Thrice Uncharmed (Wynne d’Arzon) Read Free Page B

consider her words in the spirit they were meant, but he was getting stuck on the logistics. "That would still be a waste of resources. Or were you thinking of something… other than paint?"
    Wynne followed what he was thinking and giggled. "No, no! Turmeric, not…" She giggled again, imagining other Layumen's reaction to getting orders to stain something with their own urine. Her mother would doubtless just use turmeric, regardless, but Auntie Sea…
    He gave a weak, relieved smile. "Turmeric." He tapped his tablet and adjusted his glasses again, glancing the instructor's way. "That… has potential."
    Now she wasn't tracking the conversation. "Huh?"
    He shook his head.
    "Miss Layuman," said their instructor, a man with a monotone voice, an even more boring appearance, and an offworlder name that she never could remember. "Have you something to share with the class?"
    She gave the sign for "It's nothing that matters" before remembering the instructor had also been mostly raised by his offworld father. The man was very good at his topic — Culture Studies, which exposed them to offworld culture — but missed on some of the vagaries of d'Arzon culture, itself. "No, sir."
    The instructor frowned. "Miss Layuman—"
    "We were practicing some of our lines," Hector lied, tone firm as if he disliked the instructor and put up with him only to be polite. "But if you take objection to that, by all means, harass her."
    The instructor scowled and backed away, and Wynne frowned. He hadn't been harassing her. He'd been justifiably concerned about the behavior of a student in his class. If he didn't want them to chat amongst themselves — well, it was his classroom. His right to demand silence from his students while his class was in session, even if it made it difficult to study their lines for the play.
    Hector glanced her way and adjusted his glasses again, expression serious.
    He definitely didn't like their Culture Studies instructor.
    And Wynne was definitely going to find out why.
    ****
    As the first step in her plan, she skipped lunch. That was… risky, with her metabolism, but all Layumen carried snack bars with them so they could readily have an emergency meal when necessary, without disrupting others.
    She then used that lunch halfie to approach her Culture Studies instructor directly. He sat at his desk in his office, eating a mush that smelled like vegetables and reading something on his tablet.
    Wynne knocked lightly on his entryway.
    He started, glanced her way, and scowled, though his posture changed into something stiff, uncomfortable. "Yes?"
    She indicated with her tablet. "May I ping you the revised script, sir?"
    His eyes narrowed. "The what?"
    She shrugged, reminding herself that it had been Hector's idea, and the governor's son certainly ranked their instructor. To her surprise, her hands didn't shake as she tapped the order to send him a copy of the new script. "Primuman decided to revise the play for the modern audience, sir."
    Her instructor looked even more dour, which she wouldn't have thought possible. "And you have a complaint about how he cast you."
    Wynne blinked. "Um. No, sir."
    "Then what are you bothering me for?"
    He looks angry, she thought, with his glare and the muscles working in his jaw. But why?
    "Take the play. Do as he likes with it. Nothing I can do about it, unless it enters M-class."
    M-class ? At first, Wynne thought he meant planets, but she quickly realized he meant content rating on the galaxal scale, which wasn't used in the Arzon colony. Her cheeks burned. "Oh, no, sir. We kept it…" What were the galaxal ratings? "T?" The Arzon 'T' was the galaxal 'M', so her memory could've been off.
    Her instructor studied her, and his glare seemed to soften a little. He let out a sigh. "Ping me a copy. Might as well know what Primuman's up to."
    "Sir," Wynne said hesitantly. "You and Hector seem to dislike each other."
    He snorted. "That boy's an example of everything that's wrong with this