Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(59)

Clenching her hands, she took a deep breath and tried to seize control. She remembered the way Justin had fought for her with her parents and how proud he’d been when taking her to tour the school. More important, she couldn’t shake the way he kept calling her his prodigy. She didn’t really know if she believed that, but the thought of going home and telling him she couldn’t do any of this was unbearable. Another breath calmed her, and she resigned herself to asking for help, no matter how humiliating it was.

But when she went to the front of the room, she found her teacher deeply engaged with another student. Standing around made her self-conscious, so she returned to her table to wait her turn. Behind her, Melissa had taken a break in her work—or maybe even finished—and was talking to a cluster of friends.

“I can’t understand anything she says,” she told them. “And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get half of what we’re saying. I don’t think they have electricity there.”

“Did you see her with the hologram?” asked another student.

Someone else laughed. “She probably thought it was some sort of vision. They’ve got crazy beliefs in the provinces.”

Melissa sneered, marring her pretty features. “Well, I’m just glad I don’t have to drag her around tomorrow. If I have to look at that hair one more—”

She froze, her smile slipping as she noticed Tessa watching. Melissa flushed, embarrassed at being caught. Then she became equally conscious of her friends and pushed aside her chagrin. “Well?” she demanded. Gone was the friendly peppiness from before. “What are you staring at?”

When Tessa said nothing, one of Melissa’s friends nudged her. “Forget it, Mel. Look at her. She didn’t even understand what you said.”

“I can understand bitchiness in any language,” Tessa said. A few seconds later, she added, “Do you need me to repeat that more slowly?” She kept her face cold and unrevealing, something she’d picked up after days spent around people who excelled at hiding their thoughts.

Melissa’s face said that she had indeed understood. “Who are you calling a bitch?”

“Who do you think?” asked Tessa, growing emboldened. “That’s rhetorical, by the way. It means you don’t have to answer.”

Part of Tessa knew she needed to stop. She was only digging a bigger hole for herself. Melissa didn’t seem like the type to defend her honor with fists, not if the way she pranced and kept checking her hair was any indication. But there was a malevolent look in her eyes that made Tessa think Melissa was very likely the type to take revenge in far more subtle and insidious ways. Fists might have been easier.

“That’s the part Melissa doesn’t understand,” a new voice suddenly said. “How not to answer. She can’t keep her mouth shut—just ask Silas Moore.”

Melissa glared as one of her friends snickered, and then she turned her fury on the girl standing beside Tessa. “Shut the hell up, Poppy! Everyone knows what you did last weekend.”

“Funny,” said the girl called Poppy. “How come no one ever brags about what they do with you? They always just look kind of sad and disappointed.”

“Ladies, why are none of you working?” That was Mr. Rykov, striding toward them. Melissa and her friends immediately began to disperse. Poppy, however, turned toward him and looked him squarely in the eye.

“Just helping Tertia, Mr. Ry,” she said brightly. “That’s the kind of person I am.” She reached toward Tessa’s model and deftly flipped the molecule over.

Mr. Rykov looked suspicious. “Well, I suppose that’s—you have that abhorrent makeup on again! I told you not to come to class like that. You’ll be serving detention with me tomorrow.”

“Can’t. I’ve already got another one. But I’m free on Thursday.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Thursday. Now get back to work, and try to accomplish something productive with your last ten minutes.”

When he was gone, Poppy turned to Tessa. “You know why he didn’t ask me to do detention today? Because everyone knows he goes and f*cks Ms. Braeburn on Tuesdays. It’s the day her husband works late.”

“Oh,” said Tessa, not entirely sure how else to respond. “I see. Well, um. My name’s not Tertia. It’s Teresa. Er, Tessa.”

“Got it,” said Poppy. “Let’s knock the rest of this out.”

Without further comment, she took over Tessa’s workstation and began entering in answers as she worked through the assignment. Tessa leaned over to watch her, amazed at how much Poppy accomplished in so little time.

The “abhorrent” makeup was heavy black eyeliner and hot-pink lipstick that matched the streaks in Poppy’s short, spiked hair. Justin was always going on about how refined Gemmans were, but apparently, he only meant his own demographic.

Chimes signaled the end of the school day, and Poppy stepped back. “Damn. Well, that’s most of it. I don’t think he’ll really care what you turn in anyway. You heard those *s. No one here even thinks you can read.” She suddenly paused. “You can, right?”

Tessa sighed. “Yes. And I’m fluent in English, even though I have an accent.”

Poppy shrugged. “The accent’s cool.”