Monday, March 22, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
CHAPTER 4
Chapter 4
When different worlds collide
Esme
Chris.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rude this morning.
After all, he only wanted what was best for me.
Yet, as I strolled through the grey courtyard, the noisy Red Blazers Sea parting quickly before me, my mind rolled itself back to those horrid memories; it was Chris that had grounded me all those times, Chris who left in that police station for a night after the joyride in that police car. It had been Chris who had embarrassed me in front of the mafia occasionally, pulling me away from many oh-so-promising street races that I could have easily won. It was Chris….
No.
I won’t answer.
With a defiant frown, I tossed the ringing cell phone back into my pocket and continued my solemn march across the grounds.
Just as it always was, the courtyard was busy with lunch. Students gathered at tables in their different cliques, red blazers pulled tightly over bodies in an attempt to shy away from the untiring chill. An icy gale swept over the grey stones and red bodies, just as it had yesterday; the only difference this afternoon was the heavy, turbulent black clouds that boomed above. Low rumbles of far-away thunder threatened down from up above, the white hot zigzags of lightening stretching their fingers in the shuddering dark. Dried brown leaves swirled above heads and around feet, the last of autumn’s tears caught in invisible arms. Despite it all, the junior and senior class of Redfield Institute continued with their lunch outside; nobody wanted to give up their all so important tables.
Unlike the others, I didn’t bother to even wear my blazer.
I hate that bloody thing.
As I made my way through the dispersing red cloud, my mind still fixed on this morning’s argument with Chris, my subconscious picked up a familiar image from the corner of my eye; Riddle sat at a lonely grey table, her ink black hair plastered down on her head by the wind. Small shoulders hunched her body over the silver tray as she nibbled into her casserole, her shaggy black hair falling over those strange eyes of hers. Pale hands held up her lunch as she nodded her head at something, her green tie pulled back over her red-clad shoulder in protection. Pale white cheekbones stuck out of her small face, pressing gently against her black fringe.
Ah.
Perfect.
Something to get my mind of Chris.
Say, last night.
As I moved through the crowd, changing course in my wake, my eyes prove to correct my earlier analysis; the strange girl from yesterday was not alone. Sitting beside her at the table was a pretty blond boy, his golden curls dancing in the rushing wind. Even from this distance, at least 10 meters away, it was obvious to see that the boy was a thing of beauty; he was freaking sculptured like a Greek God. Bright golden curls kissed against a handsome pale face, his lily white skin soft and tender under the wavering sunlight. His slightly long hair was sleek wet over his head, streams of curling gold drawn back in a single, smooth movement; it was as if his hair was made of out of the purest of gold. His face was an envy of even me-a strong, defined chin and a flawless, angular nose fitted his pale face perfectly, his bright green eyes flashing with mischief and humour. Cold, strong hands waved about animatedly as he chattered excitedly to Riddle, a cocky, delicious grin cracking white gleaming teeth across the pale skin. A heavy red blazer dangled dangerously over his back; the smooth, white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, his white muscles rippling beneath the pale cloth. The green tie hung loosely around his neck.
God.
He was beautiful!
……
I think Morgan dated him before.
“Yo,” I greeted simply as I finally approached the table, my feet pulling me out of the red crowd and smack infront of my destination. Behind the cobbled table, Riddle and her companion raised their heads at me; Riddle drew up her face from her food, her brow folding in on itself at the sight of me. Haunting silver eyes stared across the table through the bank of falling black, her eyebrows rising slightly. Beside her, the good-looking blonde imitated her expression.
As the silence stretched between us three, I finally heaved an irritated sigh.
“Wow. Silence. Is that the only greeting you know, Riddle?”
Without even waiting for a reply, I deftly placed my silver tray down onto the cobbles with a loud thud, the clear glass of apple juice trembling at the impact. My cold legs moved quickly over the bench, climbing over the grey seat. In a single movement, my butt was planted heavily down on the slab of stone, fingers momentarily abandoning my tray to neat out my skirt. Above us all, the gale kicked up another notch, its icy breath whipping my bronze hair past my face.
“Delicious, isn’t it,” I grinned an easy smile up at my two new companions, matching their blank, are-you-kidding-me stares with a charming glow, “Tuna Tuesday. I wish everyday was Tuna Day.” Directly opposite me, Riddle half-leaned forward, her eyes glinting slight annoyance.
“Did I say or do something last night that gave you the idea that this was ok?”
“What are you talking about? I happened to remember that you yourself, silver eyes, invited me for lunch last night. Have you forgotten already?” My lips ended up over my tuna casserole, the sweet smell of fresh tuna stinging my nose with flavour. My stomach growled.
“Hmm…in the principal’s office?”
“Why you-…”
Before she could continue, the pretty blonde boy reached forward a white hand and pulled Riddle back by her sleeve, drawing her face towards his in a rough motion. Up close, I could now see that Mr. Greek God wasn’t all that perfect; little flecks of near-invisible freckles dotted his pearly white skin, splaying across his fine features, soothing them. Across his left eye ran a thin scar, almost undetectable in the light.
He was still good-looking, though.
“Last night?” the blonde boy hissed into his friend’s ear, his bright green eyes keeping on me with a strange glint, “What the hell, Riddle?! Did something happen last night?! Something I should know about?! Did you frigging have you know…sex with her or something like that!?” His white fingers kept their hold on Riddle’s sleeve as he whispered fiercely to her, his words loud enough but me to hear.
Stupid fool.
In a rather bored voice, Riddle gingerly nodded.
“Yes, I did and after that, we went to a bar to get ourselves drunk. Then we had some drugs and was stoned till the morning…no I didn’t, you asshole! Use your brain for once.”
“Then what is it like, Riddle? Since when have you and Hot Pants over there even been nice-…”
“I can hear you, you know,” I finally decided to cut in, washing down part of casserole with a mouthful of Coke. Opposite me, the pretty boy and Riddle parted abruptly, eyes flashing their attention back to me. The white hand released Riddle’s sleeve.
For a moment or so, silence engulfed us like a blanket, smothering us. It was a little awkward, really, but I would have it no other way. After all, who knows what nonsense could come out of these idiot’s mouths? The wind continued its cold, unforgiving whipping as I munched on my casserole; one thing good about this damn school was that it always had good tuna. Leeching cold wrapped themselves around my bare legs, chilling me to my bones. My hair needed to be combed down.
Finally, out of the silence, the pretty blonde boy leaned forward and spoke to me directly for the first time, raising a single dark eyebrow.
“Can I ask you a question?” Never in my 17 years had I seen eyes so green. Instead of answering him, I raised my eyes from my food and gazed calmly at the boy, meeting his eyes with mine. The cold stung my skin like fire. After a few seconds, the boy proceeded to talk, his eyes glinting a mischievous light.
“That deal of yours, the one with the devil; can I get in?”
I stared blankly at the blonde boy before turning to the Riddle with a raised eyebrow.
“Who’s the moron?”
“Just ignore Alex,” Riddle answered me with a calm smile, a smile that always seem to infuriate me these days, “I don’t know if you have noticed b-…
“Are we sitting here from now on?”
All three heads snapped up as a boyish voice cut Riddle off; standing beside the table, frowning curiously down at us was none other then my John, his brown side-bangs sweeping into the frail wind. Red cheeks blossomed beneath tranquil azure eyes in the cold, his red blazer hooked at the top like so many others in the courtyard. The tight green tie around his neck trembled against the white shirt, the wind reaching under the cloth and puffing it out in places. Like all, a silver tray glinted in his hands.
“Temporarily, love,” I smiled at my old friend, forgetting the other two instantly, “Sit, anyway.”
In the background, the pretty blonde boy openly groaned. With a simple shrug, eyes downcast, John took the seat beside me, setting his silver tray down on the cobbled table top with gentle hands. Without much thought, he placed himself directly opposite Mr. Greek God; the latter glared at the oblivious boy with squinted green eyes, like an alpha lion cautious of a new male.
What a moron.
As John eased his way into comfort, Riddle raised her eyebrow and made to speak, opening her mouth. However, I cut her off in time, my gold eyes shinning at the boy beside me.
“Are you going to eat that?”
“Yes, I am,” John replied with a sour expression as he finally made himself comfortable, a tanned hand blocking the tuna casserole from me instinctively, “Get your own. Besides, you know how sick you get when you eat too much tuna.”
“That only happens when I cook them myself,” I grumbled, my face screwing up slightly at the thought, “Besides, I’m starved. Couldn’t you spare some?”
“Didn’t you eat breakfast?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I did! It doesn’t change the fact that I’m still hungry!”
“You’re a pig,” John accused with narrow eyes, hand still shielding his tuna, “You know that? The biggest one I have ever seen.”
“Look who’s talking, Mr Eat-Al-…”
“As interesting as all this is, really,” Riddle interrupted me, quite rudely if you ask me, “Can you two pl-…”
Once again, poor Riddle was interrupted; at the other end of the cobbled table, the familiar face of Morgan slammed her silver tray down onto the grey, splattering specks of white tuna into the windy air. All 4 heads snapped in her direction. As it always was with the Irish girl, Morgan Bell looked beautiful; her thick black hair was tied behind her in a tight ponytail, not a strand astray as the wind hushed her cheeks red. Fierce blue eyes flashed down at them as her manicured hands gripped the edges of her tray tightly, stinging red at the forceful effort. Pure frustration burned in her pretty blues, her sleek white forehead bent and crinkled in anger. Beside Riddle, Alex collapsed his head against the black cobbles in absolute defeat.
“Morgan?”
Without replying me, Morgan muttered a soft curse and quickly slid into the seat beside John, knocking the silver tray angrily across the cobbles. Cheeks flushed red with anger as she neated out her plaited skirt deftly. Beneath her prim red blazer, the white shirt and green tie seemed untouched by the wind. Her long black ponytail swished away behind her head, the pair of silver clips glinting at her ear. Anger radiated off her in waves.
“Are you okay?” John looked at the raven-haired girl beside him cautiously, edging slowly towards me as Morgan stomped her way through lunch. Her firm shoulders pulled her back a razor sharp.
“You know what?” She snapped curtly as her eyes kept on the wrapped lunch in her hand, her Irish accent rolling over her tongue in thick waves, “No. No. I’m not okay. I’m bloody furious!” Opposite us, Riddle and Alex were completely ignored; instead, Morgan busied herself with the tuna casserole, fingers fiercely tearing the dainty silver wrapping apart. Her breath came out in quick stabs. After a short, gale-ridden pause, I raised both my eyebrows.
“Ooooooookayyyyy…” I tried on a wary smile as darting gazes were exchanged between John and I. The gale whipped my chin-length hair harshly against my cheek, like a leather whip. Another pause stretched, before I continued on with a heavy sigh.
“Did I do something again, M? Because if I did, whatever I did, I’m really, really-…”
“It has nothing to do with you, Esme,” Morgan cut me of curtly, her voice as crisp as the frail air, “It’s my bloody parents.” With that, she ended her thickly-accented sentence with a vicious dig into her food, perfect white teeth biting savagely. Opposite from her, Riddle watched with a slight smile as the pretty blonde boy raised a single eyebrow. A ripple of a muscle jumped at his smooth white jaw; it was as if the sight of Morgan seemed to put him off a little.
Hell.
Maybe they did go out, after all.
“Parents?” John voiced in, dropping his own lunch as he looked upon our friend with genuine concern. Despite the icy wind, a bead of sweat rolled down his neck. Beside him, I voiced my own concerns.
“Oh, oh. Thick accent trouble. What they do now?”
“My mum lost the Bendel deal.”
“WHAT?!” John’s voice seemed to carry on for yards as his voiced my exact thought; WTF?! His blue eyes drew open with surprise as the feisty girl beside him.
“Impossible!” I snapped out my own analysis of the situation as my face screwed up helplessly, the very thought of Mrs. Bell’s loss repulsing me for some unknown reason, “Your mum designed the spring collection for them already; they just can’t quit on her like that!” It was true, to say the very least. I may not know lot about fashion but from all the top fashion shows my brother had me attend for the sake of publicity, I had learned a few things; one of which was that contracts drawn between partners in this business could not be easily forgotten, and the other being that Katherine Bell’s designs were epic in her own right.
Something must have gone wrong, obviously.
Morgan’s next words stuck to my prediction.
“Not unless it’s caught up in a legal matter,” the pretty brunette simply muttered into her hand as she stuffed the last of her casserole into her mouth, not even caring a slightest for grace. Her fierce black ponytail lashed against the turbulent wind. Opposite me, Riddle watched with an interested smile. Her pretty friend’s lips cocked a humoured grin.
“WHAT?!” John seemed to like that word a lot as he’s already wide eyes magnified at Morgan, his jaw dropping down slightly. His tuna casserole laid undisturbed in his hand. Mine was a different matter all together.
“I nmwo!” Morgan sourly yelled, her delicate mouth stuffed with tuna.
