I lean closer to the case. The blades have been polished, but I can still see little nicks and dents. The handles are worn from use. My mother touched these, used them. They call to me in an inexplicable, intoxicating way.
“And over here,” Sawyer says, pointing at a long, black poleaxe. “Samson Black’s. There’s so much history in this case,” he adds. “Ancient weapons from old, legendary monster hunters.”
My father’s weapon. He was one of them, one of those old legends. And like all legends, he eventually had to die.
I don’t care about the others. I start searching the names on the labels, trying to find any more weapons that might have been donated by my parents. I find a few; a scimitar of my mother’s, a short-handled axe of my father’s, even a broken spear labeled used to slay the great Paris manticore of 1997. I smile and gently touch the glass case. This is the only history I care about.
My palm flat against the glass is the closest I’ve ever been to them. I want to know who they were. I want to know what they did. Most importantly, however, I want to know how they died.
Sawyer must see something on my face, because suddenly he’s standing by my side. He slips a hand into mine and gives it a squeeze, as if to comfort me.
I let him, even though he’s wrong.
I don’t need comforting, because I’m not sad.
I’m angry.
Chapter Eight
Friday finally rears its ugly head.
Piers, Owen, and Bennett seem to be getting tired of trying to mess things up for me. Their efforts have waned until this morning in PW, they didn’t even attempt to screw with the bow I tried to make. None of them told Professor Davies that I was cheating or doing anything suspicious. In the hallway, Bennett even brushed against me by accident and mumbled an apology.
Creature studies goes by quickly and uneventfully; none of the boys throw their books on the floor or claim that I did something weird to them when the professor’s back is turned. Professor Waldman doesn’t seem to believe them, anyway. I watch them warily throughout class and end up having to scramble to copy Erin’s notes. I’m not sure whether to feel relieved, or to worry that they’re planning something huge.
The class ends and everyone rushes out faster than usual. They all want to get their weekend started, myself among them. While I might excel in physical trials, I’m years behind everyone else in creature care and studies. Things that everyone else takes as common knowledge, like what kind of snacks to leave out for a brownie, is all new for me. I’m looking forward to taking some time to catch up before I really fall behind. I can’t afford that.
We haven’t had any grades submitted, and my name hanging out there at the bottom of the list of new recruits is starting to haunt my nightmares.
Still, I hang around and wait for Erin to gather her things. She takes long enough that she, Sawyer, and I end up being the last ones out.
“Don’t forget about the party, ladies!” Professor Waldman calls after us in her singsong voice, before we can get out of there.
“Are you going?” Erin asks as we get out of earshot. “I don’t want to go if you aren’t.”
I’m not surprised. Erin has become my shadow; Sawyer, too, to an extent.
I shrug. “I think so. Can’t hurt, can it?”
Erin looks worriedly over her shoulder at the classroom door. “I guess not.”
Sawyer smiles sadly. “You think she’d let me in if I wore a wig?”
I snort and say he’s welcome to try. “But if you decide to try to hold onto at least some of your dignity, tomorrow’s Saturday. You can have me for the whole day.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows raise and he nudges me with his elbow. “I could have you, huh?”
My face gets warm.
“You know what I mean.”
We arrive at my dorm, and I unlock the door and go inside, Erin in tow. She deposits her books on her desk. Her eyes travel up to the empty spot on the wall where I made her take down one of the posters.
“Avery,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?” I put my own books down and head over to my dresser, rifling through the few things I brought for any clothes that might make sense at a party.
“Do you like Sawyer?” she asks.