Chapter 08 - Confrontation
Wherein Rose has a run-in with a spiteful classmate.
Life settled into a routine. Rose shared breakfast with Bosra on the way to college. They would grab a few pastries at a cart that sold them still hot from the oven. They’d eat and continue together to the corner where two tube lines crossed, and then Rose would go her own way.
Tubes were strange contraptions. The rolling tubes had a strangely balanced platform inside that one could hop onto and off at any point during its circuit. Guide-rails in the street determined its course through the city, as it was pulled by thaumatic mechanical beasts. One paid a predetermined fare to the ticket-vendor inside.
Rose always hopped off near the College intersection, where the tube passed the ornamental fountain. From there it was only a short trek across campus by foot. If not for the price of a room – even shared, use of amenities not included – Rose would’ve liked to move here. Maybe it would make her not stand out quite so much.
Each day she submitted herself to lessons, both practical and theoretical. The lectures were an endless stream of baffling garble about completely made-up musical theory that did not come close to anything Rose had been taught before. Any critical thinker could point out the obvious incongruences, but doing so would get the offending student booted out of the course faster than one could say "Actually…". Having seen this happen twice, she kept her mouth shut.
Most days, Rose picked up dinner on the way home and ate it in the shared dining room of the smalls house where she was reunited with Bosra. She played her violin for a while thereafter, earning a coin or two from any patrons who felt they could be generous that night.
Luminsdays were the exception to this routine; on those days, Bosra and Rose would meet Valentina at Paragon’s Cup. Rose would play her Fairfields tunes in the street and afterward they’d all gorge themselves on delicious patisseries.
Six weeks passed in similar fashion.
The first days had felt endless on their own, but somehow the weeks had flown by. Autumn storms had blown away the last of summer’s heat. Fog and fumes were washed from the street by frequent light rainshowers. Hats, shawls and mantles replaced airy jackets.
Suddenly, formal permission to enter the first semester was granted. Rose and her class – that had dwindled down from about 80 students in the first two weeks, to barely 30 in the final week – were notified of the possibility to enroll before the end of the day, right after their last hour of lessons.
Although Rose had doubted this course of action, and been affirmed in that doubt by her friends, she found herself joining in the gold rush through unevenly lit grey halls. The smooth tile floor and scent of disinfectant gave the impression of walking into the tiny health clinic back in Pinnacle.
Maybe, just maybe, the first real semester would be better. It could hardly get worse. Maybe she'd finally learn some interesting things. Learn new techniques. At the very least, she told herself, she would gain access to the library. There were bound to be interesting books in the library.
She didn't know yet how wrong she would be.
In her mad dash, she collided with a girl she rarely talked to before. The girl’s dress reminded her of Valentina. It was stylish and made with quality silks, and the cut betrayed its expensive tailoring. But where her friend tried to downplay her riches, this girl flaunted them. Her name was equally flamboyant: Brittany of Chaumes.
"I'm sorry," Rose apologised as she knocked an expensive-looking thingamajig from the girl's hand, sending it crashing to the polished tile.
"Stupid cow! Watch where you're stomping," the girl’s shrill voice rose above the din of the crowd.
Rose kneeled to pick up the thing. She couldn't even tell what it was from up close. It hummed with a bit of magic, and it was oblong, made of crystal glass. Rainbow colours shimmered within. "I'm really sorry, I just..."
The device was snatched from her hand and deposited into a velvet lined case. Maybe it was a musical instrument after all.
"Sorry doesn't buy me anything," Brittany continued with a sneer. "I really don't understand why they'd let in riffraff such as yourself. A Fairfields girl... really?"
Rose felt herself blushing and decided she wasn't going to waste her time listening to this. She'd heard the rants before, protesting her provincial presence.
She barely made it to the line at the reception desk when someone gripped her hair and yanked her head backwards. The pain was as sharp as it was unexpected.
"Don't walk away when important people are talking, heifer."
Rose was more than a little surprised that this upper-class girl knew a word like that. She gripped the base of her own braid to prevent more pulling. "Let go of me."
"Let go of me," Brittany mockingly repeated, releasing Rose with a final jerk on the thick braid.
Rose breathed deeply, trying to stay calm. She turned around. "Look. I really am sorry about your... thing... that I dropped by accident. That doesn't give you any right to be nasty to me."
The face Brittany pulled was far from pretty. "And just because you can pay tuition fees doesn't give you any right to breathe the same air I do."
Rose breathed in sharply and bit her tongue. She smiled as kindly as she could. Kill them with kindness, as the saying went back home. "You are completely right, of course," she drawled, heavily exaggerating her country accent. "Why don't you take my place in line?" Moving one place back in the queue was not going to make any difference at this point.
And it really didn't; the administration office was closed by the time it was Brittany’s turn. Rose watched her stomp her foot and rattle the hatch. Loudly screeching her name and threatening to wield her father’s wrath did nothing but exaggerate the silence on the other side.
Noticing a sign taped to the hatch, Rose sighed. The sign said to return before noon on Thaumday, as the administration desk would be closed for three days next week, due to a – heretofore unknown to Rose – public holiday.
Nursing her sore scalp, she left the College and headed back to the smalls house.
She didn’t play that night. A headache that left her cross-eyed had set in sometime during her travel home and intensified over dinner.
"Bed, Pupper," Bosra urged, having taken one long look at her sweet-natured friend.
Rose sighed and pushed leftover carrots around on her dinner plate.
"Carry you if I have to." Bosra leaned forward to get right up in Rose’s face.
So Rose went. She left the leftovers as they were and dragged her warmed-over carcass up two flights of stairs. After struggling with the lock, she stumbled into her room. Two more steps, then she crashed onto the bed. She had just enough presence of mind to kick off her shoes. Drawing the blanket over herself, she managed to fall asleep without even noticing the dwarf who closed her chamber door, then walked on down the hall.
