Fred walks ahead while I walk behind and I try to keep how scared I truly feel from showing.
He's walking fast and he shows no intention of slowing down at all. He's also smiling to teachers and students alike as he passes by.
It's surprising, and it makes me remember his age in glaring detail.
Twenty four. Just three years older than me and by far the youngest professor Cranford has ever seen.
The rest of the staff will probably see him as some established gifted kid who rose up the ranks of his career due to natural intelligence and the fact that he's such a polite darling.
I guess that might be true to them, but for me, I know that because of him the name Fredrick will forever leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
It will leave a bitter feeling at the back of my throat and goosebumps all over my body. He's like a bad dream that won't come to an end.
Almost like he hears my thoughts, the bad dream turns to look at me and I look elsewhere.
I don't care. I just can't look at him without
