The Class Reject: A Martyr in Maelstrom (Book III)

15

"Is it weird that I've never set foot inside the girls' dorms? You know, aside from the lobby?" Levi said as he and Soren walked the hallway of the third floor. It was still daylight, and since Petunia Hall now had a resident director that wasn't an old nun—Alice was a delightful women studies masters student who believed the idea of having sex-separated resident halls was inherently sexist and hetero/cisgender normative in nature (don't worry, she didn't say this during her interview to get the gig)—she had no problem allowing the boys to waltz through so long as they swore to "respect the girls" living there.

So she wasn't going to last very long.

"I'd be more concerned about what Jemma might say," Soren decided, placing his hands in his pocket. "I know you're why Artemis came to talk to me last week. And though I can't say I didn't appreciate it, I don't want you dragging her into this."

Levi lifted his hands in defense. "Look, all I'm saying is that we still don't know the culprit for the Miren video, the sex video, and the splash fest at that assembly. Not to mention who pushed Artemis down a flight of stairs at homecoming." He shrugged, sensing Soren taking in his words. "So I wouldn't not bet that she played a part in at least one of those options as either a pawn or a planner."

"This is so fucked up," Soren said instead, stopping at the senior's door. He knocked a few times, before hearing some giggles on the other end. "Just because RD let guys in doesn't mean you should be fucking."

"No one's fucking anyone, you heathen," Jemma said curtly, opening the door slightly. Her eyes narrowed on the two boys. "Who the hell invited you?"

"Save me," Klondike said as he held up some strips of fabric. "How many times have I told you that each shade of red looks exactly the same!"

"Why can't you get it through your thick skull that blood orange is not the same as crimson?!"

Klondike groaned.

"If this is a bad time, we could come back later," Levi said, ironically moving into the room. Jemma hissed, folding her arms. His eyes fell to the piles of prom catalogues on her desk and bed before landing on the girl. "You do realize that prom is still months from now?"

"Karsha is being really picky about the theme. She also said that she doesn't want to choose until someone finishes the budgets for student counsel." Her eyes narrowed on Soren. "So unless you want to tell me that you've done your job, I'm going to be over here selecting a theme-neutral yet stunning gown while trying not to MURDER YOU."

"Jesus," Soren squeaked.
"It's okay, babe," Klondike said, plopping on her bed. "You'll look gorgeous in whatever you wear."

"I know," she snapped. "But I need to look even better than that." As Klondike mumbled about how insane girls were under his breath, Jemma turned her attention to the boys. "You can go now."

"Why didn't you just tell me that the girl on the picture was Olive?" Levi then said out of nowhere. "If you know something about what's happening in the school, why don't you just spill?"

"And loose my edge?" she said in a fake pout, although she was laughing internally. Idiots. "Never."

"Come on. What do you know?" Soren said, his eyes serious and listless. "All I know is that the more I try to understand what's happening, the more confused I get."

"Maybe you're not meant to find it out." She shrugged, picking up a few fabric pieces from the floor. "Maybe it's nothing, and instead of having a life, you're bothering me."