Page 13 of The Cursed Fae

Morgan reappeared for lunch in the dining hall with Belle, Astrid, and Fern. She neither ate nor talked, and her eyes were bright red. The other girls steered the conversation away from Missy and Raymond, keeping to more benign topics like the reality dating show Astrid had binged over the weekend. Belle was a big fan, too.

Sadness radiated from Morgan, her emotions so heavy they made it hard to breathe in her presence. On the way to a class called Modern Fae Communities, I couldn't stand the dark tension any longer and tried to draw Morgan out of her shell.

“I'm so sorry about Missy.”

Morgan narrowed her bloodshot gaze. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Way to go, Winter.

“I'm sorry. It's just—a lot of the people I've seen crying today are more, I don't know…” I trailed off before I could stick another foot in my mouth.

“Oh, you mean the pretenders.” Morgan's eyes cut across the hallway to a girl with crocodile tears pouring down her face. “They all act like they knew her, like they were friends with her.”

“I'm guessing they weren't?”

“Real friends don't talk shit behind each other's back,” Morgan said, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear her. “Missy could be... difficult. It's tough to be different in our world. Her situation, being hybrid, would've made anyone feel guarded.”

Anger flared in Morgan's eyes, raw pain flashing across her expression.

“Of course, they would be,” I agreed. “Take it from a girl who spent two decades with the humans. Being the odd one out sucks.”

Morgan didn't respond, so I kept talking.

“I know you don't know me, but I'm a superb listener. You know if you ever need one.”

She swallowed thickly. “Thanks. But I'm fine. Oh, hey. Astrid said you seemed lost in calculus earlier. And she doesn't know the difference between an integral and a limit. I'm good with math, so if you want to come to our room for a study session tonight, I can help with your homework.”

Nice subject change, I thought.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Professor Tartan, my Modern Fae Communities instructor, rivaled Nana for the title of oldest living resident of Arcane Landing. Morgan made introductions and then excused herself, promising to catch up with me after class.

“You have already missed a week of lectures,” Professor Tartan said with a stern expression, as if my late enrollment was my fault. “I will have my T.A. copy my personal notes for you. I trust you'll get yourself up to date.” The elderly woman shifted her milky gaze to the back corner of the room and crooked a finger, her voice louder when she called, “Lazlo, I have some actual work for you today. Put that phone away.”

The chancellor's son rose lazily from his chair, slipping a cell phone into his back pocket. He sauntered to the front as if he had all the time in the world. The guy was equal parts charm and swagger, both of which were lost on Professor Tartan.

“I've seen snails move faster, Lazlo.”

“Sorry, I'm a little sore from practice yesterday,” he said, giving her a winning smile.

“Sports.” Professor Tartan shook her head. “They have no place at this institution.”

Professor Tartan handed him a stack of paper thicker than most of my textbooks.

“Make a copy for Winter. Make sure she gets it at the end of class,” she said.

Lazlo gave her a two-finger salute. “Yes, ma'am.”

I found an empty seat in the back row and setup my laptop to take notes. The classroom was empty when I arrived, but students had filled in the desks during my brief exchange with Professor Tartan.

There were still a few minutes before the hour, giving my classmates ample opportunity to ogle me. This had happened in my previous classes, as well as at lunch and in the hallways. Even with Missy's death and Raymond's mom's outburst, I was a topic of intrigue. Though I was used to being the new girl, it never got easier having everyone stare all the time.

“So you're the infamous Winter Sable,” said a deep voice to my left.

I looked over to find a guy with blue-black curls hanging over his ears and around the collar of his shirt. He leaned back in his chair, extending long legs beneath the desk.

“Don't believe all the rumors,” I replied.

---