Bloodlines (Bloodlines #1)(81)

"You think Keith will write the note?" he asked in a low voice.

"He has to. The whole point of us being here is to keep her alive. Starving her to death kind of defeats the purpose."

I didn't bother telling Eddie that I was in trouble with my father and the Alchemists and that in two weeks, there was a good chance I might not even be around. Eddie was clearly upset over Jill's situation already, and I didn't want him to have one more thing to worry about.

When I met up with Ms. Terwilliger at the end of the day, I turned in the last of the notes I'd made for her on the old books. As I was settling myself at a desk, I noticed a folder of articles sitting on a table. Carlton College was printed on the folder in embossed gold letters. I remembered now why I'd thought the name was familiar when Adrian had mentioned it in the dream.

"Ms. Terwilliger... didn't you say you knew people at Carlton College?"

She glanced up from her computer. "Hmm? Oh yes. I should think so. I play poker with half of the history faculty. I even teach there in the summers. History, that is. Not poker."

"I don't suppose you know anybody in admissions, do you?" I asked.

"Not so much. I suppose I know people who know people there." She turned her attention back to the screen. I said nothing, and after several moments, she looked back at me. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Of course there's a reason. Are you interested in attending? Goodness knows you'd probably get more out of there than here. My class being the exception, of course."

"No, ma'am," I said. "But my brother wants to attend. He heard classes haven't started yet but isn't sure if he can get in on such short notice."

"It's very short notice," agreed Ms. Terwilliger. She scrutinized me carefully. "Would you like me to make some inquiries?"

"Oh. Oh no, ma'am. I was just hoping to get some names I could contact. I'd never ask you to do something like that."

Her eyebrows rose. "Why ever not?"

I was at a loss. She was so difficult to understand sometimes. "Because... you have no reason to."

"I'd do it as a favor to you."

I couldn't muster a response for that and simply stared. She smiled and pushed her glasses up her nose.

"That's impossible for you to believe, isn't it? That someone would do a favor for you."

"I... well, that is..." I trailed off, still unsure what to say. "You're my teacher. Your job is to, well, teach me. That's it."

"And your job," she said, "is to report to this room during last period for whatever mundane tasks I have for you and then turn in a paper at the end of the semester. You are not in any way required to fetch me coffee, show up after hours, organize my life, or completely rearrange your own to meet my ridiculous requests."

"I... I don't mind," I said. "And it all needs doing."

She chuckled. "Yes. And you insist on going above and beyond in your tasks, don't you? No matter how inconvenient for you."

I shrugged. "I like to do a good job, ma'am."

"You do an excellent job. Far better than you need to. And you do it without complaint. Therefore, the least I can do is make a few phone calls on your behalf." She laughed again. "That startles you most of all, doesn't it? Having someone praise you."

"Oh no," I said lamely. "I mean, it happens."

She took off her glasses to look at me more intently. The laughter was gone. "No, I'm thinking it doesn't. I don't know your particular situation, but I have known a lot of students like you - ones whose parents ship them off like this. While I appreciate the concern for higher education, I find that more often than not, a bigger piece of students coming here is that their parents simply don't have the time or inclination to be involved with - or even pay attention to  - their children's lives."

We were dealing with one of those interpersonal areas that made me uncomfortable, particularly because there was an unexpected element of truth in them. "It's more complicated than that, ma'am."

"I'm sure it is," she replied. Her expression turned fierce, making her look far different from the scattered teacher I knew. "But listen to me when I say this. You are an exceptional, talented, and brilliant young woman. Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you're less. Do not ever let anyone make you feel invisible. Do not let anyone - not even a teacher who constantly sends you for coffee - push you around." She put her glasses back on and began randomly lifting up pieces of papers. At last, she found a pen and grinned triumphantly. "Now, then. What is your brother's name?"

"Adrian, ma'am."

"Right, then." She took out a piece of paper and carefully wrote down the name. "Adrian Melbourne."

"Melrose, ma'am."

"Right. Of course." She scribbled out her mistake and muttered to herself, "I'm just glad his first name's not Hobart." When she was finished, she leaned back casually in her chair. "Now that you mention it, there is one thing I'd like you to do."

"Name it," I said.

"I want you to make one of the spells from that first book."

"I'm sorry. Did you say, make a spell?"