Page 8 of Break Points and Face Offs

Professor Moreno snaps her journal closed and glances at me with a bored expression. “Why don’t you ask him, Mr. Rosenthal? Perhaps you can learn something.”

Yeah, right, is my first thought. But as I leave the classroom and head toward the exit, I rethink my immediate impulse.

There is an old saying I’m sure everyone—even Will O’Reilly—has heard before: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

4

WILL

I’m still buzzing from being number one on that leaderboard when I get to the library.

I figure the more time I spend in here, the less intimidating it’ll be. I need to get comfortable here if I’m going to have a quiet place to study. I was given a single room at a campus complex reserved for grad students. But even with my own room and a door I can lock, the building is noisy. I can hear someone’s TV through the wall. The sound of heavy footsteps from the apartment upstairs. Doors banging at all hours. People talking out in the hallway. I’ve studied in loud environments before, but this is some high level shit, not tenth grade math homework I could have done with my eyes closed.

If I’m going to get any serious work done, it will have to be here.

I choose a spot in the main room of the library before I can get too in my head. There are rows of long tables set up in the middle of the room and most of them are pretty full. This is the emptiest one by far.

I’m happy with my choice so I open my laptop and bring up the course notes Professor Moreno posted after the lecture yesterday. I’m just getting settled in when someone pulls the chair out opposite mine. I automatically glance up to acknowledge them.

I can’t control the sigh before it escapes me when I register who it is.

“This seat isn’t taken, is it?” Priestley Rosenthal whispers.

I think about telling him it is, but I don’t want to let him know how much he’s already gotten under my skin.

“No.”

He lets out a satisfied hum before putting his bag on the table. It’s a fancy leather thing—something between a laptop bag and a briefcase.

I try not to pay attention as he starts pulling things out. A shiny MacBook Pro. A Moleskine notebook. A Montblanc pen.

I let out another sigh.

Priestley glances up at me. “Everything alright … William?”

I grit my teeth, think about correcting him, then change my mind. Being called William isn’t the worst thing in the world. My grandma still calls me it sometimes. And my ma, when I’m in trouble.

“Yes. Stop talking, people are trying to study.”

He shrugs as he opens his laptop. “You’re the one breathing like a hippo.”

I bite down the retort and choose to ignore him.

It’s easier said than done.

He definitely taps harder on the keys than is necessary. What is he even typing? We had one introductory lecture and were given a bunch of reading. Which is what I’m trying to do. Is he writing his review already?

I look up once—after trying so hard not to—to find him glancing at me. He’s sitting here, doing whatever he’s doing, just to annoy me.

I try not to give him the satisfaction but even being in the same vicinity as him is irritating the shit out of me. If I sit here much longer, I’m going to punch him.

Slamming my laptop closed, I shove it into my bag and move my chair back to get out.

“Leaving so early?” Priestley asks in an outside voice so everyone can hear him.

I don’t say anything in response, just leave and try not to look back at his smug face.

I’m fuming as I walk away from the library. Why the fuck should I have to leave? I have just as much right to be there as he does.