A new round of snickers erupts in the room, and it feels like I’ve been in this exact situation before. Oh, wait. Just yesterday, in fact.
Maybe if I act like I’m about to faint, they’ll have to remove me from the room, and I can skip out on the rest of the term…
“Freshman, Freshman.” O’Donnelly’s hands clap together with a stiff, robotic motion. Her expression is stern and unamused, her lips pressed into a straight line as she gets everyone’s attention back.
Wait, Freshman? I’m in my third year; I’m a Junior.
I have to figure out a way to get out of this class. There’s no way I’m going to spend all my time with underclassmen.Something must have gone wrong with my schedule. But hadn’t Maxwell assured me she personally took care of it?
“Students, consider yourselves lucky as we will have a special guest joining us this semester. A Legacy has generously offered to assist us,” Professor O’Donnelly announces.
I’ll need to go back to my room and double check my schedule to make sure that I didn’t accidentally end up in this class. If Maxwell intentionally put me here, we were going to have a serious conversation. What was this seminar even about again? I glance at the chalkboard behind O’Donnelly’s head. Written in white chalk wasExploring the Roots of Altair.
Great, so I was in a class on the history of this school. Wasn’t just being a student here enough?
“Let’s all give a warm welcome to our assistant for this quarter, Mr. Sylvester Oliveri.” The announcement interrupts my thoughts and brings my attention back to the present moment.
My eyes widen in disbelief, and I feel like they might pop out of my head. What did she just say? The noise level in the room increases, but I can hardly hear it over the sound of my own shock. I turn to look at the stage and see Sylvester making his way to the podium with a smug expression on his face.
“Thank you, everyone,” Sylvester says, effortlessly charming the entire room before gesturing for them to quiet down. The girl sitting next to me lets out a dreamy sigh and gazes at him with adoration in her eyes.
I press my lips together tightly, letting out a frustrated huff of air.
“I am eager to help teach the rich history of our esteemed institution. Together, I believe we will all gain valuable knowledge, especially those of you who may need more support.”
I must have made a sound, because Professor O’Donnelly’s voice suddenly calls out to me.
“Do you have something to add, Alexandra?” Her tone is sharp and direct.
“Alex,” I correct, and no, I didn’t.
“Please, enlighten us all on why Mr. Oliveri’s introduction and the start of our lesson took a backseat to your sighs,” O’Donnelly insists, instead of dropping the conversation.
A slow smile creeps across Sylvester’s face, while mine is completely blank.
Fine.
The air in this classroom already tasted stale and old, like chewing on a piece of gum that had lost its flavor, so what did I have to lose anyway?
“I’d rather eat a bowl of nails than endure one of Mr. Oliveri’sboringlectures on this place.”
I can feel the shocked stares of my fellow students, but I refuse to look at them. My focus is solely on the adversary in front of me—this is between us alone.
A dark shadow crosses over his face. His eyes are cold and revealing. He despises me just as much as I do him and the other Legacies.
Sylvester’s lips curl into a smirk. “Well,Alexandra,” he says, emphasizing my full name just to annoy me. “I’m sorry you find the history of our esteemed institution so…unpalatable. Perhaps we can arrange for that bowl of nails to be delivered to your dorm room?”
A few nervous giggles ripple through the class. I grip the edge of the desk, willing myself not to react.
“That won’t be necessary,” Professor O’Donnelly interjects, her voice strained. “Well, Alexandra—”
“Alex,” I interject again, my eyes still fixed on Sylvester.
“Alex,” O’Donnelly corrects herself. “I suggest you reconsider your attitude. This course is mandatory for all students, regardless of their year or personal preferences. Now, if we may continue without further interruptions…”
I sink lower in my seat, seething with anger, but knowing I’ve already pushed my luck. Sylvester turns back to the class, that infuriating smile plastered across his face once more.
“As I was saying,” he continues smoothly, “the history of Altair University is rich with tradition and legacy. For centuries, some of the most influential families in the country have been allowed to attend here to learn and grow into the leaders of tomorrow.”