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How is she mixed up in all this? Why does she owe Nero money for something her ex did?
As Ms. Drysdale turns to her slideshow on Susan B. Anthony, I slide my phone into the pages of my textbook and Google my teacher, something I should have done when I first found out about her and Nero. There’s nothing – no newspaper articles, no school gossip, only an Instagram page with a couple of photographs of flowers, last updated over two years ago. Luckily, I know someone who can dig deeper.
The bell rings for lunch. I hang back as students barrel out of the room. I have another annoying task I need to deal with today.
“Ms. Drysdale, I wondered if I could talk to you.” I fall into step beside her as the halls fill with students. She cradles her laptop tight against her chest and stares at me with those wide, intelligent eyes of hers. “I know it’s past the cut-off date for signing up for the Germany trip, but I was wondering if it might be possible for you to add another student?”
“That depends.” She slips her laptop case under her arm and tucks a strand of stray hair behind her ear. The cuffs of her grey blazer are rolled up to her elbows. The insides are a vivid scarlet color, matching the chunky beaded rosary hanging around her neck. “I’m assuming this student is you?”
“Yes, oh, and actually, George would like to come, too.” I haven’t asked George, but I’m sure she’d agree. I can’t travel to foreign shores without my girl Friday. Gabriel’s paying for my ticket – I’m sure he won’t mind throwing hers on his tab, too. Provided we can actually get on the trip.
I’m half hoping she turns me down. I’m not convinced we’ll find anything in Germany when Mackenzie is clearly here in Emerald Beach. But George is right – it’s the only lead we have.
Ms. Drysdale frowns. “I’ll have to check with the airline and our hotels, and we’ll need to increase the number of faculty chaperones, but if—”
“Coach Jones said he’d be interested in coming, and I heard Mr. Garcia talking about it, too.”
At the mention of Tiberius’ name, Ms. Drysdale’s eyes glaze over ever so slightly. We round a corner, and she narrowly avoids walking into a water fountain. “Oh, Mr. Garcia? You’ve been talking to him about this? Did he—”
She walks straight over a trash can and goes flying. Laughter ripples down the hall. I glare at Cleo and her friends as I bend over to help Ms. Drysdale to her feet. Only bending over is not a thing you should do with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Take my word for it.
Ow. Fuck. Ow.
Ms. Drysdale’s lying on the ground in a pile of trash and all I can do is grip the side of the trashcan and grit my teeth through the wave of pain.
“Are you okay—” I recover enough to reach for her, but a rough hand pushes me aside. I spin around, ready to sucker punch the fool who dared to touch me, only to see Tiberius scoop Ms. Drysdale into his arms. She clings to his thick neck as he sets her back on her feet again and brushes empty kale chip bags off her blazer. She sways a little as she stares up at him, but I don’t think it’s because she’s concussed.
“I’ll ruin the fool who put that trash can there.” Tiberius hands her the battered laptop, which smashed into the marble tiles when she fell. I can see a crack running across the edge of the screen, and a couple of broken keys still on the ground. “I’m afraid this might be done for.”
Ms. Drysdale’s face pales. “Oh, no. I borrowed that from the school. I’ll have to pay for the repairs.”
Cheap bastards. This school is sagging under the weight of silver spoons shoved in students’ assholes, and they’d go after a teacher for accidentally smashing an old laptop, a teacher they already pay like shit?
“Leave it to me,” Tiberius growls. He’s fucking terrifying when he growls, but Ms. Drysdale kind of sinks against him, her eyelashes fluttering. And I see what’s going on here.
I’m going to kill Tiberius.
“Thank you, Mackenzie. I’ll see what I can do about Germany.” Ms. Drysdale tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, even though it didn’t need tucking. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you about your performance. It’s good to see your grades improving, and you seem to be fitting in better.”
That’s what happens when Noah Marlowe does most of your assignments for you. “I think I just needed some time to adjust to Stonehurst.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re enjoying my class. You’re one of my more engaged students. Mr. Garcia was telling me about this new documentary on the emperor Hadrian showing at the theatre downtown.” She beams at him. “We’re going to check it out this weekend, and if it’s worthwhile, we might have a class trip to see it. What do you think?”
“Sounds great.” I glare at Tiberius, who pretends he doesn’t notice my ire.
“Okay, well…” her gaze lingers on Tiberius as she hugs her broken laptop to her chest. “I’d better go. Er… right… yes.”
She dashes off, leaving me with Lothario. My hands ball into fists.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hiss at Tiberius.
“None of your business,” he smirks, cracking his knuckles.
“It’s very much my business, Mr. Garcia. She’s not going to this documentary alone. You asked my history teacher on a date.”
“It’s a free country.”
“Stay away from her,” I hiss.
