Chapter 15 Elle
ELLE
“You want my opinion?”
I give my cousin a long look as he stretches out on the couch in his apartment, his six-foot-six frame barely fitting in the scope of the camera. His brown hair is shaggier than I’ve ever seen it, and stubble lines his normally clean shaven jaw, but it’s the brace on his arm that really throws me.
Foxe had been with Lucy and Asher in the Tenarus cave last semester. Apparently, it was a miracle he made it out—much less that he recovered from extensive injuries so well.
Minus the brace and a scar between his brows, you might not even know anything had happened at all.
“Would I have called if I didn’t?” I reply, popping a french fry into my mouth. The campus refectory’s food tastes like cardboard, so I dipped into the funds my parents send each week and had something delivered from town.
In LA, I waited tables and did stage work for Grandeur Playhouse, only using their money for emergencies. But they suggested I take time to focus on school and not work now, so unfortunately I’m twenty-five and living off their dime.
Not that I’m complaining, especially since there are people who’d kill for this life. It just sometimes feels like my independence is a sham, is all.
“That hurts, Noelle,” Foxe whines. “You wouldn’t call your own flesh and blood just to check in on him? Don’t you love me?”
“Okay,” I say slowly, chewing. “How are you doing? Written any new songs lately? I see the plants behind you are wilted, so your mom must not have visited recently. Does that mean you’re well?”
Aunt Violet, a florist, believes heavily in the healing and therapeutic power of plants, so naturally she filled her son’s apartment to the brim with every pot she could get her hands on.
Foxe faces the ceiling again, folding his hands over his tanned, tattooed chest. The ink is everywhere—it stretches up each arm and rains over his back in a plethora of patchwork designs, some fresh and some not.
Only one spot is blank, above his pectoral—lasered off at some point.
“My opinion is that you’re too hard on your sister,” he answers, ignoring my questions. Classic deflection. “She was probably just making sure your transition to a new school was going smoothly. This is how she’s always been, so I don’t really see why you’re freaking out.”
“Why would she need to ask my teacher about me? Why not go directly to the source?”
“Maybe she didn’t want you to think she was overstepping. You tend to assume the worst, you know.”
The fry drops from my mouth onto my bed, and I frown, scooping it onto the paper plate in my lap. “I do not.”
“I’m not criticizing,” he says. “Just observing.”
“It sounds critical.”
He waves a hand, dismissing the notion. “Some people hear whatever they want to hear.”
“Ugh.” I groan. “Why did I call you again?”
“Because I’m willing to pretend if you are.” He grins, but it feels forced somehow, not quite reaching his hazel eyes. “Other than Q being her regular overbearing self, how’re you liking it up there? I assume no one’s tried to murder you yet.”
“‘Yet’ being the operative word really bums me out.”
“Hey, you chose to enroll.”
“My parents thought it would help.”
“Oh, I’m aware. Strength in numbers, or whatever. I heard them talking about it over the holidays. Kept waking me up arguing when I was in the midst of early recovery, the fuckers.”
“Is that why you got your own place?”
Foxe shrugs, rolling his head to look at me.
“Partly. And because my mom was suffocating me. Unintentionally, of course, but she was pretty inconsolable when I came back from Fury Hill.” He pauses for a brief moment as if remembering something—replaying his return to Aplana Island in his mind.
Then he chuckles to himself. “You’d think I almost died or something. ”
“Do you joke about what happened like this with your mom?” Aunt Violet is like sunshine in human form, so I can only imagine how hearing that stuff from her son would make her react.
The dead plants suddenly make sense.
“I am who I am, Noelle.” He sighs, propping his hands behind his head. “Can’t be changed.”
“Remember when you used to think Asher and I were callous about death?”
“Callous about others’ deaths. I think I’ve earned the right to feel however I want about my near one, don’t you?”
I do, but I’m not sure Foxe understands the cost. He doesn’t know what it took for us to get to this point. You practice ambivalence, growing those calluses, just so you can sleep at night.
So the memories of your past don’t keep you awake.
“Anyway,” Foxe goes on. “I’m on the mend, so I don’t know why we’re even talking about me. You’re the one in danger. Everyone there thinks your family is cursed, and students go missing at Avernia like it’s the trendy thing to do. The school acts like they’re not even aware it’s happening.”
“How can that be possible if it’s such a high number?” I ask. “People would notice if their roommates just stopped showing up.”
