Page 15 of Forbidden Lessons

Great. And he’s back in my head again.

But thank God Melissa starts talking, because I haven’t had nearly enough time to unpackthatmess.

“You got what he said about defining cruelty?” She uses the tip of her nude, perfectly manicured fingernail to flip open the cover of the notebook.

“Yup.” That part of the lecture is embedded in my mind.

“Great.” She sounds relieved that she doesn’t have to explain it. “He wants us to record anything ‘cruel,’” her finger hooks into a mini air quote before she drags it down the lined page, “someone does, and then define it with the three Is.”

Her eyes meet mine as she sits back to sip at her cola. “Like him making such a big fucking deal about you being late.” Her eyes dart back to the book. “You could put that in there.”

I purse my lips, take a sip of soda, shrug. “Cruel? Really?”

“His intent was to embarrass you. I saw you blush. And you looked pissed.” She props her elbow on the table, counting off on her fingers. “Intent. Impact. I interpret that as cruelty. Don’t you?”

My mouth is open because I want to argue, but the words wither on my tongue.

She’s not wrong.

Fuck knows if I actually have the guts to record something like that in there.

“Thank you,” I say as she pushes the book back toward my side of the table. “I appreciate the help.”

She flashes me another smile. “Hope you ordered your textbooks. Mine only arrived this morning.”

“Textbooks,” I repeat woodenly.

What’s this dread feeling rising inside me?

“It’s on the coursework printout,” she says, waving dismissively. She counts off on her fingers again. “Human Evil, Kathleen Taylor. And Zimbardo’s Lucifer Effect.”

Well, that’s one mystery solved. Is it weird that I’m a little disappointed I won’t be delving into devilish hijinks this semester?

Melissa must pick up on my sudden panic, because she taps a fingernail against her can a few times before saying, “Try the library. They might still have copies.”

“Yeah, good thinking.” I take a quick sip of soda to wet my dry mouth. “I mean, at least just to tide me over until my shipment arrives.”

She quirks an eyebrow at this and then jumps when her phone starts blaring Taylor Swift’sBlank Space.

“God, I keep forgetting to change my ringtone,” she mutters, already standing as she takes her phone out of her sleek, boxy laptop bag and glances at it.

I watch her leave and hurriedly look away when I realize I’m staring. She sways like she’s wearing heels, but she’s in a pair of white mules.

Even if I had the money, I doubt I could pull off an outfit like hers.

I’d get ketchup all over it.

I sit around for a bit, doing some sneaky people-watching and Kai-spotting as students file in and out of the cafeteria. I even try to write in the Activity Log notebook, but I’m hesitant to make a mark on the page.

Since I don’t know when my next class is, I don’t know if there’s enough time for me to go to the library and find the books I need for Rooke’s class.

Then I remember the receptionist from this morning and jump up.

A freshman walking past me nearly drops her tray of food in surprise.

I guess I’m not the only one who’s all jittery. Although judging from the massive takeout cup of coffee on her tray, caffeine’s a suspect.

The receptionist has her back to me when I hurry to the help desk. The front door of the university is still open, and there’s a warm breeze pushing against me as I rap my knuckles on the polished wooden counter.

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