by Keilan Shea
I ignore the fire in my cheeks and retrieve my laptop from my backpack. I’m here to study, not to talk. What’s wrong with me?
“It’s gay smut,” Lucas explains. “Pure and simple.”
I scowl as my laptop takes an eternity to boot up. It’s Lucas’s fault. Time slows to a crawl as his attentiveness chips off layers of my concentration.
“Go on. Ask,” Lucas says.
“Ask what?” I log in to my student account and search the tidy list of assignments. I don’t have to make any personal notes. Guidelines, deadlines, they’re all here.
“Ask me why I’m reading gay smut.”
“Are you gay?”
Lucas laughs—too loudly. “Research, Melly Mel.”
Hearing the nickname he gave me leave his mouth again causes some invisible force to tug at the corners of my lips until I’m smiling. But then I collect myself and frown as confusion sets in. “Research?”
“This book was written by a straight woman. There’s a whole industry of straight women writing gay books, did you know? It’s porn in the form of written words, objectifying men. Of course, it goes both ways. All ways. Humans love sex!”
My jaw drops open and my fingers slip on the keyboard, nearly deleting something potentially important from my account. “Keep your voice down!”
“Most of them do,” Lucas amends. “That’s why it makes so much money.”
“What are you researching, exactly?” Everyone knows sex sells.
Lucas pauses. “I don’t know. Human depravity, I suppose.” Lucas closes the book, not bothering to save his place this time. “I’m heading up to the solarium. If I don’t, I’ll keep talking and you won’t get any work done. Be diligent, scholarship student. You’re required to maintain those perfect grades.”
“You don’t have homework?”
He scrunches up his face. “Technically, I do, but a rabbit is calling my name and she’s a billion times more fun. Have you met Mabel yet? You must have seen her, but have you held her? Her fur is so fucking soft.” Lucas backtracks. “Forget I said that. Wipe it from your mind and resist temptation, for you, poor soul, have homework.”
I puff out a breath. I’ll gladly forget any mention of white rabbits. “Come back in forty-five minutes. I-if you want to go to Richter Palace together. I don’t want to miss dinner again.”
Lucas hops off the seat and pats down his uniform with his free hand. It’s perfect, so I’m not sure why he does it.
“Forty-five minutes sharp,” he establishes and leans over my laptop. When I look up, his nose is nearly touching mine and his mocha-latte scent is mouthwatering. “It’s a date.”
CHAPTER 14
I’m faced with a dilemma. I don’t want to bring my backpack to dinner, but I don’t want to deal with my ID in my bra either. I’m not sure my backpack would even be allowed inside of Richter Palace as it certainly doesn’t suit the palatial atmosphere. I have to decide soon. Lucas is waiting for me outside of Selenite Hall.
Oh no! And I forgot to text Theo about book club after all of that agonizing deliberation I did since I missed my opportunity to do it at lunch. I need to triple-check my new work schedule and the message I typed before I send it. Later. I don’t have time right now.
Groaning, I drop my backpack at the foot of my canopy bed and stuff my ID into my bra. I won’t be allowed outside of the Crown unless I have it, and I can’t leave my phone, so that gets stuffed inside of my bra too. When I’m presentable, I dart out of my room. Despite my overworked, screaming legs, and the loud clacking echoes of my shoes hitting marble, I have no intention of slowing—until the resident dean appears with her sharp nose upturned.
“Hello, Ms. White.”
“We don’t allow running in the halls, Miss Lopez. You’ve been doing far too much of that. Learn to manage your time.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Outside, several feet away from the building to avoid being reprimanded, Lucas rocks on his heels. He stops when he sees me. “Ready?”
I nod. I can’t find the words to speak because my brain is too busy simulating all of the possible terrible scenarios of Lucas watching me dig inside my bra for my ID. What was I thinking? I should have brought my backpack. Even if Lucas doesn’t see, someone will, because we’re herded into a throng of students exiting the Crown.