“Good question. Chemical brainwashing? Maybe the tap water is laced with something.”
I give him a look. “You’re listening to too many true crime podcasts.”
“Or maybe I’m listening to the correct amount and have been enlightened.”
Someone snorts from the doorway, and I tense up, glancing over my laptop to see Aurora and Asher standing there. She’s got one hand on the doorknob, the key still wedged in the lock, and Asher walks past her, making an immediate beeline for my food.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Asher bends down, stealing a fry and plopping it in his mouth. “Looking for my girlfriend. Thought maybe she’d come to see you, but now I have a bad feeling she’s doing lake cleanup.”
“It’s, like, twelve degrees out,” Aurora says, snatching the key from the door and coming inside.
“When has that ever stopped Lucy from trying to save the planet?” he replies around chewing.
My face scrunches up. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, you troll.”
Foxe grins, straightening. His entire demeanor changes with his best friend’s presence, and I pretend it doesn’t sting a little that I wasn’t able to cheer him up.
“Ash-tree, my pride and joy! You haven’t called me in…” Foxe sits forward, checking something off-screen, and returns with his phone in hand. “Exactly fourteen hours.”
“Jesus Christ.” Asher steals another fry, dragging it through my ketchup. “Do you just sit around counting the minutes?”
“I always miss your shining, sparkling personality when it’s gone.”
“God, you really are a fucking golden retriever.”
“I’d prefer something a little more formidable. A husky, even, would work. At least they’re musically inclined.”
Aurora slams her wardrobe shut, keeping her back to us. I glance at Asher, feeling a small twinge of guilt knowing these two have a history and tend to avoid interacting in front of others.
Given Foxe’s current predicament, I imagine things are even more strained than they used to be.
“Rory?” Foxe calls, pursing his lips as he pretends to search for her. “That you, cupcake? I’d recognize the way you slam a door anywhere.”
She scoffs, dumping an armful of Japanese skincare products onto her desk. “Well, I’ve slammed enough in your face that I’d be surprised if that wasn’t the case.”
Foxe’s grin widens, though I swear it still looks off. When we were growing up, nothing bothered him. He was like a punching bag that always snapped back into place no matter how many beatings it took, and he took many from my angry brother.
There’s this sentiment that people don’t change. Seconds ago, Foxe basically just said the same thing. Years back, I might have agreed, but looking at my cousin now, I’m just not so sure.
Maybe people don’t change for no reason. But they definitely don’t stay the same forever.
“What were you all talking about anyway?” Asher asks, perching on the edge of my mattress. “Foxe’s supposed enlightenment?”
“Supposed,” Foxe repeats, confirming. “We were just discussing the possibility that your school’s student body has been brainwashed.”
“So casual lunch conversation.”
I shift, curling my arms around my middle. “Don’t you think it’s odd that people die or go missing so often, and the school’s just operating like it’s business as usual?”
Asher shrugs. “Odd? Maybe a little. But given how they believe in curses and other supernatural phenomena, it wouldn’t surprise me if Avernia just thinks it’s all part of the Fury Hill experience.
A little death to round out their college careers.
They do have an entire student organization named after the fucking thing.
” He pauses, considering, then points a finger at me.
“Do not go poking your head around for answers.”
“You’re not the boss of me, little bro.”
“Exactly. I’m not gonna take shit from Mom and Dad if you end up in trouble for being nosy either.”
“Whatever.” I shove him from the bed and then get up, walking over to Aurora. “You have studying to do?”
She snorts. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
I reach for her hand, tugging her toward the door. “Great. Let’s go.”
We run into Lexington and Percy on our way into the Obeliskos. The former is wearing a thick black sweater while the latter’s gray peacoat is buttoned all the way up, and I can’t tell if they’re coming or going.
“Neither,” Lexington offers when I ask. “We were just arguing over where to get food before heading to the quarry for a Curator party.”
“They’re still throwing those?” Aurora asks, lifting her blond brows.
Percy shrugs. “School didn’t tell them to stop, so why not?”
“It’s the middle of the week though,” I note.
Grinning, Lexington slings an arm around my shoulder, giving me a playful squeeze. “Which is exactly why faculty will be less likely to come and shut things down. They’re usually at office hours or teaching night courses right now.”
“That logic seems…flawed,” I tell him.
“The professors and administrators don’t want to step foot in the Primordial Forest any more than we do,” Percy says.
Aurora frowns. “Then why are you going?”