9. Alex
Chapter 9
Alex
“ A re we writing love letters?” Sutton gushes, tugging down the hood of her raincoat and taking a seat on the other side of the table in the dining hall from me.
Something like that.
I raise my head in her direction as I subtly tuck away the stack of fake letters I’d been working on for the last few hours, each one more incriminating than the last. Those boys wanted secrets? Well, they could have them, at least the ones I’d carefully crafted to seem believable.
“I hope whoever those words are for are as sharp and precise as your grip on that pen,” she jokes.
I force a smile, hoping it reaches my eyes. “You know me. Always aiming for perfection.”
Sutton leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So who’s the lucky recipient? Is it a cute guy from class?” Her eyes round into large saucers. “Someone I know?”
I hesitate, weighing my options. I haven’t exactly known her long enough to gauge her ability to keep a secret, but maybe I could give her something. “Actually,” I say, lowering my voice to match hers, “it’s not just one person.”
Her eyes widen even more somehow, and she leans in even closer. “Ooh, scandalous!”
I nod my head in agreement, maintaining my facade.
Sutton launches into a detailed analysis of potential crushes and I nod along, my mind racing. The letters are safely tucked away, but I can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety. What if someone discovers my plan? What if the boys realize these letters are fake?
I push the thoughts aside, reminding myself why I’m doing this. They want to play games? Well, I’m about to show them how it’s really done.
As Sutton continues to chatter excitedly about potential love interests, I find myself only half-listening. My mind wanders to the carefully crafted letters hidden in my lap, each one a potential landmine in the dangerous game I’ve chosen to play.
“…and then there’s Christopher from the swim team.” Sutton’s voice cuts through my reverie. “He’s always been a flirt.”
I force myself to nod, as if considering her suggestions. “You’ve certainly given this a lot of thought,” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from my fictional love life.
She grins, leaning back in her chair. “What can I say? I live vicariously through my friends’ romantic adventures.”
Friends. The word catches me off guard.
I’ve never really had a lot of those. Most of my youth was spent alone, practicing piano day after day. Other than my sister, that had been the closest relationship I’d ever maintained.
I feel a pang of guilt at the thought of deceiving Sutton. She seems genuinely interested in my love life, and here I am, plotting revenge against a group of boys who’ve wronged me. For a moment, I consider coming clean, telling her everything.
But then I remember the humiliation, the feeling of never being enough, the nights spent wondering what I’d done wrong and why I wasn’t better. No, I can’t back down now.
That hopeful version of myself died a long time ago, and I was her cold, void replacement.
“You know,” I say, forcing a playful smile, “maybe I’ll tell you more about it sometime. But for now, let’s just say it’s…complicated. Kinda like your art,” I say.
I swear I see Sutton’s eyes flash with disappointment, but they change so quickly I can’t be sure. “Fine. But you have to promise to try to keep me updated, okay?”
“I will when you do the same with your art,” I negotiate.
Her mouth twists and I can tell she doesn’t like my answer, but she doesn’t argue further.
“What are you doing at the dining hall so late?” I ask, shifting us back to a safer topic. “It’s the weekend.”
“So?”
Now she really does sound offended, and for some reason it catches me off guard. It’s a complete shift from her bubbliness minutes ago.
I backpedal quickly, realizing I’ve struck a nerve. “I just meant…most people are out partying or something on weekends. Not that there’s anything wrong with being here, of course.”
Sutton’s expression softens slightly, but there’s still a guarded look in her eyes. “Yeah, well, parties aren’t really my scene this year. Too loud, too many people. I prefer the quiet.” She gestures around the nearly empty dining hall. “Plus, the lighting in here is great for sketching.”
I get it. I’ve never been much for crowds either, unless they were inside an auditorium while I played onstage.
“I bet with these windows it’s stunning in the daylight.”
The dining hall is a grand room, with tall, arched windows stretching from the floor to the high ceiling, which are now reflecting the clouded night sky as a soft rain taps at the windows and ceiling. Tables and chairs are haphazardly spread across the room, giving it a disorganized but cozy feel. Four towering pine trees, their branches stretching outward, frame the front of the room, unable to reach the lofty ceiling.
