The professor stopped pacing and faced the class with his hands clasped behind his back. “Which one of the geniuses before me can recite what your binder says is happening to the Veil?”
“It’s tearing apart,” the pretty girl to Claire’s right said. She was staring at her binder as if she didn’t want to be noticed, and her voice sounded like speaking might be the hardest thing she’d ever have to do.
“I was beginning to think you were mute, Ms. Hallor. Perhaps blind as well, the way you keep staring at that binder.”
He’s going to be lucky if I don’t blind him. Claire had experienced a lot of different teachers in her life, but none who walked around thinking they were above everyone else, like this pompous jackass.
“It’s tearing apart? Or these are random failures that we think will stop?” the professor pressed. He took a few steps forward to stand in front of Hallor. “Speak up, please. Perhaps in the town you’re from, everyone has super-hearing? Unfortunately, in this class, we all hear at a normal decibel level.”
“Hey,” Claire interrupted, unable to take it anymore. “Give her a freakin’ break. She’s here to learn, not let you walk all over her.”
Claire narrowed her eyes and gripping the desk tightly. The last comment from the professor had pushed her over the edge. All thoughts of failing or being expelled and getting sent to a FBI black site left her mind.
She wasn’t going to stand here while this pretty-but-almost-unbelievably-shy girl was belittled. It had probably taken everything in her to speak up at all.
The professor slowly looked at Claire as if the effort was hardly worth it.
“I have offended the delicate Ms. Hinterland.” He stared at her as if she were a bug, one he didn’t care enough to squash. “My apologies.”
Which really meant, “Why are you still here?”
The professor turned back to Ms. Hallor. “I will do my best to not offend our flower at the end of the row. Ms. Hallor, is the Veil tearing apart, or are these temporary blips?”
The girl’s face was maroon, blood filling her cheeks. “It’s tearing apart,” she mumbled.
“That’s right.” The professor backed up and resumed his pacing.
Claire was relieved. Not for herself, but for Ms. Hallor, and perhaps the professor. If he’d continued to mock her then Claire and he might have had to go toe to toe.
The professor was oblivious, lost once more in his own narrative. “It’s ripping apart. As of now, we don’t know why, and we don’t know how to reverse it.” He smiled as he walked, either finding himself humorous or completely unfazed by his part in the interaction that had just occurred. “So perhaps we are doomed, and not just because of the lack of intelligence in this room. Yet, onward. Am I right?”
He stopped walking and glanced at his watch. “It seems my time with you today is up. I must say, I’m beyond grateful. However, we did not cover what we needed to in this session.”
He looked around the students, his face serious. “That will not happen again. Every day that you’re here, we will cover the planned material from this moment forth. I will see you all tomorrow at eight sharp. You’re dismissed.”
“Thank God,” Claire whispered as she closed her binder. She was beginning to think coming here had been the worst decision of her entire life.
She stood up without looking at anyone and started up the steps toward the front door.
“Ms. Hinterland,” the professor called after her. “Would you mind staying for a few moments? I promise not to waste too much of your time.”
Claire repressed a sigh. Can this day get any worse? she wondered.She turned around and walked back down the steps as the rest of her classmates flooded the opposite way. She didn’t sit down but stood holding the binder in front of her.
The professor had walked over to the table and was gathering papers, acting as though she wasn’t there.
Claire waited impatiently but said nothing. She’d already spoken enough, she imagined, and would very shortly be asked to leave the university.
She didn’t much care at this point.
If being at this university meant she had to stand by and watch people be bullied, she’d rather be at home putting chicken in deep fryers eight hours each day.
The door closed behind her as the last student left, echoing through the now silent room.
The professor gathered all of his papers together and lightly tapped them on the desk to straighten them.
He stood, but kept his back to Claire. “You didn’t like the way I talked to your classmate, did you?” he asked.
Claire swallowed and made a very quick decision. She didn’t come here to lose her nerve or start breaking for other people, even if they held more power than her. “I didn’t like the way you talked to any of us.”
The professor chuckled lightly. “I know that you were late getting here, but did Ms. Reilly tell you my name?”
“Dr. Byron.”
He turned around, and the sternness that he’d carried the entire class had dissipated. His face looked softer, wiser, and his eyes held that glee she’d seen when he first started discussing the Veil.
Claire’s own eyes narrowed, unsure exactly who she was looking at.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m Dr. Byron.” He half-sat, half-leaned on the table, holding the papers in his hand. “It’s good that you stuck up for your classmate. You’re going to need to continue doing that in the days to come, and they’re going to need to stick up for you. Not necessarily from me, but from the things you’ll face.”
Claire didn’t know exactly what to say. That was the last thing she expected to hear.
“Ms. Hinterland, I’m serious about not being late again. I do not know much about you. Nothing at all, really. But I do know what we are facing. Or, I have an idea, and it’s not pretty. I’ve been in a war before, the Vietnam War, and there’s nothing beautiful about it.”
