Chapter 42 Thea
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THEA
ONE MONTH LATER
I jog around the corner into the classroom, tucking the change from my twenty into my jeans pocket and plop into the plastic chair next to Trevor.
He smiles at me and glances at the clock. “Just in time.” He offers me a wink.
I crack a grin. “Had to grab a water. Last time I thought I was going to die in here.”
The philosophy classroom is at the end of a hallway and has minimal airflow. If I have to sit through an hour and a half lecture on morality, it will be with libations.
“You paid the cart price for that bottle? It’s like seven dollars.”
I wince, then crack the top on the water. Thank you, Slade, I mock in my head.
Trevor shakes his head and bites his lower lip.
“What am I going to do with you, Thea?” He says it playfully, like Trevor does.
He isn’t serious or stoic, more like the class clown.
His brown hair is average, but his eyes are a piercing hazel, and a few freckles speckle the bridge of his nose.
He’s cute and his smile is addicting, but he’s … not Slade.
The rest of the fluorescent lights turn on overhead, and the overfilled classroom groans in unison.
Professor Blake enters, his silver hair combed back and his wiry glasses cricked over his nose.
He sets his coffee down on the desk and moves to the board to draw three stick figures.
The smell of dry-erase marker fills the room, and I wrinkle my nose at the chemical smell that seems to trigger memories.
I swallow.
“Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave,’” he says, tapping the marker over the three disproportionate drawings.
“Imagine you’ve spent your entire life chained in a cave, only able to see the shadows on the wall.
Then one day, someone leads you outside.
You see the world as it really is. Would you go back in the cave?
And if you did, would anyone believe what you saw in the real world? ”
A girl behind me laughs under her breath. “No way. I’d stay outside. Why go back?”
Professor Blake gives her a faint smile.
“Perhaps the truth isn’t always easy. This is one of the concepts we are going to unpack this semester.
” He erases the three stick figures and writes SOCIAL CONTRACT on the board in their stead.
He leans a hip against his desk, capping the marker.
“Hobbes argued that we give up certain freedoms to live in a safe, orderly society. But what happens when those in power stop holding up their end of the deal? What happens when the system becomes corrupt?”
I shift in my seat, and the movement causes Professor Blake to look my direction.
Trevor notices and answers. “It’s not a contract anymore. Just control, right?”
“Interesting. Anyone else?”
Another girl chimes in. “Protest, vote new people in office. You fix the system.”
Trevor snorts beside me. “What if it’s rigged?”
My stomach tightens.
Professor Blake nods. “Good questions. Then what? Do you accept the corruption, or do you resist?”
Some girl wearing a baseball cap up front breaks in. “Burn it down. Start over.”
There’s a nervous ripple of laughter, and I shudder with it.
Professor Blake walks the length of the dry-erase board and turns around to head back. “But who decides when the contract is broken beyond repair and when it’s justified to tear the whole thing down?”
My throat feels raw, and I’m grateful for my expensive water—I chug half of it. It feels like I’ve swallowed glass because I know. I know who decides. It’s men with smooth smiles and tailored suits.
“Money decides,” I blurt. It’s hoarse, quiet, but Blake’s eyes find mine in the sea of students.
His voice is level as he says, “That’s often true. Those with wealth and positions of authority have a lot of leverage or the power to shape the rules. What happens when they use that power to protect themselves, people like themselves, or exploit the very people they’re supposed to serve?”
My mind revolts. It’s not hypothetical. I can still feel the cold concrete under my knees, the taste of that green smoothie, being plucked, chained, tortured. My breath comes faster, and I down the rest of my water bottle.
“What if you work inside their own system? Push back,” another student says.
Our professor’s mouth twists. “If people in control decide the rules don’t apply to them, then it’s no longer a society but a prison.
And maybe the only way out is to break down the walls from within.
” He straightens. “And once again, as we look at this concept this semester, we will examine the ethics of how far we’re willing to go to make things right. ”
My pulse pounds and I stare down at my notebook thinking of Slade. Of how far he was willing to go, how far he’s still willing to go to take Echelon Vanguard down. He doesn’t want me around because he knows … he knows what he needs to do. He’s always known.
What about me? How far am I willing to go?
I may be sitting in the classroom, but I’m not free.
Not really. It’s not one EV chapter in Chicago, it’s a whole network across the country, and they protect their own.
Slade was right. True change needs to happen from the inside.
Push back from the inside. His sights are set on being one of the Eight because that gives him a position of authority, ushers in more time, and creates a ripple in their all-too-perfect system.
He’s going to do it. He’ll go through the Severing, especially now that Henry is dead. And he’s going to need an Offering.
Professor Blake moves on, talking about other philosophers we will talk about this semester and assigns us textbook reading for next class, but I don’t listen. I can only think about two things: Slade and how badly I have to pee.
“You darted out of class fast,” Trevor says, coming up behind me while I sit on the bench near the parking lot lost in thought.
“Yeah, sorry. Had to use the restroom.” A black town car drives by, and I swear it feels familiar.
Trevor moves in front of me, holding the college’s newspaper, or bulletin, whatever they call it here. He nudges me. “Hey, want to meet up for dinner one night this week?”
My stomach plummets. “Trevor, I—”
The front headline of the bulletin catches my attention, and I crudely rip it from his hands to read it: Congressman DuPont Secures Support from Chicago Education Leaders for Statewide Literacy Initiative.
“Whoa, what’s the hurry?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, smiling.
Trevor glances over my shoulder. “DuPont. Huh. So, what do you think about dinner?”
I can’t stop smiling, and when I glance up at Trevor, I’m beaming. He must mistake it for enthusiasm because his smile widens.
He did it. He’s doing it.
I’m torn between wanting to jump for joy and burying my head in my hands to cry.
“Thea?”
Should I call him to congratulate him? Is that stupid? He’s a congressman after all, and—
“Thea?”
“Yeah,” I say, still staring at the headline.
“Dinner?”
A horn beeps, and suddenly I’m upset. Why does it seem Slade is doing so well? Going after what he cares about, making a difference, and I can’t even sit through a philosophy class without getting choked up? Does he think about me? Care about me? Or has he moved on?
I bristle.
“We can go with a group of people. My new roommate and his girlfriend. Might take the pressure off.” Trevor slowly removes the bulletin from my hands.
“Yeah, sure. That sounds like fun,” I say.
I imagine Slade and another woman dancing at a fancy party while he shmoozes the political minefield.
She probably isn’t trauma-ridden or some girl he rescued.
Most likely she’s from an affluent family that makes sense for his political career.
But would she love him like I do? Would she know the real him or just the congressman version?
I hate where my mind goes. I hate that all I can think about is Slade.
“Great!” Trevor says, jumping up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll set it up. I gotta go. I’ll see you in class.”
He bolts off, leaving me without the paper and with a headline I repeat in my mind all the way home.