Page 21 of Knight

“H-Hello?” A boy’s voice comes after.

“Get out!” Christian bellows. Papers shuffle before we hear the door close. Still a fucking entitled King. He exhales, trying again, “I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what to do. Help me out. I’m between my best friend and the girl I like.”

Wait. “The girl you what?”

“Jo, don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

My stomach twists, his hands coming to my arms. “Christian, that doesn’t make any of this okay.” I look up at him, meeting his green gaze with my hazel ones. The dimple in his cheek when he gives me an apologetic grin isn’t enough to fix how I’m feeling.

“Then give me a chance to make this okay, Jo I—”

“Jo?” Another voice cuts off Christian’s train of thought. A familiar one.

Christian lets out a frustrated sigh, muttering something in Spanish before he speaks, “Can you just give us a minute?”

“Christian?”

My head falls to the side, eyes narrowing. I recognize that voice. “Nate?”

“Of course.” Christian steps to the side as I move to unlock the door. When I open the stall, Nate’s standing in front of us, his crisp uniform outlining his poised appearance. He has an eyebrow arched, arms crossed, his boyfriend, Carlos, with a similar expression beside him.

“The boys’ bathroom? I didn’t even know you two were a thing,” Carlos says.

“We’re not!” I push through them, Nate getting the brunt of my annoyance. “Leave me alone, Christian.”

I leave the bathroom as the bell rings, and I don’t look for Allie or wait for Nate before I head to homeroom. I hope Mr. Hill has reading on the agenda because all I want to do is hide behind some words and disappear.

* * *

Neither King is in class this morning, leaving me to my thoughts.

I’m starting to think I pissed them both off. If so, good. The anger goes both ways. But when I don’t see Lea and Georgina in Algebra, I start to feel left out.

Where are they? Better yet, what the fuck are they planning?

It’s like I’ve come back from war, or I’m still in it because I’m starting to get a little paranoid. I’m even starting to second guess what I thought happened. Does Damien actually think I killed his father? Or is he an angry, grieving, douche-bucket?

I’m tempted to ditch class the rest of the day if it wasn’t for art with Clara. Art class has always been an escape. Moreso for the act of painting and getting lost in colours and brush strokes. Shapes and lines. It’s easy to tune out the rest of the world when it’s me and my canvas. Inspiration hasn’t hit in forever but after that interaction with Damien, the artistic fire is burning inside. I’m already doodling away in my notebook when Clara starts speaking to the class.

It’s hard to believe we’re nearing finals already. She’s assigning us the project that’s worth the majority of our grade. We’re to use all the skills we learned this semester to create a final piece around a specific theme that we’ll present to the class.

“As for the theme,” Clara says with a huge grin. She turns around, spelling it out on the board with a black marker. “The Human Condition.”

Once everyone settles down into brainstorming what they want their project to be, Clara comes over to my desk. Today she’s in a Mother Earth’s Plantasia t-shirt, paintbrush behind her ear.

“Jo,” she smiles when she says my name. “I can’t wait to see what you put forward for your final.” She leans on the desk, glancing at my doodles. Devil horns. Another set of eyes. I smile back. At least I can rely on Clara to have my side. “So, I spoke to my connection at Harvard and they’re pretty excited about you.”

“Harvard?” Straightening in my seat, my brows knit together. “About me?”

Clara nods, her finger brushing the work on my paper, “Yes! If you keep up the work you’ve been putting forward, you’re on the way to a full scholarship. This project should be a breeze for you. You’ve shown nothing but great skill.”

“You’re fucking with me,” I say, too stunned to hold back my curse. After the couple of days I’ve been having I don’t know if I can trust good news.

Clara laughs, disregarding my slip, “No, not at all.” Leaning in, she takes a glance around the class. “Believe me, I’ve been teaching here for some time. You can do this.” She taps her knuckles on the table before pushing off the desk. “It’s only a matter of time before you start believing in yourself.”

I can’t hide my smile. A scholarship to Harvard? I can hardly swallow her words when she flutters away. So what if things didn’t work with Damien? So what if they never do? A scholarship to Harvard would be worth the pain. The torment. The torture. A scholarship to Harvard would mean all this wasn’t for nothing. I’d be an idiot if I let them shove me out of this school. Not now. If Willow can find her place in this world, so can I.

“Clara?” I say. She looks back at me, a smile still on her face. “I have an idea for my project.”

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