A weight lifted off Jaya as she ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She could scarcely believe it had worked, but she wasn’t one to poke and prod at a good thing. That it had been so simple to get herself into each and every one of Grey Emerson’s classes was just further proof, she knew, that she was meant to be here. That she was meant to exact this revenge.

Well, it was all taken care of now, which meant she could do something just for her. Jaya smiled. She knew where she wanted to go.

Libraries had a unique magic. No matter what country Jaya was in, no matter how far away from home, the glossy wood tables, the smell of book glue, and the whispers of riffling pages always welcomed her back like old friends.

Pushing through a set of heavy double doors on the first floor of the West Wing, Jaya came to an abrupt stop, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

St. Rosetta’s library, encased in plush, velvet silence, was three stories tall, with a large, circular first floor. Proud pillars flanked the curving staircases on either side. Jaya stood just inside the doors, her head tilted back, reveling in the breathtaking beauty of the old polished wood, the soft lighting, the enormous stacks of books towering over her. It was an ocean of words, and she stood on the seafloor, letting it wash over her before she made her way to the staircase.

As she idly scanned the shelves on the second floor, the sound of heated voices brought her pause. She tilted her head to listen.

Rounding a corner, Jaya found herself at the entrance to a darkened area. Her eyes were immediately drawn to five boys standing by a large window on the far side of the room. If the raised voices weren’t enough of a sign, their crossed arms and tense shoulders definitely said this was not a friendly conversation.

“I’m just curious,” a tall guy with a narrow face and gelled blond hair was saying. He grinned, but there wasn’t a shred of affection or humor in it. His friends, a red-haired boy and a brown-haired boy, grinned sycophantically back. Jaya casually positioned herself behind a large potted plant so they wouldn’t see her. That way, she could run and get help if things got too out of hand. “What’s a scholarship worth these days, anyway? Or was it supposed to be a secret?”

“I’m not ashamed of being a scholarship student,” a younger white boy with dark hair responded, fists clenched at his sides. His accent was American. “If anything, it shows that I’m here on my own merit. My daddy didn’t have to buy my way in.”

The blond boy and his two friends took a step closer to the younger boy. “What did you say?”