“Right back at you,” I said. “Although I didn’t mean to spit on you. My bad.”

He just rolled his eyes as we entered the library. The library took up one pie slice of the atrium, but it felt bigger than the other parts somehow. As I walked between the shelves, it was easy to imagine I was back in the palatial Academy library with its levels upon levels of books. That comparison stopped short when I discovered a fireplace crackling merrily at the back of the room. Overstuffed chairs were clustered around with a table between each. Tess and Eliana were already settled in one set each with a large volume open on their laps while Corban and Blake were busy scrolling tablets, ignoring the books sitting between them. Remembering what had happened last time, I waited to see which empty set of chairs Elliot would choose. He looked between the few remaining sets, his forehead scrunched in thought, before finally choosing the ones closest to the fire, and the farthest away from everyone else. I followed and grabbed the seat next to him. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable, a far cry from the hard wooden ones back at the Academy.

I’m not sure how long Elliot and I sat there, lost in our own thoughts as we waited for a professor to begin the class, before I realized that we were the only ones waiting. Finally, I leaned over and poked Eliana’s arm. She looked up from the book she’d been reading, eyebrow cocked.

“When does the professor get here?” I whispered.

Tess looked up from her book and smiled at us. “There is no professor for a study block,” she said. “We study with our partners.”

“I was afraid it was something like that,” Elliot grumbled, and I felt a heavy book land in my lap. Looking over, I saw that Corban and Blake were quietly talking as they pored over something on Corban’s tablet. Tess and Eliana were already back in their own little world of studying. With a resigned sigh, I stared down at the book Elliot had handed me. It was called All the Gallant Men: An American Sailor’s Firsthand Account of Pearl Harbor by Donald Stratton. A quick glance at Elliot revealed his nose buried in the exact same book.