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With her arms still folded, Penny sucks her teeth before nodding. “I’m not saying that I know anything, because I don’t. But the Keyingham’s are powerful people. They’d have more than enough influence to keep any details they didn’t want known under lockdown. Although that begs the question of why. And if there is more to JP’s murder, this university’s alumni are some of the most powerful in the country.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Fucking hell, Tori. Digging into this is going to royally piss off some very important people.”
James Keyingham University is extremely proud of its alumni, listing everyone on the website, the brochures, and even engraving their names on a wall on the side of one of the buildings like a memorial. I’d seen the names and googled them.
“You don’t have to worry. I’ll handle it.” It’s not like I have any other choice.
“Tori, I’ve been worried since Syn declared war on you in the dining hall.”
My mouth goes dry. “War? He told everyone to ignore me. What did he say after I left?”
“Nothing.” Penny points at my head. “But that isn’t ignoring you, and unlike you, I know Syn. Regardless of what he says, you’re the sister of the guy that killed his brother. You are walking down a road that’s full of landmines and enemy fire. And the person supplying all that ammunition is Synclair Keyingham.”
XVII
Tori
Idon’t make it to breakfast, and it’s not because the hair dye experiment failed.
While dealing with my hair, I never got around to the reading for Dr. Wright’s class, so I borrowed Penny’s textbook and attempted to get the words to sink into my tired brain.
The nail polish remover was mostly successful, except for a few places. And aside from my palms, the rest I could hide under clothes. My hair, on the other hand, had turned out far better than we could have hoped for.
The blue is so rich and vibrant, and the conditioner has given my hair a gorgeous shine to it. While I hate how it happened, I love the color. I have no intention of finding a hair salon this weekend.
I keep my head held high as I walk to class. Apparently, the color is also bold enough that Syn’s instruction of ignoring me is forgotten about because almost everyone turns their head to look. I return every stare, searching for the telltale sign of someone who’s pissed off their prank didn’t go to plan, but I’m not lucky enough to find the culprit.
When I get to class, although I’m early, I’m not the first one there. Walking through the door, there’s a number of people already seated, and they all become silent as I enter.
Giving them a bright smile, I cross the front of the small room so I can go to my seat. It’s only when I turn to sit down that I see the graffiti on my desk.
Murderer.
Whore.
Criminal.
Traitor.
You’re as guilty as your brother.
Over the top of it all, there’s a white, thick liquid.
Taking a deep breath, I stare at it and not the people in the classroom, forcing myself to keep as neutral as possible. Technically, we don’t have assigned seating, but ever since the first day, everyone’s stayed in the same seat.
What they’ve written doesn’t really bother me. I’ve had this, and worse, back in high school. The liquid… it could be craft glue, or it could be bodily fluids. And while I’m hoping with the quantity of it, that’s unlikely, I’m not ruling it out.
This class is popular, and I know there’s only one spare seat at the front of the class, right next to Dr. Wright’s TA, Quentin. It sucks, but it’s better than sitting here. I’m just about to take Penny’s seat when Dr. Wright comes in. Before he can close the door, Penny runs in, ducking under his arm.
“Sorry,” she says as she rushes towards me.
“Hurry up and take your seat,” Dr. Wright tells her.
Penny jogs up the stairs to me, slowing and frowning as she gets close. “What’s wrong?” she whispers.
“Go take the seat next to Quentin.”
She shakes her head, ready to try to squeeze past me, and then she notices the desk. “What the hell?”
“Is there a problem up there?” Dr. Wright calls.