The first time I came in here I literally lost my breath at how stunning it was, now in the late evening it was heart-stopping.
There’s a moment of awkward silence between us. I fiddle with my pen, unsure of what to say next. She seems lost in thought, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the tabletop.
Finally, she speaks again, her tone gentle. “You’re right, it is beautiful during the day. The sunlight streams through those windows and creates these amazing patterns on the floor.” Sutton’s eyes light up as she describes it, her earlier defensiveness fading. “Sometimes I come here just to appreciate how the light changes throughout the day.”
I find myself smiling at her enthusiasm. “That sounds nice. Maybe I’ll check it out sometime.”
“You should.” She nods, then hesitates before adding, “You don’t think that’s weird?”
“Why would I?”
She shrugs, her gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know. Some people think it’s strange to get excited about things like light patterns.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Nah, I don’t think it’s weird at all. Actually, I think it’s pretty cool that you notice those kinds of details. Most people are too busy rushing around to appreciate stuff like that.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks. I guess I’m just used to being around people who don’t get it.”
Why does she appear genuinely sad at that?
“You could join me, if you want. I’m usually here on Saturday afternoons.”
The invitation surprises me, but I find myself nodding before I can overthink it. “Yeah, that’d be cool. Thanks.”
Sutton smiles, a genuine one that reaches her eyes. “Great. It’s a plan.”
“It’s kind of like plants, in a way. They have similar patterns.” I say, continuing the conversation not wanting her to revert back to her sad silence. “They have these intricate designs, like fractals, that repeat themselves in smaller and smaller patterns. It’s fascinating when you really look closely.”
Sutton’s eyes widen with interest. “You’re into plants?”
“Botany.” I correct, lifting a shoulder.
“Really?” She leans forward, her eyes sparkling with newfound interest. “That’s so cool. I’ve always been fascinated by nature, but I don’t know much about the science behind it.”
I can’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. “Well, if you’re interested, we can take a nature walk sometime, and you can bring your sketchbook and draw some new finds for me.”
Especially since I no longer have a phone to take photos, and if it’s a rare find it’s not always kosher to remove the species from its environment.
“Maybe we can take one of those Saturday afternoon sessions outside? You know, if the weather allows for it.”
Sutton nods eagerly. “I’d love that. It’s been a while since I’ve learned something just for the sake of learning.”
Her words strike a deeper chord with me than she realized. Before finding my interest in plants and flower species, everything I learned never felt like mine, but instead was simply for the approval of others.
The piano had always been my mother’s love. Botany is the first thing that’s ever really been mine, and mine alone.
“I get it. It’s easy to get caught up in the daily grind and forget to explore new interests.”
“Exactly,” she says. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost touch with that part of myself, you know? The part that used to get excited about learning new things just for the fun of it.”
The longer we speak, the more I notice Sutton’s posture relaxing, her earlier defensiveness completely melting away.
“It’s never too late to rediscover that part of yourself,” I say, my tone understanding.
“You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it. Tomorrow, weather permitting, we’ll have our first botany and sketching session.”
I feel a warmth bloom in my chest, mirroring the enthusiasm in her expression. “Perfect. I know just the spot, too. There’s this little clearing in the woods behind my dormitory. It’s teeming with diverse plant life.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Sutton says, her fingers already twitching, as if longing for a pencil.
Anyway, I was looking for any excuse not to go back to that mildew-scented closet, so spending the day outside tomorrow would be a luxury. It was also the reason I chose to hang out here tonight, where the worst thing I had to worry about was a chef accidentally burning a dish. Not lung poisoning from the inhalation of unsealed chemicals or mold.
Not to mention the rats.
There was also no poop anywhere in sight. Dolores, I miss you .
The doors at the front of the room open, and I immediately recognize the bright red hair as soon as he closes his umbrella and shakes out the extra rain from his clothes. Was he wearing a top hat?