“How-…”
“What on earth did your mother do now?” I cut John off with a sigh, regrettably dropping my tuna heaven back on my plate. Something told me that Morgan deserved my every attention. In a slight huff, swallowing her tuna quickly, the dark-haired girl began to explain, her Irish accent thicker then ever as she glared a pair of shaky blue at us.
“It’s my fawther, really. He’s bloody doing this. H-He’s insistin’ that Mama’s usin’ my child support for the spring collection. Can you believe that?! Mama would never-…”
“Did she?”
“ESME!!!”
“What?! It’s pos-…”
Opposite me, Riddle finally got tired of it all; in sickly fake voice, she leaned forward, a stupid smile plastered across her white face.
“Look, as much as this amuses me, will you three please get lost?” Her white beamed startling rays as her black hair pulled across her face, partially hiding her silver eyes, “You are all very noisy. Your stupidity and nonsensical conversation is all making me very annoyed.” Beside her, the pretty blonde boy nodded his agreement, a Cheshire grin stretching across his fine features.
At the voice, the three of us stopped conversing abruptly; with snaps of heads, we turned startled stares at Riddle and her friend. The wind pulled at all our hairs. In those blank few seconds, silence covered us all, our minds oblivious to the turning world of red around us. The pillar of gloom and black smiled easily beside the smirking gold beside her, silver and green eyes returning our blank, impassive stares. At the corner, a distant cry called among the red.
Finally, Morgan tore through the silence, her crisp voice tightening as she spoke.
“Where the hell did you two come from?” she bit savagely, licking her tuna-covered lips as her blue eyes stared down the blonde boy before her, “And since when was it okay to be even near me, Alex? What are you like? I thought I made it clear that I can’t stand even the sight of you.” Her eyebrows deepened in growing frustration as she kept her undoubting gaze at the pretty boy opposite her, ripples of muscles jumping at her jaw. At the other end of the table, the pretty boy-Alex-matched her unnerving stare with an untouched smirk.
Ah, yes.
They definitely dated.
……
Well, I can’t keep up with all of Morgan’s boyfriends, now can I?!
“Hey,” Alex retorted smoothly as the smirk kept to his lips, lighting up his handsome face with a naughty glint, “I can sit wherever I want, whenev-…”
“Shut up, you two,” I finally clicked out of it, my voice snapping viciously at the quarreling old lovers. Ex-flames could be so annoying. Turning my screwed face away from them, I leaned slightly over the table, focusing my attention back on my initial target.
“Listen, Riddle. I have an idea about the case with that Clare girl. I was thinking-…”“What case?” John finally decided to make himself heard again, swiveling on the grey seat to turn a raised eyebrow at me. His curiosity was always so maddening. As his eyes shrank back into its normal size, Alex voiced out his own query, ignoring Morgan completely.
“Clare? What about Clare?”
“What the bloody hell are you two talking about?” Morgan joined in, abandoning her previous trail of conversation.
“WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP?!?!”
Just as I finished my exasperated shout, a chorus of laughing sprang from the center of the courtyard, spreading in waves. All 5 heads at the table turned to see what the commotion was about; Sarah stood in the center of the red crowd, surrounded by a convoy of laughing minions. Her hands were on her hips as she snickered down at someone; the blonde bobbing head of Clare struggled to pick up her splattered tuna from floor, her tray strayed away from her fall. Laughter resounded around her as she raised a tuna-covered knee to rise once again; Sarah shoved her back down to her shoes with a hard push to the head. Blonde strands flew in the unrelentless wind.
“TUNA!”
Riddle
Sarah and the Barbie doll gang were making quite a scene. A scene worthy of being a movie called, “Pretty rich girl, gone bad.” The scene at the courtyard was disturbing. Clare was being pushed down onto the ground repeatedly by one of Sarah’s 6 followers. All pretty, rich and terribly blond. Blond people, ah blond people, don’t get me wrong I have nothing against them…I glanced sideways at the dark blond girl beside me. Esme was staring at the wasted tuna with enough fury to kill. Why do blond people always give me trouble?
Clare was struggling to get up again when she was shoved forward and kicked in the stomach. Some students were laughing at the scenes, others glancing away. The teachers, obviously taking notice of the scene ignored it. See, the thing about being in a rich school is that sometimes certain students get special privileges and Sarah Hue Johnson was one of them. Her father owns half of the trading companies in New York and some of the largest corporations around the world. On which being the largest donator to our school, no one dares touch Sarah…except well now.
Clare cried out again as she was shoved to the ground, some people laughed and I felt boiling anger rushing through my blood. “That’s why I told you to leave her…” I whispered under my breath. “I told her…”
“Rid,” Alex whispered behind me, seeing my clenched hand, “Are you alright?”
He grabs my wrist and tried to pull me back to the seat. He wasn’t laughing like he normally would. I turned to smirk at him and he winced. “Rid…don’t tell me…”
“Tuna…” I heard Esme murmuring beside me as she saw another plate land on the floor. I broke off laughing and Alex, John, Morgan and Esme turned to face me looking at me like I was mad or something. I grab the Esme’s plate from the table we were eating it and grab the tuna casserole.
‘Rid…what are you going to do…I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” Alex said, his voice high pitched, he glanced at the wide eyed Esme who was now glaring at me with fire in her eyes.
“Yes, Miss Riddle, I don’t think you should do that…” Morgan whispered behind me. The boy John was still munching on his food enjoying the show. Well, Esme has some weird friends...
‘What the hell are you going to do with my tuna…?” Esme said her voice dangerously low. Her eyes glared at me beneath her dark blond chin length hair.
“Let’s play catch shall we?” I said calmly and with a giant swish of my arm I threw the tuna casserole into the air. The casserole sailed through the air fast and furious; it flew towards Sarah and her gang. As I had planned, once I threw the casserole, Esme took off after it with surprising speed. She dashed through the courtyard, pushing screaming people out of the way and leaping over obstacles.
Placing my hand on my fore head, like a soldier greeting his superior, I whistled. I really threw the casserole far. “Rid, what the hell are you doing!? You just offended the fire girl!?” Alex shouted at me, taking me by both shoulders and shaking me hard.
“What did you just call Esme…she’s not the fire girl, you flirt, she’s Esme Conner!” Morgan shouted at Alex who flinched.
“Great,” John whispered and I smirked taking off after Esme Conner.
Esme did a beautiful ballerina leap into the air and caught the casserole, baseball style. She landed flat on one of Sarah’s followers who gave a mighty scream. Esme crashed onto the ground, the girl beneath her gave a tiny shriek before her head fell to the ground. It was obvious that she had fainted.
“My oh my,” I whispered. The consequences of my actions and Esme would land us in deep trouble but did I care, no…because right now my anger was getting the better of me, I call this absolute stupidity. Sarah was screaming at Esme who was cuddling her casserole in her hands and whispering, “My precious tuna, you are alright,” she murmured.
“What the hell are you doing? Bitch!” Sarah screamed at Esme. Her follower was squashed and unconscious beneath Esme.
“Playing catch,” I answered Sarah who turned to me quickly. Her face screwed up in anger.
“YOU! RIDDLE FROM DAY ONE I KNEW YOU WOULD BE TROUBLE!” she screamed so loudly, she got the whole school’s attention. Now all eyes were upon us and the tension was very strong.
“Rid, I think we should head back,” Alex whispered into my ear. Morgan and he had ran here, John still eating peacefully at the table. I shrugged him off and walked calmly towards Clare who was on the ground, sobbing. Her skirt was in ruins, her blouse torn up. I saw a bloody scar on her knees and the bruises on her stomach. Fury rushed through me and my fist clenched so tightly that my veins could be seen.
“Rid…” Alex whispered, wanting to touch my shoulder but holding back. Sarah and her followers were watching my every move. Esme was still cuddling her casserole. I bent over and picked Clare up and handed her to Alex and Morgan. “Take her to the medical office,” I told Alex.
“But…” Alex said.
“Just go!” I said to him, he tensed and with the help of Morgan carry the injured Clare to the medical office.
I turned to Sarah, who pointed her finger at me. Her followers surrounded me and Esme. I snorted, yes snorted like a pig and walked towards Esme and patted her shoulder.
“How’s your tuna casserole?” I asked her casually.
Esme stood up and pointed her finger at me, “YOU!” She shouted, shocking me her voice deep and filled with anger. I raised both my hands in front of me. “Hold on a minute, there’s no need to get so angry…it’s just tuna,” I said before laughing. “Right?”
“YOU! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY!” Esme shouted.
“Are you going to ignore me, Riddle!” Sarah shouted her followers coming in on us. This situation was laughable. Try imagining this Barbie dolls up against gorillas…who would win…?
The answers pretty clear of course.
“I’m not ignoring you, I was just making sure Esme casseroles were ok,” I told Sarah. Upon hearing that both Esme and Sarah shouted at me at the same time.
Two things happened then; Esme lunged at me, a follower of Sarah’s stepped behind me and was about to smash her petty hands onto my hair. Esme’s fist came closer and the follower’s hand was reaching the top of my hair.
Watching lots of slow mo national geographic films’ always does the trick. I turned sideways; the follower missed my head and fell forward. Esme fist came next, catching the follower full on the cheeks. There was a loud “WHAMP!” and the follower fell to the ground, groaning in pain, blood escaping her mouth.
“Whoa,” I said. Sarah gave a shriek and I dodge and incoming follower who had reached out to grab my waist pincer style but missed completely, clasping air. Esme who missed me sent a nice punch to the girl’s neck. The girl fell back choking.
“One little two little three little weasel…” I said, dodging Esme with everything I got, it wasn’t easy, Esme was very fast and her blows very hard, you could feel the force behind them.
A stood in front of a follower who was about to kick me and Esme came at me running at full speed with her fist out stretched, I squat and Esme fist crashed into the girl’s fore head, I heard a crack as the girl’s head cracked awkwardly backwards.
“Pop goes the weasel,” I whispered, smirking.
‘What are you doing!? Get them!” Sarah shouted at her remaining two followers. The two followers were terrified, their hands shaking and their legs crooked. Their looks insignificant. I dodged another of Esme punch and leapt onto the table.
Esme who couldn’t stop one of her punches in time, crashed into one of the followers and they went tumbling down. Esme landing on the girl who faint immediately groaning as she fainted. The last follower started to scream, I vaguely remembered her name it was Mary, Mary I think. She began to run; standing on top of the table I smirk.
“Mary had a little lamb,” I sang.
I leapt off the table, feeling myself defy gravity I landed with my two shoes on the last follower’s face. She fell backwards and using her face as a spring board I pushed off, before somersaulting 360 degrees into the air and landing on the ground and doing a gymnastic landing.
“It became roasted lamb,” I whispered.
Esme came from behind me and I almost gasped, I didn’t see her coming. I side stepped her quickly and she stumbled forward while I stumbled sideways.
“WHY YOU- MY FATHER WOULD HEAR OF THIS!” Sarah screamed at us, this time however, she was scared, absolutely horrified. Esme and I flicked out heads to her. My smirk disappeared and a look of pure anger erupted from within.
“I hate petty SPOILT, BIMBOTIC, STUPID girls!” I said, half shouting. Sarah backed away as I approached her. Something came up from behind me and I felt something sharp graze my wrist, pain erupted. I dodge it never the less as it gave a loud hit. I heard a cracking sound. I looked behind and saw Esme with her fist clenched, her teeth baring. Her fist had just smacked into Sarah’s beautiful nose, which was now bleeding badly. There was a loud defeating silence from around the courtyard.
Then there were cheers as Sarah fell smack down moaning, “My nose, my beautiful nose,” on the ground.
“JOKER! YOU ARE SO AWESOME!” some idiots screamed from a distance. The teachers were now running towards us and one of them was Mr Carl.
“Ah, shit,” both Esme and I said at the same time. Esme turned to glare at me and I shrugged, a smile replacing my once angry face.
“RIDDLE, ESME WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE!” Mr Carl shouted at us. I did not answer, but hung my head pretending to be repenting my actions. Esme licked her fingers, her squash tuna casserole in her hands.
“Tuna?” she asked Mr Carl who gave a loud exaggerated sigh before pointing at the school, “To the principal’s office now…” he said, before ordering the teachers to escort Sarah and her follower’s to the medical office.
“Nobody likes tuna,” Esme said stuffing the casserole into her mouth.
“Nobody does,” I agreed and began walking with her towards the office.
*
The principal no doubt gave us an ear shelling. By the time she was done, I could have sworn blood was coming out from my ears. We got off easy, since Sarah was the one that initiated the fight. When the principal heard of us defending Clare her gaze softened and she let us go home early without calling our guardians.
Esme cursed at me calling me a “PIG HEADED BITCH” before she left and took off in the opposite direction. I laughed and walked the opposite direction before bumping into someone. I looked up and found myself staring at Ben. My smile disappeared and he smiled weakly at me.
“Riddle,” he greeted. I glanced at him and found that his anime figurine was not with him. Weird? What was he doing here? What was this fat blob doing here?
