What does she need to be nervous about?
“Did anything weird happen yesterday?”
My brows furrow together.
“During practice, I mean.”
Is she worried Holt and I beat the shit out of each other on the field? We sort of did, but not in the way she’d be implying.
“No. Not really.” I tell her. “Why? You worried about me?” The idea brings a smile to my face, but Cecilia doesn’t match it. She wrings her hands in her lap. An anxious gesture that makes my hackles rise.
“What happened?”
She drops her gaze. Shit. That means something did happen. But Holt was on the field with me the entire time.
“Did Holt?—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “Nothing like that. It wasn’t him.” She purses her lips together and turns her head away. I get the feeling that last part, the bit about it not beinghim, she didn’t mean to say that part out loud because it implies that it was someone.
Fuck.
“Cecilia—”
She shakes her head without looking at me. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
That’s not going to happen. But before I can pry her for more information, our professor walks into the room.
“Good morning. Today we’ll be discussing?—”
I tune him out and pull my phone from my pocket, firing a text off to Felix.
Me: Something happened with Cecilia yesterday. Can you ask around?
Felix: *Thumbs up* emoji.
It’ll have to do. Out of all of us, Felix is the most likely to find out. He talks to people outside of the team and our crew. He goes to the occasional party and likes to make new friends. People tell him things.
Cecilia pulls out her notebook and starts taking notes as Professor Arndt begins his lecture. He’s picking up where we left off yesterday. Delving deeper into oppression within diversity.
“Oppression can be thought of as the social act of placing severe restrictions on an individual, a group or an institution. Can anyone list the restrictions Israel has placed on Palestinians residing within Gaza?”
A girl to my left raises her hand.
“Miss James?”
“They’ve restricted freedom of movement and access to water.”
“Good. What else?”
Someone else raises their hand.
“Yes, Mr. Morel?”
“Aren’t those restrictions justified?” he asks.
All eyes turn to look at the jackass who just spoke, our gazes mostly a mixture of disgust and disbelief.
“Care to elaborate?” our professor asks.