I slink back into my chair.
Don’t look this way. Don’t look this way. Don’t look this way.
But of course he does. Alfie heads in our direction as I try to make myself as small as possible, wishing I could melt into the chair.
Shit.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sutton says, leaning close. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
If only it were that simple. A ghost would be easier to deal with than him.
I was still finding specks of glitter on my skin days later.
Alfie’s gait is as confident as ever, each step purposeful as he navigates between tables. I silently pray he’s just here to grab a quick meal and will veer off toward the food counter. But no such luck. He’s heading straight for us, that familiar crooked smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Ladies,” Alfie greets us, bending forward dramatically and pulling off his oversized hat before righting himself.
I swear he hesitates as he takes in who’s sitting across from me before he recovers smoothly. Or at least smoothly for him.
“Alfie,” I manage the one word, my voice sounding strained. Sutton’s gaze darts between us, her brow furrowing in suspicion.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, his gaze fixed on me.
I force a smile, feeling anything but pleasant. “Yeah, what are the odds?”
Sutton clears her throat, clearly annoyed at being left out of the conversation. “Do you two know each other?”
Before I can fumble through an explanation, Alfie’s face lights up with that mischievous grin I now know all too well. “We go way back, don’t we?” He winks at me, and I can already feel the headache forming. I can only imagine what Sutton must be thinking.
“Mind if I join you lovely ladies?”
Before I can protest, he’s already pulling up a chair, wedging himself between Sutton and me.
“Actually, we were just leaving,” I blurt out, half-rising from my seat to hopefully escape before he tries to pull a rabbit out of his hat.
“Nonsense,” Alfie says, waving a hand dismissively. “The night is still young.”
Sutton shoots me a bewildered look, clearly not on board with my sudden desire to leave. “We were? I’d prefer to wait out the rain.”
When had the rain started coming down so hard? The soft drops of before now pelted the windows.
I sink back into my seat, realizing there’s no easy escape from this situation. Sutton’s curiosity is piqued, and Alfie seems determined to stir up trouble.
Alfie leans back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Well then, seems we have time for a proper catch-up, eh?”
I shoot him a warning glare, but he either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it.
“So, Alfie,” Sutton leans in, her voice dripping with curiosity. “How exactly do you and Alex here know each other?”
She was completely convinced that those letters were meant for him. Yeah right.
His grin widens, and I brace myself for whatever outlandish tale he’s about to spin. “It’s quite the story,” he begins. “You see, we met while I was trying to help her in the mailroom, she was having difficulty with sending a letter, so I used my magic…”
“Magic?” Sutton asks.
I groan, and Sutton’s eyes flick my way.
“Yeah!” he says excitedly. “Want to see some? I’ve been working on a new trick.”
“No!” I say, a bit too forcefully. Sutton’s eyebrows shoot up at my outburst. “I mean, maybe another time,” I add, trying to sound casual. “Why don’t we just…chat for now?”
Before I can stop him, Alfie reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a deck of cards. My stomach drops immediately.
“Alfie, I really don’t think—” I start, but he’s already fanning out the cards with a flourish.
“Pick a card, any card,” he announces to Sutton, who looks equal parts amused and bewildered.
Hesitantly, she reaches out and selects one from the middle of the deck. As she goes to look at it, Alfie dramatically clears his throat.
“Don’t show me. Now focus on your card. Really concentrate on it.”
Sutton’s forehead creases, as she stares intently at her chosen card. I take a moment to scan the room. The dining hall is almost completely empty this late at night. There’s only one student tucked in the corner with their head buried in a book and another quietly eating a sandwich.
I watch nervously as Alfie makes a grand show of waving his hands over the deck, muttering nonsensical incantations under his breath. Sutton’s eyes are wide with anticipation, completely drawn into his theatrics.
“Now,” Alfie says with a dramatic pause, “I will reveal your card!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out…a rubber chicken.
Sutton blinks in confusion. “Um, that’s not my card.”
“Of course not!” Alfie exclaims. “Because your card…is in the chicken!”
