Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
RUELLA
Since the night of the rager in the forest, all I have accomplished is falling behind on my assignments and pissing off my lecturers.
It’s not from lack of trying, the exact opposite in fact.
My whole life is trying to figure out what is going on.
Yet every time I try and get close to someone who had a class or study group with Marlowe, I hit a brick wall.
As soon as I try and broach the subject of last year, they make an excuse and shuffle off.
Then there is Piper Vander. It is physically impossible to try and get her all alone, even when she goes to the bathroom, one of the boys guards the door and doesn’t allow anyone else in with her. Trust me, I have tried. Twice.
On top of that, Corden and Deena have been too busy to meet, my nightmares keep waking me up and I have been forgetting to take my meds.
All in all, I am utterly exhausted as I lie in my bed at 4pm on a Sunday, going over my next steps while trawling through Marlowe’s social media accounts, desperately looking for something.
My mind has other ideas. It keeps being pulled into images of a certain man with two different coloured eyes.
For the first couple of days, I will admit, I sheepishly avoided him from being embarrassed at my little outburst in the forest. Yet, his gaze followed me everywhere I went.
I could feel them on me, tracking each step, desperate to figure me out.
Then he disappeared.
The loss of his attention and distraction reminded me that I need to be doing the exact opposite of avoiding him.
He knows something, just like his sister.
I need to get close to him and find out what he knows.
I promised myself that when he got back from the lacrosse game he was away playing, I would try and rectify the situation.
But he never returned with the others.
I hate to admit it, but I tried to eavesdrop on his friends and even Darcy to find out where he was and when he would be back.
My heart strangely settled when I overheard Darcy telling her friend that he was doing business with his father and would be back by the end of this coming week.
Then I unwittingly filled with a little bitterness at the fact that Darcy knew this information about him, solidifying the points she snapped at me the other night.
I have my freedom on the line, I shouldn’t be upset about a man I will never see again after this.
I will be in Europe, travelling from city to city, finally finding myself.
Finally free. All the while, Asher Vander will become the CEO of his family’s company, marry Darcy, get a massive manor house in the country, and raise three perfectly manicured gremlins.
Having money but being so utterly bitter and angry.
Just like my father. The thought sends a shiver up my spine.
I shake my head to clear yet another daydream where I am not focused on the things that are most important.
Marlowe’s name is something I cannot question without a prompt myself, so I need to change tactics. If Marlowe and Bronwyn’s files were together, I am guessing that the same thing happened to both.
Tomorrow I am going to question people about Bronwyn instead.
She was here this year, literally the floor below me, in the same halls.
I have a right to ask where she might be.
The girl who stopped me to see if I had seen her that time in the stairwell is in my English class on Tuesday.
My chair is at the opposite end of the hall, but I can catch her before she leaves for her next class.
Deciding on that being my goal this week, I switch off my lamp and try to get some sleep.
My dreams have lately been filled with the horrors of him.
I get so panicked thinking I am back there; I wake screaming into my pillow.
After some eerie sounds echoing up the turret and being on edge from my own mind, I can never get back to sleep.
I lie there listening to the wind and rain bashing against the windows until the dulled sun light pierces through the thick clouds surrounding this place.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and say goodnight to every part of my body to calm my mind.
Goodnight toes, goodnight feet, goodnight ankles, goodnight calves... goodnight knees…goodnight thi….
***
I woke feeling better yesterday after my early night, I even managed to get a run in before my first class, this time keeping to just around the main hall.
I kept my music off and constantly scanned the area, but no hooded figure made a show.
I grabbed a quick breakfast with Corden, but he had to rush off before I got to question him about the file he took pictures of, but he did promise to have dinner with me on Friday, so I will have my interrogating hat on then.
I made it through most of my day unscathed and even caught up on most of my assignments. Then Darcy happened.
My afternoon pick me up coffee, ended up down my white shirt and along with it my papers I was about to hand in at my next class.
No one stopped, no one asked if I was okay.
Not even a single paper towel was handed to me and for a second, I felt like that thirteen-year-old girl again.
Her pain being ignored by everyone around her, made to feel less than human. Alone.
With my eyes burning, I ran to my room and locked myself away, skipping my class and probably about to receive a warning for not handing in the assignment.
I tried to get another early night, but I tossed and turned, eventually falling asleep at 1am only to wake up at 4am screaming into my pillow once more.
It’s safe to say I am absolutely shattered today, and Tuesdays are one of my busiest. I won’t be getting back to my room until late.
I can’t think of that right now though, I am on a mission.
English Literature. Lecture hall A. Mrs. Davies. Project, Befriend Lilia Rose Fox, aka Bronwyn’s friend.
I glance at the clock on the wall as Mrs. Davies walks to the front of the classroom, her red dress too tight for the age of her, but she looks like she was once a stunner before the kids sucked the life out of her.
