Chapter Twelve
Alexandr Miroslav
I woke with a start, sitting up in a fit of sweat as I looked around the empty dorm. The dream seemed to be morphing with reality because, for a long moment, I didn’t know what I was looking at. I didn’t know what I was hoping to see.
The nightmares were getting worse with each passing day. So much so that sometimes, faces morphed over mine in a hell of my mind’s own making.
Well, it was always one in particular, during the darkest hours of my sleep.
A knock on my door jolted me into motion, like the spark that finally brings a dead car battery back to life. I pushed the duvet away and scrambled for the sound, my movements jittery from the adrenaline still in my system.
To my surprise, it was Ajax that stood on the other side of my door.
“What are you doing here?” I ran a hand over my hair, willing the messy strands down as I poked my head out to look down the empty hall.
Ajax shrugged, leaning away, giving me space to peer, before leaning back in when I straightened. “Your friend asked me to wake you on my way in from morning practice.”
Wolf?
“What time is it?”
“Seven forty.”
“Crap!” At his words, I rushed back into my dorm and threw open the closet door for the clean uniform I was sure was waiting for me.
I dressed in record speed, brushed my teeth and splashed ice cold water over my face to wake myself up further.
By the time I’d finished picking up my bag on the way out, Ajax was still waiting for me.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I hustled down the hall.
He shrugged, his steps matching my own. “I have a free period, and you seem interesting enough.”
He reminded me of someone I knew, but I couldn't place my finger on it.
Someone I’d stolen from? Someone who'd stolen from me?
It was getting harder and harder to remember what my life had been like before Castle Hill. Almost as if I’d begun at the gates and ended at my dorm, the sum of my existence.
This wasn’t a bad place to die, if I’d thought about it long enough. It is the best option I’ve stumbled upon so far.
“Hey, Alexandr?”
I pushed open the door and stepped out into the gloomy morning, the dark clouds swallowing the sky with threats of rain were no longer something I questioned the chances of. “What?”
Ajax tightened his letterman jacket closer around himself to ward off the chill. “Today’s the day of the dinner.” He pulled out a small card from his pocket and held it out to me.
I paused in my step, classes forgotten.
“Where did you get that?”
My mind reeled back to what Thaddeus had told me. Was he purposefully excluding me to test me?
Ajax tilted his head and furrowed his brows, maybe at the suspicion in my voice. “You were in such a hurry you didn’t notice it slipped under your door. I got mine this morning too.”
I took the card from between his fingers and into my own, flipping the slick, expensive paper, the light catching on the gold lettering.
The Gallery. 9 p.m.
Appropriate attire required.
I read it over and nodded slowly, relief filling me. I rolled my neck, pushing away the conclusion I’d jumped to in my mind. “So… uhh… What’s considered appropriate attire?”
Ajax linked his hands behind his head and started walking backgrounds as we continued down the path, passing the turn into the Rec Zone, an area I’d never been to. Come to think of it, I’d never explored the campus on my own as much as I’d hoped I would.
“It’s The Gallery, the restaurant is strict about that sort of thing to make themselves more exclusive. Honestly, I think it’s stupid.”
I didn’t. I understood that there will always be a distinct line of difference between rich and poor, and the rich preferred to keep that line as thick as possible. Perhaps Ajax had never set foot in the projects and was blind to the hierarchy we were all born into.
At my silence, he continued to speak, “Essentially, trousers and a pressed dress shirt. Quarter zips, appropriate vests, suits, that kind of thing.”
I decided that the only thing resembling what Ajax was describing, put together with what I owned, was my uniform. If I removed the jacket, I’d have a pressed dress shirt and trousers.
I nodded along as Ajax fought to walk backwards without leaning too far to one side or the other before giving up and turning to hustle alongside me. After a few moments of silence, he opened his mouth to speak. I cut him off. “What do you play?”
He looked at me in confusion, and I elaborated, “You said you had morning practice earlier.”
He nodded in remembrance. “Mmm, yeah, I play football. It’s fun.”
It didn’t sound fun from his tone, almost as if he wished that it was, but found it coming short each time. “You don’t have any other interests?”
