Chapter Twenty-eight
Alexandr Miroslav
“I’m just afraid that I’ve lost some sort of humanity in me. Like my family might see something I couldn’t catch in my own reflection. Are my eyes emptier? Darker?”
I tilted my head. “This isn’t a movie, August.” I opened my arms out under the candlelight glow of his dorm and shrugged. “I’ve killed loads of people and look at me—as human as you.”
His eyes widened comically before I rolled my eyes and lowered my arms. “I’m joking. Slightly. Besides, it’s not as if death and murder are anything new in The Founder’s Society.”
I meant to lighten the mood, trying to shift his focus away from what might continue to haunt him, but he didn’t seem distracted. Or perhaps it was the wrong words.
I felt a prickle pressing on the hairs at the back of my neck, assuming it was discomfort. But the heavy blanket of someone’s gaze on me was acutely specific.
My muscles began to seize up as I turned my head to where I felt the shift of air.
Nestled in the corner, in between August’s stack of books and his desk, I found the space entirely void of any suspicion.
Narrowing my eyes and tilting my head, I stared at the corner for long seconds, in silence. As if someone watching a spider freeze its crawl and wondering if, at any moment, it would jump out towards them.
I let out a quiet breath, swallowing down my momentary lapse of judgment when my surroundings remained frozen in time, and shook my head.
August, none the wiser to the internal turmoil compressing against itself inside me, nodded slowly. “Right.”
He was a good person. Out of the seven of us, I would say he was the purest. He was sarcastic and aggravating, and oftentimes, I wished I could stick a fork into his hands when he would cut half of my meal and half of his to make us share.
It's what friends do, he always said.
But a big part of him reminded me of myself. Or how I imagined I might’ve turned out if my life had taken on a slightly different path. If I’d been born into a healthier family.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding and placed a palm over his shoulder, a serious air surrounding us.
I really wasn’t good at any of this, but I had to at least try.
“August, if you feel guilty or afraid, even in a self-preserving manner, that makes you just as human as everyone else. If not more. The world is filled with horrible, cruel people. I would know. So don’t worry about it.
You’ll be fine. Besides, it’s only a couple of weeks. ”
I nodded along with my words as they drifted away into the silence, and silent we remained. August was looking at me with those wide eyes again before he suddenly burst into tears.
“Oh god.” I groaned and began patting his back as he slid his arms around me. “There, there.”
I winced, my face twisting and nose wrinkling.
August tightened his arms around me as I tried pulling away. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, and I was standing over him. You can understand why I’d want to get away.
“Thank you. That was really nice. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” He spoke through blubbers that mirrored King’s–
I broke my thought before it could get far. “Right, yeah. No problem. Can you let go now?”
I looked over at Paris as Ajax smiled at the server for a reason I didn’t bother deciphering. He was rather pleased with himself.
Paris met my eyes, turning to face me. “What?”
I raised my brows at her curt tone. “Is there something wrong?”
Paris raised her brows, mirroring me, before closing her eyes in a momentary blink. “Maybe.”
I tilted my head away as Wolf threw his napkin at August with a chuckle for something he’d gestured. Most likely mocking Ajax.
The Gallery was as lively as it had always been on a Friday night.
Paris and I marched our familiar path to the store for cigarettes and box dye.
This time, she retrieved bobby pins and hair rollers.
These days, I spent so much time with Paris, under the pretense of watching over her and tracking her rehabilitation, I was beginning to understand an entirely different branch of English I never knew existed.
I realized I didn’t know a lot of things before coming to Castle Hill.
For example, I now knew that you don’t ever get an at-home perm kit.
The chemical smell isn’t worth the cop-out.
The salon wouldn’t let you leave out of there with anything that could overpower your perfume.
Except Paris swore to never get a perm, no matter the circumstance, after a 1979 incident that she wouldn’t dare delve into.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked.
Paris tilted her head. “Huh, I wonder what gave it away.”
I shrugged. “The withering stare.”
She gaped, offended. “I don’t have a withering bone in my body.”
I snorted, turning to the appetizers the server placed in front of me. I thanked her and unrolled my napkin. “I saw you pointing out Marceline’s bleach stain only yesterday in the middle of class.”
She blew out her cheeks, heat reaching her ears. Her hair grew longer over the months and was currently held back by a black satin headband. “She was insulting Ayana behind her back. If anything, I'm loyal.”
“Friends again?” I mixed my meal with my cigarette, taking a drag as Paris launched into a rather exciting story about the rocky friendship between herself and Ayana. I later discovered that she had been the first to knock on Paris’ door the night she’d taken me in to dye my hair.
“Can you believe the nerve of that girl? She claims that she’s seen me with you one too many times for it to be a coincidence since Callum had offered you a position.
Me, a spy? Sure, I may have asked what Callum had in store for the Queens Club starting January, but it was only out of pure curiosity. ”
Like hell it was. Paris, as it turns out, was taking it upon herself to make enemies with Callum when he’d given me that scare a month ago. And it was clear that Ayana wasn’t going to side with anyone other than her president.
I hadn’t noticed the table fall silent until Rained asked to confirm she’d heard correctly, “Ayana. As in Ayana Savané. She called you a spy?”
