Page 78 of Flame Theory


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Vanya stared at him until he was out of sight, then swiveled back around to face me. “What just happened?” she said, steepling her fingers and leaning over the table.

Luther tilted his head back and forth and shrugged. “Interesting.” He turned and loaded up his plate with enough bread to feed a small family, then went and slumped on the couch in the common room next to some of the other third years.

I slapped my head into my hands, elbows propped on the table.

“You spent a few hours with Rushland Covington? You have some explaining to do,” Vanya said.

But my attention wasn’t on Vanya. Over her shoulder, I watched as Shep stormed from the room, a weight sinking in my chest. Maybe Vanya was right about him, after all.

On the way to our history exam, I spotted Rush walking with Clarence and Prescott. I hurried my pace until I was only a few steps away.

I couldn’t call him Rush out loud, not after what Luther had accused us of—after what Rush had said about me. “Covington,” I barked, nearly ready to hit him if he tried to ignore me.

But he didn’t ignore me. He whirled around, a smile on his face that was too handsome for his own good, and stopped walking. “I found it. You left it on the train,” he said.

That stopped me in my tracks.

As I blinked in confusion, he added, “It’s in my room. I didn’t really want to bring a fur stole to class.”

Prescott knocked him with the back of his hand, and Clarence chuckled dutifully.

Vanya’s stole! I’d lost it after the race, and it hadn’t even crossed my mind until now.I’dforgotten I’d been wearing it. How had he remembered? How had he found it? I definitely hadn’t left it on the train.

Everything inside of me was fireworks and explosions as he stepped closer and said, “I’ll get it later.”

Prescott whistled as he walked away. Rush shot him a wide grin and followed him into the classroom, where Professor Enplencourt was clacking away with her chalk as she wrote on the board.

Inside were three piles of papers on the front desk. On the board above each pile, she’d written three categories:less than satisfactory, satisfactory, and excellent.My shoulders sagged. I didn’t want to know my score before taking our final exam. I’d thought we’d get these essays after the break. She’d never told us they would come back today.

Everyone could see everyone else’s papers as they flipped through for their own.

Enplencourt’s small green dragon, which she’d named Luck, cooed at her from his perch on her desk, which was quickly becoming too small for him. His tail now draped all the way to the floor.

Vanya rifled through the middle pile, snatching hers out and scanning it quickly. She sighed with relief and smiled at me. “Satisfactory,finally.”Then her smile drooped. “I didn’t see yours.”

Rush was flicking casually, arrogantly, through the small pile under the word “excellent.” I moved to the large pile at the other end of the table and held my breath as I thumbed through them.

“What?” I barked when I realized he was staring at me.

“Just wanted to see how long you’d take to notice.” He was holding out a paperclipped essay toward me.

My eyes dropped to the essay. My name was on the front.

“Oh.” I took the essay from him and stared down at it.Very well donewas scrawled across the front.

As I took my seat beside Vanya, I glanced at Rush in the row behind us. He didn’t make eye contact, but the sides of his mouth twitched.

Vanya whirled around in her chair with a wide grin. “What did Enplencourt write on yours?” she asked Rush.

He hooked one arm over the back of his chair and didn’t prevent Vanya from grabbing his essay.

Vanya pointed at the front of his paper. “‘Well done, Mr. Covington.’” She clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. Ari got ‘very well done.’ Looks like she’s going to give you a run for your money today, Rush.”

“I’ll take that bet,” he said.

Vanya waved away his words and turned back toward the front, but as she did so, I caught the faintest wink from Rush. Heat filled my veins, and as I bent over my final exam a few minutes later, I found I wasn’t tired anymore.

The idea of beating Rushland Covington had an altogether intoxicating effect.