The afternoon sun bathed the campus in orange hues when we left the library. We had spent another three hours polishing the report's structure, and although it cost me to admit it, the work rhythm with Valeria was good. She had a talent for synthesis that I envied, and I had the patience for data that she lacked.
"Tomorrow I need you to check the inflation graphs," she said, adjusting the strap of her leather bag. She wasn't looking at me; she was checking her makeup in her phone camera. "I don't want Montero finding even a decimal out of place".
"They'll be ready," I assured her, rubbing my numb neck. "But you have to rewrite the conclusion. It's too aggressive". "You sound like a dictator writing a manifesto".
Valeria let out a short, almost genuine laugh.
"Sometimes it takes a dictator to bring order to chaos, Lucas. You should learn that".
We walked toward the reserved parking lot. Normally I would split off earlier, heading toward the bus stop, but today we had to agree on the weekend schedule and she kept talking nonstop, as if silence made her nervous.
Upon reaching the luxury car zone, Valeria's pace stopped dead.
Her posture changed instantly. Her back went rigid, her shoulders tensed up, and that small spark of humanity she had shown in the library was snuffed out, replaced by her usual mask of coldness.
Leaning on the hood of her sports car was a guy.
Julián. I knew him by sight. He was the kind of person who seemed to have been born wearing a suit. Tall, with hair slicked back with too much gel and a square jaw that screamed "my grandfather founded this country club". He was looking at his watch, a Swiss chronograph that shone obscenely under the sun.
"You're late," Julián said without looking up from his watch. His tone was flat, bored. It wasn't the tone of someone waiting for his girlfriend ; it was the tone of someone waiting for an Amazon package that has been delayed.
"We were finishing chapter four," Valeria replied. Her voice sounded higher than normal, almost pleading. "The project is important, Julián. I told you".
Julián finally looked up. His eyes passed over Valeria, scanning her up and down with a grimace of disapproval, and then landed on me. There was no recognition, only a lazy disdain.
"And who is this?" he asked, pointing at me with his chin as if I were a stray dog that had snuck into the photo.
"It's Lucas," Valeria rushed to say. "My project partner. The scholarship boy I told you about".
The phrase "scholarship boy" left her mouth like a peace offering, a way of telling Julián: "Relax, he's not a threat, he's inferior to us". It annoyed me, but I kept my face impassive.
Julián pushed off the car and walked toward her, ignoring me completely. He stood too close, invading her space in a way that didn't seem intimate, but dominant. He ran a finger down Valeria's cheek, but the gesture lacked tenderness ; it looked like he was checking the quality of the merchandise.
"You look tired, Val," he said, with a fake concern that distilled poison. "You have dark circles". "And that dress makes you look... wide. You shouldn't wear white if you're not at your ideal weight".
I watched Valeria shrink. Literally. The Empress of the university, the girl who humiliated freshmen for sport, looked down and crossed her arms, trying to hide her body.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I haven't slept much".
"It shows." Julián sighed, as if her appearance were a personal offense to him. "Tonight is the dinner with my father's partners. I hope you fix yourself up better". "I don't want them thinking I'm dating a mess".
"I'll be perfect, I promise".
The submission in her voice was painful to hear. It was a submission based on the fear of being rejected, of not being enough.
Julián finally seemed to remember me. He looked at me with a mocking smile.
"So you're the hired brain," he said. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a high-denomination bill. He extended it toward me. "Here. Buy yourself something decent to eat and stop wasting my girlfriend's time with academic nonsense". "She doesn't need grades, she needs to be rested for me".
I stared at the bill. Then I looked at Valeria. She had her eyes glued to the ground, cheeks burning with humiliation. Not for me, but for herself. She knew this was wrong, but she didn't have the strength to stop it.
I looked Julián in the eye.
"Keep it," I said with a calm voice. "It looks like you need to buy affection more than I need food".
The silence that followed was absolute.
Julián's smile vanished. He took a step toward me, trying to intimidate me with his height and status.
"What did you say, starving nobody?"
"I said the project is 40% of the grade," I replied, without backing up a millimeter. My stance was relaxed, but my muscles were ready. I knew how to fight. He knew how to pose. There was a big difference. "And Valeria is going to finish it. If you want her rested, maybe you should stop dragging her to boring dinners where she only serves as an ornament".
Julián turned red with rage. He clenched his fists, but something in my look made him hesitate. Maybe the memory of the rumors about what happened at the market, or maybe just the self-preservation instinct of someone who has never taken a real punch in his life.
He turned to Valeria, grabbing her arm roughly.
"Get in the car," he ordered. "Now".
Valeria looked at me for a second. Her eyes were glassy. There was shame there, a deep and corrosive shame.
"See you tomorrow, Lucas," she whispered.
She pulled free from Julián's grip, but only to obey and get in the car. She sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly ahead, turned back into a porcelain doll in a glass display case.
Julián gave me a final look of hate before getting into the driver's side and starting the engine with an unnecessary roar, burning rubber as he left.
I was left alone in the parking lot, surrounded by the smell of burnt gasoline and expensive perfume.
I felt a wave of nausea.
Valeria Castillo was a bully. She was classist, cruel, and manipulative. But what I had just seen explained a lot of things. She attacked the world before the world could attack her. She treated others like trash because, in her private life, the person who was supposed to love her treated her like a defective accessory.
I didn't feel pity. Pity is for those who have no options. Valeria had options, but she had chosen the gilded cage because she was afraid of freedom.
However, as I walked to the bus stop, I couldn't get the image of her shrinking before Julián's criticism out of my head. She was a lost little girl. And for the first time, the project didn't matter just for the grade.
It mattered because, during those hours in the library or at the market, Valeria stopped being an ornament and became someone capable. Someone real.
Julián wanted her small. I, for some stupid reason I couldn't quite grasp, preferred her when she tried to be big, even if it was to try and crush me.