Chapter Five #2
The girl following behind the student body president’s assistant had a mean glare, and her uniform was impeccably styled with a pearl brooch and a tiny purse, the size of my fist, wrapped around her in a thin chain.
She stomped in with her arms crossed over her chest and regarded me with a barely attentive glance.
As though she was looking through me and wanted to be anywhere but here.
Her perfectly styled blonde hair moved around her head like gold strands shimmering under candlelight, and the self-assurance in her blue eyes only accentuated the high social status she might not have been purposeful in giving off.
The boy next to her was built like a tank.
Well, that would be an over exaggeration, but if I had to bet, he’s playing at least one competitive sport.
He wore his uniform as most boys did, but he didn’t look like the type who’d revel in the egotistical shoulder-check I’d experienced before.
His eyes looked empty, devoid of any emotions.
He was really looking through me, unlike the girl who wished she could.
The student body president stood and dusted off her skirt before moving around the desk separating her from the rest of the room.
“Alexandr, this is Ajax Vesper.” She waved her arm towards the boy before moving towards the girl, whose glare deepened the closer Rain got.
“And this is Paris Vega. Both great fits for showing you around the grounds and helping with any of your… questions. Though I would suggest leaving those that require more detailed answers to me, for another time.”
I picked up what she was putting down before she was able to finish her sentence, and her words alone made her even more distrustful.
Her welcoming smile didn’t wane or wilt, despite what I was sure was a skeptical tilt of my lip sent back, as I remained seated and watched with an arm over my chair.
Paris narrowed her eyes and looked ready to throw in the towel and most likely return to her dorm to do something like fix up her makeup or plan her accessories for the following week.
It was Ajax who stepped forward with another practiced smile–I wonder if that was one of the required skills to be admitted to this school–barely giving me enough attention for a once-over. “Well, let's get on with it.”
He clapped his hands together and turned to walk away. Instinctively, I followed, not sure if he’d pause to wait for me.
Something told me he wouldn’t.
It seemed, from what I’d come to understand, that they were all playing a part. I didn’t know them well enough, I’ll admit, but it was obvious they didn’t like each other.
I trailed after the pair out of the building from whence we all came.
The two students whom I awkwardly followed led me through tennis courts and study halls, and somewhere along the way, I started to feel like a child following his divorced parents as they squabbled at every step and turn.
Ajax said Fenlon Hall was an eyesore and that the board should reduce it to rubble and build something fresh.
Paris muttered that he was one to talk, which earned her a pretty heated scowl.
Paris spoke begrudgingly about dorm utilities, and the rules students must follow. No stealing, no breaking and entering, that type of stuff. She said aside from having broken the rules, it was social suicide if you were caught.
“You would know,” Ajax huffed out.
Once again, I felt as though I should be picking at the nonexistent lint on my uniform and trying my best to act like I wasn’t picking up on the thick tension.
I have my own reasons for being here. Anything else is above my level of consideration.
A storm was approaching, swallowing the sky one dark cloud at a time. I wanted to warn them, but again, I swallowed my tongue. I’d rather let them run their words dry on each other than turn their attention to me.
They talked about the campus buildings, mostly.
Remington Tower
Thirteenth Chamber
Abbot House
The Quarters
Paris explained that the dorms were called the Quarters; my room was in the Fourth Quarter, in accordance with my year.
Abbot House had the student lounge, the Abbot Council, and Jett’s office at its spire.
Thirteenth Chamber is mostly for the arts, and Remington Tower is next to the dining hall and consists exclusively of labs for students specializing in science.
Sometimes you could smell the bitter tinge of chemicals from the labs when they open the windows to air out.
When the dark clouds had begun to rumble and the patter of rain against the walkway sounded, Ajax sighed as if I were the root and cause of all his problems when he sent me a look that suggested the coming storm was somehow my doing. I didn’t like being treated as such, but tell me, would anyone?
So, I remained silent and followed as they both rushed to the closest building, the Dining Hall.
It reminded me of an old cathedral, but less religious.