“Riddle, the fight you did this afternoon was very good…but dangerous…” he told me. He was stuttering and it was beginning to irritate me.
“So? What about it?” I asked him. He fidgets with his fingers, twirling it around, something about it I find oddly familiar…oddly painful. Irritation filled me and I began to walk again.
“I don’t like you getting hurt,” Ben finally told me. Oh my god, was this guy my mother? What was his problem!
“SO?” I asked him. He approached me and handed me a plaster, “Bandage your hurt wrist,” he told me, smiling. “And don’t do anything like this again.”
“What!? I don’t need you to tell me-“
“Just leave her alone creep,” Alex voice sounded behind me. I turned and there was Alex looking at Ben as if he was scum. Ben flinched; a hurt look crossed his face. He bowed down to both Alex and me before taking his leave.
“Rid, are you ok?” Alex asked me, “What did that anime boy do to you, gave you some anime plaster or something?” he added laughing.
I clasped Ben’s plaster tightly in my hand
“Ah, shut up,” I told Alex whose eyes widened in surprise.
“What gives Rid,” Alex asked.
“Just shut up,” I said, slapping Ben’s plaster on my injured wrist. “I hate stupid people! AH!”
“Rid…” Alex whispered, ‘You’re weird.”
When different worlds collide
Esme
Chris.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rude this morning.
After all, he only wanted what was best for me.
Yet, as I strolled through the grey courtyard, the noisy Red Blazers Sea parting quickly before me, my mind rolled itself back to those horrid memories; it was Chris that had grounded me all those times, Chris who left in that police station for a night after the joyride in that police car. It had been Chris who had embarrassed me in front of the mafia occasionally, pulling me away from many oh-so-promising street races that I could have easily won. It was Chris….
No.
I won’t answer.
With a defiant frown, I tossed the ringing cell phone back into my pocket and continued my solemn march across the grounds.
Just as it always was, the courtyard was busy with lunch. Students gathered at tables in their different cliques, red blazers pulled tightly over bodies in an attempt to shy away from the untiring chill. An icy gale swept over the grey stones and red bodies, just as it had yesterday; the only difference this afternoon was the heavy, turbulent black clouds that boomed above. Low rumbles of far-away thunder threatened down from up above, the white hot zigzags of lightening stretching their fingers in the shuddering dark. Dried brown leaves swirled above heads and around feet, the last of autumn’s tears caught in invisible arms. Despite it all, the junior and senior class of Redfield Institute continued with their lunch outside; nobody wanted to give up their all so important tables.
Unlike the others, I didn’t bother to even wear my blazer.
I hate that bloody thing.
As I made my way through the dispersing red cloud, my mind still fixed on this morning’s argument with Chris, my subconscious picked up a familiar image from the corner of my eye; Riddle sat at a lonely grey table, her ink black hair plastered down on her head by the wind. Small shoulders hunched her body over the silver tray as she nibbled into her casserole, her shaggy black hair falling over those strange eyes of hers. Pale hands held up her lunch as she nodded her head at something, her green tie pulled back over her red-clad shoulder in protection. Pale white cheekbones stuck out of her small face, pressing gently against her black fringe.
Ah.
Perfect.
Something to get my mind of Chris.
Say, last night.
As I moved through the crowd, changing course in my wake, my eyes prove to correct my earlier analysis; the strange girl from yesterday was not alone. Sitting beside her at the table was a pretty blond boy, his golden curls dancing in the rushing wind. Even from this distance, at least 10 meters away, it was obvious to see that the boy was a thing of beauty; he was freaking sculptured like a Greek God. Bright golden curls kissed against a handsome pale face, his lily white skin soft and tender under the wavering sunlight. His slightly long hair was sleek wet over his head, streams of curling gold drawn back in a single, smooth movement; it was as if his hair was made of out of the purest of gold. His face was an envy of even me-a strong, defined chin and a flawless, angular nose fitted his pale face perfectly, his bright green eyes flashing with mischief and humour. Cold, strong hands waved about animatedly as he chattered excitedly to Riddle, a cocky, delicious grin cracking white gleaming teeth across the pale skin. A heavy red blazer dangled dangerously over his back; the smooth, white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, his white muscles rippling beneath the pale cloth. The green tie hung loosely around his neck.
God.
He was beautiful!
……
I think Morgan dated him before.
“Yo,” I greeted simply as I finally approached the table, my feet pulling me out of the red crowd and smack infront of my destination. Behind the cobbled table, Riddle and her companion raised their heads at me; Riddle drew up her face from her food, her brow folding in on itself at the sight of me. Haunting silver eyes stared across the table through the bank of falling black, her eyebrows rising slightly. Beside her, the good-looking blonde imitated her expression.
As the silence stretched between us three, I finally heaved an irritated sigh.
“Wow. Silence. Is that the only greeting you know, Riddle?”
Without even waiting for a reply, I deftly placed my silver tray down onto the cobbles with a loud thud, the clear glass of apple juice trembling at the impact. My cold legs moved quickly over the bench, climbing over the grey seat. In a single movement, my butt was planted heavily down on the slab of stone, fingers momentarily abandoning my tray to neat out my skirt. Above us all, the gale kicked up another notch, its icy breath whipping my bronze hair past my face.
“Delicious, isn’t it,” I grinned an easy smile up at my two new companions, matching their blank, are-you-kidding-me stares with a charming glow, “Tuna Tuesday. I wish everyday was Tuna Day.” Directly opposite me, Riddle half-leaned forward, her eyes glinting slight annoyance.
“Did I say or do something last night that gave you the idea that this was ok?”
“What are you talking about? I happened to remember that you yourself, silver eyes, invited me for lunch last night. Have you forgotten already?” My lips ended up over my tuna casserole, the sweet smell of fresh tuna stinging my nose with flavour. My stomach growled.
“Hmm…in the principal’s office?”
“Why you-…”
Before she could continue, the pretty blonde boy reached forward a white hand and pulled Riddle back by her sleeve, drawing her face towards his in a rough motion. Up close, I could now see that Mr. Greek God wasn’t all that perfect; little flecks of near-invisible freckles dotted his pearly white skin, splaying across his fine features, soothing them. Across his left eye ran a thin scar, almost undetectable in the light.
He was still good-looking, though.
“Last night?” the blonde boy hissed into his friend’s ear, his bright green eyes keeping on me with a strange glint, “What the hell, Riddle?! Did something happen last night?! Something I should know about?! Did you frigging have you know…sex with her or something like that!?” His white fingers kept their hold on Riddle’s sleeve as he whispered fiercely to her, his words loud enough but me to hear.
Stupid fool.
In a rather bored voice, Riddle gingerly nodded.
“Yes, I did and after that, we went to a bar to get ourselves drunk. Then we had some drugs and was stoned till the morning…no I didn’t, you asshole! Use your brain for once.”
“Then what is it like, Riddle? Since when have you and Hot Pants over there even been nice-…”
“I can hear you, you know,” I finally decided to cut in, washing down part of casserole with a mouthful of Coke. Opposite me, the pretty boy and Riddle parted abruptly, eyes flashing their attention back to me. The white hand released Riddle’s sleeve.
For a moment or so, silence engulfed us like a blanket, smothering us. It was a little awkward, really, but I would have it no other way. After all, who knows what nonsense could come out of these idiot’s mouths? The wind continued its cold, unforgiving whipping as I munched on my casserole; one thing good about this damn school was that it always had good tuna. Leeching cold wrapped themselves around my bare legs, chilling me to my bones. My hair needed to be combed down.
Finally, out of the silence, the pretty blonde boy leaned forward and spoke to me directly for the first time, raising a single dark eyebrow.
“Can I ask you a question?” Never in my 17 years had I seen eyes so green. Instead of answering him, I raised my eyes from my food and gazed calmly at the boy, meeting his eyes with mine. The cold stung my skin like fire. After a few seconds, the boy proceeded to talk, his eyes glinting a mischievous light.
“That deal of yours, the one with the devil; can I get in?”
I stared blankly at the blonde boy before turning to the Riddle with a raised eyebrow.
“Who’s the moron?”
“Just ignore Alex,” Riddle answered me with a calm smile, a smile that always seem to infuriate me these days, “I don’t know if you have noticed b-…
“Are we sitting here from now on?”
All three heads snapped up as a boyish voice cut Riddle off; standing beside the table, frowning curiously down at us was none other then my John, his brown side-bangs sweeping into the frail wind. Red cheeks blossomed beneath tranquil azure eyes in the cold, his red blazer hooked at the top like so many others in the courtyard. The tight green tie around his neck trembled against the white shirt, the wind reaching under the cloth and puffing it out in places. Like all, a silver tray glinted in his hands.
“Temporarily, love,” I smiled at my old friend, forgetting the other two instantly, “Sit, anyway.”
In the background, the pretty blonde boy openly groaned. With a simple shrug, eyes downcast, John took the seat beside me, setting his silver tray down on the cobbled table top with gentle hands. Without much thought, he placed himself directly opposite Mr. Greek God; the latter glared at the oblivious boy with squinted green eyes, like an alpha lion cautious of a new male.
What a moron.
As John eased his way into comfort, Riddle raised her eyebrow and made to speak, opening her mouth. However, I cut her off in time, my gold eyes shinning at the boy beside me.
“Are you going to eat that?”
“Yes, I am,” John replied with a sour expression as he finally made himself comfortable, a tanned hand blocking the tuna casserole from me instinctively, “Get your own. Besides, you know how sick you get when you eat too much tuna.”
“That only happens when I cook them myself,” I grumbled, my face screwing up slightly at the thought, “Besides, I’m starved. Couldn’t you spare some?”
“Didn’t you eat breakfast?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I did! It doesn’t change the fact that I’m still hungry!”
“You’re a pig,” John accused with narrow eyes, hand still shielding his tuna, “You know that? The biggest one I have ever seen.”
“Look who’s talking, Mr Eat-Al-…”
“As interesting as all this is, really,” Riddle interrupted me, quite rudely if you ask me, “Can you two pl-…”
Once again, poor Riddle was interrupted; at the other end of the cobbled table, the familiar face of Morgan slammed her silver tray down onto the grey, splattering specks of white tuna into the windy air. All 4 heads snapped in her direction. As it always was with the Irish girl, Morgan Bell looked beautiful; her thick black hair was tied behind her in a tight ponytail, not a strand astray as the wind hushed her cheeks red. Fierce blue eyes flashed down at them as her manicured hands gripped the edges of her tray tightly, stinging red at the forceful effort. Pure frustration burned in her pretty blues, her sleek white forehead bent and crinkled in anger. Beside Riddle, Alex collapsed his head against the black cobbles in absolute defeat.
“Morgan?”
Without replying me, Morgan muttered a soft curse and quickly slid into the seat beside John, knocking the silver tray angrily across the cobbles. Cheeks flushed red with anger as she neated out her plaited skirt deftly. Beneath her prim red blazer, the white shirt and green tie seemed untouched by the wind. Her long black ponytail swished away behind her head, the pair of silver clips glinting at her ear. Anger radiated off her in waves.
“Are you okay?” John looked at the raven-haired girl beside him cautiously, edging slowly towards me as Morgan stomped her way through lunch. Her firm shoulders pulled her back a razor sharp.
“You know what?” She snapped curtly as her eyes kept on the wrapped lunch in her hand, her Irish accent rolling over her tongue in thick waves, “No. No. I’m not okay. I’m bloody furious!” Opposite us, Riddle and Alex were completely ignored; instead, Morgan busied herself with the tuna casserole, fingers fiercely tearing the dainty silver wrapping apart. Her breath came out in quick stabs. After a short, gale-ridden pause, I raised both my eyebrows.
“Ooooooookayyyyy…” I tried on a wary smile as darting gazes were exchanged between John and I. The gale whipped my chin-length hair harshly against my cheek, like a leather whip. Another pause stretched, before I continued on with a heavy sigh.
“Did I do something again, M? Because if I did, whatever I did, I’m really, really-…”
“It has nothing to do with you, Esme,” Morgan cut me of curtly, her voice as crisp as the frail air, “It’s my bloody parents.” With that, she ended her thickly-accented sentence with a vicious dig into her food, perfect white teeth biting savagely. Opposite from her, Riddle watched with a slight smile as the pretty blonde boy raised a single eyebrow. A ripple of a muscle jumped at his smooth white jaw; it was as if the sight of Morgan seemed to put him off a little.
Hell.
Maybe they did go out, after all.
“Parents?” John voiced in, dropping his own lunch as he looked upon our friend with genuine concern. Despite the icy wind, a bead of sweat rolled down his neck. Beside him, I voiced my own concerns.
“Oh, oh. Thick accent trouble. What they do now?”
“My mum lost the Bendel deal.”
“WHAT?!” John’s voice seemed to carry on for yards as his voiced my exact thought; WTF?! His blue eyes drew open with surprise as the feisty girl beside him.
