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I shrug and polish off the rest. “Guess I’m psychotic, too, because I quite like it.”
When the three of us arrive at Alchemical Arithmancy, Austin is already there, looking flushed and buzzing with every happy chemical his body makes.
“I see your run was good,” Jess says, settling next to him.
I sit on her other side, and Stevie sits to my right.
“Ah, Ms. Collins, I heard you were in this period. You’ll have to work hard to catch up with the rest of the students, but I’m certain you’re up to the task.”
The tall man, with a bristly mustache and a toothy smile, grins at me from behind his desk. I don’t smile back. There’s nothing friendly in his expression. No kindness stirs in his eyes.
“I’m sure I’m up to the task,” I say. “Will you be emailing your lecture notes, or do you have physical copies for me?”
The man’s brows pull together. “Now why on earth would I send you my personal lecture notes?” On the surface, the question is pleasant, but I don’t need to dig far to find the poison in every syllable.
It’s unsettling, especially here, in a classroom.
“Because...” I say with just as much manufactured pleasantness. “That’s what every other teacher has done to make sure I catch up as quickly as possible,sir.”
I land on that last word hard and feel every eye in the room shift toward us.
“Well, Ms. Collins, I think you’ll find I’m not like every other teacher at Blackwood U.”
He stares me down from behind his desk, flat brown eyes swimming with veiled malice.
And I do the only thing my father’s daughter can. I stare right back.
Flinching is never an option when you face Malachi Umbra.
We stay staring, unblinking, for some time before Stevie kicks me under the desk, breaking my concentration.
“Right, on with the lesson,” the teacher, who hadn’t bothered to introduce himself to me, says as if nothing happened.
Stevie clears her throat just as a message pops up on my tablet.
Stevie Corvus-Stocklin
What were you thinking? Don’t ever stare Professor Karloff down like that!”
Dove Collins
Why? He started it. What a dickhole. What’s his problem, anyway?
Stevie Corvus Stocklin
I’ll tell you later. Just pay attention and don’t piss him off. Got it?
I give her a quick nod and open the note taking app, attention fully on the theoretical math Professor Karloff scratches across the board.
“Since some of you think texting in my class is a wise way to spend your time here, why don’t you tell us how to solve for this alchemical property, Ms. Corvus-Stocklin?”
Stevie’s cheeks go pink, and she stands and heads to the front of the classroom.
But something about Karloff really chaps my ass. “You know, it’s a proven fact that students learn better when in an engaging, thought-provoking, and most importantly, non-judgmental environment.” I lean back in my chair, meeting his eyes once again. “Seems to me like you’re doing us all a disservice by being such a jackhole.”
Karloff’s cold stare bores into me. His lips press together so tightly they go pale as his fists clench at his sides.
Guess he didn’t like that.
