Page 75 of Prey It By Ear

A moment later, Fitz rounds the corner of the hall, yet again looking like he’s been awake for four days. It might be his style now, but I don’t mind. His hair is in a state that defies classification, and his t-shirt reads ‘Have you tried turning it on and off?’ in letters that look like they were written by an ancient computer. He sees me, grins with all his teeth, and launches into a high-speed monologue before he even stops walking.

“Baby Girl! You survived the session with the corpse gobbler and look unscathed, which means I win the bet with Felix. I got your messages, and I've already started working on that Hanson chick’s background. Also, I patched the thing with your alarm app, so it sends an automatic threat assessment to all the Captain’s security team and us and your two friends, plus Zhenga. I decided with new professors we have no info on, it’s probably better that the alarm just pings everyone. I added a feature where a second push will also email your badger lawyer so he can start working, too.”

I blink, looking at him with wide eyes. “Uh…. Okay. Did you maybe get into the energy stuff again? You know Chessie said that if you mix that with coffee it will do weird things…”

“Hell, yes, I did! I needed the fuel for Rockland and for this.” He grins crazily and offers his arm so we can start walking. “After I finished the morning class, I dove right into all the stuff I just said. I also organized a bunch of shit that came in boxes the crew checked before I left to come get you.”

Oh, boy. I don’t know what was in the boxes, but whoever it’s for is going to lose their mind at whatever hyped-up filing system he just started.

“We’ll stroll since you had two tough physical things, okay?” he says. “You did a hard thing this morning, and I’m supposed to keep you un-obliterated until at least noon. My apprehension is about the mystery professor we’re headed for—I’m not thrilled about that shit at all.”

The corridor is crowded, but with Fitz running interference, nobody gets too close. I don’t talk about Rockland because there’s nothing to say that can’t be summed up by saying she can fuck off. I also don’t mention the way my heart rate goes up every time I see my reflection and remember the shimmering bruise, even when some asshole makes under their breath comments about it. Instead, I listen to Fitz recount more of his early morning activities and prank plans for Aubrey.

I like that he doesn’t force me to focus on the bad shit and just fills the silence with normal stuff.

When we get to the next building, he holds the door and gives me a sidelong glance. “You got this, Baby Girl. A regular lecture class is going to be a cakewalk compared to your artsy, physical sessions. All you have to do is take notes, study, and all that normal junk. No worries, right?”

“Unless the professor is predisposed to hate me without a reason,” I reply with a frown. “Most regular classes since I started college are led by shitheads who torture me every chance they get. I don’t have high hopes, Fitzy.”

He grins. “If so, I’ll hunt the dumbass down and figure out what piece of them I want for your collection. They’re not safe from me, and I guarantee that grumpy dragon is going to make me look like a reasonable fella now that he put that mark on you. Dragons are very weird about mates, Frenchie says. Notice no one ever fucks with the gargoyle? There’s a reason.”

I take a second to brace myself before we stop at the door to my lecture hall, giving him a half-smile. “Well, that should be interesting. I figured people left Rennie alone because he’s sneaky and smart and terrifying in his shifted form, especially when he’s in a snit.”

“Maybe, but ask him about the time the new grounds staff at Apex ruined one of his gardens before you got there. It’s a good story and until I knew those two secret-keeping fuckers were mated, I never got why it went down like that. Now, of course, I do.”

Chuckling, I lean in to kiss him lightly before I go in. “I will. Now shoo so I can get settled. I’ll see you later, right?”

“Banjo is picking you up, but you definitely won’t be able to miss me for long. Knock ‘em dead, Baby Girl.”

At least now I have something fun to look forward to besides dinner when I get home.

The hall where they’re holding my diplomacy class is one of the few places on campus that feels more like normal college. Obviously, that’s just based on movie and TV knowledge, but compared to other rooms and stuff, this seems like it’s the regular experience. It’s furnished in an old style, with wooden tables arranged in narrow tiers, so if you trip on the stairs you’ll do a perfect flying face-plant and then bleed out in front of the entire class. There are windows on one side, all facing east and catching the sharp white light off the quad. Every row is perfectly aligned to face the smart board at the front, and there’s a desk and lectern empty and waiting for the professor.

I notice the board says ‘International Diplomacy 301’ in tiny, black-inked handwriting, but nothing else. There’s a low-level white noise of conversation, chairs scraping, and people finding their place as they get ready for the class to begin.

I get three feet into the room before I see them—Pink and Gold. The two remaining Barbie twins of l’Academie are already staked out dead center in row two with their postures perfect and hair coordinated. Their matching blouses are probably worth more than a car, and they sit with their arms crossed and their faces set in expressions of icy, preemptive contempt.

They don’t get a victory today, that’s for goddamn sure.

I make a conscious decision not to look at them anymore. Unless I have to, acknowledging them is unnecessary. I will not, under any circumstances, cede the psychological upper hand to enemies even lower on the priority list than Rockland. Now, if they engage me and I can’t escape it? I’ll go under the bar in hell to put them back in their place; this year isn’t the time for shitty bullies to mess with me. So I continue up the row without a sound, walking away from the cluster of idiots surrounding them until I get to the back corner opposite the door.

There, I can put my back to the wall, see every entrance, and have a clear line of sight to both the board and my irrepressible ex-friends. It also gives me a good vantage point to see who else is in the room that could be a problem. As I set my backpack down and unpack my supplies, I clock every face that turns in my direction—three, four, six pairs of eyes, each evaluating me with the same predatory flicker. None of them are smiling. Several of them whisper behind their hands as I sit.

Yeah, they don’t matter either. Not worth my time or energy.

I build my mini fortress on the table in front of me slowly—notebook open, two pens uncapped, one highlighter, and phone set face-down but within easy reach. I line everything up with a precision that would make Chessie proud. My hands are steady, but I can feel the tips of my ears doing that hot-cold switch that happens when I’m on the edge of a full panic, or when I’m about to do something really, really stupid. It’s probably just because my ex-friends are nearby and I’m wondering who the fresh hell this teacher will be, but it irritates me.

Pink and Gold don’t look back at me, but I can feel them over there like the world’s most hostile weather system. They’re talking in low voices to a third party—a raven-haired girl in designer glasses who I don’t know—but mostly they’re just radiating contempt. Luckily, more students filter in, and it helps distract from their bullshit. Nobody takes a seat near mine, not even within a three-row radius, which is fine by me.

Having to size them up as well would make focusing on my class even harder than it will be now.

A minute passes, and the chatter increases in pitch, the energy in the room going from boredom to anticipation. I keep my eyes on my notebook and write the date in the top right corner; the act of shaping numbers and letters gives me the illusion of control.

Still no professor after five minutes, and the remaining Heathers get restless. Barrington checks her phone and then tosses it on the desk with an audible sigh. E. leans in to whisper something to her, and both their faces go flat in a way that’s calculating. I don’t like it, so I turn my phone over just in case.

I try not to let it rankle me because I’ve certainly dealt with worse than them since freshman year. I survived the goddamn Drew household for seventeen years, and I’ve survived three major Fae attacks. Still, the bunny inside me is restless because the room feels wrong. I adjust my position and start writing a homework schedule on the inside cover of the notebook, just to have something to do.

The door at the bottom of the tiered rows opens finally, and every head in the room turns at once.