Chapter 4
FOUR
The first time I get a real break from Avery and Harley is during study hall.
It’s the one required unit on the junior syllabus that offers students multiple options for locations and, in my efforts to avoid those two like the plague, I head to the one place I know I can keep my distance, even if they’re studying there as well.
The library.
For starters, it’s huge. When Mr. Trevelen pointed it out to me on his brief tour, I was excited to have access to it, but I wasn’t prepared for how it would make me feel.
When I say huge, I mean obscenely spacious, and I’ve never stood in a room like it before.
I mean, it’s at least three times bigger than the public library back in the Bay, and there are a lot less people trying to jam themselves in here.
The differences don’t end there, either. This place is also abundantly stocked, computers absolutely everywhere with unrestricted use and, maybe the best thing of all, I’m not worried about catching venereal diseases from any of the chairs in here.
I feel most out of place at this school in this room. It makes me feel like a grubby child when I walk through the doors, and I can’t help but cringe. Without a laptop of my own, I’m going to be a frequent flier in this library, so I have no choice but to get over myself.
It doesn’t help that the general vibe of the place is vaguely Victorian, but that checks out with the rest of the building.
The fiction section is a third of the size of the non-fiction and referencing sections, but that also makes sense considering the majority of classes here are all advanced placement with the aim of getting the students into medicine, engineering, and law.
I’ve never been somewhere so old but well-maintained in my life; I didn’t know it was possible to stand on wooden floorboards that are two hundred years old without falling through them.
Jesus, I thought thirty years was pushing it.
The librarians are all matronly women with tight gray buns perched on their heads, and I have to speak to them to get signed off on the attendance sheet. Of the three I’ve spoken to, none of them seem warm or friendly, but it only takes a second to see they’re that way with all of the students.
As long as they leave me alone with my classwork, I honestly couldn’t care less about making nice.
I choose a desk toward the back of the room. The librarian who marked me off walks past me ten minutes later, like she’s making sure I am actually doing work, but she doesn’t offer me any help when she sees me very clearly struggling with the technology.
My last school only had one computer in the library, and it was a glorified typewriter.
Internet access was limited and students generally didn’t bother using it.
The computers here are high-tech, complicated, and in my opinion, high maintenance.
I guess they fit in well with the student population.
The bell rings and the room begins to fill with students.
Before long, every computer is taken and all of the desks are full except mine.
More whispers work their way around me, but I’d rather not have any of them join me.
Honestly, between that and having the two people I’m avoiding not being here, it’s shaping up to be a perfect class.
It takes another ten minutes because the rest of the seats at the other tables are taken by students, but a group of juniors reluctantly fill the remaining seats around me.
A girl I recognize from my biology class approaches my desk and smiles sweetly before taking a seat across from me.
I don’t even spare them a glance, focusing on my assignment instead.
I’m preoccupied with my research when I notice a piece of paper slide toward me.
I saw your argument with Harley in history. You shouldn't piss off Avery and the boys. The rest of us learned that lesson in middle school.
I look up at her and then at the rest of the table, but no one is paying us any attention. I scribble a reply and slide it back.
If I always did what I was supposed to do, I wouldn't be at this school.
She smiles and scribbles back. The library isn’t exactly quiet, students are talking all around us, so I'm not sure why we're doing this with notes, but I decide to play along for now.
My name is Lauren. If they hadn't put a ban on the rest of us speaking to you, I would've already approached you. I know what it's like to be the new girl at school.
How the hell do they ban other students from talking to people? Who the fuck do they think they are? I'm angry enough that I grip my pencil so hard my hand shakes.
What happens to you if you speak to me?
She bites her lip before sliding the paper back.
Then they add me to the list, and they will do to me whatever they’re going to do to you. I'm sorry, I’m terrified of Avery.
The list? Was that metaphorical or did that psycho Avery actually organize her reign of terror that methodically?