Paris nodded, speaking to the entire table now, “Uh-huh, she tried to call me a spy, but I gave it right back to her, let me tell you. I told her I’d known her longer than I’d known Sasha.
Why would I try to spy for a friend I’d made only recently?
She’s paranoid, maybe Callum’s breathing down her neck, maybe he’s the one who’s paranoid. ”
Rain nodded.
Paris, I found, often spoke as if she believed her lies.
I swallowed my bite and chimed in, “I’ll prepare for all possibilities over break. Besides, I have the student body president and the president of the largest club on campus in my corner.”
Perhaps that’s something Callum is only now beginning to consider. If he knew about The Founder’s Society, as he so confidently let on, he must know that he alone could only do so little damage, for whatever reasons he may have.
He was hasty in his plans despite the time given to think his offer through.
Ajax hummed. “I’ll say one weakness to look into is his supposed shaky relationship with his father.”
Wolf straightened, an idea seeming to form in his head. “My aunt hosts her annual film festival over the holidays. Matthew Queen is sure to be a guest. We could ask him ourselves.”
“Is that wise? Looking into something the board didn’t authorize?” August chimed in carefully.
I considered his question, wondering how the board would feel about us digging into matters they considered personal.
Rain met my gaze, and I cleared my throat. “Well, there is really only one way to find out. I’ll handle Thaddeus if things go south. There’s only so much he can do after all he’s invested.”
Paris clapped her hands. “Then it’s settled. The final Gallery Dinner of the year,” she said, and winked at us, “has been another success.”
I smiled despite myself, going to take another drag of my cigarette, only to find my hand empty. I zeroed in on the curved shape it remained in, to cradle said cigarette, before curling it into a fist.
The stretch of my lips drooped as I tried recalling when I had finished it. My eyes fell to the ashtray, the bud of it, there, long extinguished.
I titled my head.
Strange.
“Mr Miroslav, a moment of your time, please.” I opened my mouth wide and let out a silent scream, lifting my hands to grip my hair for a second before righting myself and turning back into Mr Browne’s classroom, composed.
“You wished to speak to me, sir?”
Mr Browne smiled that polite and plastic stretch of his lips before holding up a sealed envelope as though it was supposed to mean something without an explanation. At my blank expression, he elaborated, “Your grade report.”
My heart picked up in its pace as I looked at the envelope that now shone in a new light. When he went to open it, I rushed over and plucked it out of his hands. “Wait!”
Mr Browne reared back and looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. “Mr Miroslav, that was inappropriate. And frankly, rude.”
I rolled my eyes subtly, looking down at the envelope with my name on it, mumbling, “I want to see them first.”
I reached for the letter opener he had on his desk and sliced the seal apart, stuffing my impatient fingers inside. With a deep breath, I pulled out the papers, all of my assignment marks held inside. I didn’t care for them, shuffling them down the order before reaching the final exam report.
I read the title and closed my eyes before they could move farther down without the command of my mind.
I slid my eyes back open but didn’t look at what I very much wanted to. Instead, I flicked my eyes to Mr Browne.
A smile was growing on his face, and I turned my head away before thinking better of it and turning around completely, stepping farther away lest he looked over my shoulder.
“Really?” He asked from behind me.
I kept my back to him as I squinted with hunched shoulders. Anxiety filled my gut.
I’d never been so stressed about receiving a grade before. I’d been so used to the less-than-stellar comments from teachers after a test that I didn’t think I’d ever grow out of it. Except, here I was. Too scared of the results to look at a piece of paper.
You can do this.
I exhaled and inhaled twice in succession before forcing myself to just look. My eyes blinked wide and sharp.
At the results, I sagged. A visible strain and air of failure surrounded me.
“I’m… sorry, Alexandr. It doesn’t seem to be good news… Well, if it makes you feel any better, I feel too bad to scold you right now.”
I turned my head to meet his eyes over my shoulder. “Yeah… You will be sorry.”
He reared his head back, blinking wildly. “Excuse me?”
I held up the paper with a cocky smirk. “Ninety-one percent. You can kiss my attendance goodbye next semester.”
“I–” His features flattened into a deadpan stare as he poked his tongue against the side of his cheek with a shake of his head. “That wasn’t funny.”
I held up two fingers to my hairline in salute and walked away, turning to face him, my feet taking me away backwards. “Wasn’t meant to be, Cass.”
I didn’t mean for the words to slip out, but once they did, Cassius was unable to miss the ring of familiarity surrounding his name. And yet, a sense of regret didn’t seem to fill me.
I was happy to finally be free of my past’s shackles.
Well, not entirely.
You see, with my words seemingly falling on Cass like bricks, the last of his expressions I saw before bolting out of there to leave with Wolf back to America, I feel as though I’m forced to confess this.
It is because I am returning to America that I feel that I am compelled to finally tell the truth.
I had been the one to kill Alexei Andreeva. I burned his corpse along with those other young boys, and to this day, I don’t regret a single thing.
But perhaps, for salvation’s sake, I should have. Regretted, that is.
Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? We were all being punished for our sins. But mine was greater and weightier than the rest of The Founder’s Society. And maybe we were all being punished for it.