CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Professor, may I have a word to discuss the final assignment?”
Nathaniel’s voice cut through the chatter echoing along the long, marbled corridor between the lecture hall and the staircase leading to the classrooms above.
My eyes snapped toward him within seconds, pausing mid-step as I glanced in between his dark green knitted vest and Professor Haywood’s long brown coat.
“You may,” she answered without glancing his way, “but I’m heading to my next class, so you’ll have to walk with me.”
“Of course,” Nathaniel said, “here, let me help you with those.” He reached for her tall pile of books, securing them in his arms so that her hands were free to hold her laptop and coffee cup without the risk of spillage.
And that’s the man we’re supposed to hate?
“Yes,” I mumbled under my breath, following them at a distance as they ascended the wide, wooden staircase. “He’s a teacher’s pet. I doubt he’s holding her books because hewantsto.”
I see. And why, pray tell, are we now following him?
The answer was simple. Nathaniel was discussingourassignment withourprofessor. Without me. He was up to something and, since I’ve never been fond of surprises, I was determined to find out what he was planning.
“…and I was just wondering if there were any opportunities to earn extra credit?” Nathaniel asked, voice drifting down the staircase where I waited in the shadows, following only when Haywood’s muffled reply was too quiet to hear.
“…field work?” Nathaniel asked.
I needed to get closer. If Nathaniel was asking for extra credit, he may be trying to secure the number one ranking after all. And I couldn’t, under any circumstances, allow that to happen.
“Observation is an effective primary research method you could employ,” Professor Haywood said. “It would certainly validate your hypothesis and research results. In the psychological field, observationismost of the research, so I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
“And this would…?”
“Yes, Mr Carrington. It would earn you extra credit.” She paused in front of a door, indicating she had reached her next class. “However, given your topic, I would strongly advise against joining a cult for your observation.”
Nathaniel laughed. “Strongly advising against it is not forbidding it, Professor.”
“No,” she agreed, “but you will do well to remember that I advised against it if you do find yourself in…trouble.”
“Of course, Professor.”
“Be careful, Carrington,” she said, tone more firm than it had been previously, “I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks for something as small as a few extra marks.”
“Knowledge cannot be pursued without risk, Professor,” Nathaniel said, “but I will be careful, I promise.”
***
Nathaniel contacted me over the weekend to request that for our next study session, we meet at his house to avoid library imprisonment.
He picked me up fromBrowning Books, my black trousers speckled with dust and an orange price tag dangling off the sleeve of my black jacket.
“Busy morning?” he asked once I climbed inside the car.
“We were doing stocktake,” I answered.
“Sounds fun,” he mused, reaching over to snatch the price tag off me. “Oh, look, you’re only three pounds!”
I rolled my eyes playfully.
We made small talk to fill the silence, discussing the gloomy weather, upcoming exams, the traffic.
I didn’t apologise for the ending of our last encounter, and he didn’t bring it up. I preferred it that way. Growing up, there were never apologies. There was an argument, silence, and after a few days, everyone returned to normal as though nothing had happened. He seemed to work the same way.
