“And how do you know Mr. Williams and Mr. Hurley were involved?”
I looked at the dean and then at Theo. “They organized an attack against me a couple days ago. A bowl of urine was heaved at me.”
“By whom?”
“By Erin Holland.”
“Not by Mr. Williams or Mr. Hurley?”
“Well, not directly, sir.”
“And you, Mr. Brant. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Everything she says is true, sir.”
Dean Schmidt sat back in his chair, rocking it slightly as he tapped the desk. Behind him, the sun was setting, shooting splendid rays of orange sunset over the snow-capped mountains. I could hear him thinking, his palms pressed against one another.
“You two may leave now. I will take a day to think about this. Expect to hear from me.”
Chapter 9
Biba
It had been three weeks since the dining hall incident, and for the time being, things seemed to be quiet. I wasn’t innocent enough to believe that was the end of things. I was, however, hopeful but cautious.
We never heard anything from Dean Schmidt. I suspected the whole thing was being quietly chucked down the memory hole. It was simpler for the administration to turn a blind eye.
Once I accepted that no justice was coming, it was a bit more bearable to keep my head down, stay quiet in class, barricade myself in my closet each night, and stay as far away from the Kings as I possibly could.
Over time, the psychological strain lessened a bit, just as the bruise under my eye faded.
Gail, too, had fallen into step with the school’s rhythm and never brought up the incident again. She stayed by my side whenever possible, remaining protective. We were friends, joined by temperament and mutual loss. Not exactly the light-hearted union students are supposed to form, but it was something.
And with us, almost always, was Theo. He cared for both Gail and me. However, his affection for Gail was that of a caring older brother. For me, it was deeper.
We began to have the little things couples develop—finishing one another’s sentences, anticipating one another’s texts, ordering the same food, and liking the same films during rec time. Unlike other younger students and me, Theo was permitted to keep a car on campus. He invited me for a ride through the lower mountains with their early spring blooms, streams of winter run-offs, and birds that had suddenly appeared from nowhere. He was the perfect gentleman. No rough hands, no persistent attempts to unbutton my clothing. I knew Dad would have approved.
We were fast approaching the first day of spring, which was also the Spring Equinox, the date of the big ball. It was customary for everyone to don elaborate costumes themed from the reigns of King George and Queen Victoria. You were to wear a mask which you wouldn’t remove all night. I could feel the excitement in the school atmosphere. The girls gossiped about what they planned to wear, hoping to coordinate with the guy of their choice so he would dress accordingly. There was an elaborate banquet followed by music in the ballroom.
Naturally, I’d left my Victorian ballgown back home. Smirk. Gail was in the same boat, so I asked Theo if he would drive us into the village to shop for something we could put together as passable.
He did better than that. He gave me the keys to his cute red Maserati GranTurismo convertible and told me to spend the first warm afternoon of the year as girl time. It was so sweet of him. Gail and I were excited and broke open our debit card piggy banks for the occasion.
I drove slowly—after all, I had neither a Swiss driver’s license nor insurance.
We took our time, pulled off the road onto micro patches of flat ground, and snapped pictures with our phones. Once we got into the Wachsbrunnen, we found a parking place and set off to scour the shops. Luckily for us, the academy seemed to be a source of reliable income for the local merchants, so they catered to the students’ needs, including costumes and masks.
I winced as I saw the price tags. The businesses inhabiting these adorable sixteenth-century village buildings knew how much the young barons and baronesses of Stormcloud could pay and priced their wares accordingly. We couldn’t manage the exorbitant prices, but between us, and using Gail’s skill as a seamstress, we assembled two passable costumes and masks with lace and glitter. We didn’t stay in Wachsbrunnen too long. I didn’t want to take any chances on the narrow, curving mountain roads with Theo’s car.
This was an utterly magical country—the fairytale land of old money where modern-day gentry could play-act like they lived in simpler times. Clustered along otherwise bucolic mountain roads were spas and private resorts where anything you wanted was available. I was hopeful that over the term of my education there, I would make connections such as those, and perhaps that would be enough to allow me into Harvard for graduate work.