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"Un-fucking-real."
I've just finished giving a near blow-by-blow account of what happened this morning, and my roommate, whose visit is both a puzzling but pleasant surprise, is now looking at me with great interest.
"Professor Luscious—-"
I can't help choking at the term she uses, and my roommate smirks. "It's what everyone calls him, and while he's not my type, I do see why you guys would find him attractive."
"I do not find him—-"
"Oh yes, you so do," the other girl retorts. "I can see right through you, and it's so obvious you have the hots for him."
"I do not!"
"The lady doth protest too much—-"
"Well, this lady liked you better when you weren't talking to her."
But this only makes my roommate laugh. "Anyway...what I wanted to point out earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted by a certain lady in denial—-"
I can't help rolling my eyes. I am not in denial. Really!
"The professor's notorious for not having any personal interest in students. There are countless horror stories about how he's shamed all of those girls who tried throwing themselves at him, but the one I find most ridiculous and hilarious is when this girl...she was two years ahead of me, if I recall correctly. But anyway, this girl had this oh-so-bright idea of deliberately cutting her finger open—-"
The words are a little too visceral for me, and I find myself wincing as I imagine this faceless girl slicing her flesh open with a knife.
"—-and then running to the professor to ask for his help."
"This was in class?"
"Uh huh. And guess what he did?"
"He helped her?"
My roommate flashes an evil grin. "The professor gave her detention for interrupting his lecture, and as added punishment, the girl wasn't allowed to seek medical attention until his class ended."
I try gauging if my roommate was just pulling my leg, but she only raises an eyebrow at me like she's asking if I wanted more proof of the professor's disinterest in his students' personal welfare.
"He really did that?" I ask faintly.
"Professor Luscious may be the sexiest man alive in this school, but don't let his looks deceive you—-"
"I'm not," I say, and rather defensively, I admit, but that's a problem to tackle for another day. "I just have a hard time believing the school would allow him to get away—-"
"He is the school, duh."
This time, I can only look at my roommate blankly. "What do you mean?"
The other girl sighs. "His family owns Rosethorne. That's what I mean. His grandfather is actually the Chairman of the Board, but since the entire Lucious family is scattered in Europe, the professor has taken the role of acting chairman on his grandfather's behalf."
Which means he has all the power in this school, I interpret silently, and that's why he could also own private property within the campus.
"But what about the girl's parents?" I can't help asking. "Didn't she even think to tell her parents—-"
My roommate rolls her eyes. "And risk being expelled from the only school in the state that can directly guarantee employment with the divine?"
Shit.
The other girl's eyes narrow. "You really don't know anything about Rosethorne, do you?"
I shake my head, seeing no point denying the undeniable.
"Well, fuck." A look of consternation crosses my roommate's features, and she starts chewing on her lip while looking at me like I'm a Gordon knot she's determined to untangle.
I cross my arms over my chest and just spit the whole thing out. "I'm not supposed to be here, aren't I?"
A moment passes before the other girl says finally, "It's the opposite, actually."
"How so?"
"All of the students here, myself included, come from families that have been doing business with the divine since the beginning of Post-3rd. You can't study here if your name hasn't been personally vouched for by a demigod—-"
"But I don't know any demigods," I protest.
"Then it's the other way around," my roommate says. "There's a demigod who knows you, and whoever that is wants you here in Rosethorne."
My first instinct is to tell her she's insane, but...the more I think about it, the more it makes horrifying sense. I've wondered why a school like Rosethorne wants someone like me in the first place, and now I have my answer.
"You don't have to look so worried," the other girl says. "Think about it this way. Once Isabella figures out the same thing, she's sure to leave you alone—-"
"But what if she has her own demigod supporting her?"
"Of course, she doesn't—-" My roommate pauses. "Riiiight. I keep forgetting how little you know about Rosethorne."
"Which means...what exactly?"
"Isabella isn't human," she says simply. "Well, not completely anyway. Her mother is a full-blooded nymph, her father is human, which then makes Isabella a half-blood nymph and thus without any of the usual divine powers or abilities." The other girl's voice lowers. "I personally think it's why she's hoping to marry the professor. She's going to live a really long life after all, so she only has to wait until the professor dies a mortal death, and then she can live happily ever after with his money...or at least that was the plan until you came along."
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"But Dr. Foames hasn't anything to worry—-" The sound of my roommate's chortling cuts me off.
"Titles like doctors and professors are a very human thing," the other girl says, "and it's just so weird and funny at the same time when you hear it being used for people like Isabella. It's like...giving Shrek a title. Can you just imagine? Dr. Shrek?"
I can't help laughing myself, now having seen my roommate's point. When she puts it that way, it does seem silly to still insist on calling a nymph like Isabella with a human title.
"Isabella then," I agree to correct myself. "I don't understand why Isabella has to think I'm still competition when the professor made it so clear that I'll eventually bore him."
"But did he really mean it, do you think? Maybe he was just saying those things to get Isabella off your back. She can be a bit of a jealous psycho, believe me."
I slowly shake my head. "I think he meant it."
"Actions speak louder than words," the other girl reminds me, "and the professor actually cared enough to carry you in his arms! I'm pretty sure Isabella would want to kill you just for that—-"
"You can try sounding a little less cheerful about the prospect," I grumble.
But my roommate only waves her hand in airy dismissal. "Oh, relax. Nothing's going to happen. Once Isabella realizes you've got a demigod backing you, I doubt she'd have the balls to cause trouble for you in any way."
"But what if you're wrong, and there's no demigod—-"
"If it's not a demigod, then even better. Maybe it's even a full-blooded god secretly backing you up! I mean, look. I've always been straight with you, so let me just be real here, too. The only reason I even knew about you being here in the clinic is because Professor Luscious told me to check on you and bring this."
My roommate grabs the paper bag from the floor and gives it a little shake to make her point, but I barely notice it.
"Professor Lucious really asked you to come over? For me?"
The other girl groans. "That's not the point I want you to focus on, dude. What I'm saying here is that I would never have bothered to come if the professor hadn't asked me to, and I certainly wouldn't have bothered choosing to stay longer than necessary."
"So why did you?" I ask blankly.
My roommate's lips curve in a sly grin. "Because of what you told me, duh. My guts tell me that you've got someone divinely powerful in your corner. There's no way anyone can bully you out of Rosethorne now, so congratulations, dude. You've just gotten yourself a new friend. Call me Nia, and can I call you Hales?"