vulnerable, which I hate. No one has any clue what actually happened, and yet I feel exposed. Raw. I pull my uniform jacket tighter around my torso as I walk down the hall between classes.
Gul passes in the other direction, and I stare her down. It’s 100% her fault that everyone is talking about this. Okay, maybe it’s not, but I’m choosing to blame her anyway. Her deep brown eyes meet mine before flicking to the floor. Then she starts chattering to her companion.
I’m positive they’re talking about me, but neither of them turns to look. Instead, they round the corner out of sight.
I stand frozen in the hallway, watching the flow of people as they go about their day, unfazed by the shadow of death hovering in the street outside.
I’d love to continue to blame all of the scintillating theories on the queen of gossip herself, but something about pointing the finger at Gul gives me pause. When I asked her about the rumors at breakfast this morning, she shut down. Something in her expression made me wonder. Was Gul actually afraid to talk about Professor Rook’s death?
Like I told him to, Ricardo meets me outside my last class of the day. Slinging his arm around my shoulders, we walk through the crowd toward the parking lot. Nobody is used to seeing us together yet, so there’s a lot of staring, which makes me want to scowl. Instead, my muscles fall into my practiced politician’s smile. A bland, easy expression that feels like default. I am not used to being the subject of such probing study, and I’m quickly deciding I don’t like it. When I’m on a stage speaking, that’s different. Comfortable. This feels like… involuntary dissection. As if I’m wearing the emperor’s clothes, and everyone can see through them but me.
As soon as Ricardo and I are outside, relatively alone, I push his arm off me. “We need to set some ground rules if we’re going to keep up this charade. You’re far too touchy for me.”
Ricardo laughs. “You know a lot of people at school call you the ice bitch behind your back?”
I shoot a look his way. I’m aware of the nickname. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to excel. Get into Georgetown. Take over the world. “Who cares? Where’s your car?”
Ricardo’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks around the parking lot. “I don’t have a car.”
“Then how are we getting to the auto body shop?” I whisper-hiss the last part, just in case someone is listening. I can’t be too careful when there could be spies everywhere, just waiting to get their hands on some juicy gossip to propel themselves up the academy popularity ladder.
Ricardo laughs. “You heard the headmistress’s announcement. We’re not allowed to drive off campus anyway. We’ll take the subway. Like normal people.”
I grimace at the thought of being jostled about in a warm, smelly metal tube with a bunch of strangers. “Isn’t it dirty? And crowded?”
His hand goes up, a finger pointed at me. “Wait. Haven’t you ever ridden the subway?”
Gritting my teeth, I give a slight shake of my head. Admitting my inexperience to Ricardo makes my skin burn with indignation. Here comes a “popping my subway cherry” joke in three, two...
Ricardo laughs. “You’re priceless. Today’s your lucky day, mon coeur. If you’re nice, I’ll even let you sit in my lap so you don’t have to put your royal behind on the dirty plastic seats.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Not a subway virgin joke, then. Color me surprised. But if he thinks I’m sitting in his lap… “Ugh. You wish. Let’s just go. And you have to stop with that nickname. I am not your heart.”
Laughing, he leads the way toward the gate. “Good thing they lowered the safety protocols for getting off campus, isn’t it? I wonder how long that will last, if the police think someone at the academy killed Professor Rook.” He gives me a pointed look.
“Shh. Not here.” I practically shove him through the iron gate, waving to the security guard in the booth as we pass. “Just going to the drugstore,” I say by way of explanation. It’s weak, but it’ll do.
Ricardo leans backward heavily against my hands, stalling our progress. “Hey, slow down. There’s no fire. Nicknames are one of my terms. If I’m going to keep fake dating you, I want to use pet names.”
I don’t stop propelling him forward. There might not be a