Chapter 8 #2
“Because life is too short to allow others to mistreat you for the sake of keeping the peace.”
Playing Mr. Ganz
Carlos Rafael Rivera
As soon as I entered the large main auditorium with its white Olympic columns and brown-painted walls, I felt like people must have felt in the Berlin Sports Palace during the Nazi era.
The hall wasn't that big, but there were brown banners with embroidered scales hanging behind a podium, and rows of seats arranged in tiers, already filled with students – who were definitely not all freshmen – lined the hall, and the huge windows overlooking the campus grounds allowed daylight to flood in.
With growing unease, I immediately ignored the first glances from the young men in my close vicinity and looked for a free seat in the back row, but it was as if most of the students were sitting either at the very front or the very back, so that the last free seats were all somewhere in the middle, from where groups of men now stopped their conversations and looked at me.
Calm down, Quill. Breathe. Don't let them see that you'd rather turn around and disappear into the university library.
But more and more young men turned toward me, while those who stepped past me and around me to take the last free seats looked at me as if I were a pitiful schoolgirl who had strayed here.
When I realized that I was picking at the skin around my thumbs again, I looked down and realized that, although there was now a pleasant pain, both thumbs were bleeding behind the ugly scraps of skin.
God, why did I always do this subconsciously?
With some effort, I started moving down the stairs and headed for the left side of the hall, ignoring the irritated faces of the men and the fact that the noise level had changed from that of a school cafeteria to an unsettling murmur.
In high school, I had never stood out in my midnight blue knitted sweaters, of which I owned ten identical ones, but here, among all the brown and black suits...
I hastily pulled down the nearest seat and sat down, noticing that three boys next to me immediately moved one seat over.
Great. The misogyny here was not noticeable at all.
Ignore them. Unpack your things. Focus on yourself.
I took a deep breath, aware that everyone could see how hard my chest rose and fell, and pulled out one of my A4 notepads and a fountain pen.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two young men stepping into the still half-empty row, taking seats right next to me and blocking my escape.
Beth’s Story
Carlos Rafael Rivera
I tried to ignore their presence. Unsuccessfully.
“We don't mean to be rude, but could it be that the pretty lady is lost?”
I looked up at the second young man with brown eyes who wasn't sitting right next to me.
He was wearing a gray suit that looked like it had been tailored, a dull red tie, his brown hair was completely gelled, his face was sharp, and there was something cunning about him.
The fact that the right corner of his mouth was raised, adding arrogance to the rest of his expression, already set off alarm bells in my head.
“Am I at Professor Arnold Fitzek's introductory lecture?”
I tried not to sound annoyed, because the two hadn't done anything to me, but something was in the air. Something that made me want to leave the hall.
His grin disappeared.
“Indeed,” said the black-haired one – this time without gel – with the Prince Charming face, who was sitting right next to me and whose black suit with gray stripes looked even more expensive than his friend’s.
His red tie was decorated with blue and gold ornaments, and I was sure I had seen his face somewhere before.
“Good. Then I'm definitely in the right place.”
The one with the macho look raised both eyebrows and chuckled as if I had just told him I was going to be the first female president of the United States.
“Don't tell me, Zach, a woman has made it into our ranks.”
Prince Charming's smile didn't reach his eyes as he looked at me, sizing me up as if he were talking to a woman for the first time in his life. He seemed thrown off balance.
Behind us, the whispering grew more intense.
“Do you think she's someone important?”
“Her parents must be influential people.”
“Old Fitzek would never allow that...”
“Maybe her mother slept with the director so she could study here?”
I ignored the snatches of conversation coming at me from all sides, turned away from the two of them, and laid down my notebook and fountain pen so I wouldn't continue picking at the skin next to my fingernails.
And it was hard to ignore how the young men in front of us were trying, more or less successfully, not to turn around before whispering things to each other.
So much for my four rules. I had already broken the first two.
“What if she's a judge's daughter?” I heard someone whisper quietly from somewhere and couldn't help grinning.
My grandfather had been a judge, like all his fathers before him. That must have been how the family name had come about.
Nothing about my origins made me proud, nor did the fact that I was supposed to belong here but hadn't since the day I was born because there was something wrong with me. The black sheep of a model family. At least on the outside.
“Who are your parents?”
I looked back at Prince Charming.
“Not worth mentioning.”
“Not worth mentioning?” The macho man raised his eyebrows again. “If you study here, your parents are either investors, lawyers, judges, or politicians.” Suspicion gradually crept into his expression. “What’s your name?”
“Quillon Veritas.”
It was entertaining to see the question marks pop up over their heads.
“Veritas?” Charming said. “As in truth?”
I couldn't help smirking. If only they knew that I was the biggest lie walking around here.
“As in truth.”
A glance wandered to the banner on which Veritas was embroidered in elegant lettering. The other three banners bore the words Iustitia, Lex, and Prudentia.
As entertaining as it was to see their growing confusion, it was also risky, so I caved in and came up with a white lie.
“My father is a Canadian judge. No one knows him here, but he's very influential up there.”
The macho man nodded slowly. Prince Charming just stared at me.
“Who are you two?”
This time I raised both eyebrows.
The macho man immediately put a hand on his chest.
“Lucas McMillan. Third semester. My father is Richard McMillan and owns a chain of Virginia's richest gold mines.”
His arrogant smile returned, and I wondered what a third semester student was doing here.
“It's a shame you didn't know who I am, but luckily now you do. Many in this room would love to talk to a McMillan. So consider yourself privileged.”
He patted his friend on the shoulder, who flinched.
“Everyone here knows this man.”
“Lucas…” his friend sighed, his jaw working.
“Come on, Zach. Everyone here knows that Thadd?us is your father.”
“Thadd?us?” I looked between the two of them in surprise. “As in Professor Thadd?us Faber?”
Images from the Maplecrest website and its best students flashed before my inner eye, including Prince Charming, who ranked number one among the ten best students.
“Zachary Faber?”