I let out a deep sigh and nod my head at Lauren.
I don’t blame her or any of the others in our class.
I saw what Joey did to the other students here.
I’m fine on my own, but it looks like my plan to skate through my time at this school without being noticed or causing trouble is officially off the table.
I give her a nod and scrunch the note up in my hand, a clear sign that the conversation is over. She gives me a sad smile in return and gets back to her work.
I try to focus back on my work, but now I'm all hot and cranky.
I hate this sort of bullshit. I'd rather they just come at me with fists so I could fight back properly.
Whispers and intrigue are annoying, but then I think about life back home and Matteo.
Maybe learning this political shit isn't such a terrible idea.
It might help me survive the Jackal someday.
After Lauren’s explanation, or warning, I guess, of the trouble brewing around me, I take a little more notice of what’s actually being said in the whispers following me around, and she’s right.
No one else asks me directly about it or approaches me like she did, so when nothing ever comes from it, I just get on with my schoolwork with the intention of keeping my head down until it all blows over.
Of course, it’s not that simple.
A highly exaggerated version of my argument with Harley is still making the rounds a week later, and with every passing day, I become more of a pariah. If I thought my scholarship status afforded me a wide berth from my peers, it has nothing on Avery Beaumont’s disapproval.
No one tries to speak to me; not during classes, in the halls, or during any of my meals.
I spend my free time studying in the library, and even the desks surrounding my usual spot are left empty.
When I sign up for a bunch of extracurriculars to get class credits and bulk up my applications for college, I’m excluded from them all, and when I push for a reason why, I’m told spots are limited.
I think they’re trying to make me feel shitty enough to leave, but that only shows how clueless and privileged they all are.
To think I’d walk away from a full-ride scholarship at this school that also covers all of my living costs?
It’ll take a lot more than some mean girl bullying bullshit to pry me out of this place.
Honestly, the joke’s on them. I’m enjoying the quiet.
On the third week of the semester, an email from the school’s administration lets me know I’ve been assigned as a tutor and someone has signed up for my help.
It was the one extracurricular I hesitated over, but I was also confident no one would actually want to spend an hour in the library with me each week.
It was only when I combed through the email for any clue as to who the hell has signed up that I found out the student also requested that the tutoring take place over three of my study halls each week.
When I emailed Yvette back to check if that was correct, politely and with far more respect than the woman deserves, she replies almost instantly to confirm. She also lets slip which student requested me and I can only groan; this has to be a trap.
Ash Beaumont.
Clearly, I pissed someone off in a past life.
Today is his first session, and he's already waiting in the library, sitting at my usual desk with his books and supplies spread out in front of him. He's so classically good looking, like he’s some Grecian fantasy come to life, and I have to remind myself that he’s a complete dick before I sit down?? beside him.
The sneer he gives me helps to calm my out-of-control hormones down.
I remind myself that I can admire him from a distance, and the vitriol he spits at me on a daily basis proves just how badly I need to keep him at arm's length.
“Oh, goody. I get to spend three hours a week with trash. I honestly thought you’d pull out,” he drawls, and I grit my teeth.
“If you want the help with your assignments, then yeah, you’re stuck with the trash.”
He grins at me, and it’s not a nice thing.
I pull out my own schoolwork and have the utter joy of listening to his criticism on what seems like every aspect of my life. I do my best to ignore it, but I’m not the most patient person.
“Your handwriting is atrocious. Why do you bite your nails? It makes you look like a boy. You shouldn’t slouch. You might actually have a decent rack, but no one will notice it if you’re all hunched over—”
“Can you shut the fuck up and tell me what you need help with?” I hiss at him.
He smirks like he knows he’s landed a direct hit.
Fuck, I wish I’d met him in Mounts Bay. I’d have destroyed him with calculated calm and a grin on my face that would make his look friendly.
I would’ve had enough help from my allies to be able to end him in creative and devious ways. I could’ve made a real game of it.