He stood up and took a step forward, the hand holding the papers dropping to his side.” You’re here for a reason, and it’s not my job to know what that reason is. At the age of nearly eighty, I find myself in a war again, only this time it’s my job to train the soldiers. You’re one of those soldiers. It took guts to walk in here late and still stand up to me, and I respect that.” He paused for a moment, his dark green eyes staring intensely at hers. “Do you know why I said we’re going to cover everything we’re supposed to?”
Claire lowered her binder from her chest, feeling slightly more comfortable with the man for the moment. “When you said it, I thought it was because you were a control freak.”
What she meant was, “I thought you were a prick.”
“A control freak, huh?” Professor Byron smiled, and it wasn’t nearly as gruesome as Claire imagined. “Perhaps, but that’s not how I see it. I insist we progress forward because there isn’t time to waste, Ms. Hinterland. I came out of retirement for this war, and I mean to help us win it. If I allow us to miss our schedule, I might be setting us up to lose.”
The professor turned around and walked back to the table. “While I am tough, there are reasons for it. Please remember that going forward. You’re dismissed.”
Claire didn’t move for a few seconds but only looked at Professor Byron. She’d never been in a situation like this, and certainly never met anyone like him. Claire felt pretty sure they didn’t make people like Professor Byron where she was from, and that she might have misjudged him.
“I said you’re dismissed, Ms. Hinterland.”
Claire wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. Perhaps she’d said enough to him already. She turned and headed out of the classroom.
She’d only been at the university for a few hours, and it was already unlike anything she’d expected.
Claire could only imagine what the rest of the day would hold.
Chapter Five
Claire’s return to her dorm room was yet another dip in her already sinking expectations.
The smart-aleck from
class sat with his feet up on Claire’s desk, blowing cigarette smoke out the open window. “I’m Jack Teams,” he offered by way of introduction. “I am sure the pleasure is all yours.”
Claire’s eyes widened in disbelief at what she was seeing. “You’re not my roommate. You can’t be.”
“Of course not.” He didn’t look at her, but simply put the cigarette in his mouth, took a long drag, and blew the smoke out the window.
“Don’t be an ass, Jack.”
Claire turned toward the new voice. She hadn’t seen anyone else. She’d been so shocked to find a guy in the room that she’d completely missed everything else, which was highly irregular for her.
“I’m your roommate.” The pretty girl who had been next to Claire in class —Ms. Hallor, as Professor Byron said—was sitting on the other bed, her back against the wall. “I’m Marissa.”
“My name’s Claire.” She let the door swing closed behind her and walked over to drop her book bag and binder on the bed before turning her attention back to Jack. “One, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to smoke inside the building, and two, I’m definitely sure you’re not allowed to smoke in my room. So put it out, and then get the hell out.”
She’d had a rough enough day already and didn’t want anything to do with this guy. She’d encountered too many narcissistic a-holes like him in high school, and she had no time for them.
Jack still didn’t even glance in her direction. Rather, he flicked the cigarette ash out the open window.
Okay then, Claire thought. She walked across the room and knocked the cigarette out of his hand before he could try to move it. It flipped out the window and fell from sight. “There. Now the cigarette is gone, and the next thing I need is for you to be gone.”
Jack smirked without taking his feet off the desk. “That was pretty fast.”
“He’s part of our unit,” Marissa told Claire, her lip curling as she spoke. “I’m not exactly thrilled about it, either.”
Claire wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “A ‘unit?’ With you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jack snickered. “You, me, and Ms. Hallor are a unit. That’s why I’m here in your room, and it’s also why you should treat me a bit nicer.”
Claire had no idea what was going on, but that was par for the course at this point. Everything about this day had been a disaster, so why wouldn’t this jerk be part of her life or the foreseeable future?
“Unit or no unit, get your feet off my desk.” She grabbed his ankles and pulled them away from the desk.
The chair whipped around as Jack’s weight shifted, causing him to sit up awkwardly.
“There. That’s a start.” Claire took a few steps back and sat on the edge of her bed, ignoring Jack in favor of Marissa. “Listen, it wasn’t my fault I was late as hell to this place. I did everything the FBI guys told me to, but still, I’ve been griped at by the house mom. You saw what happened in class, and now I’m being told about a unit that includes him.” She jerked a thumb toward Jack, who smirked in return. “Can you explain what this unit is for? What did I miss?”
“It’s okay.” Marissa offered a soft smile and unfolded her arms. “They told us someone was coming late.”
“They knew I’d be late?” Claire leaned forward. “They knew, and they still acted that way?”
Marissa shrugged but kept her smile. “I think that’s the way this place operates. The orientation person, I don’t remember her name, mentioned someone had been found at the last minute and would join us shortly. I guess that’s you.”
Claire’s eyebrows drew together. “Dr. Byron mentioned orientation, too. What are you talking about?”
Marissa shrugged apologetically. “Yeah, it was last week. Most of us have been here for six or seven days already. Got our books and binders and everything else.”
Claire groaned and looked down at her feet.
“Welcome!” Jack chuckled. “The three of us are going to save the world.”
“It hasn’t been easy, but I’m starting to get used to him. Either that or you become immune to him after a while.” Marissa scooted away from the wall and toward the edge of the bed. “Where was I? Oh, yes, the units. We’re the first class. There are twelve of us, with three people to each unit. You, me, and him are one unit.”