“Impossible!” I snapped out my own analysis of the situation as my face screwed up helplessly, the very thought of Mrs. Bell’s loss repulsing me for some unknown reason, “Your mum designed the spring collection for them already; they just can’t quit on her like that!” It was true, to say the very least. I may not know lot about fashion but from all the top fashion shows my brother had me attend for the sake of publicity, I had learned a few things; one of which was that contracts drawn between partners in this business could not be easily forgotten, and the other being that Katherine Bell’s designs were epic in her own right.
Something must have gone wrong, obviously.
Morgan’s next words stuck to my prediction.
“Not unless it’s caught up in a legal matter,” the pretty brunette simply muttered into her hand as she stuffed the last of her casserole into her mouth, not even caring a slightest for grace. Her fierce black ponytail lashed against the turbulent wind. Opposite me, Riddle watched with an interested smile. Her pretty friend’s lips cocked a humoured grin.
“WHAT?!” John seemed to like that word a lot as he’s already wide eyes magnified at Morgan, his jaw dropping down slightly. His tuna casserole laid undisturbed in his hand. Mine was a different matter all together.
“I nmwo!” Morgan sourly yelled, her delicate mouth stuffed with tuna.
“How-…”
“What on earth did your mother do now?” I cut John off with a sigh, regrettably dropping my tuna heaven back on my plate. Something told me that Morgan deserved my every attention. In a slight huff, swallowing her tuna quickly, the dark-haired girl began to explain, her Irish accent thicker then ever as she glared a pair of shaky blue at us.
“It’s my fawther, really. He’s bloody doing this. H-He’s insistin’ that Mama’s usin’ my child support for the spring collection. Can you believe that?! Mama would never-…”
“Did she?”
“ESME!!!”
“What?! It’s pos-…”
Opposite me, Riddle finally got tired of it all; in sickly fake voice, she leaned forward, a stupid smile plastered across her white face.
“Look, as much as this amuses me, will you three please get lost?” Her white beamed startling rays as her black hair pulled across her face, partially hiding her silver eyes, “You are all very noisy. Your stupidity and nonsensical conversation is all making me very annoyed.” Beside her, the pretty blonde boy nodded his agreement, a Cheshire grin stretching across his fine features.
At the voice, the three of us stopped conversing abruptly; with snaps of heads, we turned startled stares at Riddle and her friend. The wind pulled at all our hairs. In those blank few seconds, silence covered us all, our minds oblivious to the turning world of red around us. The pillar of gloom and black smiled easily beside the smirking gold beside her, silver and green eyes returning our blank, impassive stares. At the corner, a distant cry called among the red.
Finally, Morgan tore through the silence, her crisp voice tightening as she spoke.
“Where the hell did you two come from?” she bit savagely, licking her tuna-covered lips as her blue eyes stared down the blonde boy before her, “And since when was it okay to be even near me, Alex? What are you like? I thought I made it clear that I can’t stand even the sight of you.” Her eyebrows deepened in growing frustration as she kept her undoubting gaze at the pretty boy opposite her, ripples of muscles jumping at her jaw. At the other end of the table, the pretty boy-Alex-matched her unnerving stare with an untouched smirk.
Ah, yes.
They definitely dated.
……
Well, I can’t keep up with all of Morgan’s boyfriends, now can I?!
“Hey,” Alex retorted smoothly as the smirk kept to his lips, lighting up his handsome face with a naughty glint, “I can sit wherever I want, whenev-…”
“Shut up, you two,” I finally clicked out of it, my voice snapping viciously at the quarreling old lovers. Ex-flames could be so annoying. Turning my screwed face away from them, I leaned slightly over the table, focusing my attention back on my initial target.
“Listen, Riddle. I have an idea about the case with that Clare girl. I was thinking-…”“What case?” John finally decided to make himself heard again, swiveling on the grey seat to turn a raised eyebrow at me. His curiosity was always so maddening. As his eyes shrank back into its normal size, Alex voiced out his own query, ignoring Morgan completely.
“Clare? What about Clare?”
“What the bloody hell are you two talking about?” Morgan joined in, abandoning her previous trail of conversation.
“WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP?!?!”
Just as I finished my exasperated shout, a chorus of laughing sprang from the center of the courtyard, spreading in waves. All 5 heads at the table turned to see what the commotion was about; Sarah stood in the center of the red crowd, surrounded by a convoy of laughing minions. Her hands were on her hips as she snickered down at someone; the blonde bobbing head of Clare struggled to pick up her splattered tuna from floor, her tray strayed away from her fall. Laughter resounded around her as she raised a tuna-covered knee to rise once again; Sarah shoved her back down to her shoes with a hard push to the head. Blonde strands flew in the unrelentless wind.
“TUNA!”
Riddle
Sarah and the Barbie doll gang were making quite a scene. A scene worthy of being a movie called, “Pretty rich girl, gone bad.” The scene at the courtyard was disturbing. Clare was being pushed down onto the ground repeatedly by one of Sarah’s 6 followers. All pretty, rich and terribly blond. Blond people, ah blond people, don’t get me wrong I have nothing against them…I glanced sideways at the dark blond girl beside me. Esme was staring at the wasted tuna with enough fury to kill. Why do blond people always give me trouble?
Clare was struggling to get up again when she was shoved forward and kicked in the stomach. Some students were laughing at the scenes, others glancing away. The teachers, obviously taking notice of the scene ignored it. See, the thing about being in a rich school is that sometimes certain students get special privileges and Sarah Hue Johnson was one of them. Her father owns half of the trading companies in New York and some of the largest corporations around the world. On which being the largest donator to our school, no one dares touch Sarah…except well now.
Clare cried out again as she was shoved to the ground, some people laughed and I felt boiling anger rushing through my blood. “That’s why I told you to leave her…” I whispered under my breath. “I told her…”
“Rid,” Alex whispered behind me, seeing my clenched hand, “Are you alright?”
He grabs my wrist and tried to pull me back to the seat. He wasn’t laughing like he normally would. I turned to smirk at him and he winced. “Rid…don’t tell me…”
“Tuna…” I heard Esme murmuring beside me as she saw another plate land on the floor. I broke off laughing and Alex, John, Morgan and Esme turned to face me looking at me like I was mad or something. I grab the Esme’s plate from the table we were eating it and grab the tuna casserole.
‘Rid…what are you going to do…I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” Alex said, his voice high pitched, he glanced at the wide eyed Esme who was now glaring at me with fire in her eyes.
“Yes, Miss Riddle, I don’t think you should do that…” Morgan whispered behind me. The boy John was still munching on his food enjoying the show. Well, Esme has some weird friends...
‘What the hell are you going to do with my tuna…?” Esme said her voice dangerously low. Her eyes glared at me beneath her dark blond chin length hair.
“Let’s play catch shall we?” I said calmly and with a giant swish of my arm I threw the tuna casserole into the air. The casserole sailed through the air fast and furious; it flew towards Sarah and her gang. As I had planned, once I threw the casserole, Esme took off after it with surprising speed. She dashed through the courtyard, pushing screaming people out of the way and leaping over obstacles.
Placing my hand on my fore head, like a soldier greeting his superior, I whistled. I really threw the casserole far. “Rid, what the hell are you doing!? You just offended the fire girl!?” Alex shouted at me, taking me by both shoulders and shaking me hard.
“What did you just call Esme…she’s not the fire girl, you flirt, she’s Esme Conner!” Morgan shouted at Alex who flinched.
“Great,” John whispered and I smirked taking off after Esme Conner.
Esme did a beautiful ballerina leap into the air and caught the casserole, baseball style. She landed flat on one of Sarah’s followers who gave a mighty scream. Esme crashed onto the ground, the girl beneath her gave a tiny shriek before her head fell to the ground. It was obvious that she had fainted.
“My oh my,” I whispered. The consequences of my actions and Esme would land us in deep trouble but did I care, no…because right now my anger was getting the better of me, I call this absolute stupidity. Sarah was screaming at Esme who was cuddling her casserole in her hands and whispering, “My precious tuna, you are alright,” she murmured.
“What the hell are you doing? Bitch!” Sarah screamed at Esme. Her follower was squashed and unconscious beneath Esme.
“Playing catch,” I answered Sarah who turned to me quickly. Her face screwed up in anger.
“YOU! RIDDLE FROM DAY ONE I KNEW YOU WOULD BE TROUBLE!” she screamed so loudly, she got the whole school’s attention. Now all eyes were upon us and the tension was very strong.
“Rid, I think we should head back,” Alex whispered into my ear. Morgan and he had ran here, John still eating peacefully at the table. I shrugged him off and walked calmly towards Clare who was on the ground, sobbing. Her skirt was in ruins, her blouse torn up. I saw a bloody scar on her knees and the bruises on her stomach. Fury rushed through me and my fist clenched so tightly that my veins could be seen.
“Rid…” Alex whispered, wanting to touch my shoulder but holding back. Sarah and her followers were watching my every move. Esme was still cuddling her casserole. I bent over and picked Clare up and handed her to Alex and Morgan. “Take her to the medical office,” I told Alex.
“But…” Alex said.
“Just go!” I said to him, he tensed and with the help of Morgan carry the injured Clare to the medical office.
I turned to Sarah, who pointed her finger at me. Her followers surrounded me and Esme. I snorted, yes snorted like a pig and walked towards Esme and patted her shoulder.
“How’s your tuna casserole?” I asked her casually.
Esme stood up and pointed her finger at me, “YOU!” She shouted, shocking me her voice deep and filled with anger. I raised both my hands in front of me. “Hold on a minute, there’s no need to get so angry…it’s just tuna,” I said before laughing. “Right?”
“YOU! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY!” Esme shouted.
“Are you going to ignore me, Riddle!” Sarah shouted her followers coming in on us. This situation was laughable. Try imagining this Barbie dolls up against gorillas…who would win…?
The answers pretty clear of course.
“I’m not ignoring you, I was just making sure Esme casseroles were ok,” I told Sarah. Upon hearing that both Esme and Sarah shouted at me at the same time.
Two things happened then; Esme lunged at me, a follower of Sarah’s stepped behind me and was about to smash her petty hands onto my hair. Esme’s fist came closer and the follower’s hand was reaching the top of my hair.
Watching lots of slow mo national geographic films’ always does the trick. I turned sideways; the follower missed my head and fell forward. Esme fist came next, catching the follower full on the cheeks. There was a loud “WHAMP!” and the follower fell to the ground, groaning in pain, blood escaping her mouth.
“Whoa,” I said. Sarah gave a shriek and I dodge and incoming follower who had reached out to grab my waist pincer style but missed completely, clasping air. Esme who missed me sent a nice punch to the girl’s neck. The girl fell back choking.
“One little two little three little weasel…” I said, dodging Esme with everything I got, it wasn’t easy, Esme was very fast and her blows very hard, you could feel the force behind them.
A stood in front of a follower who was about to kick me and Esme came at me running at full speed with her fist out stretched, I squat and Esme fist crashed into the girl’s fore head, I heard a crack as the girl’s head cracked awkwardly backwards.
“Pop goes the weasel,” I whispered, smirking.
‘What are you doing!? Get them!” Sarah shouted at her remaining two followers. The two followers were terrified, their hands shaking and their legs crooked. Their looks insignificant. I dodged another of Esme punch and leapt onto the table.
Esme who couldn’t stop one of her punches in time, crashed into one of the followers and they went tumbling down. Esme landing on the girl who faint immediately groaning as she fainted. The last follower started to scream, I vaguely remembered her name it was Mary, Mary I think. She began to run; standing on top of the table I smirk.
“Mary had a little lamb,” I sang.
I leapt off the table, feeling myself defy gravity I landed with my two shoes on the last follower’s face. She fell backwards and using her face as a spring board I pushed off, before somersaulting 360 degrees into the air and landing on the ground and doing a gymnastic landing.
“It became roasted lamb,” I whispered.
Esme came from behind me and I almost gasped, I didn’t see her coming. I side stepped her quickly and she stumbled forward while I stumbled sideways.
“WHY YOU- MY FATHER WOULD HEAR OF THIS!” Sarah screamed at us, this time however, she was scared, absolutely horrified. Esme and I flicked out heads to her. My smirk disappeared and a look of pure anger erupted from within.
“I hate petty SPOILT, BIMBOTIC, STUPID girls!” I said, half shouting. Sarah backed away as I approached her. Something came up from behind me and I felt something sharp graze my wrist, pain erupted. I dodge it never the less as it gave a loud hit. I heard a cracking sound. I looked behind and saw Esme with her fist clenched, her teeth baring. Her fist had just smacked into Sarah’s beautiful nose, which was now bleeding badly. There was a loud defeating silence from around the courtyard.
Then there were cheers as Sarah fell smack down moaning, “My nose, my beautiful nose,” on the ground.
“JOKER! YOU ARE SO AWESOME!” some idiots screamed from a distance. The teachers were now running towards us and one of them was Mr Carl.