When Ajax held the door open for me to enter behind him, Paris slid in at the last crack before it shut, and the scent of old wood washed over me.
Maybe it was the familiarity of it that had the pair unbothered as they wandered in, but I couldn’t help but scrunch my nose, wiping my nostrils with the back of my hand and sniffing again, like the smell was a liquid I could wipe away.
It was the same feeling I’d hoped I would become immune to after lunch.
I’ve been in worse situations, gas station bathrooms with smells so putrid, it would make the air in this place feel like fresh petals against bare skin. I was in no place to act so superior.
The ceiling was high and lost among the moulding and renaissance paintings.
I think every building was similar, with the Rec Zone being the only exception.
It was rustic, sure, and preserved. But it didn’t look ready to collapse, and I was sure Castle Hill was ready to splurge if it came to that.
Students here demanded the best, or more specifically, their families demanded the best. Even now, the dining options were foods I’d never heard of, let alone dreamed of eating.
Paris threw her styled curls over her shoulder before hobbling down the open path to a table just by the entrance. She plopped down, but before her butt even reached the chair, Ajax spoke up gruffly, “We’re not done yet. Get up.”
She removed one foot out of its heel and began massaging it. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she hissed with more malice than I’d expected. It seems there's more going on between these two than I’d thought. None of my business, I mentally repeated.
“Besides, these heels are new. They aren’t broken in yet. So, unless you want me to slow down this jolly tour party, you can wait.”
She huffed, close to scowling, before settling for an annoyed pout. Ajax didn’t seem pleased, but I bet even he realized we wouldn’t be moving anywhere until the rain stopped.
I couldn’t help but ponder the infrastructure flaw. Would students be forced to be tardy because the weather got them stuck in another building?
Choosing the seat opposite Paris, it took a few moments of awkward silence between us for Ajax to gesture to the seat next to him.
I didn’t know if he was being friendly or simply cordial, putting on an “upholding Castle Hill’s reputation” facade.
I decided to go with the latter; better to expect nothing out of this encounter.
After another few moments of awkward silence, Ajax tapped the edge of the table in an uneven tune before turning his full attention to me. “So, word on the street is you snagged a sponsor. How’d you manage that?”
Paris rolled her eyes, turning her focus away from her heels for a moment. “No wonder you accepted Rain’s offer.”
Ajax curled his lips, his eyes moving to her in a flash. “Why’d you?”
She stayed silent, shrugging and focusing back on her heels. Or trying to; I could still notice her attention on me. She was as curious as him. I really thought if they’d argue amongst themselves again, they’d forget I was there, but it seems fresh gossip is of the utmost priority over here.
I followed Paris’ movement and shrugged, intertwining my hands on the table. “I don’t know. I just wrote an essay, and a few weeks later, I received a letter of admission.”
She didn’t try hiding her curiosity, facing me with wide eyes. “Wait, that was it? That’s not fai–”
“It is if it’s a sponsor.” Ajax leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever they say goes, in case you forgot.”
His last words made me realize he wasn’t talking to me, but I couldn’t help the words tumbling out of my mouth the next moment, “What can they do?”
If I had to guess who they were, I’d put my money on the board. It couldn’t exactly be the dean.
Both students watched me like I was crazy. They blinked, then blinked again before Paris took in a breath and exhaled it obnoxiously. “They have, essentially, unchallenged dominion over Castle Hill. Similar to a company’s board of directors, except they aren’t elected.”
Ajax finished for her, “If they choose to sponsor a student, it's different than a scholarship. You are offered a position through their personal recommendation and pockets.”
So, someone was paying for my stay and education here at Castle Hill. A board member.
I looked between the pair, wondering for a moment if I could trust what they were saying before pushing my luck. If they were willing to talk, who was I to plug my ears? It wasn’t like the student body president was very forthcoming and plain-spoken. “Who makes up the board?”
“Legacies with the right credentials. Like Rain’s grandmother. Fenlon–”
“Don’t,” Ajax’s words towards Paris came out harsh and in haste. “Don’t start with that.”