I fall behind Lucas. Try to. He matches my pace and then both of us get bulldozed by students who fail, or don’t care, to notice. We don’t topple over, but someone stomps on my heel, taking my Mary Jane half off my foot. I limp through the crowd, bumping into far too many people as I search for a space to fix it. Lucas weaves through the crowd with an effortless grace and contorts his body to avoid brushing against another person. I escape and stop at the base of a palm tree outside of the crowd’s path and brace myself against its rough trunk. Lucas wraps his arms around his chest as I adjust my Mary Jane.
“Do you have … haphephobia?” I ask and pray I’m not being rude. Lucas doesn’t seem to care about personal space, but the way he shakes hands, the way he recoiled after I held on to his wrist for too long … He acts repulsed.
When I’m finished, I wait for Lucas to respond rather than rejoin the mob. I’d prefer to be behind the stream of students regardless of his answer.
Eventually, as we observe the students observing us, Lucas says, “Nice guess, but try germophobia.” More and more heads turn toward us as people pass; it’s as if we’re street performers. Why are we drawing so many eyes? “Tell me honestly, Melly Mel, who would willingly share all those nasty germs if they took a minute to think about them? Then again, I’m pretty sure you’ve already given me cooties.” He grins. “No offense.”
Does he have germophobia or is he teasing?
A couple of girls drift toward us. I wonder if someone is waiting for them behind us, but checking reveals no one else out of formation. One girl, a brunette, stops a few feet away from us. The other, a blonde, stops in front of Lucas. My eyes widen when I see her tie loosely draped around her neck like a stole and her unbuttoned shirt framing her pumped-up cleavage. A red-rimmed gold badge with the letters CB etched into its center is visible from beneath her upturned collar.
“Can we help you?” Lucas asks her.
She folds her arms, pushing her breasts up higher. They’ll pop out of her bra at this rate; I’m already sweating out the vicarious embarrassment. She runs her tongue along her lower lip, replacing a sheen of lip gloss with her saliva. “Hi, Lucas.”
“Hi, girl-I-don’t-know.” His gaze rests squarely on her chest. “You do realize there’s a gate guard twenty feet that way, don’t you? This dress code infraction could land you a strike.” Lucas frowns and glances at his shiny Oxfords. “I should know. My Doc Martens were banned.”
“Let him watch.”
The blonde sidles up to Lucas, poised to grab his arm, but Lucas dances away. He waves as if to fend her off, or to mimic palm-tree fronds swaying in the breeze. “I’m not interested, doll. Seduce someone else.” Then he turns to me. “What do you say, Melly Mel? Want to give the nice girl a try?”
I squeak the panicked tone of a malfunctioning brain.
The blonde scoffs. “Is that a joke?”
“That’s what I should be asking,” Lucas comments. “How stupid do you people think I am?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just thought—”
“No, I don’t care. You’re trying too hard. Who put you up to this? Whoever it is, they aren’t your friend.” Lucas smirks, flashing flawless teeth. “You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you? I’m the Big Bad Wolf.” His voice drops, menacing and gravelly as if it’s become a physical, abrasive thing.
The blonde’s haughty tone cools. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Yes, I do: absolutely nothing.”
Her pale skin flushes tomato red. “Fuck you, Ignacio.”
“You certainly tried.”
“You think you’re too g
ood for me?” Her blue eyes snap to me. “Or are your standards so low that you’d—” She doesn’t finish that thought. Her gaze lands near my neck. I’ve somehow messed up my shirt collar again, putting Caesar’s badge on display …
Lucas cocks his head. “Care to finish that thought?”
“No,” the blonde replies. “We’re done here.” Without another word, she collects her friend and adjusts her shirt and tie as they merge into the thinning crowd.
“That was unpleasant,” Lucas remarks. “Shall we mosey to the end of this dysfunctional line?”
I fidget but remain where I stand, and I don’t reply.
“We’ll get locked out if we’re late. You don’t want to miss dinner again, remember?”
The question I should ask eludes me, so I simply say, “Why?”
“Because we must eat. It’s a rather annoying side effect of being alive.” Lucas’s voice softens. “Change your mind?”
I should, but instead I repeat, “Why?”
“Why what? Why is the sky blue? Why am I so devilishly handsome?”
