Page 17 of Pretty Lethal
“Of course.” She waves me inside. “I don’t have class until this afternoon.”
“How was the rest of your break?” I ask as I pass her the extra coffee cup before taking one of the seats in front of her desk.
“Quiet. Restful. Exactly what I needed before coming back here. The run-up to finals is always hectic, but you’ll soon find out for yourself.”
“That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you today. I was hoping you could give me some pointers as to what to expect.”
“You mean like a ‘Surviving Midterms 101’?” Carrie teases.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Something like that.”
Over the next half hour, Carrie tells me what to expect and suggests ideas for how best I can prepare for the upcoming weeks, and by the time we wrap up, I’m feeling much happier. She even gave me some recommendations for a few of my lesson plans. I love teaching, and I love that alongside it I feel as if I’m learning something new every day. With Carrie’s help and advice, I’m looking forward to stepping up my teaching game and trying some new tactics.
“Thank you so much, Carrie. I really appreciate all of your advice.”
“Any time, Emilia. My door is always open, especially if you come bearing coffee or wine.”
“I’ll remember wine for next time, then,” I joke, getting to my feet. As I head for the door, a thought strikes, and I spin around. “Carrie, have you ever heard of the King’s Elite?”
Now that I’m back on campus, my focus is on figuring out who the King’s Elite are and what their end goal is with Wilder. I plan to make the most of my free time and search for any information on them in the school’s libraries, but it does no harm to ask Carrie since she’s worked here for several years now. If they are a longstanding college society, then I figure someone must have heard of them. Or at the very least, there should be records of them somewhere.
Her brows pull together as she thinks. “No, I don’t think so. The name doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”
I shrug it off. “It’s probably nothing. I heard some students mention the name and thought it was maybe some Ridgeway secret society or something.”
Carrie laughs, the sound a tad high-pitched. “I wish there was something as mysterious as an old secret society going on here, except things like that only really happen in books and movies, right?”
“Right,” I agree, forcing a smile. “Well, anyway, thanks again.”
She waves me out the door, and I’m plagued the entire way back to my classroom with thoughts of this society and anxieties over how they could disrupt the fragile peace we’ve only just managed to obtain.
Classes keep me busy all morning, and I skip out on lunch to go to the library, texting the guys that I’m busy.
Hawk:You need to take a break to eat.
Emilia:I brought food with me. I’ll eat while I work.
Wilder:*sad emoji face* I’ll pick you up after class this afternoon.
As I reach the library,I tuck my phone away, pausing at the map to find the section I’m looking for. I figure books documenting the school’s history are a good place to start. Finding the part of the library dedicated to the school’s origins, I head there and begin perusing the aisles.
I soon have my arms full of potential books, and I go in search of a table. Finding an empty one, I open the first book and lift my lunch out of my bag, munching on it while I scan the pages.
Not finding anything of interest, I close it and move on to the next one.
Then the next.
And the next.
Until I’ve flicked through every book I lifted and found no mention whatsoever of the King’s Elite oranysociety at all ever existing at Ridgeway.
Frustrated and out of time, I pack up and leave the books on the trolley to be returned. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Maybe try a different section or another library.
My afternoon classes drag, my bad mood plummeting throughout the afternoon and souring further when Jacob swaggers into my final class of the day. In all the chaos, I’d forgotten about his very existence. Yet the second he winks and runs his eyes over me as though he’s picturing me naked, I want to launch myself across my desk and gouge his eyes out.
I’m fucking sick of this shit. Of letting the assholes and the crazies in this world get their way. When do the good guys get to win? Because as far as I can tell, we work and fight and grind to be the better people, and right when everything starts to look up, something else comes along to remind us that we’re just not that fucking lucky.
Instead of pasting on a fake, bland smile like usual, I dismiss Jacob and swivel my gaze over the rest of the class. I make a blatant point of acting as though he isn’t sitting in the front row, ogling me the entire class. When I notice him lingering behind at the end while everyone else makes a hasty exit, I wonder how often I have to tell this guy I’m not interested before he takes a hint.
