Chapter 29 29- Do Not Let Him See Your Browsing History
LEXI
Once I’m dressed, I settle back down on the infirmary bed and stare up at the ceiling. There isn’t really anything else to do. I can’t go back to class. I can’t feel half my arm properly. And every time I move, Annie gives me a look that says don’t even think about it. So I sit. And wait. After a few minutes, the silence starts to itch almost as badly as the numbness.
“Hey, Annie?” I ask. She hums in response without looking up, clearly multitasking with something at the far counter.
“How long will it take for this stuff to wear off?” I ask, lifting my arm slightly and watching it move with that unsettling, disconnected delay. She considers that for a moment.
“Hm. Hard to say, really.” She replies.
“Since it was in liquid form, it’s difficult to determine the exact dosage you absorbed. And the potion wasn’t checked for efficacy beforehand, so depending on the student’s skill level… It could be a bit dodgy.” She grimaces slightly. That is not reassuring.
“But, I’d estimate another five or six hours before sensation starts returning properly.” She adds quickly, glancing at me, I sigh.
“You should be fine to head back to your room after classes finish for the day.” She continues.
“Particularly if you can convince your hotheaded friend to play nurse for a while and keep an eye on you. Just to make sure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.” She says it teasingly. I snort softly.
“He’d probably enjoy that more than he should.” I mutter. Annie smiles knowingly. My shoulders sag as the reality of the day sinks in.
“I’m going to miss a whole day of classes… In my first week.” I mutter. The words feel heavier than they should. I want to be in class. I want to learn. Annie’s expression softens.
“Don’t worry, dear. The professors here are very good about helping students catch up. A couple of evenings in the library and you’ll be completely fine.” She says gently. My head snaps up.
“The library?” I ask, suddenly much more alert.
“I haven’t seen the library yet.” I comment enthusiastically. She laughs.
“Anyone who gets excited about the library will have no trouble catching up.” She teases. I grin despite myself.
“Well, that’s a relief.” I remark. I let the quiet settle again for a moment, then frown.
“By the way… How did you know I made friends with Blake?” I ask.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before today.” I add. Annie lets out a soft laugh.
“Oh, honey, you’re all over the Academy App.” She says. I blink.
“The… What?” I ask, confused. She raises an eyebrow.
“You haven’t heard of it yet?” She asks.
“Check your phone. The Academy usually sets it up automatically. There should be an app called Student Correspondence & Reference Index, or SCRI for short.” She explains. I blink.
“SCRI… As in… Scry?” I repeat slowly. Annie smiles like I just caught onto something obvious.
“Exactly like scry.” She confirms. I stare at her.
“That sounds suspiciously official for social media.” I point out.
“It is. But it’s still basically social media. Limited to Academy students.” She agrees cheerfully. My stomach sinks.
“You and your dragon started appearing on there on day one.” She adds. I groan, long and loud.
“Please tell me there aren’t pictures.” I say pleadingly. She winces apologetically. I groan again, louder this time, and flop back against the pillow.
“I’m going to have to look, aren’t I?” I ask. She nods.
“Might be a good idea. Though, you might also be better off ignoring it entirely.” She adds thoughtfully.
“Is it really that bad?” I ask warily. She shrugs.
“I’ve seen worse. But I only see what students post publicly. I don’t see private messages or friends-only threads.” She clarifies. Ah. That is… Significantly worse. She pats my knee gently, one of the few places I can actually feel.
“You’ll be okay, dear. I’m going to write up some notes. You rest here. If you need anything, just shout.” She says warmly. Then she walks off, leaving me alone, numb, and ready to investigate a new social media presence I never asked for. I also have the uncomfortable certainty that Blake is absolutely going to find out about this very soon.
I scroll through my phone and find the app immediately. And yes, of course, it’s already installed. My account is already set up. And I’m already logged in. Well. That’s efficient. The app is clearly meant to be the Academy’s version of social media. It looks a lot like Instagram, honestly, photo posts, captions, comments, but with a few extra tabs for file sharing, study groups, and class resources. There’s even a section specifically labelled Academic Collaboration, which feels very on-brand. I notice the name again at the top of the screen. Student Correspondence & Reference Index. SCRI… As in scry. I snort quietly to myself again.
