“I thought so. You see, professor, Sterling has thismagicalability to draw my attention whenever she’s around.”What the fuck did he just say?I felt my heart begin to hammer aggressively in my throat as people made to turn around and gawk at me.
“I was just wondering if she was invoking the concept ofHeka,herself.”
Caldwell turned a shade so red I was sure it had never been seen before on a colour wheel. But the shade of his cheeks and neck likely mirrored my own disbelief, awe, and tinge of embarrassment that was currently displayed on my face. “Mr Watlings,” Caldwell sneered, settling the boy ahead of me with a look that could kill before glaring at me too, as if I had any involvement or control in the conversation transpiring before me. “Not only have you disrupted my lecture, you have made a mockery of today’s subject in pursuit of frivolous and, what I expect to be, disappointing sexual encounters.”
“Speak for yourself, sir.” Watlings’ laughed as Caldwell made to move back to the whiteboard. “I’ll let Sterling be the judge of that last part.”Have you got a fucking death wish, you moron!? You’re going to get us both thrown out of this lecture.
“Get out of my classroom, Mr Watlings, before I give you a zero on today’s assignment.” I was awe-struck when Jude didn’t cower under the weight of Caldwell’s gaze the way I would have. I watched as he proceeded to stand up, laughing to himself and shaking his head before looking up at me and winking. They may have used my name in reference, but I still chose to turn around, once again wondering who they were referring to.Because there’s no way on earth it’s me.
“Right, let’s move on. I trust you’ve read up to chapter 27 in the textbook, seeing as it’s a core part of the syllabus.” I’d barely processed anything that our professor had said as I watched Jude amble out of the lecture hall without so much as a care in the world. It wasn't until Caldwell started talking about the soul that I found myself needing to interject.
My hand was in the air before I realised what I was doing. “Professor, do the souls ever encounter demons?”
“I don’t believe I was taking questions,Miss Sterling.”Theexpression on his face as he said my name made it clear that he was disgusted by the way it rolled off his tongue. Like the very fact that he has had to refer to me at all is a personal affront to his very existence. “But, yes, there are depictions of souls encountering various hostile entities, many of which could be considered ‘demonic’ in a broader, occult sense. These beings are not necessarily demons in the Christian or later Western depictions, but they serve a similar function.”
And that is?
“All they serve to do is represent fear. Something that must be overcome internally to achieve peace or enlightenment.”
“Sir, apologies, I had another question,” I cut in, clearly testing my luck and his patience by the death stare he was giving me. “If these demons are just obstacles meant to help us reach some kind of internal understanding of ourselves, does that mean they aren’t inherently bad?”
He mused on my question for a second or two. The silence seemed to stretch across the room, and I’d already started packing my things away, expecting him to kick me out of the lecture when he began to nod. The motion was small, almost inconsequential, but it happened nonetheless. I still hadn’t quite figured out why Caldwell saw us as stupid and incapable, but when he finally looked at me again, a glimmer of shock was plastered on his face. One that I found to be equal parts satisfying and insulting.
“That is a very insightful way to frame it, Miss Sterling. If only you would apply that same enthusiasm to the rest of your work.” Caldwell smirked before continuing on.
The rest of the lecture pretty much went on exactly as it had started. With Caldwell laying into anyone he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, Caldwell was only one of three faculty members on the board as he also taught classical History which was a much more popular subject. He rattled on alittle while longer before moving on to the most dreaded bit of the lecture:our coursework.
“I am expecting serious work from you. Do not hand inshit.You will get a zero, andno,I won’t change your grade even if you cry.Miss Martins,I am looking at you.”
What a fucking asshole.
“I am being generous by making it a paired assignment, so I expect to see twice as much detail and thoroughly thought-out arguments. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”
Not wanting to linger there a moment longer, I threw my bag over my shoulder and stumbled out of the lecture hall. I didn’t know anyone on my course, and the idea of having to rely on someone else to maintain my grades filled me with a keen sense of dread. I was happy to attempt doing the ten-thousand-word essay by myself. Surely Caldwell couldn’t penalise me for that as long as I got the work done. But knowing him, he’d likely give me a zero for simply being unable to follow instructions. Especially after today’s disrupted lecture fiasco.
I let out an exasperated sigh as I headed toward the lifts, bobbing and weaving around more lingering students that pooled out of lecture halls in their dozens. I’d post something on our course forum later and pair up with the last person missing a partner. Hopefully, I didn’t end up with someone lazy. I really couldn’t afford to give Caldwell any more reason than he already had to hate me.
A group of obnoxiously loud frat boys congregated at the lift, talking about something to do with Politics or Philosophy or whatever lecture they had just come out of. A subject that would undoubtedly have them sporting Rab gilets and talking about their weekend Strava PBs in years to come.
“Hey there, curls, got a boyfriend?”
“Not interested,” I said, offering up a grimace as I turned, positioning myself as far away from them as possible; cursingthe lift internally for its inability to ever make it up to the sixth floor of the building. The unoriginal mutterings offrigidandbitchand unrestrained laughter echoed down the hall as I pressed the lift button again, this time with a little more vigor. It was always a man with a bruised ego who felt the need to tear everyone else down. I didn’t even get a look at the guy. Itwasn’tpersonal. I justwasn’tinterested. I really wasn’t interested in any?—
“Hey fuckface, didn’t your mother ever teach you any fucking manners?”
“What the fuck did you just?—”
“My father donates heavily to this university. I’d hate for Aldercrest to lose its most successful quarterback.”
I wasn’t one who advocated for rich kids throwing about their money or power, but in this particular instance, I left it a couple of beats before trying to intervene. With their tails between their legs, the quarterback and his posse of sexist idiots stalked away, leaving me once again staring atClark Kentwith a slack jaw and confused expression. He just stared back at me, a wide, cheeky grin stretched across his face. “Hey there,curls.”
“Hello,” I said quietly. From the heat creeping up the side of my face, I was sure my lecture-hall blush had returned, this time, pinker and more vibrant than before.
“You got me in trouble back there, you know.”
I gave him a look of mock indignation. “I think you’ll find you got yourself in trouble…and almost took me down with you.”
“It was totally worth it.” He grinned. “You did something different with your hair. It always looks good, but today…”