“Ah, shit,” both Esme and I said at the same time. Esme turned to glare at me and I shrugged, a smile replacing my once angry face.
“RIDDLE, ESME WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE!” Mr Carl shouted at us. I did not answer, but hung my head pretending to be repenting my actions. Esme licked her fingers, her squash tuna casserole in her hands.
“Tuna?” she asked Mr Carl who gave a loud exaggerated sigh before pointing at the school, “To the principal’s office now…” he said, before ordering the teachers to escort Sarah and her follower’s to the medical office.
“Nobody likes tuna,” Esme said stuffing the casserole into her mouth.
“Nobody does,” I agreed and began walking with her towards the office.
*
The principal no doubt gave us an ear shelling. By the time she was done, I could have sworn blood was coming out from my ears. We got off easy, since Sarah was the one that initiated the fight. When the principal heard of us defending Clare her gaze softened and she let us go home early without calling our guardians.
Esme cursed at me calling me a “PIG HEADED BITCH” before she left and took off in the opposite direction. I laughed and walked the opposite direction before bumping into someone. I looked up and found myself staring at Ben. My smile disappeared and he smiled weakly at me.
“Riddle,” he greeted. I glanced at him and found that his anime figurine was not with him. Weird? What was he doing here? What was this fat blob doing here?
“Riddle, the fight you did this afternoon was very good…but dangerous…” he told me. He was stuttering and it was beginning to irritate me.
“So? What about it?” I asked him. He fidgets with his fingers, twirling it around, something about it I find oddly familiar…oddly painful. Irritation filled me and I began to walk again.
“I don’t like you getting hurt,” Ben finally told me. Oh my god, was this guy my mother? What was his problem!
“SO?” I asked him. He approached me and handed me a plaster, “Bandage your hurt wrist,” he told me, smiling. “And don’t do anything like this again.”
“What!? I don’t need you to tell me-“
“Just leave her alone creep,” Alex voice sounded behind me. I turned and there was Alex looking at Ben as if he was scum. Ben flinched; a hurt look crossed his face. He bowed down to both Alex and me before taking his leave.
“Rid, are you ok?” Alex asked me, “What did that anime boy do to you, gave you some anime plaster or something?” he added laughing.
I clasped Ben’s plaster tightly in my hand
“Ah, shut up,” I told Alex whose eyes widened in surprise.
“What gives Rid,” Alex asked.
“Just shut up,” I said, slapping Ben’s plaster on my injured wrist. “I hate stupid people! AH!”
“Rid…” Alex whispered, ‘You’re weird.”
Friday, March 12, 2010
CHAPTER 3 OF THE EXPLODING STORY
Chapter 3
Learning how to hold hands in the dark
Esme
“Finally,” I mumbled through a cave of mashed up Cheerios as the computer blinked bright blue, “Some progress.” Before me, the flat computer screen cascaded me in a cold light of azure as the firewall vanished into thin air; the streaming green of words that blocked trespassers from the oh-so-valuable data dissolved into a shimmering blue screen with just a few taps of the keyboard.
Thank you, John.
I knew this was wrong. Extremely wrong. After all, breaking into the dean’s office and changing my grades on her computer was something that would get even the smartest student of Redfield Institute, say Sarah, completely and absolutely expelled. It was forbidden, unheard of; yet here I was, sitting calmly in Clancy’s big red chair, swinging my legs on the table as I tapped at the black keyboard in my lap, my taste buds savouring the salty delight of the chips.
If Chris had any idea where I truly was….
All around me, Headmistress Clancy’s office was a mosaic of black and blue, sleeks of yellowish gold dancing across the darkened corners; the street lamps of the city outside played their way into the enclosed room, shining brilliantly through the two full-length windows that bordered me. Passing car headlights washed over the wooden-scented room in waves, pale gold and white lighting up the different features of the room in a shimmering slow motion. Despite the enclosed area, the cold bit in through the windows, a howling autumn wind pressing its flat face against the sleek glass in a desperate attempt to reach me-thankfully, I remembered my duster this time. Howls and laments of ghost past rang through the wooden room, its chilling breath circling around me like a dying fire. The keyboard felt like ice beneath my numb fingers.
I really shouldn’t be doing this.
Just as I thought this, all opened up before me; the blue screen flashed a solid grey as the Grade System of Redfield Institute blinked into existence, black words quickly filling up the new space. Victory sang in me as I leaned slightly towards the screen; there before me stood the entire list of grades for the junior class’s Math test today. Familiar names fringed on the left of the grey table as large, bold letters sidelined them all; As, Bs, Cs and my favourite, Ds. The revolting signature of Mr. Carl had been copied into the table, nothing more then a bunch of swirly, thin lines at the top of the screen. Snippets of information loaded itself at the side.
Bingo.
I inched myself closer to the screen as I scrolled down the names, dropping the bags of Cheerios at the side as I concentrated on my super-important mission. I had to do this quickly. I had to hurry; if Morgan returns back to her house from the shop and finds that I had skipped our study-date, she would immediately know where to look.
She would come here.
Which means I’m dead.
As my finger picked up speed, scrolling down the screen at a faster rate, a tiny, almost inaudible noise clicked at the front of the room. A howling deafened my ear. In a casual turn of my head, I looked towards the wooden front door with slight interest.
Pushing her way into the room with a creak of the large door was none other then that small Asian chick herself, her black plain cotton shirt blending her into the abyss behind. Pale, sickly skin stuck out of the black like a bodiless white, her silver eyes stinging out of her small face like sharp daggers of ice. Her ink black hair was plastered on her forehead like dark paint, dampened and cold by the gale outside; her pale cheeks stuck out of her face in sudden rosy flames, blown cold by the autumn wind. Beneath all the black, a pair of sickly white sticks grew down from her shorts, ending in a pair of black canvas. Hairless, bare white arms sidelined her slender black figure.
She looked like a disembodied girl in the dark
“Yo,” I greeted simply as the small girl’s haunting eyes widened slightly at my presence-besides that, she didn’t even looked the slightest bit alarmed. My stomach growled in greedy hunger as my hair brushed back against the velvet chair. The computer chimed a single note in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” the strange girl finally spoke, a sudden smooth smile cracking across her pale face. Despite this morning, I somehow felt no anger towards the girl anymore; sitting here, staring at her creepy smiling face, I felt nothing more then the tiniest bit of interest. With a flex of an arm, I returned her casual smile with a lazy one.
“Oh, the usual,” I answered dryly as my calves stretched the cold away atop the oak desk, “Just hanging. How bout you? You come here often?” In front of me, standing against the cold black, the strange Asian chick narrowed her pretty eyes in silence. Her smile never left her face. With a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, I returned to the computer, the silence between us hanging like a heavy blanket. There were more important things to do right now then deal with this weirdo.
Like stopping me from failing.
Just as I found my name on the screen, a simple hyphen beside it for my grade, the strange girl spoke again, her voice an icy calm.
“Not really. Now, if you may excuse me, cheat.”
“I’m not a cheat,” I retorted with a humoured smirk as my fingers busied themselves with typing at my lap, “I’m just rectifying a mistake, really. A mistake that should have never have happened. How about you? Do you spend all your nights breaking into the principal’s office? Cause if you do, you need help. A lot of it.” My voice sounded lazy as the words slithered out of my throat, my glinting golden eyes meeting the silver ones across the room. Truth be told, I had no idea why I was so calm now; shouldn’t I be throwing punches at the girl?
Odd.
With a final tap of the key and a click of the mouse, I leaned back in triumphant satisfaction. I did it. I passed myself. The smile on my lips widened as my head hit back against the red velvet, the cold shrouding over me like a cloud of ice. Numb fingers reached out for my Cheerios.
Time for a celebration.
At the other end of the room, opposite me, the strange Asian girl finally moved; she rolled her pretty eyes and in a single, ghost-like movement, glided her way past me. In the wavering dark, pales of light rolled over her icy skin as she moved across the room, her gaze completely abandoning me in search of another. Cold fingers dove into the plastic bag in my lap as the black-haired girl moved silently, my teeth grinding down on the crunchy crackers upon contact. Delicious, unhealthy salted flakes stained my cold mouth.
My eyes studied the strange girl with mild interest as she stopped moving in a few steps; her path ended at a tall, wooden door at the left flank of the office. It was simple door, much like every other door in the administration office outside. A silver doorknob glinted in the mild darkness, the top half of the mahogany wood replaced by a square of fogged-out glass; the large, bold letters of the word ARCHIVES was printed in the middle of the grey-green surface. Before the silent door, the strange girl seemed to melt into the darkness.
As I watched with smirking eyes, the Asian girl went down on a pale knee before the door, her nose quickly brushing against the silver doorknob. A slender pale hand pulled something out of her shorts pocket as her white knees met the cold wood floor; for the first time, I couldn’t help but ponder at her attire. Here I was, freezing my butt off in my old duster while she strode around in nothing more then a T-Shirt and shorts.
Cotton ones, at that.
Once again, odd.
Her white fingers strayed their way to the doorknob as I spoke out, against my better judgment.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”
The girl on her knees didn’t answer, though her hand did stop moving. Something silver glinted in her pinched fingers. At the windows, glass shook violently as another gale of ice whipped against the building.
“Fine. Be my guest. Go ahead,” I licked my lips as I continued, my salted voice purring out in laziness, “ Just so you know, Headmistress Clancy had a lock-activation alarm system put on that door ever since that day I tried to break into it; the moment someone fiddles with the lock, well…shitty, shitty...bang, bang….sirens come a-calling!”
With what seemed like a heavy sigh, the strange girl swished her dark head around and glared those creepy eyes at me, her slender forehead creasing in irritation. Dark eyebrows bent towards her nose. With the slick smile still on my face, I pointed a salt-covered finger at the wall; sitting in the empty white, just beside the door, was an electronic alarm system. It was a hand-slab of grey metal on the wall, a brilliant red dot beeping silently at some inaudible rhythm. The company’s blue and white logo flashed atop the gadget, glowing in the shifting light. For some reason, Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song started to play itself out in my head.
With a slight whisper of annoyance, the strange girl got off her knees and bent over to study the beeping gadget. Strands of black hair toppled over her strange eyes as she frowned at the silver machine, her white fingers angrily stuffing whatever she held back into her pocket. For some reason, she began bloody annoyed. Cold seemed to hug my limbs. After minutes of staring at the gadget, willing it to deactivate itself, she finally breathed out a sigh. With a surrendering stretch of her head, she swirled around smoothly and cast a pretty, charming smile at my direction.
“What’s the problem?” my smirk widened at her smile, my heart dancing in pure amusement. For some reasons, unknown even to me, I found this all extremely funny. My salted fingers drummed itself along to the imaginary beat.
“Well, genius,” the girl’s deep voice rumbled out in waves, shoulders sagging in defeat, “Would you help me?”
“Well,” my grin widened to length of the Cheshire Cat, “I have to confirm the charge of my service first. After all, I can’t just do work for people for free. Now, let’s see…how bout you pay me $40 to-…”
“Would a tip to the principal’s office for cheating be a more appropriate payment?”
“Fine.”In single lazy movement, I dropped the bag of Cheerios back on the table, my other hand sluggishly returning the keyboard from my lap. Heavy, boot-clad feet dragged themselves off the sweet-scented wood with much effort as I pulled myself off the red chair, straightening my back with a lazy yowl. For a few seconds, the silver-eyed girl watched me silently as I stretched myself back into shape, knuckles cracking and eyes blinking. A huge yawn spilled from my lips.
It wasn’t long before I was moving again; in a single movement, I grabbed my mini-laptop of the table top and sauntered towards the girl, my mouth sucking my fingers clean as I walked. The thick cloth of my duster glided against my heels, sweeping the crumbs away behind me as I walked the few steps to the door.
The girl’s silver eyes never left me as I deftly stopped before the alarm system; in a practiced hand, I flipped open the black mini-laptop. A single chime of awareness called out to me as I proceeded with my way- a lazy hand uncoiled my black USB drive and stuck into the updating hole, at the bottom of the gadget. Light shone from my small screen at contact. In the shimmering cold and under the watchful silver eyes of the strange girl, my fingers worked a magic, a magic that John himself had thought me so many years ago. Till this day, I still have no idea how he, the son of a wealthy businessman, ever learned to disable a security unit within seconds. It was a skill that I had begged him to teach me 4 years ago; it was a skill, I insisted, that would definitely come in handy one day.
Teaching me this was probably John’s greatest regret.
“Where did you learn to do this, genius?” the girl spoke in her low voice, sarcasm dripping in hot blots.
“Terminator.”
“Oh, ha, ha.”
“I’m serious. Never mind. Try it now.”
With a slight fake smile at the last tap of keys ringing from my hands, the weirdo reached forward and with a twist of the doorknob, pushed the door open.
Riddle
Esme Conner opened the electronic lock like a professional. Smoothly and swiftly without any help from me. I hid the paper clip I was holding in my hand and pushed it into the pocket. She saw it anyway, but my pride was on the line.
