Beneath

9 THE CLIMB

C A M I L A

It's Tuesday afternoon. Market strategies. A global economy. Money, money, money, money.

I'm in my seat but mentally a million miles away. And then there's not-Brandon, my invasive business class partner right beside me, his presence grating.

Dr. Wen mentions something about leveraging competitive advantage, then claps in conclusion, snapping me back to reality. I shove my notes into my bag, not bothering to care when they crumple up, and leave.

I need caffeine. A lot of it.

I shove my way to the vending machines and buy a Kick. The first sip is bitter, metallic, and bad—exactly what I need.

"Buying poison?"

The voice comes from behind me, unexpected enough to make me jump. I turn, and there's dark-haired, not-Brandon, leaning against the wall with a smug look plastered on his face.

"Stalking at the party, stalking after class...Follow me to the gym and see what happens," I say, violently sipping my drink. It never kicks in fast enough.

Not-Brandon pushes off the wall, stepping closer. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay after the party. You're distracted in class. That guy with that scar...he hurt you?"

"I can handle myself, thanks."

He shrugs, running a hand through his dark hair. "Heard you two had a moment outside. Word spreads."

"Yeah I bet."

He gives me a look. "Akira's my sister."

"My condolences."

"That's rude. Listen, just be careful with that guy. I told my sister the same thing. People like him—"

"People like him?" I cut in. "The fuck you know about him? The fuck you know about me, Brandon?"

He holds up his hands. "Just looking out for you. Jesus Christ. And my name is Zeke, Camila. Fuck, we've been partners for six weeks."

I take another forceful sip of my Kick. "Go away."

He watches me for a moment longer, jaw tight. With a shrug, he turns to leave. "Your life," he calls over his shoulder.

"Fucking right!" I flip him the bird as he leaves.

"Language," a professor with a cane mutters as he passes with little to no verve.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry." I clear my throat. I finish my drink quickly, toss the can, and buy another before leaving.

Fuck whatever the fuck day of the fucking week this is. Tuesday? Wednesday?

The outside is cooler. The path between the art building and the biology building is usually a shortcut I take without thinking. As I round the corner, I see Jed. He's perched on one of the granite boulders, staring up at the overcast sky, wearing neon orange shorts and a winter jacket.

I hesitate, considering a detour. But then he spots me, and his face breaks into that creepy kind of smile. We're alone. This might be when he sacrifices me.

"Join me in contemplating the cosmos."

"You're in a good mood," I note, not without a tinge of envy. I approach, dropping down on the boulder across from him, letting my bag slide to the grass.

Jed's dead smile doesn't wane; if anything, it stretches wider, as if my warning amused him. "The end of all things is coming. But do not worry, so is lunch. What did you do to Noah?"