So the problem is mainly Byron. I feel his pensive gaze on me when he spots me at my locker from his own halfway down the hall. It follows me when I take my seat in Global Politics class and when I plant myself at the opposite end of the courtyard for our Bloom practicum.
His attention rattles my already scrambled thoughts. I keep my mouth shut and my head down, because if the professors call on me, I’ll probably claim that Margaret Thatcher is the current empress of Peru.
When my mind isn’t trying to play my hasty, heated collision with Byron at The Eclipse on repeat, it’s stewing over what I saw last night at the back of Groove Garden. That woman who works with Dad, conducting… meetings? Or something else, out of the second floor.
She didn’tdoanything questionable. She just saw someone I assume is a client off and went back inside.
Maybe she has an office space up there, or an apartment—although it seems like an odd location to have been chosen by someone so polished and established they’re working with one of the lucent government’s top officials.
Maybe it’s a recreational thing, nothing related to work.
Maybe she’s the start of the thread, not the end.
Other Elodie could have decided to tail Ms. Lupul one day after the consultant met with Dad, for who knows what reason—she obviously had a lot of conflicted feelings about the lucent powers-that-be. She might have followed her to the dance club, snapped those pictures, and then noticed Grady’s bunch going in.
Grady could have led her to The Eclipse. And someone else at The Eclipse brought her attention to Beacon Prep? Or is the Beacon Prep mystery totally separate from the rest?
And which one of those pieces has compelled someone to want to stab a knife into me?
The lack of equilibrium in my brain has apparently spread to my body, because when I go to stuff my Psychology & Influence textbook into my satchel at the end of the morning’s last class, I manage to knock the bag over. Lip gloss, pens, hair clips, and a mirror compact clatter across the floor.
While I bite back a curse and scoop it all back in, the rest of the class files out. So I have no one around me for cover when I hurry out the door—and find Byron waiting in the now otherwise empty stretch of hall.
His straight stance turns rigid at the sight of me. A ruddy undertone darkens his brown face.
He speaks low and quickly, sounding more scattered himself than I’ve ever heard him. “Elodie—I’m so sorry about yesterday. I had no idea you were upset. I thought—if I’d realized you weren’t into it—I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up?—”
The warmth drains from my gut, leaving a sickly chill in its place. Does he think heassaultedme? Parvati help me.
I can’t imagine how horrified he must be, both morally and at the thought of the potential consequences for him and his family.
And I can’t even put his worries to rest. Because the pang of my guilt has my hand rising toward him of its own accord.
I can’t afford to comfort him. He doesn’t know it, but he’s better off without me.
I jerk my hand back to my side. “Byron. I’m fine. Forget it. And leave me alone.”
His eyes widen. “Elodie?—”
“Leave it,” I snap, wincing inwardly, and barrel on past him to the shelter of the crowd.
It’s lunch hour now, so I make a beeline for my friends in the cafeteria. The four of them should serve as an effective shield against additional apologies and/or clarifications.
They all chatter around me as we move along the buffet offerings. My stomach is too twisted up for me to force much food into it, so I grab myself a small plate of salad and a bowl of carrot soup, which seems like an appropriately Other Elodie-ish meal anyway. I barely pay attention to what the others are talking about, just chuckling and nodding when it seems appropriate.
Not long after we’ve claimed a table under one of the beaming skylights, Cadance waves her fork at me. “I noticed Byron hanging back after psych class. Did he talk to you?”
Madison snickers. “He probably thinks he can intimidate Elle out of snatching back the top spot. The month’s almost over—time to reorder the ranks soon!”
Somehow I doubt my performance over the past couple of weeks is going to see me leaping over Byron on the list. The only class where I seem to have impressed the instructor at all is combat, and that’s only because Other Elodie appears to have been a bit of a wimp.
Frankly, I should probably tumble at least a few spots, considering how distracted I’ve been. And how pissed off one of my professors has gotten with me.
Although maybe after our last confrontation, Cole will be marking me up rather than down in the hopes that’ll keep my mouth shut about improper student-teacher relations. I suspect all my other professors will be grading me much more generously than they would have in my own reality, making their excuses for me simply because I’m a Devine.
It’s all so fucking fake. So manufactured to keep the top people at the top and everyone else under their thumbs.
Even after we leave this school, regardless of marks, Other Elodie would have slid easily into whatever prestigious position got handed to her while Byron will have to keep busting his ass to prove he’s got twice the chops anyone else does. Asher never hoped to accomplish more than if he’d gone to Beacon in the first place…
