“The rest of today’s class,” he added, “will focus on what you’ll be doing for the remainder of the semester in lieu of homework.”
The number of puzzled looks increased dramatically. Amos loved homework even more than he loved his own weird jokes.
Amos tapped his Glass again. At the top of the vid screen appeared the two words every student eventually learns to fear:
Group Presentation.
The old bastard smiled as rustles of discontent filled the auditorium. “You will split into groups consisting of four to five individuals. I’m not going to determine those groups for you. The Free States has, in its infinite wisdom, decided you’re all adults, so you can damn well form them without my help.” He shook his head, grumbling again to himself. “By the end of today’s class, I want each group to have chosen their name and a topic to present on. That topic must have something to do with post-Break History. Under your own direction and initiative, each group will meet over the next month outside of class to research the topic, design visual aids, and practice your presentation.” His voice hardened momentarily. “When I say practice, I mean practice. If I feel any team has opted to just wing it, I will be giving that team a very carefully considered and well-practiced F.”
Maybe sadism was a pre-requisite for faculty members.
CHAPTER 28
Groups formed quickly, especially on the Cape side, where there weren’t that many of us to begin with. I’d had a feeling that Shane might stick with me—while we barely saw each other outside of class, he’d remained friendly since that first healing—but I was surprised when Kayleigh joined us.
The Empath had started to make a habit of seeking me out whenever the rush of other people’s emotions became too much for her, but otherwise, she’d kept her distance. Even in History class, where the sheer number of students caused her serious problems, she sat behind me, in a row all by herself, rather than next to me. I was getting all too familiar with the feeling of her bare toes brushing the back of my neck.
Was she using me? Yeah, pretty much. But the deep lines under her eyes were starting to fade, and it felt kind of nice to be useful for once. Plus… it’s not like any other first-year woman was in a hurry to touch me.
Even if her toes were cold as hell. Like little chips of ice.
Anyway, it was kind of a big deal when she came down to join Shane and me. Maybe our relationship wasn’t all about me being used after all. Or maybe she was freaked out about having to do a group project without her favorite emotion nullifier.
Yeah, that sounded a bit more like it.
Unfortunately, we needed a minimum of four people in our group, and nobody else seemed interested. I’d given Orca a hopeful look—and not just because two months of Nikolai’s training had somehow made Nadia even more stupendously hot—but the sleek Stalwart had already been heading in the other direction, descending the stairs to join a group consisting of Matthew, Santi, and London.
Flanked by two of the hottest women in our class, El Bosque was grinning like he’d just won the Graduation Games. Lucky fucking bastard. That smile slipped only slightly when Ishmae joined as their fifth.
I didn’t have to be an Empath to feel Shane’s disappointment in the Pyro’s choice.
The next full group to form was Caleb, Jeremiah, Tessa, Freddy, and Olympia, but after that, the remaining groups started to all fall into place. I waited to see who would be the odd person out, forced to join our group by virtue of numbers and sheer necessity.
Somehow, it wasn’t Alan Jackson. The Shifter ended up in a group with the Viking, Winter, Silt, and Erin Pearson. People choosing Alan-fucking-Jackson over me kind of hurt. Would’ve been different if this were Nikolai’s class—Alan was a monster doing anything physical and any team would want him on their side—but for an academic project?
What was he going to do in a presentation besides terrify everyone?
When the dust had settled, and the other groups were fully formed, Wormhole found herself the odd first-year out. She glanced up toward our group, went pale, and looked away.
“On second thought, ladies and germs,” Silt told her team in a loud voice, “I’m just not feeling our general Feng Shui.” She stomped up the stairs toward Wormhole, like an avalanche with legs. “What do you say, roomie? Wanna help me make Boneboy do all the work?”
•—•—•
As the two women came closer, Silt nodded to each of us in turn. “Unicorn. Skeletor. Vibe.”
“Vibe?” I looked to Kayleigh who nodded, tucking a wayward strand of electric-blue hair behind her ear.
“It seemed like a good name.”
“It is,” agreed Shane, “but I’m Balm, not Unicorn.”
“Balm’s a shitty codename,” said the Earthshaker, “and you’re the closest thing to a unicorn we’ve got. A ginger High-Three Healer? Come on, man.”
“I like Balm,” muttered Shane to himself.
Keeping everyone’s codenames straight was kind of a pain in the ass. Some people went exclusively by codename; the Viking refused to answer to Erik or Mr. Thorsson, and I couldn’t remember if I’d ever even heard Prince’s real name. Some, like Matthew/Paladin and Nadia/Orca, didn’t care what name people used, while others, like Alan Jackson and Erin, hadn’t picked codenames at all.
“Not sure I get the Skeletor reference,” I admitted. “Did you mean skeleton?”
“You people seriously don’t get any pre-Break vids out here, do you?”
“I tried to tell you, Sofia,” said Wormhole.
“I just didn’t realize it was this bad. Fuck,” said Silt, horrified realization dawning in her dark brown eyes. “I’m going to have to come up with an entirely new repertoire of insults!”
I couldn’t figure the Earthshaker out. Of all the first-years, she and Alan Jackson were the only two who remained indifferent to me, but that seemed to be their general approach towards everyone. At least Silt
