There were four other occupants to the library by the time Aiden returned – among them being Michelle and Danielle.

Danielle de la Rose hailed from a respectable middle-class family, like all the girls Aiden belittled and bullied. She was naturally a quiet girl, but had taken a keen interest in science and mathematics – similar fields her father worked in. Long black hair accented with lovely chocolate-colored eyes, she was more concerned with what compounds reacted in what way rather than social graces.

But Aiden didn’t care. He strutted to the corner where they sat and leaned against Michelle’s chair. When the two girls caught sight of him, they frowned and hastily began packing up their belongings, hoping to retreat to their respective sleeping quarters.

“Come now,” he said in a soothing, almost unnerving voice. “That’s not how you meet someone of stature. You bow,” he explained, mimicking a curtsy. The two girls continued packing up as Aiden returned to his normal stance, his eyes sparking. “You bow,” he repeated, taking Michelle’s arm and forcing her into an almost-curtsy. Shaking, Danielle pulled out some secondhand lipstick and gently rubbed it over her lips. When Aiden saw this, he let go of Michelle, who fell to the ground on her knees. “Look at you; you almost look nice enough to be a street walker.” Danielle’s hand had begun shaking, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“Danielle…” began Michelle.

“Oh, don’t cry, Miss de la Rose. You’re closer than Miss Matteson to looking like a proper woman instead of some animal. Doesn’t that count for something.”

“You’re a monster,” Michelle told him, like the phrase had been spoken a million times before. As she turned to him, she stepped on his foot and began walking away.

“How dare you talk to me like that, you cow!”

Michelle turned on her heels again and added, “I pity your future. One day, you’ll go missing, and no one will care where you’ve turned up. You could be dead in a ditch and no one will take notice. Sure, maybe your parents will set up an investigation to find you, but at the end of the day, they’ll just stop it so they can vacation somewhere nicer than they could before.” She stepped closer to him and continued, “The world is changing, and if you’re unwilling to move with it, then you will find that, one day, you’ll be left so far behind that you’ll have more enemies than friends at the end of your days.”

Aiden began laughing, reaching over for the girl’s shoulder because he was losing his balance. Michelle stepped away, disgusted, and turned on her heels again to walk out of the library towards the main staircase. Danielle followed, hastily wiping away the cheap lipstick that now adorned her mouth. But Aiden continued laughing, attracting the attention of the bookish Jonathan, who almost cowered in fear from his enjoyment.

~ ~ ~

The sun broke through later in the afternoon, allowing almost heaven-like shafts of light into the lecture halls. But the rooms were subsequently stuffy with moisture from the students’ clothes, creating something of a musty haze that hung along the chandeliers that lit the long room.

The students were trying with the best of their abilities to stay awake. The day had moved slowly and the sudden burst of light brought on a sense of drowsiness that all the students quickly possessed. The professors persisted in teaching, but fought for their listener’s attention as their heads began to drop.

Aiden was no exception. In fact, he had dropped off to sleep in his final lecture, and didn’t awaken until the class was long over. The bodies that had filled the audience were gone, safe for Professor Duarte, the literature professor who now quietly occupied a seat in the first row, taking notes on a book the class would be reading later in the year. Moving slowly and carefully, Aiden packed up his belongings and descended towards the front door to the lecture hall.

“Good, you’re awake,” she began, swishing her bangs away from her face. She closed her notebook and the book, and watched Aiden squirm and move away from the door towards her.

“Sorry for falling asleep in class, ma’am,” he said, trying to sound sincere. If he were to follow in his father’s footsteps, Aiden would find the subject impractical to his desired profession.

Professor Duarte stood up and walked over towards him, a paper in hand. “Mr. Whitebell, you’re skating on very thin ice currently,” she began, handing him the piece of paper with a red 36% stamped across the front. “You may believe you don’t need anything I am teaching, but you could at least pretend to make an effort in my class.”

“Honestly, ma’am, I thought I already was.”

Professor Duarte sighed heavily. “Mr. Whitebell, if you don’t begin to improve in this class then I will fail you.”

“What if my family donates to your department?” he asked, hoping to weasel himself out of the situation.

“We still have the money you ‘donated’ to us last year,” Duarte answered, still frowning. She placed her thumb and forefinger on the bridge of her nose and sighed again. “Aiden, I know you’re a smart boy. Why are you squandering your potential? You’re better than that.”

Aiden frowned and said, “You don’t address me by my name, Professor. You address me as ‘Mr. Whitebell’ or ‘sir’.”

“I will address you how I see fit,” she retorted. Both person’s eyes had sparked with fire and didn’t seem to diminish. “I am your elder, there is no rule against addressing you how I want.”

Aiden had learned well from his father – ‘when dealing with an upset woman,’ he was reminded, ‘repeat these words.’ He drew in a breath and said, “Okay,” very calmly. “I just want you to take a deep breath in, and then I’ll come back and discuss it with you later, all right?”

Professor Duarte’s eyes remained intense. She desperately wanted to smack the boy, but it threatened her employment with the school. She reached out slowly to grasp Aiden’s neck but her arms forced themselves down to her sides. She pointed towards the door and whispered, “Leave, now.” Aiden left the class, looking hurt from Professor Duarte’s comment. In actuality, he found himself pleased that his father’s words worked to an extent – he had slinked his way out of the classroom without repercussions against him.

Outside, the clouds had disappeared, revealing a saturated blue sky and more sunlight, which made the school grounds look like it was a painted backdrop. The trees, which had sagged under the rainfall, lifted and stretched towards the sky, its tops flattened by the harsh autumn and winter winds. A soft breeze blew off the ocean and mixed the moisture with sea air; a pleasant sort of smell that drifted lazily on the Northwinds over the school and towards Eagleshaw. But the heat persisted in a stifling and insufferable sort of way, which made the cool breeze a blessing.

Aiden returned to his room to find the windows opened once again. The puddles of water that had greeted him before were gone, the rug replaced with another that matched its size but was a different design. The room had been dusted and cleaned, the brass sconces glowing brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. Everything in Aiden’s room shined.

Jonathan kneed the door open, walked in, and placed Aiden’s books and papers on his bed. Before leaving, he turned to Aiden and whispered, “I didn’t finish your assignments. I planned on leaving school and returning home at the end of the week.” He frowned and snarled, “Find some other weakling to do your work.” With that, he departed from the room.

Aiden watched the gangly-looking boy leave. He simply shrugged his shoulders and closed the door to his room, but then glanced at the state of his books, having been thrown into his bag without any care; this resulted in his papers being bent and crumbled under their weight. Nonetheless, Aiden flipped over his bag and deposited all his schoolwork onto his bed.

Only after throwing his bag aside did he realize that Jonathan had spoken correctly; his papers had been half completed. Aiden picked up his astronomy essay – almost nine pages of scribbled letters and symbols. “Eh,” he said, sighing slowly. “He probably won’t care. Professor Addams’s not the smartest.” Aiden moved his books and paperwork to the floor next to his bedpost and, closing his windows again, lied down for a nap.