It was Economics and Foreign Currency first on the agenda. I arrived to find most of the seats empty, so I headed for the back. “Miss? Excuse me, Miss?”
I turned to see a very short man with a shock of gray, curly hair. I supposed him to be the professor. “Yes?”
“Up front,” he waved to the frontmost seats. “Keeps your attention where it should be,” he remarked and then turned away, confident that I would follow orders.
That streak of rebellion in me rose, and while I did take a seat closer to the front, it was in the third row, the right side next to the door.
He turned to see where I’d gone and suddenly slammed his hand upon his desk, hard. “I told you to move to the front row.”
“I’m long-sighted, actually, and I don’t have my glasses. I can’t see well from up there.”
He didn’t reply, just glared at me with disbelieving eyes.
“Anyway, I’m coming down with something from the plane, I guess. Don’t want to contaminate anyone.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed to the desk directly in front of him. What was the point of more excuses? I sat down, opened my book, and leafed through some pages as others started to drift into the room.
Suddenly, I became aware of someone new standing right in front of my desk. Slowly, with intentional disdain, I looked up to see the guy who hadn’t taken part in the ribaldry at breakfast. Up close, I could see his eyes were a pale gray while his hair was a silvery blond. His strong jaw and deep cleft in his chin made him look like an ice sculpture. I realized I was staring.
“You took a chance, back there in the dining room,” he said without preamble.
“How so?”
“That was Zephyr Williams you kicked. He’s not into being made to look like a fool, and you did a damn good job. Personally, you have my admiration—but you also have my pity.”
“Pity? Why?”
“Oh, you’ll find out.” He shared an empathetic grin. “Name’s Theo. Theo Brant. Keep that in mind. You might need help.”
Theo moved away, swinging into a desk across the room from me, one row back. I turned my eyes to the chalkboard as the munchkin professor began scribbling on it. I was aware Theo was watching my profile—sizing me up, although for what I couldn’t guess.
Turned out that the munchkin professor had little man’s syndrome. Everything he said was a shout, and the desk slamming? That was a regular thing—it inspired you to stay awake. I hated the class, and the professor gave me an icky feeling, but it felt pretty nice to be eyeballed by Theo Brant’s icy grays. The class ended before I knew it, and I was off again to yet another dismal room with another dour professor. That time, however, there was no Theo Brant.
Instead, I found myself seated directly in front of Zephyr Williams. He made a beeline to the desk behind me, even though it was occupied by a girl. As soon as he approached, she moved without question. Zephyr slid in, silent as a large cat stalking prey.
“Biba … Quinn,” he hissed insinuatingly, drawing out each syllable, “what kind of treacherous bitch am I sitting behind?”
This was an international finance course, and I was straining to take in all the complicated theories and formulations. I kept my nose in the book, focused on the text and the professor’s lecture. At least, I tried to focus. It was impossible with Zephyr behind me, whispering.
“I’d love to give you the benefit of the doubt, Quinn, but that’s not possible. Your offense is unforgivable.”
Our teacher was going through the highly regulated monetary policies of Cold War-era Eastern Bloc nations—
“I just gotta decide what a suitable penalty for your impertinence is.”
I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.
“I don’t want you to enjoy it too much.”
I felt the tiny, fuzzy hairs on my skin stand up. Mostly in terror—
“You’re my occupation now, Biba Quinn—”
But partly because I was morbidly curious what awful thing—
“I’m gonna come up with something really special for you.”
He could implant in my frazzled, reeling mind.
Chapter 4
Biba
“Are y’all out of your fucking mind?” Buffy was beside herself, her ladylike exterior withdrawing momentarily to allow the dragon inside to surface. She had waylaid me after class and pulled me into the girls’ bathroom.
“Not the last time I checked,” I replied, coming back to the present, “but why don’t you tell me what has you so pissed?”
“Do you know who that was? That was Zephyr Williams. They don’t come any meaner than that, Biba.”
“Are you suggesting that I should have let him trip me? Allowed myself to be splattered all over the floor with dirty dishes and scraps hanging from my hair?”
She began to pace. “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure. If I had any sense, I’d pack up and find somewhere else to live. You are now Toxic A-1 dangerous material.”