I shake my head. “Why did that happen? Why did you say that? Why did she say that?”
“Ah, see, those are my questions.” He points at my badge, and I quickly fold my collar to conceal it.
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
“Well, neither do I, but it isn’t hard to formulate a hypothesis.”
Maybe that girl was … bullying him?
I’m involved in things I don’t understand. I thought I could be impartial, a social shadow and a star pupil, but people outside of my teachers pay more attention to me here.
This is my second day at Gilded Academy and I’m so homesick I could cry. For better or for worse, I don’t want to be alone. Admitting that makes my eyes sting. I blink rapidly to hold back the tears, which works but doesn’t fill my growling stomach.
“Melly Mel?”
Forcing a smile, I say, “Let’s forget about it and go.”
“I can do that.”
But first, I need my ID if I’m going to get through the Crown Gate. I walk away from Lucas and everyone else to avoid prying eyes as I toss my tie over my shoulder and fight with the buttons on my shirt. My trembling fingers do little to assist me and I lament leaving my backpack in Selenite Hall.
My heart stops when Lucas peeks over my shoulder. “What in the hell are you doing, lovely? I hate to tell you this, but that blonde wasn’t setting a fashion trend. You want to risk a strike?”
“Don’t look,” I plead, ignoring the prickling heat and consequential sweat beading on my neck. “I don’t have anywhere else to store my phone and ID when I don’t have my backpack.”
“My apologies.”
Lucas turns so that his back mirrors mine as I unearth my ID and hastily refit my buttons. Into the wrong holes.
“You need a purse.”
“I know.”
“Finished?”
“Almost.”
I glance behind me as Lucas whips out what would be a nondescript wallet if not for the single neon-yellow cat eye painted onto it. “I’ll hold on to your ID for you until we part ways. How does that sound?”
“R-really?!” I clear my throat. “That would be great.”
“Give it here, then.” He lazily tosses his hand over his shoulder, fingers stretched and relaxed.
I do as I’m told. Now my hands are free, but I still can’t push this last button into place. Why am I shaking so badly?
“What was that twang? You’re making me nervous. It sounds as if you’re at war with your clothes.”
Shame washes over me and I can’t respond. I try once more to fix my last button, but my fingers slip for the millionth time.
“I’m turning around.” Lucas’s hot breath warms my ear and sends a shiver down my spine. “Allow me, lovely.”
Warily, I face him, dropping my hands at my sides. Lucas’s touch is as gentle as a butterfly alighting on a flower, but my knees get weak.
“No strikes today.” He withdraws, but my knees don’t recover. “Shall we? We’ve no one to contend with now. The coast doesn’t get any clearer.”
I nod, tongue-tied but relieved as my knees regain their strength.
We show our IDs to the gate guard, who scans them, and then Lucas carefully tucks them inside his wallet. It’s meticulously organized. The few crisp dollar bills I glimpse seem to be little more than padding to keep the wallet uniform.
I reevaluate Lucas’s wild hair and decide it’s not “wild.” He uses some hair product to achieve that exact stylish sweep and height. It’s chaotic at a glance, but there’s a system to it. All of it. Lucas is scrupulous. I’m surprised he can stand my unsophisticated appearance. He often can’t until he’s altered my uniform. My clothes might be the end of this relationship …
As we converge with students from all divisions in the Embers and approach Richter Palace, the start of the evening’s music, a classical piano piece, reaches a crescendo.
Lucas pretends to choke. I know he’s not actually choking because he’s exaggerating, like an actor overselling what should be a heartfelt death scene. “I tell you what, Melly Mel, we did not miss anything last night. There must be other dinner options.”
I’m about to answer him, but then I catch sight of Theo standing underneath a palm tree. The same as yesterday. I blink, expecting him to fade like an afterglow, but he remains, and Chloe’s with him. They’re waving at me. My hand flies up in response, but my wave is stiff. Should I be waving?
Then their attention shifts to Lucas, and the air sours. “Pick the right side” echoes in my head amid a chorus of all the voices that have offered warnings. “Stay away from him.”
