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“Some more so than others,” Rory drawls, loud and pointed enough for the comment’s target to furrow his brows and for Arabella to tense beside me.
“Mr. Munro, if you insist on interrupting this class, then I have no option but to send you straight to detention.”
“That’s a shame, I wouldn’t want to force you to do some actual teaching for once,” Rory says, sounding as breathtakingly bored as ever. Moncrieff appears to let this comment fly, perhaps as a final test, before lifting the chalk to the board again.
I glance around at Rory, mouthingWhat the fuckat him. He meets my gaze, all silver eyes and comfortable male confidence. Is this his plan? I don’t want Rory to get in trouble on Luke’s account, but Rory appears to have no problem sacrificing his sterling Lochkelvin reputation to defend his friend. And as I chew the end of my pen, I realize there’s something so damn noble about that, about the tightness of their bond and the growing relationship between them. After all, who protects the protector of the realm?
Rory seems to want to make it himself.
“This year, we will be focusing onchange.” Dr. Moncrieff writes the wordCHANGEin large capital letters on the chalkboard. “We’ll learn how to makechangehappen in politics. The internal processes within government. We’ll discuss private members’ bills and lobbying. We’ll discuss—”
“Corporate-funded astroturfed political campaign groups beginning with the letter ‘A’?” Rory murmurs calmly as he writes in his notebook.
A chill slides down my back.What is he doing?And how the hell does he have the composure to say the things he’s saying out in the open, right in front of Dr. Moncrieff and Arabella? I’m nervous for him, for the punishment that’s no doubt heading his way.
“Right, that’s it,” Dr. Moncrieff says, placing down his tiny piece of chalk with a kind of lethal mania. “Pack up your things, Mr. Munro, and move to the corridor.”
“Why’s whit he said no’ worth discussin’?” Finlay asks loudly, having Rory’s back in an instant. “Surely it’s a big part o’ oor political landscape, particularly these days, naw? Dinnae knowwhichfucker tae trust any mair.” He adds the last part pointedly to Dr. Moncrieff.
Dr. Moncrieff releases a sigh. “Mr. Fraser, you are an exemplary student of politics and I dearly hope you will not let Mr. Munro drag you down to his level.”
“Oh, I dunno,” Finlay drawls, “I quite enjoy bein’ dragged tae his level.” And I know just from his slow, honeyed tone, by his emphasis on the worddrag, that Finlay isn’t thinking about politics at all. That the Rory he’s currently invoking is the shark-grinning one hooking an arm around Finlay’s neck and dragging Finlay into bed with furious crushing kisses, with a whispered word that’s teasing and controlling enough to make Finlay of all people flush.
There’s a cocky smirk on Rory’s face.
“Mr. Munro, why haven’t you moved?”
Rory shrugs. “Don’t feel like I should.” He pauses before adding, as though forced and therefore meaningless, “Sir.”
“You are inmyclassroom. You followmyrules.”
“You are inmyschool,” Rory says idly, twirling his pen around his fingers, “and by being a politics teacher with his own clear agenda, you have broken Lochkelvin rules time and time again. You are not, I believe, fit to teach — much less fit for me to obey.”
Dr. Moncrieff stands there mutely, the chalk still clenched between his fingertips.
“You’re disrupting our class,” Arabella snaps at Rory, her temper fraying once more. “Again. If you hate it so much, why don’t you just leave?”
“Why should he have to leave?” I ask as calmly and diplomatically as possible, so as not to cause a scene, even though it’s the first time all day I’ve plucked up the courage to defend Rory in public, and my heart thunders in my chest. “He wants the full picture to be taught. Dr. Moncrieff doesn’t appear to be doing that, so Rory has every right to demand a better education.”
“You are so damn pathetic,” Arabella spits, and it’ssovicious, it’ssorude when I’d worried about keeping my tone as polite as possible for her, that I’m startled into silence.