“And this friend, is how you get in,” she told me with that infuriating voice she had when I first came in. She seemed different from this afternoon, not the hot headed girl who wanted to punch the living day lights out of me.
To my irritation she followed me into the Archive’s office. I ignored her as she strolled in casually behind me. Her black unearthly trench coat sweeping the floor. She looked like those spy persona in those James Bond movies. Not that I watch James Bond, but doesn’t James Bond remind you of girls with big attitude and stupid looking outfit. Yep, well, she reminds me of those kinda of girls.
The Archive office was dark. Light from the nearby street light flittered in and silver moon light touched the top of the principal’s table. I could see the dust that rose from the floor boards and furniture clearly. I found what I was looking for and strode towards it.
Cupboards held all the historical archives of the school. Dating back 500 years ago to present, all stored neatly in glass cupboards. I found the cupboard I was looking for. Esme showed her card to me humming again and tried to unlock the cupboard door, however when she found out that it wasn’t electronic, the cool smile she had on fell and an angry frown appeared on her face.
‘What’s the matter Master thief?” I asked her, smirking, finally speaking to her. Esme glared at me, in the darkness I could not see her clearly, but I can guess that she was fuming right now.
“Nothing,” she muttered and gave way for me.
“In situations like this, you use a paper clip,” I said, taking out a paper clip I had stuffed in my pocket and showed it to her, ‘Do you know how to use the paper clip?” I asked, mocking her.
“Shut up, Asian kid, I know how to use a paper clip to kill you,” she snarled at me. It was almost funny, the insult absolutely childish but I shrugged and with one expert flick I snapped the lock open. The cupboard door swung open and I rummage through the files. In the dim moonlight and street lamp light, it took me a while to find the file I was looking for.
“What are you doing?” Esme asked me. Her voice sounded curious.
“What interested?” I asked her. She snorted. “Not really,” she murmured, failing miserably in hiding her curiosity. The file I was holding was green in color, golden words named the file. Redfield Institute, year 2004. Esme raised her eye brow and sauntered over to my side when I opened the file.
What was shown was absolutely shocking that Esme beside me gave a gasp. “A suicide! Here in this bloody school?” she exclaimed. I had to put a hand over her mouth. I looked at the contents. Yes, I was sure I read of this before. 5 years ago when I was just 12 years old a section of the news paper article wrote about the suicide incident in Redfield Institute.
“Brain Quinn and Maria Hawkins, both age 17 committed suicides in Redfield Institute. Both bodies were found on the third floor girl’s toilet. Cause of the deaths is unknown, family members are devastated about the incident but wish not to comment. Brain Quinn and Maria Hawkins were describe as a loving couple, Maria like the sun and Brain the night. The Romeo and Juliet of the 21st century, Brain and Maria reason of suicide could be described as such.”
A picture of Brain and Maria was pasted on top of the news article. Brain a gloomy kid with almost white skin and dark dead eyes. He had long dark hair and he looked like a girl. Maria on the other hand was all smiles, with golden locks of hair and bright blue eyes and tanned skin, she was beautiful almost handsome. I stared at the pictures for a long time.
“Apparently, they cause of death is unknown, all that was left was the scent of peaches,” Esme sounded beside me. I looked up and found her peering down at the file. “I thought you weren’t interested?” I asked her. She snorted. “Well, now I am, happy now,” she said.
I looked down at the file again.
“Why are you doing this Riddle,” Esme sounded again. I was half irritated, half intrigued that the girl wanted to know.
“Do you believe in ghost, Esme?” I asked her. She snorted again. I clenched my fist; this girl was like a pig! Only pigs snort like that. Keeping my cool I smiled at her. “Well, I believe in ghost and this afternoon I found out that one of this ghost you do not believe haunted the girl’s bathroom and threatened to kill my friend.”
“You’re such a Nob, ghost exists but they can’t kill,” Esme told me a cynical voice at hand, “If ghost can kill we’ll be dying like flies in the corridor every minute.”
“And what is it with your friend,” she said. I explained to her about Clare half heartedly and when I was done Esme eyes were as big and sparkly as giant pearls. Oh great, those were excitement in her eyes, her eyes were sparkling.
“Wait, is it true?’ Does Clare still have the mark?” she asked.
She was surprisingly interested. Those eyes of her told me that. I looked at the file again and thought for a moment. Maybe…I can use her.
“Well yeah it’s true, but Clare does not have the mark…now,” I said.
Esme raised her eye brow, “So you’re telling me it’s not true,” she said. Pondering on whether I should tell this girl my secret, I placed my left hand in my pocket. Let me test her a little bit. “Well it is true, whether you want to believe it or not,” I said.
Esme glared at me carefully before looking at the file again. “This case…this suicide incident hasn’t been solved yet right?” she asked me. I read it again, and smirked. “Well, it has been, because I know how they died…” I said.
Esme fumbled with the file and looked at me skeptically.
“What do you mean,” she said.
Ah, what a dumb person, so dumb and ignorant my brains were about to rot.
“It says here that the cause of death is unknown, I know how it was caused…” I said, “and I’m not telling you,” I added when I saw Esme excited eyes.
The excitement in Esme burnt out and she reached over to grab me, I dodge her.
Her hands clasped open and close around empty air before she placed it beside her.
“How did you dodge me?” she muttered.
Ah, yes, Esme Conner, the Fire girl also known as the strongest, was dodge by weak little me. “How the hell did you do that!?” she asked again, her voice a little raised. I smirked and placed the open file face down on a teacher’s table. “Maybe I did it because I have faster reflexes than you,” I said.
Esme flashed me and angry gaze, her eyes so stunningly fierce I was a little taken aback.
“Come on tell me, I want to know,” she said. This time she was like the Esme I had seen in the corridor and confronted this afternoon. “You said you didn’t believe that ghost can kill,” I said.
“Yes, I don’t believe in that, I mean come on, a man who appears in the mirror telling people to guess his name and if you can’t you die, it sounds so stupid,” she said, “And Toute, Devoir and Mourir…what?!”
I smirked, “Well, then, then I shall not tell you,” I said. Esme looked like she was about to kill me. I turned away from her then gasped when I felt something grab me from behind.
I turned and found Esme grabbing onto my shirt and pulling hard. Her strength was so terrifying for a moment I remembered the incident that happened to me 10 years ago, that incident that…
Esme grabs my left hand and pulls it behind me. When she saw the mark on my skin she gasped and released me, I fell violently onto the floor, getting up and facing her. I was still shivering, my memories for 10 years ago pouring out.
“You have the mark…you said Clare had it!” she shouted at me.
“Quiet down will you,” I said, regaining my composure. This time I didn’t bother to hide the mark on my skin.
“How do you get that,” she told me.
“Like I said, ghost can kill,” I said picking up the file and placing it back into the cupboard and if I’m not wrong, the ghost in the bathroom who threatens to kill Clare is the either Brain or Clare. Esme was still shock from the scar on my hand she could not speak.
“So…huh?’ She said, “Ghost can kill…”
“That scar…is not fake right,” she asked again.
I placed my hand out and allowed her to inspect it. “What am I thinking, how can this be fake,” she muttered to herself, “If this is fake than Obama is my father,” she muttered again. Somehow that cracked me up and I started to laugh.
Esme glared at me.
“How do you get this…Clare was the one who got it…by why you,” she asked me.
I pulled my hand away from her grasp, my smile disappearing. “That, you do not need to know,” I said, hiding my hand again. Esme sighed in frustration and scratched her head.
“O…k, so what, you’re going to sit around here and wait for your own death,” she asked me, “Oh are you just going to sit here, drink tea and again wait for your own death.”
I locked the cupboard, “My death is in 4 days, but I don’t plan to throw away my life like that…it makes it easier for me to have the curse…no good would come out of it if Clare had the curse.”
“Oh, haha, you’re a big super hero,” Esme said sarcastically.
“Well I am, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a case to solve,” I said, walking out of the room.
“Wait!” Esme called out behind me, “I’ll help,” she said the two words more softly.
I was surprise, but even the more so, amused. She, Esme Conner, the idiot who I cannot stand, the idiot skeptical about the whole thing, wanting to help. Was it for the excitement? Or was it because she was just tired of her boring life…or…just maybe she really cares? I shook my head.
“What?” I asked, smirking.
“I’ll help,” she said.
“What?”
“I”LL HELP OK YOU STUPID MORON,” she shouted at me.
“Hmm…” I whispered, “Well, suit yourself,” I said.
“What, no thank you, you’re a really grateful person you know that,” Esme said.
“If I remembered clearly, I did not invite you to help me,” I retorted.
‘Oh, shut up,” Esme replied
And with that, we went out of school, bickering the whole way.
Somewhere deep inside…I kinda felt…relief.
It was late when I made my way home. A one room apartment in a two storey flat. Mary-Anne, my land lady a 44 year old woman scolded me for coming home so late. I told her I was sorry and sauntered up the stairs, ignoring the rest of her nagging.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the old woman, except sometimes she gets kind of annoying. I was about to enter my house when I stumbled over a thick book. I looked at it and a wide smile appeared on my lips.
“The curses of ghost and supernatural otherworldly,” I whispered reading the title. I turned to the apartment beside me. Mr Oji-san had given me a book again to read, and this time, it’s actually beneficial.
I took the book, opened my one room apartment and sauntered in.
Learning how to hold hands in the dark
Esme
“Finally,” I mumbled through a cave of mashed up Cheerios as the computer blinked bright blue, “Some progress.” Before me, the flat computer screen cascaded me in a cold light of azure as the firewall vanished into thin air; the streaming green of words that blocked trespassers from the oh-so-valuable data dissolved into a shimmering blue screen with just a few taps of the keyboard.
Thank you, John.
I knew this was wrong. Extremely wrong. After all, breaking into the dean’s office and changing my grades on her computer was something that would get even the smartest student of Redfield Institute, say Sarah, completely and absolutely expelled. It was forbidden, unheard of; yet here I was, sitting calmly in Clancy’s big red chair, swinging my legs on the table as I tapped at the black keyboard in my lap, my taste buds savouring the salty delight of the chips.
If Chris had any idea where I truly was….
All around me, Headmistress Clancy’s office was a mosaic of black and blue, sleeks of yellowish gold dancing across the darkened corners; the street lamps of the city outside played their way into the enclosed room, shining brilliantly through the two full-length windows that bordered me. Passing car headlights washed over the wooden-scented room in waves, pale gold and white lighting up the different features of the room in a shimmering slow motion. Despite the enclosed area, the cold bit in through the windows, a howling autumn wind pressing its flat face against the sleek glass in a desperate attempt to reach me-thankfully, I remembered my duster this time. Howls and laments of ghost past rang through the wooden room, its chilling breath circling around me like a dying fire. The keyboard felt like ice beneath my numb fingers.
I really shouldn’t be doing this.
Just as I thought this, all opened up before me; the blue screen flashed a solid grey as the Grade System of Redfield Institute blinked into existence, black words quickly filling up the new space. Victory sang in me as I leaned slightly towards the screen; there before me stood the entire list of grades for the junior class’s Math test today. Familiar names fringed on the left of the grey table as large, bold letters sidelined them all; As, Bs, Cs and my favourite, Ds. The revolting signature of Mr. Carl had been copied into the table, nothing more then a bunch of swirly, thin lines at the top of the screen. Snippets of information loaded itself at the side.
Bingo.
I inched myself closer to the screen as I scrolled down the names, dropping the bags of Cheerios at the side as I concentrated on my super-important mission. I had to do this quickly. I had to hurry; if Morgan returns back to her house from the shop and finds that I had skipped our study-date, she would immediately know where to look.
She would come here.
Which means I’m dead.
As my finger picked up speed, scrolling down the screen at a faster rate, a tiny, almost inaudible noise clicked at the front of the room. A howling deafened my ear. In a casual turn of my head, I looked towards the wooden front door with slight interest.
Pushing her way into the room with a creak of the large door was none other then that small Asian chick herself, her black plain cotton shirt blending her into the abyss behind. Pale, sickly skin stuck out of the black like a bodiless white, her silver eyes stinging out of her small face like sharp daggers of ice. Her ink black hair was plastered on her forehead like dark paint, dampened and cold by the gale outside; her pale cheeks stuck out of her face in sudden rosy flames, blown cold by the autumn wind. Beneath all the black, a pair of sickly white sticks grew down from her shorts, ending in a pair of black canvas. Hairless, bare white arms sidelined her slender black figure.
She looked like a disembodied girl in the dark
“Yo,” I greeted simply as the small girl’s haunting eyes widened slightly at my presence-besides that, she didn’t even looked the slightest bit alarmed. My stomach growled in greedy hunger as my hair brushed back against the velvet chair. The computer chimed a single note in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” the strange girl finally spoke, a sudden smooth smile cracking across her pale face. Despite this morning, I somehow felt no anger towards the girl anymore; sitting here, staring at her creepy smiling face, I felt nothing more then the tiniest bit of interest. With a flex of an arm, I returned her casual smile with a lazy one.
