Page 52 of Because I Killed Him
The Pinkies escort me to my first class of the day, Civilized World History. I keep an eye on my surroundings as I walk, noticing that no one is following me or taking pictures this time. The change in behavior feels too sudden to be natural, leading me to wonder whether it’s due to the Copper’s execution.
At the entrance to the lecture room, the whir of hoverboards makes me pause. I turn just as Edmund, Jack, and Dickie roar into the corridor on their boards, weaving through student traffic until they reach the end. Edmund and Jack brake in time, while Dickie’s landing goes awry. He stumbles, yelps, and spins to reveal a massive tear in the seat of his pants.
Edmund kicks his hoverboard up into his hand, laughing so loudly it draws the attention of half the students in the hall. “Should I have held your hand for the dismount?”
“I don’t need help,” Dickie snaps.
“Your ass says otherwise,” Jack cuts in, pointing at the damage. “Why the hell aren’t you wearing underwear?”
Dickie turns red and slaps a hand over the rip. “It’s… uncomfortable.”
“So is the view,” Edmund says, shrugging off his suit jacket and tying it around Dickie’s waist.
The jacket nearly swallows Dickie whole, hanging to his calves and making him look like a kid in his dad’s coat. Edmund and Jack barely manage a glance before doubling over, shoulders shaking as they fall into it. Dickie huffs, plants his hands on his hips, and mutters something about “needing room for things to breathe down there” as the three of them shuffle inside.
The lecture room is an amphitheater, multi-tiered, so everyone has a clear view of the professor. The Blues sit at the very top, while the rest of us are spread throughout the lower levels.
I keep my head down as I walk in, hoping Edmund won’t spot me. After what he did to Charlotte, I’d hoped our paths wouldn’t cross again. But now that I know he’s more than a vengeful ex-friend and that he’s engaged to Irene Hussey, I want to avoid him entirely.
Jack and Dickie step into an elevator while Edmund lingers behind with a group of Blues. He greets each one with steady eye contact, offering polite smiles and handshakes as he talks. I jab the call button on a different elevator, waiting impatiently for it to open, then duck inside. My Pinkies file in behind me, along with four low-citizens who immediately crowd the control panel, swiping their Blood Rings to select the right floor.
Just before the doors close, Edmund steps inside, whistling as he selects the button for the fourth floor. I retreat behind my wall of Pinkies and let my hair fall forward to hide my face. The low-citizens exchange restless glances, then edge toward the exit. One by one, they slip out again.
I think about joining them until I realize it’ll make me look afraid. Backed into the corner of the elevator, I pretend to text on my Bond while keeping Edmund in my peripheral vision. He’s no longer a wreck of torn clothes, blood, and sweat, but he still moves with an energy that seems to leave heat streaks in the air. My gaze drops to his empty ring finger. Strange that he’s not wearing an engagement ring.
Edmund plants his feet a little wider as the doors close, clearly pleased with the extra space. Then he notices the cluster of Pinkies around me, and his whistling stops.
“Afraid, Miss Waldsten?”
I look through my handbag, trying to seem indifferent. “After yesterday, I have a reason to be.”
“Yesterday.” Edmund rubs his jaw, as if recalling a distant memory. “Ah, yes. Was I correct?”
“About what?”
“The Irasbis Gas.”
The fact that he’s asking means Dickie didn’t bother to fill him in. “Yes. However, the gas disintegrated before we could test it. Miss Bradford is dead.”
Edmund tilts his head, as if genuinely surprised. Up close, I notice his face is a shade tanner than yesterday. His dark brown hair, neatly parted to the left with finger waves and a swooped forelock, reminds me of the Blue who unleashed the eagle on the Heretic girl.
“Did the Copper avoid arrest?” Edmund asks.
“No. Mr. Langley’s Pinkie filmed the murder. Did you not see the execution this morning?”
“I do not watch the executions.”
I glance up from my fake texting and squint at him in disbelief. The elevator reaches the third floor, where the Greens are seated, but even as the doors slide open, I remain inside. “Why not?”
“Because I do not have to.”
“That is not a reason.”
“Well, it is the only answer I am going to give you.”
Edmund waits for the Pinkies to file out, then steps closer, his saber scabbard shifting at his hip. I glance discreetly at the hilt. When I see the letterBetched into the metal, an unexpected wave of pain courses through me. B is only one level below the top competitive rank, the level I might’ve reached by now, if not for the weapons restriction.
“The better question, Miss Waldsten,” Edmund says, “is why you do not look pleased that the Copper is dead.”
