunt joining her for some student-guardian function that her father couldn’t make it to, though that was years ago and I can’t recall her name.
She doesn’t say anything, merely peers at me with her skinny arms crossed over her chest. The understated strength in her stance makes me abruptly sure I’d have more to fear from her than her brother if it came to a fight.
Weirdly, her assessing gaze relaxes me. There’s no way in hell I’ll get off track or lose my mind to lust while Elodie has two protective relatives hovering nearby.
Julien returns a few minutes later, still frowning. I brace myself for a dismissal, but he tilts his head toward the stairs. “You can speak to her in the TV nook. Please do keep it brief. And thank you for coming.”
Naturally I’ve been relegated to a “nook.” Not that I think it’d be a wise idea for me to chat with Elodie in her bedroom.
Just thinking about her lounging on a bed sets off an unwelcome flare of heat in my groin that I really hope her father can’t pick up on.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I can’t hold on to any offense about our meeting place. The apparent TV nook is an entire room branching off from the second floor landing, larger than my and Asher’s living room with a huge sectional facing a massive TV.
I step toward it, and the far end of the sectional comes into view beyond a pillar. I stall in my tracks.
Elodie is sitting on the corner of the sofa.
At a glance, to someone who hasn’t spent the last two weeks noticing her far more than I’d prefer to, she’d look the same as usual.
She’s dressed in a simple but well-fitted blouse and slacks, her dark hair draping smoothly across her shoulders.
A healthy tint of color shows in her olive-toned skin.
And I’m struck immediately by the sense that something is very wrong with her.
Her gaze settles on me, but I don’t catch any of her recent defiance in her dark green eyes or the tilt of her chin. Other than the minute tensing of her jaw, she looks as though she barely cares who’s arriving.
There’s a slight slump to her shoulders, as if she’s tired of holding them all the way up. Her hands lie aimlessly on her lap.
She’s put in enough effort to summon a layer of ephemera against any deeper probing, but even that barrier gives off an unsettling tremor. I suspect I could crack right through it with a single push, if I was callous enough to try.
My first thought is that the poison has somehow burned the spirit right out of her.
Elodie’s greeting breaks through my stupor. “Professor Raith. You have some schoolwork to go over with me?”
Her voice sounds hollow too. Where the hell is the girl who glared and threw barbs at me just last week?
I pictured this conversation as more of a confrontation: me wheedling for answers while Elodie tried to dodge, both of us prodding and feinting in a battle of intentions. Seeing her now, the thought of interrogating her about her actions in the cafeteria makes me feel ill.
“Yes.” I push myself forward and sink onto the opposite end of the sectional, several feet away from her.
It’s easier to look at my briefcase as I undo the clasps than to keep taking in her altered presence.
“Everyone of course wants you to take the time to fully recover before you return to school, and you’ll be granted plenty of time to catch up, but I thought you might not want to fall too far behind. ”
A hitch of a laugh brings my head up, but Elodie is gazing toward the blank TV screen rather than me. “No, couldn’t have that.”
I’d bristle if her sarcasm didn’t come across as so deflated. My hands waver over the briefcase for a moment before I pull myself back on course.
I lift the lid and retrieve the folder I put together over the course of the day.
All of Elodie’s other professors were eager to contribute what they could to such a high-ranking pupil’s studies.
By the time I finished making my spiels about supporting her through her difficulties, my skin felt slimy.
But that purpose doesn’t have to be a lie.
“In most of your courses, this week’s lectures and demonstrations have been building on concepts you’ve already been working through.
Nothing hugely surprising there. You might consider attempting a few exercises to make sure your grasp is solid…
Professor Onyema said tactile suppression is the most important area, and Professor Jovak recommended focusing on olfactory effects. ”
I sort through the papers, laying them out on the ottoman between us as I speak. Elodie’s attention remains on the vacant screen.
I grope for something else to say. “I’m sure everyone would be happy to put together another package next week if necessary, though I’d imagine you’ll be back to speak to them in person by then—”
“And if I’m not?”
She may as well have asked the pane of glass. I stare at her, annoyed at myself for not knowing how to respond.
“You appear to be reasonably well already,” I venture.
Another short, raw laugh. “Yes. By all the criteria that are supposed to matter.”
She feels too far away, and the urge—the need—to bring her back slices into me like a scalpel. My heart stutters with a sudden, brutal ache.
I grope for something to say that will fulfill that need. “Are you thinking you’ll require more time? The staff could find ways to ease you into regular—”
Her gaze finally slides back to me, and I almost wish it hadn’t. She’s so distant behind her cool eyes. “Maybe I won’t return at all. There’s hardly any point, is there?”
Is she afraid? Of whoever tried to hurt her, of all the unknowns?
It hardly looks that way, but a person can bury fear under numbness to cope if it’s bad enough.
My hackles rise alongside the pained thump of my heart, without my totally understanding why.
“The administration will be taking every precaution to ensure you aren’t threatened again. You can’t throw away your entire schooling over one incident.”
For the first time since I entered the room, a trace of sharper emotion colors Elodie’s tone. “Who said that’s what I’m doing?”
The fact that I’ve provoked some kind of passion in her spurs me on. “What other reason could you have for abandoning your studies? This is your whole future you’re talking about.”
Her eyes narrow, but the glint of life that’s come into them brings a wave of relief—even though her new energy seems to be mostly annoyance with me.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snaps. “You have no idea…”
The moment she trails off, I jump back in, unwilling to let go of my questionable gains. “I know how ridiculous it would be for a student who’s been ranked in the top two her entire academic career to bow out a year away from graduation.”
Her voice flattens again, her momentary rancor fading. “Right. And I’d better not be ridiculous.”
I don’t know how to find her again, but something in her dispirited attitude jostles loose memories from my own struggles, from the days when it felt pointless to keep going on, when the obstacles in my path looked like a mountain of boulders poised to tumble down on me.
But I did keep going. I made it through. I made it here. Because Asher needed me, but I can’t give her that kind of motivation.
And also because I couldn’t stand the thought of bowing down.
“Are you going to let them win?” I ask, abruptly and forcefully enough that Elodie flinches.
At least I provoked another glare. “What are you talking about?”
I lean forward, hoarding her attention while I have it. “The assholes who want to stop you, who think they can control your life. Who want to scare you off and break you down. Are you going to let them win? That’s what they’re hoping for, but I didn’t think you were the type to reward them.”
Elodie’s posture straightens, her shoulders drawing back. Her chin lifts with the stubborn jut that’s infuriated me so many times in the past few weeks.
Her hands curl on her lap as if she’s still not sure what to hold on to, but her reply comes out steady enough.
“No, I’m not. I won’t.”
A smile I’m not expecting crosses my face. “Good. Then they won’t stand a chance.”