“Oh, the usual,” I answered dryly as my calves stretched the cold away atop the oak desk, “Just hanging. How bout you? You come here often?” In front of me, standing against the cold black, the strange Asian chick narrowed her pretty eyes in silence. Her smile never left her face. With a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, I returned to the computer, the silence between us hanging like a heavy blanket. There were more important things to do right now then deal with this weirdo.
Like stopping me from failing.
Just as I found my name on the screen, a simple hyphen beside it for my grade, the strange girl spoke again, her voice an icy calm.
“Not really. Now, if you may excuse me, cheat.”
“I’m not a cheat,” I retorted with a humoured smirk as my fingers busied themselves with typing at my lap, “I’m just rectifying a mistake, really. A mistake that should have never have happened. How about you? Do you spend all your nights breaking into the principal’s office? Cause if you do, you need help. A lot of it.” My voice sounded lazy as the words slithered out of my throat, my glinting golden eyes meeting the silver ones across the room. Truth be told, I had no idea why I was so calm now; shouldn’t I be throwing punches at the girl?
Odd.
With a final tap of the key and a click of the mouse, I leaned back in triumphant satisfaction. I did it. I passed myself. The smile on my lips widened as my head hit back against the red velvet, the cold shrouding over me like a cloud of ice. Numb fingers reached out for my Cheerios.
Time for a celebration.
At the other end of the room, opposite me, the strange Asian girl finally moved; she rolled her pretty eyes and in a single, ghost-like movement, glided her way past me. In the wavering dark, pales of light rolled over her icy skin as she moved across the room, her gaze completely abandoning me in search of another. Cold fingers dove into the plastic bag in my lap as the black-haired girl moved silently, my teeth grinding down on the crunchy crackers upon contact. Delicious, unhealthy salted flakes stained my cold mouth.
My eyes studied the strange girl with mild interest as she stopped moving in a few steps; her path ended at a tall, wooden door at the left flank of the office. It was simple door, much like every other door in the administration office outside. A silver doorknob glinted in the mild darkness, the top half of the mahogany wood replaced by a square of fogged-out glass; the large, bold letters of the word ARCHIVES was printed in the middle of the grey-green surface. Before the silent door, the strange girl seemed to melt into the darkness.
As I watched with smirking eyes, the Asian girl went down on a pale knee before the door, her nose quickly brushing against the silver doorknob. A slender pale hand pulled something out of her shorts pocket as her white knees met the cold wood floor; for the first time, I couldn’t help but ponder at her attire. Here I was, freezing my butt off in my old duster while she strode around in nothing more then a T-Shirt and shorts.
Cotton ones, at that.
Once again, odd.
Her white fingers strayed their way to the doorknob as I spoke out, against my better judgment.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”
The girl on her knees didn’t answer, though her hand did stop moving. Something silver glinted in her pinched fingers. At the windows, glass shook violently as another gale of ice whipped against the building.
“Fine. Be my guest. Go ahead,” I licked my lips as I continued, my salted voice purring out in laziness, “ Just so you know, Headmistress Clancy had a lock-activation alarm system put on that door ever since that day I tried to break into it; the moment someone fiddles with the lock, well…shitty, shitty...bang, bang….sirens come a-calling!”
With what seemed like a heavy sigh, the strange girl swished her dark head around and glared those creepy eyes at me, her slender forehead creasing in irritation. Dark eyebrows bent towards her nose. With the slick smile still on my face, I pointed a salt-covered finger at the wall; sitting in the empty white, just beside the door, was an electronic alarm system. It was a hand-slab of grey metal on the wall, a brilliant red dot beeping silently at some inaudible rhythm. The company’s blue and white logo flashed atop the gadget, glowing in the shifting light. For some reason, Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song started to play itself out in my head.
With a slight whisper of annoyance, the strange girl got off her knees and bent over to study the beeping gadget. Strands of black hair toppled over her strange eyes as she frowned at the silver machine, her white fingers angrily stuffing whatever she held back into her pocket. For some reason, she began bloody annoyed. Cold seemed to hug my limbs. After minutes of staring at the gadget, willing it to deactivate itself, she finally breathed out a sigh. With a surrendering stretch of her head, she swirled around smoothly and cast a pretty, charming smile at my direction.
“What’s the problem?” my smirk widened at her smile, my heart dancing in pure amusement. For some reasons, unknown even to me, I found this all extremely funny. My salted fingers drummed itself along to the imaginary beat.
“Well, genius,” the girl’s deep voice rumbled out in waves, shoulders sagging in defeat, “Would you help me?”
“Well,” my grin widened to length of the Cheshire Cat, “I have to confirm the charge of my service first. After all, I can’t just do work for people for free. Now, let’s see…how bout you pay me $40 to-…”
“Would a tip to the principal’s office for cheating be a more appropriate payment?”
“Fine.”In single lazy movement, I dropped the bag of Cheerios back on the table, my other hand sluggishly returning the keyboard from my lap. Heavy, boot-clad feet dragged themselves off the sweet-scented wood with much effort as I pulled myself off the red chair, straightening my back with a lazy yowl. For a few seconds, the silver-eyed girl watched me silently as I stretched myself back into shape, knuckles cracking and eyes blinking. A huge yawn spilled from my lips.
It wasn’t long before I was moving again; in a single movement, I grabbed my mini-laptop of the table top and sauntered towards the girl, my mouth sucking my fingers clean as I walked. The thick cloth of my duster glided against my heels, sweeping the crumbs away behind me as I walked the few steps to the door.
The girl’s silver eyes never left me as I deftly stopped before the alarm system; in a practiced hand, I flipped open the black mini-laptop. A single chime of awareness called out to me as I proceeded with my way- a lazy hand uncoiled my black USB drive and stuck into the updating hole, at the bottom of the gadget. Light shone from my small screen at contact. In the shimmering cold and under the watchful silver eyes of the strange girl, my fingers worked a magic, a magic that John himself had thought me so many years ago. Till this day, I still have no idea how he, the son of a wealthy businessman, ever learned to disable a security unit within seconds. It was a skill that I had begged him to teach me 4 years ago; it was a skill, I insisted, that would definitely come in handy one day.
Teaching me this was probably John’s greatest regret.
“Where did you learn to do this, genius?” the girl spoke in her low voice, sarcasm dripping in hot blots.
“Terminator.”
“Oh, ha, ha.”
“I’m serious. Never mind. Try it now.”
With a slight fake smile at the last tap of keys ringing from my hands, the weirdo reached forward and with a twist of the doorknob, pushed the door open.
Riddle
Esme Conner opened the electronic lock like a professional. Smoothly and swiftly without any help from me. I hid the paper clip I was holding in my hand and pushed it into the pocket. She saw it anyway, but my pride was on the line.
“And this friend, is how you get in,” she told me with that infuriating voice she had when I first came in. She seemed different from this afternoon, not the hot headed girl who wanted to punch the living day lights out of me.
To my irritation she followed me into the Archive’s office. I ignored her as she strolled in casually behind me. Her black unearthly trench coat sweeping the floor. She looked like those spy persona in those James Bond movies. Not that I watch James Bond, but doesn’t James Bond remind you of girls with big attitude and stupid looking outfit. Yep, well, she reminds me of those kinda of girls.
The Archive office was dark. Light from the nearby street light flittered in and silver moon light touched the top of the principal’s table. I could see the dust that rose from the floor boards and furniture clearly. I found what I was looking for and strode towards it.
Cupboards held all the historical archives of the school. Dating back 500 years ago to present, all stored neatly in glass cupboards. I found the cupboard I was looking for. Esme showed her card to me humming again and tried to unlock the cupboard door, however when she found out that it wasn’t electronic, the cool smile she had on fell and an angry frown appeared on her face.
‘What’s the matter Master thief?” I asked her, smirking, finally speaking to her. Esme glared at me, in the darkness I could not see her clearly, but I can guess that she was fuming right now.
“Nothing,” she muttered and gave way for me.
“In situations like this, you use a paper clip,” I said, taking out a paper clip I had stuffed in my pocket and showed it to her, ‘Do you know how to use the paper clip?” I asked, mocking her.
“Shut up, Asian kid, I know how to use a paper clip to kill you,” she snarled at me. It was almost funny, the insult absolutely childish but I shrugged and with one expert flick I snapped the lock open. The cupboard door swung open and I rummage through the files. In the dim moonlight and street lamp light, it took me a while to find the file I was looking for.
“What are you doing?” Esme asked me. Her voice sounded curious.
“What interested?” I asked her. She snorted. “Not really,” she murmured, failing miserably in hiding her curiosity. The file I was holding was green in color, golden words named the file. Redfield Institute, year 2004. Esme raised her eye brow and sauntered over to my side when I opened the file.
What was shown was absolutely shocking that Esme beside me gave a gasp. “A suicide! Here in this bloody school?” she exclaimed. I had to put a hand over her mouth. I looked at the contents. Yes, I was sure I read of this before. 5 years ago when I was just 12 years old a section of the news paper article wrote about the suicide incident in Redfield Institute.
“Brain Quinn and Maria Hawkins, both age 17 committed suicides in Redfield Institute. Both bodies were found on the third floor girl’s toilet. Cause of the deaths is unknown, family members are devastated about the incident but wish not to comment. Brain Quinn and Maria Hawkins were describe as a loving couple, Maria like the sun and Brain the night. The Romeo and Juliet of the 21st century, Brain and Maria reason of suicide could be described as such.”
A picture of Brain and Maria was pasted on top of the news article. Brain a gloomy kid with almost white skin and dark dead eyes. He had long dark hair and he looked like a girl. Maria on the other hand was all smiles, with golden locks of hair and bright blue eyes and tanned skin, she was beautiful almost handsome. I stared at the pictures for a long time.
“Apparently, they cause of death is unknown, all that was left was the scent of peaches,” Esme sounded beside me. I looked up and found her peering down at the file. “I thought you weren’t interested?” I asked her. She snorted. “Well, now I am, happy now,” she said.
I looked down at the file again.
“Why are you doing this Riddle,” Esme sounded again. I was half irritated, half intrigued that the girl wanted to know.
“Do you believe in ghost, Esme?” I asked her. She snorted again. I clenched my fist; this girl was like a pig! Only pigs snort like that. Keeping my cool I smiled at her. “Well, I believe in ghost and this afternoon I found out that one of this ghost you do not believe haunted the girl’s bathroom and threatened to kill my friend.”
“You’re such a Nob, ghost exists but they can’t kill,” Esme told me a cynical voice at hand, “If ghost can kill we’ll be dying like flies in the corridor every minute.”
“And what is it with your friend,” she said. I explained to her about Clare half heartedly and when I was done Esme eyes were as big and sparkly as giant pearls. Oh great, those were excitement in her eyes, her eyes were sparkling.
“Wait, is it true?’ Does Clare still have the mark?” she asked.
She was surprisingly interested. Those eyes of her told me that. I looked at the file again and thought for a moment. Maybe…I can use her.
“Well yeah it’s true, but Clare does not have the mark…now,” I said.
Esme raised her eye brow, “So you’re telling me it’s not true,” she said. Pondering on whether I should tell this girl my secret, I placed my left hand in my pocket. Let me test her a little bit. “Well it is true, whether you want to believe it or not,” I said.
Esme glared at me carefully before looking at the file again. “This case…this suicide incident hasn’t been solved yet right?” she asked me. I read it again, and smirked. “Well, it has been, because I know how they died…” I said.
Esme fumbled with the file and looked at me skeptically.
“What do you mean,” she said.
Ah, what a dumb person, so dumb and ignorant my brains were about to rot.
“It says here that the cause of death is unknown, I know how it was caused…” I said, “and I’m not telling you,” I added when I saw Esme excited eyes.
The excitement in Esme burnt out and she reached over to grab me, I dodge her.
Her hands clasped open and close around empty air before she placed it beside her.
“How did you dodge me?” she muttered.
Ah, yes, Esme Conner, the Fire girl also known as the strongest, was dodge by weak little me. “How the hell did you do that!?” she asked again, her voice a little raised. I smirked and placed the open file face down on a teacher’s table. “Maybe I did it because I have faster reflexes than you,” I said.
Esme flashed me and angry gaze, her eyes so stunningly fierce I was a little taken aback.
“Come on tell me, I want to know,” she said. This time she was like the Esme I had seen in the corridor and confronted this afternoon. “You said you didn’t believe that ghost can kill,” I said.
“Yes, I don’t believe in that, I mean come on, a man who appears in the mirror telling people to guess his name and if you can’t you die, it sounds so stupid,” she said, “And Toute, Devoir and Mourir…what?!”
I smirked, “Well, then, then I shall not tell you,” I said. Esme looked like she was about to kill me. I turned away from her then gasped when I felt something grab me from behind.