“Do you?”
I could feel the raised brow directed at the side of my face, but I kept my gaze forward, to the growing buildings which held our classes. I wasn’t particularly excited to start my morning with Mr Browne, and so I slowed my steps only by a little bit. Ajax seemed like the lesser of two evils.
His question wasn’t something I was afraid to answer, in fact, not by a long shot. But he was building towards something, that, I was sure of.
“Maybe the Queens Club, but I’m still reviewing my options.”
Ajax scoffed out a surprised laugh. “You could only be suicidal if you would willingly join the Queens Club.”
His words were fueled with barely concealed venom, and I wanted to question him but found it better to leave it alone.
I’ve heard enough remarks about the Queens Club that it was beginning to give me a headache.
“Like I said, I’m still reviewing my options.” I shrugged and readjusted my bag over my shoulder. I’d never join, and from what I’d seen during my last visit to the theatre, I was sure I wouldn’t ever set foot near any of their registration forms.
Callum Queen was clever, though. Perhaps on par with Rain when he isn’t presenting himself as someone with no greater ambitions than being the poshest bully.
He remained under Rain Atlas Jett’s radar as someone she didn’t have to worry about.
But if I remember correctly, Callum was a Queen, and he would be an idiot if his only goal was to throw his name around.
But something told me he wasn’t an idiot; he was just really good at playing one.
“Perhaps I’ll visit Fenlon Hall and see if anything is going on there,” I said with concealed intentions behind my words.
It wasn’t something that I’d intended to discuss with him, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. If anything, he had been too obvious in his strange vexation towards anything with the Fenlon name attached. Who was I to ignore it?
Ajax paused in his steps, and I continued walking before coming to a halt, turning to him with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”
He looked over my face, his features no longer friendly. “You know, Alexandr, there’s something about you. And I’m willing to back you because God knows anyone worth sponsoring is worth more than the names and money any of these kids have. But don’t meddle in things you can’t understand.”
I had known I’d hit the nail in the coffin, and I decided then that I liked Ajax Vesper, because not many people can threaten someone so outright, in turn, outing themselves.
He was either sure of himself or thought he was.
But one thing was for certain: I wouldn’t have to dig for the nuggets of truth between the lines with him, unlike the mental exhaustion Rain would have put me through.
I smiled. “Alright, I’ll digress–”
“No, you’ll leave it. For good.”
What was the name of the boy who’d died?
Malakai Young.
If Ajax had skeletons in his closet he wanted to keep there, he must know we are two faces of the same coin.
I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you walking with me? Ask what it is you want to know.”
He stood quietly for a few moments before shuffling closer, leading us back down our continued path.
“You’ll answer it?” He asked slowly.
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
He chuckled softly. “You and Rain are like two sides of the same coin, you know?”
Is he telepathic?
“Is that your question?”
“No… no, just an observation. I wanted to ask why you dye your hair.”
This time, it was my turn to pause. He tilted his head back towards me, almost proud of himself.
Sometimes I found myself so secretive of everything around me, that these little facts didn’t have to appear so. “I don’t like to stand out. Besides, how’d you even notice?”
We both knew I was lying, but I never said I’d answer honestly. “Your roots are starting to show. Kind of looks like snowflakes on your hair.”
I went to tighten the cap around my head before remembering the rush I was in. I must have forgotten it. We were leaving campus tonight and there was bound to be a store around that sold hair dye. It shouldn’t be too–
Mr Browne.
I almost bit my tongue in the process of grinding my teeth before I turned to Ajax, an idea forming in my head. “Hey, I feel like skipping. Do people do that around here?”
Ajax blinked at the abruptness of my question before letting out an amused huff of air. “As long as you have a reason. Shouldn’t be a problem, considering Jett is bound by the Society to do what we want.”
I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes to the ground. “I’m… not sure that’s how it works.”
Ajax sighed almost regrettably and shook his head. “You have so much to learn, and I blame Wolf for keeping you in the dark for so long.”
It wasn’t long before we were settled in the student lounge at Abbot House with Ajax lying down on the sofa and I on the singular cushioned seat facing him.