• “So tell me,” he said from the far end of the table, “How do you like it at Jeannette’s?”

    Stirring the soup in her bowl (with no real intention of eating it), Aline said, “I have no objections.”

    “So you like it here?”

    “No, but I don’t dislike it.”

    A few moments passed, and the only thing to break the silence was the occasional clinking of Aline’s spoon on the edge of her soup bowl. Finally, with spit not far from his words, Hunther asked:

    “Why do you talk so...formally? It’s annoying.”

    “Why do you continue to harass me?”

    “See!” Hunther made a jerky gesture to her and said, “This is what I mean. You could much more easily have said: ‘Shut up, ugly.’, and yet you insist on being polite!”

    “Shut up, ugly,” she mumbled.

    “Difficult. Stubborn, that’s what you are.”

    “Excuse me?” Victoire....

    “You’re a very stubborn woman, Gautier,” he ran fingers through his greasy hair. “I don’t think I want to put up with it.”

    “So send me back to the classroom,” she suggested.

    “Oh, but I don’t want that either. I like chatting with you over supper.”

    “You’re not even eating,” Aline reminded. Hunther grinned ear to ear, and gave a little chuckle. Time had passed; much time. And though she was hungry, Aline did nothing but watch her soup lap under her silverware.

    “We’re late,” she said. “We could be expelled.”

    “I know, but you won’t eat. And a growing girl has got to have some food in her belly, doesn’t she?”

    Aline meant to drop her spoon in the bowl; but, as luck would have it, it flipped over on the table making a most unnerving sound.

    “What do you want from me!”

    “Cherie,” he said softly, “I want you to eat. Haven’t I made that clear enough?”

    Aline pushed herself from the table, her chair tumbling back to a crash. She tried to escape through the large double doors, but froze when Hunther had beaten her to it. As he cornered her, he began adding the gems to his chain of profanities. By the time she was pinned against the wall, he had strung together a sailor’s prime necklace.

    “Grey,” said divine intervention, and Grey turned.

    It was the blond-haired boy, and their never had been such a mixture of gratitude and displeasure than Aline had been felt then.

    “What are you doing? Never mind. Get out.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Miss Gautier, please go to your room for the rest of the night.”

    He looked over his shoulder frantically as Hunther left the room. Still in a frenzy, he pointed past Aline. “Out there. That door. Now!”