“What do units do?” Claire asked.
“Well, for one,” Jack interjected, “we don’t throw people’s cigarettes out the window. It could be a fire hazard.” He stood up and stuck his head out the window, looking down at the cigarette. “You’re lucky this time, Hinterland. It landed on cement.” He pulled his head back in. “Otherwise, this whole place could have gone up in flames.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should think about the hazard you’re causing with your filthy habit?” she shot back.
“Basically, a lot of our work is going to be done in groups or units,” Marissa continued, ignoring the spat. “There are rumors about a private academy on the West Coast, but nobody knows much about it. The rumors are it’s owned by a billionaire, and it’s not a FBI site. To be honest, I’m not sure anyone knows very much about anything.”
“We’re their guinea pigs.” Jack took a step closer to the bed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He sounded as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s not all bad since you two get the pleasure of working with me. I’m really happy for you both.”
That angered Claire, although she couldn’t say exactly why. She groaned and fell back onto her bed to stare at the ceiling. “Great. Just great.”
Jack just laughed.
Chapter Six
The days came and went quickly, passing in a blur for Claire. She got up early, spent all day in class, and studied at night. Most of her classes were theory focused. However, she was also taking combat classes, and the physical demands on her body increased her exhaustion even as they strengthened her.
Still, she wasn’t going to quit. Claire was beginning to understand how big an opportunity this was for her. The sheer amount of money being put into this place told her that the government was taking the Mythological Invasion very seriously.
Claire never had to cook for herself, which was something of a miracle in itself. She sometimes supplemented her diet back home when she had the cash to go to a fast-food joint, but here they had three meals a day, all provided without a dime expected from them in return.
Claire sat bookending Marissa, with Jack on the other side. Neither of her teammates seemed to notice how ridiculous of a notion free food and board was to Claire.
Claire had finally gotten more than six hours of sleep last night, meaning she felt more rested than usual when Dr. Byron took his place in the center of the classroom.
“It does seem like time is flying by,” Dr. Byron began, folding his hands in front of him. “We’ve been here, what, a month already?”
A few nods went around the students at the professor’s question.
Has it really been that long? Claire wondered. It doesn’t feel like it.
She’d spoken to her parents a few times, but still, it didn’t feel like that much time had gone by.
“A month is gone, and I look out upon my students and wonder if we will ever have enough time to educate you properly.” He shook his head in mock exasperation. His cheerful nihilism was beginning to grow on Claire. “Today, however, we will journey forward in hopes that I can impart some very important information to you.”
He turned around and moved to the whiteboard behind him. He picked up a dry-erase marker and wrote a question.
Who can see the Mythers, and how?
Dr. Byron put the marker down and turned around. “If you have seen a Myther—in person, so to speak, not on a video—raise your hand.”
Claire glanced around the room before she raised her hand. The rest of the class had their hands raised too, so she wasn’t the odd one out.
Dr. Byron’s own hand was down. “That’s right. I’m the only one here who can’t see M
ythers. Yet you all can. Who knows why?”
“You’re too old,” Jack blurted.
The professor gave a wry smile. “You’re not far off. You’re not close, either. Does age have anything to do with it?”
Claire nodded, thinking of Charlie at the bowling alley. “Yes. Typically, older people can’t see them.”
“That is true,” Dr. Byron agreed. “But what about very young people? Can they see them? Say, ten-year-olds?”
“No,” Marissa whispered from Claire’s side.
“Ah, the genius mute!” Dr. Byron cheered. He glanced at Claire. “Kidding. Let us not get into another tussle, Ms. Hinterland.”
He turned back to Marissa. “You’re right. Younger children typically cannot see Mythers, and the same goes for older adults. While there are always exceptions to the rule, there is a certain age range we have found to have the innate ability to connect with creatures from beyond the Veil.”
Dr. Byron turned and wrote on the whiteboard again.
18 - 23.
He faced the class. “The five years between eighteen and twenty-three are the prime window for seeing Mythers. It’s a short window, which is why we have so little time.”
“How sure of that are you?” Jack asked.
Claire sighed. That guy! Always wanting to cause problems.
“As sure as we are about anything else regarding the Invasion,” Dr. Byron answered, unperturbed. “We’re constantly making new discoveries, but right now, that’s what it looks like. Before that age, very few people can see them, and after twenty-three, the same. My turn to ask you a question. Why do you think that is, Mr. Teams?”
Jack grinned but was quiet.
“He doesn’t know,” Claire scoffed. “You know he doesn’t know, so can we keep going?”
Dr. Byron grinned. “You’re catching on, Ms. Hinterland. I like that. We must advance forward, or our enemies will overrun us.”
He stepped away from the board. “As a child, you are given restrictions. Children by design have great imaginations, but their lives are run for them by their parents in order to assure they reach adulthood in one piece. Eat this, not that. Go to sleep at this time, wake up at that.”
Paranormal University: First Semester: An Unveiled Academy Novel Page 4