And They Were Roommates(15)

Not average tutor behavior.

Still, my nerves settle. I know them. I know someone here. “Hi—”

“Cutting is for the weak,” a third tutor beside Xavier interrupts. His low voice sounds forced to the back of his throat, yet it’s still higher in pitch than all the other competing conversations. His dress shoes, marked with spikelike symbols, are kicked up on his book stack. Between his narrow shoulders and shortness—he’s no taller than five feet—he looks younger than a first year.

I tilt my head. Most of his face is shrouded by bangs that crinkle like seaweed and look too black to be natural. The guidelines don’t allow dyed hair. “Excuse me?”

“You hearkened me.” The boy looks up, his bangs splitting and revealing such a pale complexion that his hair looks even darker now. He flashes a ring on his thumb—a ruby varsity gemstone that matches Mom’s varsity ring on my finger. “Or shall I eradicate you myself?”

I glance around, expecting everyone to acknowledge the middle schooler who has broken into Valentine to threaten me.

Only Xavier stops writing in his notebook. “Oh, Charlie.”

My chest leaps. He remembered my name.

Except no one is supposed to remember who I am. No spotlights. I push down my excitement. “Yeah. Hi.”

A slamming noise strikes behind us. I startle and look over my shoulder.

Fairy-tale books tumble off a shelf where Jasper’s shoulder is pressed now, like he rammed into the thing at full force. His breathing is heavy. “Is someone named Charlie here?”

I stare at him in horror. Does he have the hearing of a hawk?

“Who’s holding up the line?” someone complains.

Bobby signals those impatiently waiting to shift farther down, moving them away from our conversation. Once the crowds split enough for Jasper to spot me, he rushes to the front on a blast of his sneeze-inducing floral fragrance, shampoo, and soap—all of it.

“I see you couldn’t resist spending intimate time with me today, roomie,” Jasper says through a grin. He wears an enamel pin too—a gold number one fastened to his red dress shirt, weighing down the neckline and exposing his collarbone more than usual.

“Why are you here?” I ask, keeping my eyes firmly on his face.

“STRIP.”

I clutch my blazer. “Excuse me?”

“Student Tutoring Remediation Interdisciplinary Program,” Xavier says, who’s returned to jotting names and numbers in his notebook. “STRIP for short.”

There’s no way Jasper, Rank One, needs tutoring. Logically, there’s only one reason why he’s here.

I struggle to stop my expression from contorting. “You’re a tutor.”

“Welcome to the most helpful program on campus,” Jasper says. “Here to assist with all your”—he tosses up air quotes—“‘tutoring needs.’”

“Do those numbers mark you as tutors?” I ask, gesturing at the pin on Jasper’s collar.

He glances down. “No, these are our top five passes.”

“Your what?”

“Didn’t you check the weekly grade announcements today? Did you see an instructor sitting around with a basket?”

“No?”

“They hand these out at noon every time on both campuses. Well, to any student who ranks top five of their class. As long as we keep our rank, we get special access to the equestrian center that’s half on their campus and half on ours, Friday through Sunday.”

Another part of Valentine I never knew existed. “An equestrian center is our perk? Who cares about horses?”

“Who cares about horses?” Robby repeats farther down the line. His eyes are wide with shock. Almost offense.

I bite the inside of my cheek for failing to blend in once again. Must be a weird rich-people thing. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s not only about the horses,” Jasper says. “Whenever the top five visit the equestrian center, they also get to see the top five girls.”

Of course. “The academy allows that as a perk?”

“Well, that perk, in particular, isn’t written on paper. It’s more like a glitch in the system. Faculty claims the whole arrangement is to encourage friendly competition. They’ll do anything to make sure we stay the best private academy in the nation.”

That’s almost more screwed up than having a public grade board. Delilah and Mom never mentioned this. “Is everyone who ranks in this thing?”

“Some ranks change too often. Rank Fours and Fives, really. But most refuse to get involved.”

Most refuse. Yet I’m supposed to join this. “Why?”

Jasper twirls a finger in the air, his bracelet jangling so obnoxiously that I debate ripping it off. “Because we are not here to tutor, von Hevringprinz. We—”

“Jasper,” Xavier mutters warily from his table, then faces me again. “Sorry, man, but we shouldn’t share too much since you’re, well, new.”

A piece of my heart cracks. Still a transfer. An outsider.

“We can trust Charlie about us being non-tutors,” Jasper insists, walking over and swatting Xavier’s shoulder. “He’s an Excellence Scholar.”

“Yeah,” I say, admittedly appreciating Jasper sticking up for me. If everyone else knows, then I need to, especially since Principal Grimes expects me to fix this. “You’re … non-tutors?”