Chapter 49

Dylan’s left hand went up as he continued typing on his laptop with the unconscious grace with which he did everything. Quinn—more sheepish, searching to find that kind of courage in himself—looked around before raising his left hand. About three-quarters of the class—most of it male—joined them.

“Okay,” Professor Dolenz said, spinning a rubber band between his two index fingers. “Now, how many of you have been angry enough to kill? Be honest.”

Dylan’s left hand shot up again. Quinn’s followed.

“It figures,” he heard Trent sneer to Rebecca Turing. “I bet the murder rate is higher among jocks.”

Rebecca, who was probably the smartest student in the class—in general, the women were way ahead of the men—simply rolled her eyes before disdainfully flipping her long, brown hair and then smiling pointedly, almost provocatively, at Quinn and Dylan. For someone who was in a classics course, Quinn thought, Trent seemed oblivious to having just been dissed by a goddess.