Page 114 of Endless Anger
“What good would cheating do?”
“It’d make your life a little easier.”
“Sure, in the moment. But I’d be missing out on potentially vital information, which could be detrimental down the road. I know you don’t care about learning, butIlike it. Learning is the only way you grow.”
Even if it takes me longer to learn some lessons than others.
Asher considers this as the rest of the table devolves into an argument about where to take a snack break.
“You’re right,” Asher says, nodding. “Read to me then.”
I frown. “What? Why?”
“If I remember correctly, reading stuff out loud used to help you concentrate.” He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow. “With everything going on, I’ll bet you’re struggling.”
My frown deepens.
“So, use me as your audience. Read the material, and I can quiz you on it after. No pressure. But… Maybe I’ll learn something too.” His cheeks darken with a blush. “And if not, at least I get to enjoy the sound of your voice.”
“You want to listen to me drone on about the management of different soil types?”
“After three years without a word, I want to hear anything you have to say.”
My chest throbs, and I grip the textbook tighter. Damn him. “I’m supposed to be mad at you,” I note softly.
“That doesn’t mean you need to suffer for it,” he replies, just as quietly.
Once again, it’s just the two of us here in this little bubble. I look into his eyes, tempted to ask about his involvement with the Curators but unwilling to ruin what feels like amoment.
I don’t have to forgive him just for being helpful.
“All right,” I relent, swallowing over the knot in my throat. “But we have to whisper. I don’t want to get in trouble with the librarians—they’re the real heroes around here.”
I’m not payingattention to where I’m going when I leave the Obeliskos later, too wrapped up in my confusing thoughts about Asher and the feelings he evokes within me.
On the one hand, it was nice to sit with him like old times. I’ve not had such a productive study session in years as I did with him there, listening intently as I went over the final material.
But I can’t get the facts and secrets out of my head.
He stayed behind to talk to Foxe, but I have no doubt he’ll be after me as soon as he’s done. Maybe then I’ll have the courage to ask what he’sreallydoing here, and why he’s getting involved with Curator business.
The sinister possibilities swirl like a hurricane in my mind, heightening my anxiety and quickening my pace. I take a corner, running directly into Professor Dupont as he’s coming from the opposite direction.
My chest collides with his, and all the papers he’d been stuffing into his briefcase go flying, scattering across the damp ground. Cringing, apologies spill from my lips, even as I drop to my knees and try to rescue the pages for him.
Professor Dupont laughs, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Lucy, don’t worry about it. The fewer papers I salvage, the less of my evening I have to spend grading. Truly, you’re doing me a favor.”
Relief rushes out of me, taking some of the tension from my body with it. Even if I don’t fully trust him, I don’t need him as an enemy when his brother is already one.
They’re not close, according to Pythia, which makes sense considering the professor practically donates his services as a teacher, and seemingly does little else. When he’s not teaching, he’s working on screenplays or Visio Aternae’s philanthropic ventures as the faculty advisor.
Beckett, meanwhile, thinks he’s above altruism and distances himself from those who participate.
Still, of the founding families, the Duponts have the most influence in town while also being the most mysterious. No one knows if their patriarch is even alive, as he hasn’t been seen anywhere in months.
The professor acts as a proxy for any founder or council business, which means he’d be directly involved if the family knew about nefarious plots on campus. They have members on the school board, which makes them complicit to whatever is going on in my book.
I just don’t know what’s going on. A cursed belief bleeding into reality, or something worse?
