The Tyrant's Tomb

Romance disaster
I’m poison for guys and gals
You wanna hang out?
“LIKE CHEWING GUM IS a crime.” Lavinia tossed a piece of her
sandwich off the roof, where it was immediately snatched up by a seagull.
For our picnic lunch, she had brought me, Hazel, and Meg to her favorite
thinking place: the rooftop of New Rome University’s bell tower, which
Lavinia had discovered access to on her own. People were not exactly
encouraged to be up here, but it was not strictly forbidden, either, which
seemed to be the space Lavinia most liked inhabiting.
She explained that she enjoyed sitting here because it was directly above
the Garden of Faunus, Reyna’s favorite thinking spot. Reyna was not in the
garden at present, but whenever she was, Lavinia could look down at the
praetor, a hundred feet below, and gloat Ha-ha, my thinking spot is higher
than your thinking spot.
Now, as I sat on the precariously slanted red clay tiles, a half-eaten
focaccia in my lap, I could see the entire city and valley spread out below us
—everything we stood to lose in the coming invasion. Beyond stretched the
flatlands of Oakland, and the San Francisco Bay, which in just a few days
would be dotted with Caligula’s luxury battle yachts.
“Honestly.” Lavinia threw another piece of her grilled cheese to the
seagulls. “If the legionnaires went for a stupid hike once in a while, they’d
know about Wildcat Drive.”