Page 11 of Wicked Little Secret

“I… I’m so… sorry,” she stammers out.

My jaw clenches tighter. “What’s your name?”

“Oliver. Nyssa Oliver. I’m… I was… the year one law student orientation…”

If possible, I regard her more harshly. No forgiveness can be found in my expression. Just irritation and judgment.

She should’ve been paying attention to where she was going. She should’ve been on time instead of rushing in last minute.

“Clean this right now,” I snap. “Then hurry up to the orientation. You’re late.”

I don’t wait for a response before stalking off. I’ve had enough of today, and Nyssa Oliver just so happens to be the breaking point.

3

THERON

DARK RED - STEVE LACEY

Twenty setsof slow-blinking eyes stare at me, about as witless and empty-headed as cows put out to pasture. Their hands itch to reach for their phones. Their thoughts already a mile away from where we are in my classroom. Nothing to offer the world but memes and redundant catchphrases about pop culture.

I stick both hands in the pockets of my trousers and scowl back at them. “Welcome to Criminal Law One. I am your professor, Theron Adler. You will refer to me as Professor Adler.JustProfessor Adler. Insideandoutside of the classroom. Over the next five months, you will be gaining a foundational understanding of criminal law. You will be required to provide intelligent and thoughtful insight to theories and case studies that are examined.

“If you fail to be a productive, contributive member of this ongoing discussion, I will gladly fail you. If you are caught plagiarizing or cheating in any capacity—to include the use of artificial intelligence—I will gladly fail you,” I continue, peering at each face in the room. Two to three seconds on each student before I move on to intimidatethe next. “If you do not participate in the required reading or assignments that will be given, I will gladly fail you. If you do not prove to think on the critical level which is needed at this point in your graduate education, guess what?”

The class murmurs along, “I will gladly fail you.”

A rare grin slashes onto my face. I push my glasses back up the bridge of my nose. “You catch on fast. Let’s hope that’s a good sign. I am not an easy professor. I am not a kind one. I am certainly not thecoolone you’ll want to friend on Facebook or whatever asinine social media platform you use these days. I am simply here to evaluate your understanding of criminal law. Who can tell me the difference between criminal and civil law?”

The girl with vomit green hair and a nose ring sitting in the front row raises a hesitant hand. “It’s, um, isn’t civil between two people off the street?”

“I don’t know, Miss Fochte. You tell me. Is it?” I ask in return. When she blinks at me a couple more times like a deer in headlights, I look around at the rest of the class. “Someone else. Someone withconfidence.”

“It’s all part of the system. Criminal is, like, what kind of harm is done to society,” says a blonde from the back row. I recognize her at once—another trust fund baby being funneled through Castlebury. Heather Driscoll twirls a lock of strawberry blonde hair around her finger like she’s wholly unconcerned by what I think of her. She’s more preoccupied with her spa appointment that comes after.

“Is that the best you can do?” I say. “At the graduate level? Really? So my already low expectations will be sinking even lower?”

Heather Driscoll openly rolls her eyes. But the girl seated next to her does the opposite—she raises her handin the air with a confidence vomit-green-haired girl hadn’t and with a politeness that’s not in Heather's vocabulary.

I recognized her from the moment she set foot inside the classroom this morning.

Nyssa Oliver.

She’s on Heather's left as though part of the posse, which includes the other two seated directly in front of them, Katelyn Wicker and Macey Eurwen. She’s patient and attentive in a way they’re not, sitting up with shoulders poised and deep-set brown eyes brightened by curiosity.

The next heartbeat in my chest skips.

A second-long malfunction that leaves me stuck.

Then the second ends and the thump returns.

I blink out of the momentary glitch and rasp out her name. “Yes, Miss Oliver?”

“Criminal law is a body of law defining offenses against society at large. It takes into consideration the harm committed and how these offenses are investigated, charged, tried, and sentenced in a court of law,” she explains succinctly. “Some examples would be murder or assault. In the past, it was often called penal law.”

My eyes narrow behind the lens of my glasses. “I see someone knows the basics. Not all hope is lost. But can you tell me the two fundamental elements of crime?”

She doesn’t pause before answering. “Mens rea, which is Latin for guilty mind. The other would beActus reus. Latin for action. As in the physical action a crime involves.”

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