Read Online Steelhands (2011) by Jaida Jones, Danielle Bennett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jaida Jones, Danielle Bennett
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also be wandering with the aid of a local map.
“I think this is it,” Laure said, holding up a crumpled piece of paper, which had a smudge of grease on the right-hand corner. She’d been eating while looking at her syllabus again, it seemed. “
Cathery
103.”
By the side of the door was a silver plate announcing that the buildingwe were standing in front of was, indeed, Cathery. Someone shoved past us without any word of apology and took the steps two at a time. I sighed heavily. It would be so unpleasant if this was to be standard procedure. Had all real Volstovic chivalry been lost?
“Don’t worry,” Laure said. “I’ll school that idiot later.” With her woolly-gloved fingers, she grabbed my hand and tugged me inside, where it was distressingly empty but at least very clean. The wood paneling and banisters even gleamed.
I supposed the lecture buildings were what the ’Versity institution showed off in order to give a good impression of their dealings. They certainly could not use the first-year dormitories.
It had taken a great many hours scrubbing on my hands and knees to get my room into a state that could be deemed serviceable, so much so that the cold seemed like a minor discomfort by comparison. I hadn’t been left very much time for unpacking, but then I rather appreciated the neatness of everything in my various cases and saw no need to court disaster by using the ramshackle dresser the ’Versity had provided. The lining in the drawers was stained and dirty, and there had also been a piece of brown candy melted and stuck to the underside of one of the handles.
I had no intentions of ever touching that, handkerchief protecting my fingers or no.
How I’d managed to hold on to my breakfast after that ordeal was anyone’s guess. I was being far braver than anyone would ever give me credit for. Certainly more than Mother and Father had ever been given reason to expect, and certainly more than was indicated by the look Laure leveled me when she saw the state of my room earlier that morning.
To my immense relief, we were not the first to arrive to our class. In fact, despite the relative quiet in the halls, about half the seats had already been taken. Perhaps there was simply no lingering about between lectures—a small note of etiquette that I filed away both for myself and Laure, who I knew would try to linger the first chance she got, now that we’d seen it was unacceptable. She had such a knack for contrariness.
I hesitated in choosing a seat, as I always did. The room appeared to have filled from the very back first, then forward, as there were a greatmany seats available in the front rows, a moderate number in the middle, while very few remained at the back, which had the highest elevation. Of course, it didn’t matter
overly
much to me, as my suspicions were that those students who chose to sit very far in the back did so in order to sleep, and that was not a crowd I wished to become a part of. However, I also did not wish to seem too eager by sitting in the front row, either. There was a seat which might’ve been perfect—to the left and nearby a window—but to my great misfortune there was already someone sitting in it.
“Just
choose
already,” Laure said, nudging me in the back with her books. “My legs are going to start cramping from standing around.”
“All right, if you’re going to be
impatient,
” I said, casting desperately about for a halfway-decent compromise. Perhaps somewhere in the middle would do, and next day we’d come earlier so that I might be completely satisfied with my choice: a seat that I could stick to for the rest of the term. “Though I have to say, I would expect you to have more strength in your calves.”
“We’re sitting here,” Laure said, stalking past me and plopping herself down in a seat near the middle of the class.
I supposed it could’ve been a worse selection.
More students filed in after us, alone or in groups of twos and
“I think this is it,” Laure said, holding up a crumpled piece of paper, which had a smudge of grease on the right-hand corner. She’d been eating while looking at her syllabus again, it seemed. “
Cathery
103.”
By the side of the door was a silver plate announcing that the buildingwe were standing in front of was, indeed, Cathery. Someone shoved past us without any word of apology and took the steps two at a time. I sighed heavily. It would be so unpleasant if this was to be standard procedure. Had all real Volstovic chivalry been lost?
“Don’t worry,” Laure said. “I’ll school that idiot later.” With her woolly-gloved fingers, she grabbed my hand and tugged me inside, where it was distressingly empty but at least very clean. The wood paneling and banisters even gleamed.
I supposed the lecture buildings were what the ’Versity institution showed off in order to give a good impression of their dealings. They certainly could not use the first-year dormitories.
It had taken a great many hours scrubbing on my hands and knees to get my room into a state that could be deemed serviceable, so much so that the cold seemed like a minor discomfort by comparison. I hadn’t been left very much time for unpacking, but then I rather appreciated the neatness of everything in my various cases and saw no need to court disaster by using the ramshackle dresser the ’Versity had provided. The lining in the drawers was stained and dirty, and there had also been a piece of brown candy melted and stuck to the underside of one of the handles.
I had no intentions of ever touching that, handkerchief protecting my fingers or no.
How I’d managed to hold on to my breakfast after that ordeal was anyone’s guess. I was being far braver than anyone would ever give me credit for. Certainly more than Mother and Father had ever been given reason to expect, and certainly more than was indicated by the look Laure leveled me when she saw the state of my room earlier that morning.
To my immense relief, we were not the first to arrive to our class. In fact, despite the relative quiet in the halls, about half the seats had already been taken. Perhaps there was simply no lingering about between lectures—a small note of etiquette that I filed away both for myself and Laure, who I knew would try to linger the first chance she got, now that we’d seen it was unacceptable. She had such a knack for contrariness.
I hesitated in choosing a seat, as I always did. The room appeared to have filled from the very back first, then forward, as there were a greatmany seats available in the front rows, a moderate number in the middle, while very few remained at the back, which had the highest elevation. Of course, it didn’t matter
overly
much to me, as my suspicions were that those students who chose to sit very far in the back did so in order to sleep, and that was not a crowd I wished to become a part of. However, I also did not wish to seem too eager by sitting in the front row, either. There was a seat which might’ve been perfect—to the left and nearby a window—but to my great misfortune there was already someone sitting in it.
“Just
choose
already,” Laure said, nudging me in the back with her books. “My legs are going to start cramping from standing around.”
“All right, if you’re going to be
impatient,
” I said, casting desperately about for a halfway-decent compromise. Perhaps somewhere in the middle would do, and next day we’d come earlier so that I might be completely satisfied with my choice: a seat that I could stick to for the rest of the term. “Though I have to say, I would expect you to have more strength in your calves.”
“We’re sitting here,” Laure said, stalking past me and plopping herself down in a seat near the middle of the class.
I supposed it could’ve been a worse selection.
More students filed in after us, alone or in groups of twos and
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