“Ad hominem!” Finlay shouts behind me, sounding outraged. “The moment ye bring oot the insults, Belly, ye’ve lost. Which means yer reasonin’ isinvalid.”
In a steely low voice behind me, Rory leans forward to murmur scathingly to Arabella, “Donotcall my girlfriend pathetic ever again.” Shivers cascade down my back at how dangerous he sounds.
“Are ye really gonnae let that fly, Doc?” Finlay asks loudly. “Cannae criticize yer syllabus but insultin’ an innocent student’s a’ fine an’ dandy, is it?”
The class has grown so noisy that I’m reminded of my first day in Lochkelvin, with Rory mocking Dr. Moncrieff and Finlay arriving late, his green eyes sparkling like it’d been showtime. Once again, Dr. Moncrieff has lost control of his class. For that reason alone, forgetting everything else that’s sordid about him, it seems like he shouldn’t evenbea teacher.
“Sir, why do you think wehaverules in place here?” Rory asks, so chill that it’s like what he’s about to say next must be his trump card. “It’s to protect students. Even Belly, in all her idiocy, deserves that. And the moment you violate those boundaries, the moment you unthinkingly tear them down for your own sad sick gain, you have no worth here as an educator. So tell me why I should ever listen to you.”
Dr. Moncrieff stands silently at the front of the class. Maybe all he hears is a wall of white noise because he doesn’t react to Rory’s words. He doesn’t move at all.
“I don’t needyouto stand up for me,” Arabella snarls, but Rory just scoffs.
“I’m not standing up for you, you imbecile, I’m standing up for Lochkelvin. And this fraud does not deserve to be a teacher here any longer.”
“Fraud?” Arabella shrieks, slamming her notebook shut and spinning on her chair to look Rory in the eye. “You have some nerve. You accuse everyone else of being a fraud except the one person we all know whois!”
The level of commotion in the classroom is unbearable, and yet all Dr. Moncrieff does is stand there blinking, a rabbit caught in headlights, looking the opposite of any kind of cutthroat activist. Perhaps, I think to myself, massaging my temples with the tips of my fingers, his bark is worse than his bite. In fact, Iknowit is: Benji is the unstable, narcissistic, charming bastard Moncrieff — his brother is his useful, scholarly idiot.
“Can everyone please be quiet?” Dr. Moncrieff says, and it’s weak — it’s so weak — but the class must be beginning to feel sorry for how easy it is to wind him up that silence reluctantly falls. “Mr. Munro, I appreciate your point of view,” he adds, his tone expressing quite the opposite sentiment, “however, there is a national curriculum to adhere to, so any complaints regarding the exclusion of certain topics may be directed to the education board. Mr. Fraser, as admirable as your stance is to defend your friend, if you could do so at a lower volume, I would be more inclined to indulge it. And Ms. Weir,” he says with a kind of blunt finality as he turns toward me, “these boys do not need you to stick up for them. If they wish to partake in the destruction of their credibility, they at least have the grades to do so. You, however, only progressed into this year by the skin of your teeth. For your own sake, I’d recommend you simmer down.”
It’s the harshest Dr. Moncrieff has ever spoken to me and I can’t help the slow descent of my jaw. It’s as though a spotlight is shining down on me, releasing a pure-white glow that attracts everyone else’s attention. Worse, I sense Arabella’s approving smirk from beside me.
“‘Simmer doon’?” Finlay snaps, ignoring the recommendation to speak quieter. “She didnae raise her voice once! Are ye gonnae tell Bell— Arabella aff anaw, ‘cause she was yellin’ a’ over the shop, or…?”
But instead of reprimanding Arabella, Dr. Moncrieff picks up the chalk again and underlines the wordCHANGE.
And Arabella relaxes in her chair like it’s a throne, the new gold Head Girl badge glittering on her lapel, fully aware of how untouchable she is with Dr. Moncrieff in her corner.