Before I can stop him, he grabs the chicken by the neck and gives it a vigorous shake. To my horror and Sutton’s amazement, a playing card shoots out of its beak, fluttering through the air before landing faceup on the table.
“Is this your card?” Alfie asks.
Sutton’s jaw drops as she looks at the card. “It…it is! The nine of hearts!” She turns to me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “How did he do that?”
I force a small grin, trying to hide my mounting irritation. “Oh, you know Alfie. Always full of surprises.”
“That was amazing!” Sutton exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Do another one!”
Alfie beams, clearly thrilled by her enthusiasm. “Well, if the lady insists—”
“Actually,” I interject quickly, “we should probably start heading to that thing we were going to? We don’t want to be late.”
But Sutton is already shaking her head. “We have plenty of time. Come on, just one more trick?”
“You guys were going out?” Alfie questions curiously. “How ironic. I planned on grabbing a banana for a new idea I have before heading out myself.”
I shivered and it had nothing to do with the rain outside. I had zero intention of ever finding out what he wanted to do with a banana.
“A banana trick? That sounds fascinating,” Sutton says, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
I cast Alfie a warning glance, silently pleading with him not to encourage her. But he’s already rummaging through the fruit bowl on the counter, his face alight with glee as he comes back over, taking a seat.
“Ah, here we are,” he says triumphantly, brandishing a perfectly ripe apple. “They were out of bananas, but they had a few of these left. Now, my dear Sutton, if you would be so kind as to select another card from the deck?”
She eagerly complies, plucking a card from the fanned-out deck Alfie offers her as I silently thank the cafeteria gods for being out of bananas.
I watch in mounting concern as he instructs her to memorize the card and then return it to the deck.
“Now,” Alfie announces with a flourish, “I shall make your chosen card appear inside this apple.”
Sutton gasps in delight, clapping her hands together. “How marvelous!” she exclaims, completely enthralled by his theatrics.
I keep my mouth zipped shut, knowing full well that this will probably end badly, and he just got lucky with the chicken earlier.
“Now, watch closely,” he says, his tone dropping to a dramatic whisper. He holds the apple aloft, turning it slowly in his hands. With a swift motion, he produces a small pocketknife—where does he keep all these things?—and begins to carefully carve into the apple’s flesh.
Alfie’s knife moves with surprising precision, and I can see something beginning to take shape within the apple.
Sutton leans forward, her eyes excited with anticipation. I can’t help but lean in too, despite my skepticism.
Suddenly, Alfie’s knife slips. A thin line of red blood appears on his thumb, and he lets out a sharp hiss of pain.
“Oh no,” he says, his face turning a stark shade of white.
I spring into action, grabbing a napkin from the table and pressing it against Alfie’s cut, just as his eyes start to roll back into his skull.
This was so not good. “I knew this was going to happen. Okay, maybe not this, this , but you know what I mean…never mind.”
Sutton’s delighted expression quickly morphs into one of concern. “Alfie? Are you alright?” she asks.
I grip Alfie’s arm, trying to keep him upright as he sways dangerously. “He’s fine,” I say, more to convince myself than Sutton.
As if on cue, Alfie’s eyelids flutter, and he mumbles something incoherent. Great. Just great.
“Sutton, help me get him to the couch,” I instruct, trying to keep my voice calm. She nods, wide-eyed, and rushes to Alfie’s other side.
We manage to half-drag, half-carry him past the grand piano on the far end of the room and over to the nearby sofa, where he collapses in an ungraceful heap of limbs. I’d avoided this side of the dining hall after I was told that the small second level mezzanine above this alcove was off limits to me. Ophelia and her friends had made it clear that only Legacies were allowed up there, and I was not one of them.
“What now?”
“I don’t know,” I huff, completely unsure what to do next.
He mumbles something, then his eyes start to open as he inhales a dramatic lungful of air, righting himself from his horizontal position on the sofa.
“Alfie?” I say, relief washing over me as he regains consciousness. “Are you okay?”
