CHAPTER 45
W hat?
I stared down at my first entomology exam, trying to make sense of the grade that’d been populated into the computer.
Forty-five points out of eighty, which equated to a fifty-six percent. I hadn’t received a fifty-six percent on an exam since middle school.
Scrolling through the document that I’d submitted showed pages and pages of red notes alongside my essays, and at first, the grade almost seemed legit for all the red …
until I scanned over them. The notes marked ridiculous technical errors, like a comma that should’ve been a semicolon, a paragraph that Gilchrist felt should’ve been new, except that the information had related to the previous paragraph, and I had apparently not tabbed over enough on my bullet points, to her liking.
Cheeks red hot, I held back the urge to cry as I waited for the class to end.
I’d have loved to compare grades with another student, but the only other person I knew was Spencer, who hadn’t bothered to show up, and I had no interest in interacting with him after the events at the gala.
Although he’d attempted to call me since then, I’d ignored him.
Once class ended, a small line formed, as other students waited to speak with Professor Gilchrist, and I patiently waited my turn, in spite of wanting to crawl out of my skin right then.
When I finally reached the front, I stepped forward, my hand shaking with the anger that had blossomed over the last hour.
“How can I help you, Miss Vespertine?” Her voice held an air of boredom that only goaded my frustration.
“My grade … it seems content-wise. All of my essays and multiple-choice responses were correct?”
“Mmm-hmm. And?”
“I received a fifty-six on grammatical and formatting errors? You never specified the importance of these issues and how much they weighed on the grade.”
The unbothered expression on her face didn’t waver with my complaint. If anything, it grew smugger. “It’s a college course. You should be well-versed in how to format a proper essay.”
“I understand, but … fifty-six ? I mean, I got every answer correct. I understood the material, and you had no comments on the composition and content of my essays.”
Shoulders rolled back, she rested her elbows on the desk, entwining her fingers. “Tell me, do you intend to conduct research someday?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.” Her brows winged up with a smile that was both pitiful and condescending at the same time.
“And so, grant writing is a huge part of funding for those research projects. If you can’t format properly, well, you’ll look inept.
” She threw her hands up dismissively. Dismissively doling out a grade that weighed heavily on my cumulative score.
“That would make sense … if this was a grant writing class.”
“Please tell me you’re not one of those students who feels a sense of entitlement based on your circumstances.”
“Excuse me?” I cleared my throat, the shock of her words rendering me stupefied.
The haughty tip of her chin told me I hadn’t misheard her, nor misunderstood the meaning.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” I added. “I’m just concerned what this will do to my overall average.”
“It’ll certainly bring it down, which is a shame. It seems the underprivileged aren’t meant for a proud and dignified institution like Dracadia. I was wrong about you.”
“How so?”
Her finger tapped on the lid of her black coffee cup. “I saw you glancing over at Spencer twice during this exam. You’re lucky I didn’t fail you for cheating .”
Cheating? Cheating!
The accusation struck me like a punch to the throat. I’d spent hours studying for that exam.
“I do not cheat, and if I ever thought of cheating, it certainly wouldn’t be off Spencer.”
On a mirthless laugh, she shook her head. “You are an arrogant little thing, aren’t you? So smug and full of yourself.”
“What? I’m not …. I don’t understand. I swear to you, I never cheated. I wouldn’t cheat.” I hated that my voice wobbled with the threat of tears. “I want to do well while I’m here.”
“I’m sure you do. And I’m sure your manipulative behaviors work on some professors here at Dracadia, Miss Vespertine. But I’m not one of them.” The arrogant smile that followed sank into my gut like a rusty fork. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting. The grade stands.”
A cold despair stirred in my chest, as I exited her class. I’d planned to get lunch at Cavick, but decided the best thing for me to do was head back to my dorm to sleep it off. Exhaustion and anger weighed heavy on me, and I still had two more afternoon classes to get through.
As I rounded the building, past the small alley, something grabbed my arm, and a hard yank had me stumbling backward into a solid surface.
I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand smothered it, and my body was dragged backward, toward the alley.
Once there, the hard stones of the building smashed into my spine.
Spencer stood before me, one eye swollen and purple, both eyes red with deep, black circles beneath. His body shook, his lip downturned as if he would cry.
I let out a scream, and he pressed his hand harder, his jaw clenching with frustration.