“Of course it’s called that.” I mumble. There’s a brief automated welcome message already sitting in my inbox.
The Academy: Welcome to SCRI. This platform is designed to support communication, collaboration, and academic success. You may use it to contact peers, participate in study groups, share resources, and reach out to staff. Please familiarise yourself with the community guidelines.
I tap a quick thumbs up in response without thinking too hard about it. Then, since Annie suggested it, I use the search function to look up my professors and message them about missing today’s classes. Professor Young replies almost immediately.
Prof. Layla Young: You’re doing very well in my class. Based on what I’ve seen in your notes so far, you won’t need to do any catch-up.
I feel my shoulders relax a little. Then another message follows.
Prof. Layla Young: However, if you want something extra to work on, you could spend some time reviewing appropriate applications of numbing salves and their limitations. Practical knowledge never hurts.
I smile despite myself. Is that… sass? A third message pops up almost instantly.
Prof. Layla Young: ;)
I laugh softly.
Alexis Elle: LOL, thanks.
Okay. I officially love her. Another notification appears, back in the general Academy chat, where I sent the thumbs-up earlier. A single smiley face has appeared in response. Just one. No text. No explanation. I stare at it for a second, then shake my head, amused. Maybe there IS a person behind that account after all. Or maybe it’s just a quirky automated response system. Either way, it doesn’t feel threatening, just… Very Academy. Organised. Efficient. Slightly dramatic. I still don’t know if the Academy is sentient or not, so I am just going to stick with being as honest as possible. I set my phone aside and lean back against the pillows. Between the classes, the professors, the infirmary staff, and even the app, it really does feel like this place is designed to catch people when they fall behind instead of punishing them for it. Which is… Nice. Unexpectedly nice. Now if only my arm would stop being numb so I could get back to it.
None of the other professors have answered my messages yet, so, against my better judgment, I open the public feed Annie mentioned. It’s… Not great. Actually, that’s an understatement. Blake and I are everywhere. Photos. Clips. Screenshots taken from across rooms and courtyards, some blurry, some uncomfortably clear. People have circled us in red, drawn arrows, slapped captions over our faces like we’re exhibits instead of people. Most of the comments are lazy and cruel in the way only bored people can manage.
‘Figures.’
‘She didn’t last long.’
‘Took her long enough to find the dragon’s wallet.’
My stomach twists when I see the worst ones. Someone has zoomed in on my wrist, on the bracelet Blake gave me. Another photo circles the necklace at my throat. Over both, in bold letters.
GOLD DIGGER.
I feel heat crawl up my neck, sharp and nauseating. Not embarrassment, anger. The kind that makes your hands shake. More comments pile on underneath.
‘Now we know why she’s hanging around him.’
‘Guess that’s the price of dragon attention.’
‘Obviously he had to bribe her.’
Like I couldn’t possibly choose him. Like I couldn’t possibly just… Care. I keep scrolling, even though I want to stop. Like poking a bruise to see if it still hurts. And then I see the video. It’s me, soaked, climbing out of the fountain, water streaming off my clothes. I don’t even remember seeing anyone holding up a phone. The caption makes my chest ache.
‘Dragon groupie takes a dive.’
I feel sick. I shut the app, my thumb slamming the screen dark harder than necessary. People are awful. Truly, spectacularly awful. And the worst part isn’t what they’re saying about me. It’s what they’re saying about him. The comments about Blake are vicious. Not even clever, just cruel. Painting him as a monster, a predator, something dangerous that should be avoided or contained. Like he isn’t a person at all. I hope, desperately, that he hasn’t seen any of this. That he never does. He already knows people don’t like him. But this? This is different. This is people enjoying tearing him apart when he isn’t looking. I can’t do anything about it right now. I don’t even know where to start. So instead, I lock my phone and take a steadying breath. At the very least, I should tell him where I am. I don’t want him wandering around looking for me, or worse, showing up to class and realising I’m not there without knowing why. I open my messages and type quickly.
Lexi: Hey… So it’s a long story. But I’m in the infirmary. I’m fine. Promise. There was just an incident in potions. Can you come see me at lunch?
I hit send, then set my phone face-down on the bed. Please don’t have seen the SCRI app. Please don’t be reading anything on it right now. I don’t know what I’d do if he was.