I scan the other side of the seating and spot Lilia, her long red hair pulled back into a ponytail. She’s tall, taller than most, and broad shouldered, her thighs thick with muscle underneath her skirt. I guess that’s from all the sports.
Lilia and Bronwyn are on the school’s netball team, and from what I hear, the team is unbeatable.
Or was. Bronwyn was goal shooter, and her presence has been greatly missed.
Lilia is surrounded by two other girls and a curly haired boy, they are laughing and chatting as they pull out their folders, and I envy them for a second.
I wonder what it is like to have not a care in the world other than good grades, making friends and your boyfriend cheating on you.
Mrs. Davies goes on and on about Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey. I zone in and out of her lecture because, though it is one of my favourites, and one I have read three times. I just don’t care.
When the bell finally dings, I rush out of my seat and make my way over to the group across from me, they linger while chatting and putting their things back into their bags.
The boys’ stare locks on me as I stand to the side of the row and his head tilts as though assessing me.
He is conventionally attractive. Nothing rememberable and dark like Asher, but pleasant enough.
Dirty blonde curly hair, Black square framed glasses, full lips and a rosy cheeky.
He reminds me of a cherub you see painted in Italy.
Lilia stands and I make my move after clearing my throat, the boy beside her still staring.
“Erm, excuse me,” She turns to face me and smiles.
“Hey,” Sweet voice, just like the rest of her.
“Hey,” I smile back. “Your Lilia, right?”
“I am,” she pulls her bag onto her shoulder. “And you are Ruella Griffith,”
I nod and decide to go for it. “That girl you were looking for, Bronwyn Bell. The one on the floor below me,” I pause while her eyebrows collect in the middle of her forehead. “Did you ever find her? Because I’ve never seen her come in and out of her room,”
“Oh yeah,” She chuckles. My face must show my confusion because she continues.
“When I went to see Mr. Carmichaels to report it, he told me that her mother had already emailed the school about her withdrawal from the Academy. Bronwyn sent her mother a letter telling her she’s done with the academy and is going travelling instead since her trust fund kicked in,” My head draws back as her friends leave. All but the boy.
“Hang on, I thought she was some netball prodigy? Why would she leave when the team is so good?”
She shakes her head but gives me a questioning once over.
“I have no idea. But I do know she has had a pretty shitty up bringing. Her parents aren’t really involved, and she has spent most of her life being raised by a nanny.
She always spoke about heading to America where one of her friends from boarding school was from.
I’m guessing she went there,” She smiles.
“Have you heard from her since? Texted, called? Any posts on social media?” I ask quickly. Lilia looks around and moves closer to me as she lowers her voice.
“I know you are new to the school, but this is common here. Not everyone is made out for this much pressure. Especially when you don’t have the support at home,” She nods a sad smile before leaving me standing next to her row.
I am lost in thought when the curly haired cherub approaches.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I blink before answering. “Yes, sure,” I answer cautiously.
Everyone always wants to know more about me, and rightly so.
I ask the same of them. But I can’t be truthful, and I didn’t realise how hard that would be in a setting like this.
I want to make connections and friends. But I can’t do that here.
“Are you by any chance related to Marlowe Astor?” He assesses my face as I try to contain my shock. This is the first mention of her name in the weeks I have been here. This is my chance. I lie.
“No, sorry. Who’s Marlowe Astor?”
“Oh, your eyes are so similar. I thought you might be cousins or something,” The only thing we have similar is our eyes. Dad’s eyes.
I ask again. “Who’s Marlowe? Does she go here?”
“She used too,” He rubs the back of his neck as he scans the now empty lecture hall, before his attention comes back to me.
“To be honest, I was hoping you could have told me where she went. Gave me her new number or address,” I stay silent but engaged hoping he will continue.
“We were meant to go out in the summer after the term ended, but she never replied. She told me her dad was…” He pauses then chuckles nervously.
“Sorry. You don’t need to hear all this.
You just said you have no idea who she is,”
I shake my head desperate to keep this conversation going. “Don’t be sorry. I’m a good listener,” I lift one shoulder. “And I’m new here, maybe, we can go for lunch, and you can tell me about her? I have a few friends dotted around the country who might know her,” I lie again.
He looks around nervously. “What’s your name?” I ask before he blows me off.
“Max,” He smiles.
I hold my hand out. “Hey Max, I’m Ruella,” He takes my hand in his with a small smile.
“Nice to meet you,”
“So, fancy lunch?”
“I can’t today, but I can on Friday?”
Argh. Three more days before I get to grill him again. I guess that’s all I can get for now.
Max is the only person willing to talk about Marlowe, which means that Max is my new best friend.
“Friday it is,”
“See you then Ruella,” He shouts over his shoulder as he leaves the hall, and I fist pump the air in triumph. One step closer to finding Marlowe. One step closer to freedom.