Christian’s chair scuffed the floor on its way out, and it was this that incited Ace to remove her hands from their place over her ears, looking up and watching with confusion as he grabbed his notes. “Christian?” But he wasn’t to be stopped. She turned in her seat, watching as he followed Molly out the door, her lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. He hadn’t told her anything. Hadn’t said he was going, hadn’t invited her to follow, hadn’t kept her in the loop.
It was with a hollow feeling that she turned back, facing forward, her eyes landing on her own notes but almost unseeing. Christian was always the cool-headed one, it was what made their arrangement work. She couldn’t get frustrated that he had snapped – hadn’t she been telling him for ages that he needed to get more upset with the status quo – but she felt utterly abandoned to not be part of the solution or the escape. Every time she was upset, she went straight to him.
Did he not trust her to help him?
Her throat was dry and her head was pounding…
And Clytemnestra was still talking.
She spun in her seat. “Can you just f*cking shut up!”
This was a bit louder than any of the other exclamations and the substitute had no choice but to attempt at an authoritarian voice, commanding silence.
Julian blinked, realizing that, at some point, the fun of goofing off had gone a little far. He turned in his seat and looked over at the Slytherin girl, mouthing, “We should stop.”
Yeah. We. Maybe that’d work.