Burn Before Reading(23)

I raised my hand to offer an answer.

"Elizabeth I," I said proudly. Mr. Brant furrowed his brows.

"I'm sorry, Beatrix, but that isn't the answer I'm looking for. In fact, that's two centuries too late. She wasn't even close to this time period."

A clump of shame started burning in my stomach, my cheeks heating. It's one thing to not be paying attention like the other day, but getting an answer wrong? Wrong answers weren't my thing, and the whole class turned to look at me. They knew that. Whispers went around the room. Laughter. Fitz lifted his head off the desk to look at me, his eyes not in the least bit sleepy. Bewilderment lingered in them, and I caught his gaze only for a moment before looking away.

Mr. Brant changed the subject eventually, but the damage was done. The fake damage. Or so I thought, until Mr. Brant asked me to stay behind after class. Fitz was the last one to leave, and his steps were so slow and deliberate I could swear he was doing it on purpose.

Mr. Brant waited until everyone had filtered out before turning to me.

"How's everything with you lately, Beatrix?" He asked. I looked at my feet, unable to meet his eyes.

"Fine."

"You seem distracted, lately. Is there anything you don't understand in the material? I can help clarify -"

"It's not that -" I blurted. "I'm just - tired. That's all."

He gazed at me, neither judging nor suspicious. "Alright. I hope you rest up soon. We need your bright brain in this class - otherwise, who will answer all my questions? I'd be talking to a silent room."

I laughed a little, and said goodbye to him. I had a hunch Fitz was waiting for me outside the room, so when my name was called I was ready for it. Sure enough, Fitz caught up with me in the hall.

"There you are, scholarshipper."

"I thought I told you to stay away," I grumbled. I couldn't become friendly with him all of a sudden, not after my outburst the other morning. If I did, he'd be suspicious. He's smart, but not Wolf-wary.

He smiled. "Let's just say I can't resist a sob-story. You haven't been on your game. You're slipping up. And I find that irresistibly tragic."

"I can take care of myself, thanks," I snorted.

"Oh, I know you can take care of yourself. But how will you find time for that when you're too busy taking care of everybody else, is my question."

"What?"

"Oh, c’mon, don't play dumb. Eric. And then that big, hard-steroid-popping freshman. You stood up for both of them. Naively, of course. But you still did it. You put yourself right in the middle of Wolf's warpath for them. You're either brave, or stupid. Or both."

"Steroids?" I whispered. Fitz looked at me like I was a tiny child learning what colors were for the first time.

"Duh. Why do you think Wolf gave him a red card? Wolf wants him to stop. The kid's on his swim-team. Steroids can destroy your body. Wolf knows that. That freshman doesn't. He keeps popping them in the hopes he can impress his jockhead dad, or some nonsense."

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. "That's why Wolf harassed him?"

Fitz laughed again. "That's how it works. Do something stupid and slash or illegal in this school, and Wolf threatens you to stop. And if you don't, you're gone. Simple as that."

"And Eric? What did he do?"

"Got caught trying to put date-rape drugs in a girl's drink at a house party a month ago."

"Wait, how does Wolf know that?"

"Everyone knows it," Fitz yawned. "Wolf just takes the time to make sure it's true. Asks around, does his research. And when he has evidence, when he's sure, he issues a red-card. That's what it means. 'We have dirt on you that could ruin your life here at Lakecrest, so you better stop'."

I suddenly felt sick. Eric, the guy I defended first, the timid, scared guy. He'd tried to date-rape drug someone's drink? And I stood up for him?

My legs felt wobbly, so I scrabbled for a nearby bench and put my head in my hands. I heard Fitz sit with me. My head shot up and I glared at him.

"You aren't just shitting me, right? To make Wolf look good or something? This is all actually true?"

Fitz put a Boy Scout sign up. "On what's left of my sullied honor, scholarshipper, it's true. If you don't believe me, you can ask anyone in this school."

"No one in this school talks to me. Except you. And Burn. Wolf shoots me a nastier-than-the-back-of-the-toilet-glare sometimes, and that's exciting."

"Yeah, he does that."

"So Mark Gerund," I swallowed. "Was he a similar case?"

Fitz shrugged. "No. That was more...personal. For Wolf, anyway."

"But Wolf drove him out. He had your Dad kick him out -"

"Oh, no," Fitz laughed. "Trust me, Mark left on his own. It's just the fact he got into a fight with Wolf the day before he dropped out that makes people think that Wolf had something to do with it."

"Then why - why is Wolf trying to kick me out, now?"

Fitz's green eyes twinkled with something like amusement. "Probably for the same reasons he fought Mark, I'd imagine."

"What? That doesn't make any sense -"

"Listen," Fitz leaned in. "You're sucking at history all of a sudden. That's what I wanted to ask about. You're supposed to be smart - the smartest one in this hellhole beside me. What gives?"