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“Well, suck it up,” Victoria hissed under her breath. “We have to represent the Uppers.”
“Uppers?” I asked.
“We’re seventh floor, from Upper families, and that means something,” she replied quietly with a smile still fixed on her face. “We’re supposed to represent everything possible to achieve at Crimson Academy. Otherwise, what would be the point of all these eager young Lowers being here?”
“They want to be like us?” I asked and nodded at an overly excited group of girls watching the two of us talking near the bushes at the end of the lawn.
“No, they want tobeus,” she said. “And that’s what we’re selling them. They never will, of course, but we have to keep bringing in fresh blood and keeping enough of them educated to provide their services when we graduate.”
I felt like we were part of some multi-level marketing scheme or something, like I was supposed to be selling them scented candles and leggings on top of tuition to this insanely overpriced college.
I wondered how many of them could actually afford to be here, how many families had extended themselves for the chance to be among the elites.
“Can they afford it?” I asked quietly as the group of excited girls passed by. “Are we bilking them?”
“Oh Lord, no,” Victoria said, and she laughed, the first genuine sound I heard coming from her. “These are from Lower families with loads of money, but they’re here to learn the finer points of joining society. Some will go underground, like those from my area of the world, and some will try to run legitimate ventures. Like those from your part. Where do you think we get our lawyers and doctors and scientists from, silly? We can’t just drag regular Lowers into those jobs without teaching them first.”
As she spoke longer sentences, I recognized a slight lilt to her voice, the tiniest hint of an accent that belied her hidden origins and gave away her country of birth. However, she worked hard to hide it and affect a typical, bland American accent.
“I’m sick of explaining all this to you,” she said a few moments later. “Let’s go see what the boys are up to.”
“Are we allowed over the wall?” I asked.
“Oh god, no,” she replied. “We’ll have to sneak under. But don’t tell anyone, don’t fuck up, although you’re basically fucking brain dead now. You should know better, even with only half your brain functioning.”
I nodded, letting her insult roll off my back, and followed her across a small patch of grass towards the main building. It surprised me how little I cared about her opinion of me. It might be PTSD or the shock of being back in a strange dog-eat-dog environment, but Victoria Layton’s opinion meant nothing to me.
We went up a small set of stairs, down a short hallway, and down another staircase. Then, finally, we walked through a narrow passageway and up again. I heard the sounds of men talking before I saw them. The distinct voices of entitled young men who were on top of the world. Who had been promised everything they ever wanted for their entire lives. They had their futures stretched out before them, pre-planned and pre-packaged and stuffed with privilege until they might burst with privilege.
Victoria stepped through the door, and all heads snapped towards her, with one tall, athletic guy exclaiming, “Holy shit, look who couldn’t stay away for even a day!”
“You know me, Quin,” she said, and I finally saw her bright side. She dropped the haughty air of superiority and relaxed as she began to flirt with the guys on the other side of the tunnel. “I love the company of men far more than I enjoy the company of women.”
“You’re a man’s woman,” Quin said, his hand snaking out to grab her wrist. “You’re my woman if you want it.”
“I don’t want to tie myself down just yet,” she giggled and let him lock her against his chest.
“You don’t have to. I’ll do it for you,” Quin chuckled. He was classically good-looking in that fresh-faced,all-American way. He had short blond hair with piercing blue eyes and matching dimples in his cheeks when he locked them on me. “Now, why didn’t anyone tell me you were out of your coma?”
I shrugged and tilted my head to the side. His eyes were friendly enough but cold. Flat. I didn’t trust him.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I only just found out myself,” I replied.
He burst into a loud laugh and looked behind him.
“Yo, Remington! Your girl’s down here!” he bellowed up another short staircase to the grassy lawn above. I’d seen the courtyard from my room, so I knew the boy’s side had fewer flowers and trees while the boy’s side had more wide-open space on the lawn. Probably for sparring and swordplay, or whatever they taught them over here.
I heard scrambling down towards us, and Alexander’s voice said, “Babe? What’s going on?”
He skidded to a halt when he saw me, and his face lit up the moment our eyes met. “There you are. I was just thinking about you.”
“I’m sure you were,” I said. “I’m sure you couldn’t wait to see me again.”
“Of course,” he replied and lifted me in his arms, leaving me breathless, not from excitement or joy, but from the physical act of crushing my ribs.
“You have to let me go,” I said. “Please put me down.”
“Sorry,” he said and dropped me to my feet. “Why are you here? Do you want to spend some time alone?”
