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The soft chimes of my phone nearly have me falling on my ass as I jump, my socks sliding on the floor. Ignoring my pounding heart, I pull my phone from my pocket to silence the alarm.
The first of the two classes are ending now. I set the alarm to make sure I was out of any room I was looking through, and in the safety of one of the shared areas—just in case one of the guys decided to skip a class.
Making sure not to leave the broom or dustpan behind, I hurry back to the staircase and linger at the top as I wait for another fifteen minutes to pass.
My attention drifts to the portrait of JP, then to the other portraits hanging on the walls beside the staircases. With the exception of JP’s, all the others have names, years, and President, engraved on a small golden plaque in the bottom of the frame.
JP’s portrait also has the year he died.
Next to JP’s portrait with the same year is Preston du Pont, the guy who apparently took over JP’s role after he died. Preston’s face looks familiar, but so do many of the other faces on the wall. Some of these men are now politicians, and others have been in the news.
Syn’s portrait isn’t hanging on the wall yet.
Thank god.
I don’t think I could handle his cold, golden eyes watching me—even if it is in a picture.
My gaze drifts back to JP’s picture.
Syn isn’t the only one who lost a brother on this campus. I know it’s not the same, because mine is still alive, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he’s able to stand beside me again someday.
Guilt floods me.
I understand why Syn hates me, and why he treats me the way he does.
I’m an even bigger reminder than JP’s portrait of what he’s lost and will never get back.
And if I were Syn, I’d want me to suffer too.
The keypad on the front door beeps, and moments later, Gemini walks in. He looks up, smirking as he spots me. “What naughty things have you been up to?”
XVII
Tori
“What time do you call this?” Dr. Wright asks before I’ve even completely walked into his office.
I don’t answer. Not because I think he knows exactly what time it is, but because I’ve sprinted the entire way, and I’m still trying to catch my breath.
As predicted, Syn waited until the last possible moment to walk into the dining hall, changed his mind about what he wanted to eat, and then seemed to chew each mouthful twenty times before swallowing.
After shutting the door, I shrug my jacket off. The office is warm, and I’m hot. When the professor doesn’t say anything, I move over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sit down.
Dr. Wright opens a drawer and pulls out an iPad before holding it out to me. “Add your biometrics to this.”
Instead of taking the offered device, I just stare blankly at him.
“Fingerprints and Face ID,” he clarifies. “This contains access to sensitive information, and believe it or not, I don’t allow just any student access.”
I take the device and do as he’s asked. Once finished, I lower the iPad to look at him.
He walks around to my side of the desk and sits in the other chair. He leans over and points at the screen. “This is the app to take attendance.” When he clicks on it, the app asks for my login credentials. “Sign up.”
As I create an account, the username populates, and I’m able to log in. The home screen shows a list schedule of all of Dr. Wright’s classes, including mine earlier today. I click on it, following it through to the attendance, but it’s already been completed.
“I will bring this device to every class. You’re not allowed to take it back to your room,” Dr. Wright says. “As well as taking attendance, you will need to monitor who asks questions and who answers them correctly. Every week, I will provide you with the topics of the following week’s classes, and it’s up to you to find the relevant information on social media. These need to be completed by Friday so I can review over the weekend. In addition, you use this app to grade any quizzes I give. Click that button, and it turns on the camera. Any questions?”
I shake my head.