He blinks rapidly, his gaze darting between Sutton and me. “What…what happened?” he asks, his voice weak and confused.
“You fainted,” Sutton explains, perching on the edge of the sofa, her brow furrowed with concern. “After you cut your thumb.”
Alfie’s eyes widen in realization, and he quickly lifts his hand to examine the damage. The napkin is still pressed against his thumb, now stained with a small circle of blood.
“Uh,” he says, looking embarrassed. “I…I don’t do well with blood.”
I can’t help but let out a small chuckle, the tension of the moment finally breaking. “You don’t say?”
Sutton shoots me a reproachful look, but I can see the corners of her mouth twitch as well.
“Welp! It appears the rain has mostly cleared up,” he says casually, as if whatever happened to him moments ago was completely normal. “Would either of you ladies like to go out for an night on the town? I have a car.” He waggles his brows at that.
Sutton and I exchange a bewildered glance. Is he serious? The guy just fainted at the sight of his own blood, and now he wants to go gallivanting around town?
“Alfie,” I start, trying to keep my voice even. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you should just stay in and make sure you’re okay.”
But Alfie is already pushing himself up from the couch, swaying lightly as he stands. “Nonsense! I’m right as rain now. A little fresh air will do me some good.”
Sutton bites her lip, looking torn. “I don’t know. What if you faint again?”
Alfie waves his uninjured hand dismissively. “That? Ancient history. I promise I won’t look at any more blood tonight.” He grins, his charm returning in full force. “Come on,” he coaxes. “It’ll be fun.”
“The only place I plan on going is my bed.” I say sternly. I’ve had more than enough excitement for the night. Besides, the rain had mostly let up by this point, so I was free to escape before we had a glitter fiasco, take two.
“Well, suit yourself,” he says, his enthusiasm undimmed. “What about you, Sutton? Up for a fancy night out with a dashing, only slightly bloodied gentleman?”
“I think I’m going to have to agree with Alex and turn in for the night.” She hesitates, “This has been…interesting.”
“Your loss, ladies.”
A cloud of smoke appears between Sutton and me, and I swat it, coughing.
Not this again.
As the smoke clears, I’m expecting to see Alfie gone. But no, he’s still there, looking just as confused as we are.
“What in the blazes?” he sputters, waving his hand in front of his face right before another cloud of smoke hazes my vision.
“What the…” I hear Sutton mutter.
As the smoke clears again, I expect to see Alfie standing there, ready with another dramatic flourish. Instead, the space where he stood is empty. My eyes dart around the room, but there’s no sign of him.
Thank goodness.
A muffled thump from outside catches our attention. The large glass windows give us a perfect view of a sprinting Alfie running past. The illumination from the overhead lamps outside give me the front row seat as he stumbles over the wet cobblestone and goes sprawling on the ground.
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan, watching all of this play out before me.
“I’m fine,” he shouts, fixing his top hat and shooting two thumbs up in our direction. “All good,” he confirms, his voice somewhat muffled by the thick glass.
I exchange a glance with Sutton, her eyes wide with disbelief. We both hesitate, torn between concern and exasperation.
“Should we…” Sutton begins, gesturing vaguely toward the door.
“Nope. He said he’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened.”
“You sure?”
Before I can respond, another puff of smoke envelopes Alfie. When it clears, he’s standing upright, his clothes miraculously clean and dry. He tips his hat to us with a flourish, then turns on his heel and strides away, his coattails flapping dramatically behind him.
“Well,” I say, letting out a long breath, “I guess that answers that.”
Sutton shakes her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You know, I’m starting to think we might be the boring ones in this scenario.”
I snort. “Speak for yourself. I’ll take boring over whatever he has any day.”
“At least he’s happy,” Sutton says with a shrug as we go over to collect our things.
I consider this for a moment, memories of Alfie’s glitter escapades flashing through my mind. “Trust me, we’re not missing anything except potential jail time and questionable stains on our permanent records.”
Sutton laughs, but it’s tinged with a hint of wistfulness. “Maybe.”