She rolled her eyes, not the least bit affected by the anger radiating off him. But I could feel myself getting nervous. Wanting answers but needing a clear mind to receive them.
I slid my hands off the table, and subtly pressed my palms against my trousers, hoping they’d absorb the moisture gathering. “H–” I coughed to give myself more air. “How do you know who's sponsoring you?”
At first, I didn’t think he’d respond. He hung his head and let out a calming sigh before looking back at me.
I didn’t know what his problem with the Fenlon name was, remembering back to his issue with the building; frankly, I didn’t care.
But if they keep voluntarily airing their dirty laundry, I would be forced to think. To sit and ponder. I couldn’t help it.
But maybe this was good. Maybe these trivial matters, in my eyes, would be a great distraction from the darker corners of my mind that were constantly weaving their way to the forefront.
I still remember the dirty duffel bag strapped around my shoulders, the same one stuffed under my bed back in the dorm.
I remember gripping it for dear life on trains, buses, and underpasses.
I remember the fear I’d get when something that didn’t belong passed in the corner of my eye.
The way I’d get whiplash turning my head in the direction of what I thought I saw, before walking a little faster, changing directions from the school I was attending for the time being or the shack of a motel I was staying at, to the closest bus terminal.
It didn’t make sense that someone with my record got an admission offer in a place like this. With people who would one day run companies and political parties, making the rules for people like me to follow.
“Wait–... You don’t know who’s sponsoring you?”
I didn’t understand the look Paris passed over to Ajax, who ping-ponged it right back to her. “Yeah, it never said.”
My words came out slow, eyes bouncing between the two, observing any giveaways in their expressions, but they’d been quick to cover it up. Something was going on that I wasn’t aware of. Something they knew and didn’t seem to be willing to share. My skin began to prickle at the mystery of my case.
I expected it. For someone like me, there was never smooth sailing. There was always something. “What?”
I looked between them and leaned forward with a low whisper, hoping one of them would be smart enough to talk. “Tell me.”
I didn’t like being in the dark about something that concerned me; I’m sure no one would. But this was, in my eyes, a matter of life and death. Panic gripped me, thoughts of what they’d do to me filled my head.
I could see myself then, in a cell of my own making. Head pressed against the cold concrete, where no one could hear me scream. It’d smell like piss. And old blood.
Mildew stains on the wall.
They’d cut me and–
“What was the question you were asked?”
I jolted out of my panic with a start, flinching when Paris leaned close and blew sharply on my face. Her breath smelled of ice mint.
“Hello…” she’d stretched out the word with a tone of irritation. “He’s been asking you a question for like–I don’t know how long.”
I turned to her like she was the crazy one when I’d found her eyeing me like I was the freak. It was only then that her words floated into my mind with meaning. Thankfully, they mistook my flinch for Paris’s intrusion and nothing else.
Facing Ajax, he fixed his face into a passive expression. “I said, what was the question you were asked?”
I opened my mouth to speak, forcing that frozen facade I’d grown accustomed to. “What question?”
I stopped tapping my foot that I’d only then realized I was doing. I didn’t need these people to think I was crazy, on top of everything they’re not telling me. “The question on the paper you’d written to get admitted.”
I thought back to the packet my English teacher at a nameless high school in New York had given me.
I hadn’t meant to stay so long, but the spring was suddenly too hot to think far, and I hadn’t faced any trouble.
It was a big city with more abandoned buildings than I could count and tourists with heavy pockets.
“Uhm… They asked: If I were able to start a civil war in any country of my choosing, which country would be most prone–and how would I do it?”
Ajax raised a surprised brow before pushing out his bottom lip in contemplation. “So, they basically admitted a sociopath into Castle Hill based on his ability to create global chaos. It isn’t exactly too far off the mark of admittance requirements."
He scoffed and looked to Paris like she would, in a moment of rarity, agree, but she was too busy admiring her nails, a beat passing before she asked, “And what did you write?”