Page 26 of Fighting Spirit

“Ruth.” He’s still giving me that puppy dog face, but there’s something like impatience flashing behind his eyes. “You know nothing that happened was my intention, right? You’re my best friend. I would never hurt you on purpose.”

Six months ago, I would have taken him at his word, so sure that he would never break my trust. But these days, I’m more skeptical.

I’m about to ask him to leave when Georgie strolls out of her room, gym bag slung over one shoulder. “Hi sweetie.” She throws one arm around me from behind in a quick hug.

“Hey.” I hug her back, trying to keep my irritation in check.

She looks up at Marshall, releasing me to grab a bottle of water out the refrigerator. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”

“He was just heading out,” I say before he can answer.

“Really?” Georgie looks him over, seeing how settled he is.

“Yes.” I keep my voice light, but the way I stare Marshall down tells him everything I’m not saying.

He stands, slipping his coat back on. “I’ll walk down with you,” he says to her.

Georgie seems oblivious to the tension. “Text me if you need me to grab anything from the store.” She squeezes my shoulder.

I straighten, remembering the empty carton I tried to tip into my cereal this morning. “Oat-“

“Oat milk,” she interrupts. “Already on the list.”

I grin over my shoulder at her. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” She tosses her hair. “But don’t I make it look easy?”

I’m still laughing as she herds Marshall out the door and it’s almost enough to make me forget how annoyed I am at him.

Chapter Ten

RUTH

Sat in the corridor by the English faculty offices, I stare intently at a stain tucked under the toe of my shoe. I shuffle my foot to the side, revealing more of what was once probably a coffee spill. The gap in the center of it stares up like a grinning mouth, mocking me. The stain knows exactly why I’m here. I bet it heard about the email I received at eight am summoning me to Dr Melville’s office.

It’s not a surprise; she’s made her feelings about me very clear. She’s told me on more than one occasion that I have a ‘dedication issue’ when it comes to my studies. I don’t even blame her. What other conclusion could she have come to when I’ve missed more assignments than I’ve handed in?

I assume today’s meeting has something to do with the paper I handed in late. I could tell her what happened. At least I have a tangible excuse this time, but I don’t know if she’d believe me. ‘I got kidnapped by a football team who were supposed to grab an actual toad’ is kind of giving ‘my dog ate my homework.’

My knee bounces up and down of its own accord. A throat clears, and my head snaps up; the office door across from me sits ajar, and I catch the eye of the woman at the desk. She gives me a pointed look and I reluctantly still my movements. I have tofight to stop it from going again, all my nerves and restlessness looking for an outlet.

This is what I get for turning up early. If I’d stayed true to form and rolled in two minutes after my appointment time, I wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this waiting.

There’s a swish of movement next to me, and I see Clara sweep in, a floor-length black skirt rustling as she kicks it out in front of her. She’s wearing three necklaces and half a dozen rings that click together softly with each movement. I smile, happy to see her. I only met her this year when she took Econ and joined our study group, but she and Steph lived together as freshmen. When she sees me, her face lights up, and she hurries over, dropping into the seat next to mine.

“Oh, thank god, I left my book back at my apartment and I worried I was actually gonna have to sit with my own thoughts.” The words escape her in one long breath. “Are you here for office hours too?”

“I got told to come.” I try not to sound as dejected as I feel, but I don’t manage it well.

“Ouch.” She winces. Everyone in our class knows if Melville asks you to see her, you’ve got a problem.

“Yup.” I pop the P.

“You know what it’s about?”

“Kind of,” I trail off. When she hits me with an expectant stare, I find the whole story tumbling out. Everything about that night, the kidnapping, Rowan. Everything that led up to the missed assignment. With each word, her jaw edges closer to her lap, shock etching over every line of her face.

“What the fuck?” she hisses, twisting toward me so our knees are knocking together.

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