“Thanks,” I mumble, embarrassed by my predicament, but grateful for the rescue. And thankful it was him and not a certain group of rude, vindictive boys.
“What were you doing out there at this hour?” Atlas asks, his tone a mixture of concern and curiosity.
I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. “I was getting this back,” I say, holding up my now retrieved belongings.
He arches an eyebrow. “I saw that the other day and was wondering whose it was.”
“It’s mine.” I confirm. “The Legacies wanted towelcomeme to Altair.”
Atlas’s expression darkens slightly. “Yes, well, they’re not exactly known for their kindness. Or originality, for that matter.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “No, I suppose not.”
His gaze gentles. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. The Legacies here, can be…a handful.”
An understatement if I ever heard one. I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, despite the tremor still running through my body from being in the water. “It’s fine. I got my stuff back, that’s what matters.”
Atlas nods, but doesn’t seem entirely convinced. But that’s fine because I’m not sure I was either.
“Well, as long as you’ve got your things back,” he says, and I dip my chin in agreement. He glances at the canoe, then back at me. “You go on, I’m sure you’ve had more than enough excitement for the night. I’ll put the canoe back where it belongs.”
“Thanks,” I say meekly, because he was right, I was feeling spent and the thought of having to tug a heavy canoe even a few feet felt like a chore. The adrenaline from my nighttime excursion was rapidly fading.
At least I had my bag back.
“Should I leave the hoodie?” I half-joke before untying it from the canoe.
“You can keep that. I’m not sure the other students would know what to do with such creativity when they take them back out.”
With a shrug, I toss the item into my satchel. “It’s their loss.” It’s not until after I close the flap that I notice something is missing.
My trusty notebook, filled with all my observations and discoveries about plants, has disappeared. It was the one thing I’d made sure to bring with me from home. Now it was gone.
Rage boils in my veins, causing my teeth to grind together. Those despicable Legacy boys took it from me. As if hanging my things high above the water wasn’t enough, they had to add insult to injury. And I know exactly who is responsible for this. The mere thought of his smug face fills me with a burning desire for revenge.
After my conversation with Clara had so abruptly ended, I was left feeling drained and emotionally spent. But now, with this latest development, I was even more upset. A part of me wanted to shut down and retreat into myself, but another part desperately craved resolution and closure. My mind was a storm of conflicting emotions, leaving me physically and mentally exhausted.
I knew what I had to do, but a part of me wondered if confronting Bishop would really solve anything. Yet my emotions were pushing me forward, unable to ignore the burning desire for justice. That wasmynotebook he’d taken.
As I approached the dormitory, the imposing building loomed before me, its many windows gleaming in the bleak night like judgmental eyes. Was I really doing this?
The image of my missing notebook flashed in my mind, and my resolve hardened. Yes, I was.
I yank the door open and storm inside, the cool air of the lobby a stark contrast to the heat of my anger. A few students milling about turn to stare, but I pay them no mind. My focus was singular: find Bishop.
I head up the stairs, taking them two at a time, my breath coming in short, angry bursts. I have no idea where his room is, only an estimation based on where I saw him from my own window. I did know one thing for certain, his room was in the east corner at the top of a spiral, so that’s the direction I head.
“Bishop!” I shout, my voice trembling with barely contained rage as I pound my fist on the only door in this part of the top floor.
A moment passes, then another. The silence that follows my outburst is deafening, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing. Just as I was about to pound again, it swings open.
Bishop stands there; his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Well, well,” he drawls, leaning against the doorframe with infuriating casualness. “To what do I owe this pleasure Prescott? Did you come to try and sneak a peek at me shirtless again? Or were you hoping to catch me fully naked this time while you stare?”
His teasing words make my cheeks feel hot, but I doubt Bishop even notices. He has that infuriatingly self-satisfied look on his face that only makes me angrier. Besides, he was fully clothed tonight in a shirtandpants.
He knows full well why I've arrived, his gaze flickering down to my bag before leisurely sweeping up my body. With a snarl, I demand, “Where is it?”
He tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Where’s what?”