Mustering my frustration, since I have an excess of that and a lack of courage, I march up to them. “Theo, would you like to start a fantasy book club with me? I’m sorry for what I said before. It wasn’t true. I do want to be your friend.”
Theo blinks his baby-blue eyes. “I’d like that. Can I invite people who I think would be interested in The Sister Star to join us?”
Bookworms have a hard time meeting each other because we’re always so absorbed in our stories, but this could be the start of something glorious. And I chose the first book. Me! “Yes, of course.”
Theo faces the beautiful actress standing beside him. “Want to join, Chloe? I think you’d like the book we’re reading.”
“I won’t be able to attend every discussion,” she replies, “but if that’s all right, I’m willing to give it a chance. I need something new to read, anyway.” The shadow cast by her straight-cut bangs darkens her eyes and I almost miss them drifting to Lucas, who’s being unusually quiet; he’s lurking behind me like a cat about to pounce.
Theo checks an expensive-looking watch sitting handsomely on his wrist. “Ricky isn’t going to make it.”
Shoes pounding on pavers, a clack clack louder than the chorus of moving bodies passing by us, turns all of our heads. Ritsuki’s dangerously spiky hair and the permanent scowl creasing his forehead give him the most irascible appearance I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t”—huff—“count”—huff—“me out yet.” Ritsuki pants and folds over when he reaches us.
“Someday, you’ll learn to set alarms,” Chloe says.
“I do set alarms.” Ritsuki gasps. “Then I shut them off and forget about them because I’m in the zone.”
“It’s a miracle you’re never late to any appointments, then.”
It must be a genius thing. I know Ritsuki is many times smarter than I could ever hope to be.
Theo reaches out as if to grab Ritsuki’s arm, but Ritsuki sucks in the deepest breath he’s managed since arriving and straightens his spine to glare daggers at Lucas. “The fuck are you doing here, Ignacio?”
“Not sure.” Lucas shrugs. “Melly Mel dragged me along.”
“Let’s go inside before the doors close,” Chloe interrupts, blocking Ritsuki from making the scathing remark his twisted-up mouth is prepar
ed for.
The unbelievably long and narrow gold vestibule weighs on my shoulders as we move, as if demanding reverence, but it doesn’t affect Ritsuki. “Someone explain Lucas’s presence here before I lose my shit.”
“Lucas is my friend,” I say, “and so is Theo.” My nerves are shot, but I spoke without stuttering. “I-I thought we could all eat together.” There goes my bold facade.
Lucas barks out a laugh as the current classical ensemble is punctuated by a sforzando. “We’d be the first of our kind. What would we call ourselves? Earnshaw, Biggs, and Other? EBO would be the acronym.” Lucas flicks my collar, revealing Caesar’s badge for a split second.
Theo’s complexion turns ashen, Ritsuki’s dark eyes harden, and Chloe assumes an excellent poker face. My stomach flutters as if butterflies are flitting inside it. Why did Lucas do that? I guess I shouldn’t hide it, but why dredge up conflict?
“C-Caesar is the Crown President now,” I say. “When Blake comes back”—I look at Theo—“it won’t be as president or vice president. There aren’t two parties competing in an election anymore. We’re all here. Together. We should stand united, not divided. Wait.” I stop in the foyer, stepping aside to allow the last students streaming in from the vestibule entry, and hold out my hand to Theo. “I-I’ll wear both badges to prove it.”
Ritsuki’s nose crinkles in abject disgust, Chloe remains indifferent, and Theo stares at my hand. He hesitates, but then he reaches inside his pants pocket to produce a badge, perhaps the same one he tried to give me before. I accept it and pin it underneath my collar beside the other.
“Baka onna,” Ritsuki says derisively. “You don’t know what you’re doing. This place is going to eat you alive. You’re a naive little girl if you believe that wearing both badges and befriending Lucas Ignacio will unite this place. News flash: Gilded Academy is a bloody tournament. Anything goes if you don’t get caught.” He chomps out those last words as though they’re gristle. I’ve heard them before. Theo said they’re the Gilded Rule.
“You’re all so busy hating each other,” I say. “Why?”