“Please! Listen to me! Just for a moment. I’m begging you.”
My heart hammered in my chest as I stared back, wondering what he would do. Was he crazy enough to strangle me? Angry enough to punch me?
“I know you think that I tried to … hurt you … that night. And I swear to you, Lilia. I didn’t.
I wouldn’t hurt you. Ever.” His voice was shaky, as if he were on the brink of cracking.
“There are things you don’t know about …
people who … are very bad here. And Professor Bramwell is one of them. Do you understand?”
I didn’t bother to shake my head, or nod at his comment.
“He beat the shit out of me that night. He did this to my fucking eye.” At that, I did try to shake my head, and he pressed into me, lip snarled up in rage.
“Yes, he did! I fucking saw him. He took off that fucking mask, and he beat the ever-loving shit out of me. And no one believes me. Not Langmore. Not my fucking father. Not even you.” He lowered his gaze, eyes shining with tears.
“Did I have intentions that night? No.” Eyes screwed shut, he shook his head.
“Yeah. How could I not, with how you looked in that dress? But I did not drug you. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”
I kicked my head to the side, and he lowered his hand from my mouth. “Did you drug Mel?”
His brows came together, and he let out a huff. “Yes. But it’s not what you think. I was just trying to find out what she knew about Jenny and Bramwell. I just needed her to relax a little.”
“Did you try to have sex with her?”
“I flirted. Tried to kiss her, is all. Again, it was just trying to get her to talk to me.”
“She was telling the truth, then. You really are a scumbag.”
Fingers curling into my arms, he held me tighter. “I didn’t do this shit because I wanted to. I did it because I had to.”
“What the hell does that even mean? Your dad put you up to drugging her?”
The expression on his face blackened, and a cold brush of alarm palmed the back of my neck. “I told you. There are bad people at this school. Some worse than others.”
“I saw you with Gilchrist. I saw her … touch you.”
A look of shame crumpled his brow, and he lowered his gaze from mine.
“You kissed her.”
“She threatened to fail me, if I didn’t–” He grimaced and exhaled a shaky breath, the repulsion crimping his lips.
“If you didn’t what?”
Tears shone in his eyes as he shook his head.
“Spencer, if you didn’t what ? Was it Gilchrist who put you up to all of this?”
He looked toward the mouth of the alley and back to me, his hand frantically stroking my hair. “I like you, Lilia. A lot. Too much. I can’t stop thinking about you, and it kills me to know that you hate me right now.”
“I don’t hate you. I just really need you to tell me the truth.”
“If you care for me … even the slightest bit … even as a friend, you’ll stay away from Bramwell.”
“What are you talking about? He’s my professor.”
“I see him watching you sometimes. You don’t even realize how much he watches you. He’s followed you to class. He’s probably watching you now, for fucks sake. The guy is nuts.”
Undoubtedly wearing the confusion that clouded my brain, I shook my head.
“Yes. He does. Watch yourself, Lilia. In fact, fucking leave this school. You’re better off.” Placing a palm at my throat, he didn’t squeeze, only stroked the column of my neck with his thumb. His face pinched, as if he might cry right there. Instead, he darted off back down the alley.
* * *
A strange vulnerability settled over me, as I walked down the cadaver tunnel toward Professor Bramwell’s lab.
Even though I’d spent the afternoon convincing myself that Spencer was wrong, that I had watched Bramwell enough to know that he hadn’t been watching me like that, his arguments still left me confused.
Spencer clearly had it in for Bramwell, and while his friend being kicked out seemed reason enough to suspect he might harbor some animosity toward him, to what extent would that animosity go?
That he would frame Bramwell as an attacker?
Make him out to be a total creep who followed me around?
As if my problems weren’t already stacked like a Jenga tower ready to tumble, Bee’s school had called me earlier, letting me know they could only get half of the back tuition approved with the grant, and that I’d have to get them five hundred as soon as possible.
Five hundred I didn’t happen to have right then.
Feeling pummeled by the day’s events, I entered the lab, and found Professor Bramwell hunched over, studying something on the bench he stood before.
A candle flickered near him, as he poked a set of forceps toward the benchtop.
It was enough distraction to banish the thoughts of Spencer and Bee and Gilchrist, and every other woe that’d reared its ugly head.