Page 19 of Thrall
Lucy shot a furtive look to the front of the room. But the astronomy professor, a rail-thin man with a deeply stoned affect, was too busy trundling through the syllabus to pay her any mind. He had already assured them all that the class would be “chill,” and that they were just there to “talk about stars.” Reading ahead on the syllabus, though, there appeared to be a bit more physics than was strictly chill.
She blinked hard. Her eyes still felt dry and stiff. She’d tried to sleep a bit after the phone call with Pallas, impossible as that felt. But just when she’d started to drift off, she was catapulted awake again by someone banging on the door. If Whitney hadn’t called out “It’s me,” Lucy’s next stop would have been out the window.
Whitney looked miserable to be there, and even more miserable to see Lucy. She was glowering darkly when Lucy eased the door open, looking gray and tired under the hallway fluorescents. “Forgot my keys,” she said, by way of explanation.
This time, though, it had been easy to forgive Whitney. Lucy had never been so happy to see such a dour face.
In any case. To Natalie’s point, Lucy texted back,
Pallas said we can’t talk over the radio. Can’t be sure who’s listening. She said she’d find us a place to meet, and she’d call me again today.
Natalie replied.
They really think a vampire is listening to student radio?
Lucy paused for a moment, before typing out a response.
Well, he used to be a person.
She meant to type something after that, but—she was no longer sure what she meant by it.
Or more accurately, she meant a few different things at once. He used to be a person, so he probably knew what a radio was. He used to be a person, so maybe he’d seen one of those dozens of Pallas Radio posters across the campus and had guessed what they were for. He used to be a person, so surely he knew the ways in which people warn each other when a fox reaches the henhouse.
But she couldn’t decide which of those things she meant to type. So instead she said:
You really believe me?
There was a brief pause before Natalie’s reply.
Why wouldn’t I?
Lucy stifled a laugh. Because she hardly believed it herself, for one.
Because if you believe me, you should probably be scared of me.
Natalie’s replied. No pause this time.
I’m not scared yet.
Lucy breathed in slowly. If she stopped to let the full force of her gratitude crash over her, she was pretty sure she was going to cry. She typed out a response before guilt or self-consciousness could stop her.
Can I text you later? When Pallas calls.
Natalie’s reply seemed to hit instantaneously.
GIRL. If you DON’T text me I’m gonna be pissed. Now pay attention to class!! I’ll talk to you soon.
It was easier said than done. Now that she no longer had her phone to distract her, it was difficult to ignore the quiet but persistent cacophony of the classroom around her. The hair-raising scritch-scratch of pencils. The softer, mellower loops of ballpoint pens. One particularly emphatic mechanical pencil, which kept breaking under the force of its owner’s press.Snap. Snap. Snap.
She bit back a wince. When she asked if she was becoming a vampire, Pallas said it was complicated. But the world hadn’t been quite so loud just a few days ago. And maybe it was her potentially heightened senses, but as she fidgeted, she could feel the weight of someone’s attention on her.
She carefully maneuvered herself out of the desk and to her feet. Someone probablywaslooking at her, with all her fidgeting. She needed to step out for a bit. Get some air. Splash some water on her face, maybe.
As she made her way to the back of the room, someone stuck a sheet of paper out in front of her. She glanced up to the dimly lit, closed-lipped smile of the boy holding it. “Attendance sheet,” he whispered.
Lucy smiled quickly. “Thanks,” she whispered back as she initialed her name. The boy nodded as she slipped out of the room.
The Goldwell building was part of an academic quad on one of the higher hills of Rollins. It was the smallest of the four buildings: just one floor aboveground and one below. The ground-floor atrium was lit with golden early-afternoon sun, and the full force of it felt slightly less oppressive than it had the day before. But Lucy couldn’t deny that right now, she felt more comfortable in the dark.
