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Chapter 7
Astrid
I don’t have the money to pay a fine, and I can’t afford to have my clothes confiscated, so I stick to the uniform. The black skirt I can rock with my chunky sole black loafers and my short hair, so I decide to imitate a fifties look. I go online and search through Insta for rockabilly and Elvis. Pretty soon I’m hyped about wearing a uniform. I wear a white tank top under my oxford and knot it at the waist.
“Look at you, little miss hottie,” Roni smiles as I walk out of the bathroom. “Actually, you’re pretty tall. And those biceps. You work out?”
“A little,” I mumbled.
Each dorm room is en suite with its neighbor. The bathroom separates the two dorm rooms, and the two center rooms share a common wall. There are twelve rooms on a floor, six on each side, odd numbers on the north side, and even on the south side. I find out later that the blonde girl with the long hair lives at the opposite end in number twelve—the only private room with a private bath.
“Well, I look like what I am.” She holds her arms out from her sides. “A Mack truck with a rack.” She laughs, and I shake my head.
“You are sexy, popping out of that shirt like a goddess.”
She swats my arm. “Come on, let’s grab a bagel, and we can eat as we walk to class.”
I get looks, but not much else happens on my first official day as a Stonehaven student. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I yank it out, checking the screen.
Nova: Grl, where r u?
Astrid: I told you. Stonehaven.
Nova: U r joking? Right?
Astrid: I’ll see you tonight.
“Some guy checking up on you?” Roni peers over my shoulder, teasing me like she wants to read the screen.
“No, my other best friend.” She smiles her approval at her new status in my life.
Well, this is it, the Wisdom Hall.
I pull out my schedule and check the name. “Vanderbilt Hall.” I look at her. “You’re fucking kidding me. I thought people were playing me. It’s named after that rich kid.”
“Around here, they mean it. Don’t be late to class, sit near the teacher, and be the first to leave.”
I walk into Vanderbilt Hall, and the whole world is rushing around me. I’m exaggerating, but kids are too busy moving past me to bother with my presence. I look at the schedule again, and my first class is rhetoric. WTF is that? My phone buzzes, and it’s my alarm reminding me to be in class. What a fucking difference. At Monarch, you could show up before the end and still pass. I’m not trying that shit here. Room 305 has to be on the third floor, so I book it up the steps, taking two at a time and startling the kids walking up the flight one at a time.
I assure myself it’s a good workout, but I’m making a spectacle of myself. No matter. I’ve got to get into that room and get a good seat before they’re all taken. I walk into room 305, and the teacher has her back to the room as she writes on the dry-erase board. There’s a seat in the second row, and I hurry to get it. I sigh with relief until I see Pierce sitting next to me. I look behind me for another seat, but I see that guy Justin behind me. There’s a seat behind him, but the blonde who spooks me is sitting next to it.
The teacher turns around. “Okay, class, it is time to begin.” She gives the evil eye to the few stragglers and waits sternly for them to be seated. “I am Ms. Angela Harmon. Please check your schedules. This is rhetoric level three in Vanderbilt Hall Room 305.”
She keeps going, and I am thoroughly lost. She uses words I didn’t know people actually used and a hundred more I’ve never heard before in my life. I’m in trouble, and I can’t understand how I ended up in this class.
“Any questions?” Professor Harmon looks over the class, and I swear her gaze rests on me for a moment. “Good. You will use an actual book for this class. Not an eBook. And you will have it for the next class, and chapters one through four will be read.”
Pierce raises his hand, and Professor Harmon nods. “I do have a question, Professor Harmon. Could we have a review of last semester’s key points?”
Professor Harmon nods. “Why don’t we ask the class?”
I close my eyes and pray like I just learned how that she won’t pick me. “We will go around the room, starting with the first student. Say your name and then answer the question.”
Shit. Stealthily, I count the number of students, and there are only sixteen. It’s a small class, and there’s no way class will end before she calls on me.
“What are the main principles of rhetoric?”
The first student stands to answer. My eyes bug as my mouth opens, and someone behind me chuckles. Professor Harmon glances over but says nothing. Again her gaze falls on me before looking away with a grimace. My forehead feels warm as sweat forms in my armpits. I’ve fought some nasty fuckers in the Pit, but I’ve never felt this kind of dread before a fight. Slowly, my mouth dries out as, one by one, the students stand and answer the questions correctly. My turn slowly approaches me like a wave about to crash and knock me facedown before I can flee. I fidget in my seat as I stare down at the floor while trying hard to keep my breathing low. If I pass out, I won’t have to answer.