I turned and found Esme grabbing onto my shirt and pulling hard. Her strength was so terrifying for a moment I remembered the incident that happened to me 10 years ago, that incident that…
Esme grabs my left hand and pulls it behind me. When she saw the mark on my skin she gasped and released me, I fell violently onto the floor, getting up and facing her. I was still shivering, my memories for 10 years ago pouring out.
“You have the mark…you said Clare had it!” she shouted at me.
“Quiet down will you,” I said, regaining my composure. This time I didn’t bother to hide the mark on my skin.
“How do you get that,” she told me.
“Like I said, ghost can kill,” I said picking up the file and placing it back into the cupboard and if I’m not wrong, the ghost in the bathroom who threatens to kill Clare is the either Brain or Clare. Esme was still shock from the scar on my hand she could not speak.
“So…huh?’ She said, “Ghost can kill…”
“That scar…is not fake right,” she asked again.
I placed my hand out and allowed her to inspect it. “What am I thinking, how can this be fake,” she muttered to herself, “If this is fake than Obama is my father,” she muttered again. Somehow that cracked me up and I started to laugh.
Esme glared at me.
“How do you get this…Clare was the one who got it…by why you,” she asked me.
I pulled my hand away from her grasp, my smile disappearing. “That, you do not need to know,” I said, hiding my hand again. Esme sighed in frustration and scratched her head.
“O…k, so what, you’re going to sit around here and wait for your own death,” she asked me, “Oh are you just going to sit here, drink tea and again wait for your own death.”
I locked the cupboard, “My death is in 4 days, but I don’t plan to throw away my life like that…it makes it easier for me to have the curse…no good would come out of it if Clare had the curse.”
“Oh, haha, you’re a big super hero,” Esme said sarcastically.
“Well I am, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a case to solve,” I said, walking out of the room.
“Wait!” Esme called out behind me, “I’ll help,” she said the two words more softly.
I was surprise, but even the more so, amused. She, Esme Conner, the idiot who I cannot stand, the idiot skeptical about the whole thing, wanting to help. Was it for the excitement? Or was it because she was just tired of her boring life…or…just maybe she really cares? I shook my head.
“What?” I asked, smirking.
“I’ll help,” she said.
“What?”
“I”LL HELP OK YOU STUPID MORON,” she shouted at me.
“Hmm…” I whispered, “Well, suit yourself,” I said.
“What, no thank you, you’re a really grateful person you know that,” Esme said.
“If I remembered clearly, I did not invite you to help me,” I retorted.
‘Oh, shut up,” Esme replied
And with that, we went out of school, bickering the whole way.
Somewhere deep inside…I kinda felt…relief.
It was late when I made my way home. A one room apartment in a two storey flat. Mary-Anne, my land lady a 44 year old woman scolded me for coming home so late. I told her I was sorry and sauntered up the stairs, ignoring the rest of her nagging.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the old woman, except sometimes she gets kind of annoying. I was about to enter my house when I stumbled over a thick book. I looked at it and a wide smile appeared on my lips.
“The curses of ghost and supernatural otherworldly,” I whispered reading the title. I turned to the apartment beside me. Mr Oji-san had given me a book again to read, and this time, it’s actually beneficial.
I took the book, opened my one room apartment and sauntered in.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
2nd chapter
Chapter 2
Rumors spread from the toilets
Riddle
In my country there was a saying, “Nothing is more poisonous than the words of a rumor.” It was a wise saying, said by a man whose name I could not remember. Here I was seating in the large mass hall watching the people gather into their own little clique.
It was a normal routine, a routine so mundane that people needed to make it exciting. That was how the rumors started. A person like me would never get why rumors started, I guess you could call me different. I was unlike other people, I had no clique, and the idea of a clique irritates me. My only friend was Alex.
Now, Alex was sitting beside me eating lunch from a very expensive looking lunch box. As usual his food looked mouth watering, but I knew better than to ask from him. I never want to beg for food ever again. I took out a rice ball from a weak looking plastic bag and observed the girls at the rear end of the large mass hall.
Sarah and her beautiful goons. The chick with the red hair, the green eyes, the beautiful flawless face and the pea size brain. Don’t get me wrong, I hold nothing against beautiful girls with pea size brains, but Sarah was a different case altogether. Sarah was THE MEAN, girl with the pea size brain. You get what I mean?
She’s basically the role model of the good rich girl gone bimbo, or something along those lines. Look, I hold nothing against bimboes, some of them are good creatures, but most of the time, their shallow thinking really gets to me. Put me a room with a bimbo and I would kill her literally, like I said, stupid people are on my hate list.
So Sarah and her goons were talking, today their conversation seemed serious. Sarah was glaring down at a girl, with a pretty face, a typical blond hair and blue eyes. The girl’s name I remember. Her name is Clare, Clare Johnson. Her father was the leader of a famous perfume industry and her Mom a famous news reporter seen on the prime time news. She was the splitting image of her Mom, but their characters were miles apart.
Clare Johnson was not fit to be in Sarah’s group. She wasn’t as shallow as Sarah and her goons. She was smart and pretty, but somehow or rather she hung out with them. Clare was a pretty good girl when she wanted to be and she was pretty nice too. I have often caught the pained look on Clare’s face when she was forced to do something cruel when Sarah ordered her too. Clare Johnson was not fit to be in the Barbie dolls, I for one know that very well.
“Geez, Rid, you’re staring at Sarah’s gang again, are you a lezzy, surely you can’t be interested in those girls,” Alex voice flittered across the air meeting my delicate ears. I faked a laugh, “Thank you Alex,” I said and bowed, half a rice ball still in my mouth.
“Why so interested?” Alex asked stealing a glance at them before whistling. “Though that chick Andrea looks pretty hot today,” he added.
“Ah, yes, she’s roasting,” I said, stuffing another rice ball into my mouth and looking at them again. The girl’s all wore their skirt uniform shorts, showing off their long beautiful legs. Their blazers had sequences on them that gave them a sparkly edge. I call Sarah and her goons, the Barbie dolls.
“Clare is really getting it,” Alex said to me and I nodded, stuffing another rice ball into my mouth. Sarah seemed to be scolding Clare and Clare seemed troubled. Her eyes were darting here and there, and her fists were clenched tightly together.
That’s when I saw it, the red scar on her left hand. I almost choked on the rice ball. That mark I have seen it before. Something about that mark called to me. Somewhere from the debts of my deep memory.
“Hades marking,” I whispered.
“Huh, you say something Rid?” Alex asked. I smirked and stood up. This looks very interesting. It could just be a tattoo, but I knew Clare Johnson would never do anything like a tattoo; it goes against all the good bimbo code.
“Alex gets up,” I commanded him, smiling.
“I do not like the smirk, Rid,” Alex said sighing but he got up anyway.
‘Just take this little adventure as a very good life experience,” I said in a flat voice.
“Oh joy,” Alex said rolling his eyes. I raised my leg and his eyes widened. ‘Rid, NO!”
He was too late, I kicked him hard. He went spinning dramatically into sideways in spirals, hitting many chairs and tables along the way. Many students screamed as Alex crashed into them spilling food all over the place. He stumbled, trying to stop himself but failed miserably. I stood there laughing, many people laughed too, watching the scene with interest. He finally came to a stop in the middle of the Barbie dolls gathering. Sarah looking very shock. Alex resting on Clare’s chest.
“Ahrrrrrrr….” Clare screamed, before slapping Alex away. Ouch, that got to hurt.
“Rid, I will kill you,” I heard Alex say before sinking to the floor. I walked towards the table. Sarah glared at me and seemed to shrink back a bit.
“Why so scared?” I asked her, taking a sit next to her. Sarah’s eyes widened.
‘What are you doing here!?” she seethes. Her goons, or blond and ready to defend their leader with cheap fake nails gathered around her and nodded. “Use your brain for once will you, Alex fell so I had to help him,” I said. Spectators were gathering round the table and Sarah was looking rather pissed off.
“You kicked him!” Sarah seethes. She looked like medusa, ready for the kill. Alex was on the ground, a huge bump on his head, moaning in pain. I stepped on him and he shot up.
“Are you alright, dear Mr Warrington?” I asked. Alex flashed me a very cold smile. “Yes, Rid, I feel so good, in fact I feel great enough to do this!”
He lunged forward and grabs me tight around the right arm before twisting it. Pretending to be the weak idiot who knew nothing about fighting, I started to scream girlishly. The Barbie doll gang was looking at us in disgust. Sarah was disgusted, Clare however distracted.
Alex twisted my arm again and I pretended to fall forward in pain, landing on Clare who shrieked. I fell on her with a thud and we both went down. Alex released me.
I heard a few people laughing at our ethics. Sarah was calling for her goons to stop us, but none seem to want to go near us. Well, this was going as planned.
I pushed Alex off, before grabbing Clare’s left hand and bring it close to my eyes. Yes, indeed, it wasn’t a tattoo, it was a scar. Clare’s eyes widened and I saw a definite shock in them. The scar was a cross, a big fat cross, like you know in pirate movies where X marks the spot. This was one of those big cross.
I helped her up and released her. Before turning around and finding Mr Carl looking at me. Alex was shrugging and far away. “That traitor,” I whispered underneath my breath.
“Riddle!” Mr Carl screamed into my face.
“Ah, shit,” I whispered.
“Why did I get scolded,” I muttered. Alex beside me snorted so loud I was about to call him a pig.
“Because Rid, not only did you kick me, you caused a food mess in the mass hall and landed on a girl’s chest and you do know what a girl’s chest contains.”
I raised my eye brow. “Yes, I know big boobs,” I muttered. Alex who was drinking from a bottle spluttered and he turned extremely red. My oh my, play boy here was surprisingly innocent. “What!? Rid, sometimes I think you’re a guy,” he said.
I looked at him, his true character was showing through and he seemed to realize it because he turned away and shouted something insensitive to a unfortunate kid who happened to be standing in the corridor we were walking down from.
“What if I am a guy?” I asked him. Alex stopped and glared at me, gaping.
“Rid…you don’t mean…”
“No, I’m not,” I said and he heaved a sigh of relief. “It would be a big shame if you were,” he whispered to me.
“Why?” I asked.
Alex paused for a moment before holding his hand to his chin pretending to be deep in thought. “Because I simply need a pretty girl for a best friend,” he said, “I’m a play boy you see; I like to make me girls jealous.”
“How was Clare’s boobs?”
Alex turned red again and I saw his fingers twitching.
“Go get the girls, too pure pure boy,” I said and Alex came after me as I ran laughing.
Alex had afternoon lessons that day which stretches on till evening. Using my free time I had, I walked to the back garden. Some time alone without Alex would be beneficial for me. I like quiet places you see, it helps me to think.
My thoughts gathered back to Clare, the mark on her left hand was disturbing no doubt. A symbol I had seen before, somewhere in a book and somewhere else. “The mark of Hades, the mark of death,” I whispered. Was Clare Johnson going to die?
The thought sent chills down my back. The scar…was real…
I looked up and to my surprise I saw her, Clare Johnson. She was sitting on the white dome shape wood vendera. The vendera was surrounded by fallen autumn leaves and a sheet of shallow snow. She was crying, her face cupped in her hands, her scar showing through.
I shouldn’t bother…after all Clare Johnson was with the Barbie Dolls, the stupidest people on Earth apart from Alex and the other girl…Esme. I was about to walk away when…
“Help them sis,”
A long distance voice echoed through my head. I clenched my fist. “Dammit,” I whispered, “Damm, damm, damm, damm, damm, DAMM!”
Walking through the bushes I walked towards the crying girl. My feet crunched on the snow making an odd sound. Clare noticed and looked up quickly and when she saw me she was stunned. “Riddle,” she whispered.
“Err…yeah, aloha?” I said, trying to act all casual. Clare forced a laugh through her sad face and I unclenched my fist. The mark on her hand seemed redder and thicker. “Why were you crying?” I asked her. Clare hesitated before shaking her head. “It’s nothing, Riddle, nothing at all…”
She drifted off and stared towards the sky. “I was just thinking how beautiful the sky-“
I cut her off, since I did not want to hear about how beautiful the sky was. “Are you going to die?” I asked her straight forwardly not cutting the point. Clare was so stunned her lips opened and closed like those of a gold fish. It would seem I was right.
I was more solemn now and I bent down and picked up her hand.
“How did this happen?” I asked.
“NOOO!” Clare shouted pushing me away, “Don’t touch me Riddle, the curse…it can spread!”
I caught a glimpse of her eyes and I saw the fear in them, the horrifying fear.
Three years ago, I was alone, I had just entered school, my uncle had sent me here and I was all alone. I had no one to talk too so I explored the school on my own. I was looking for someplace quiet and I had found it somehow. It was this place, at the back of this school a small magical garden, like the garden in the secret garden. I fell in love with it at first sight.
I often went there after that, but I was still lonely, without any friends. Since I was always making jokes and stuff, my reputation grew from that one Asian girl, to the weird kid. Back then, Alex hasn’t showed up yet. That’s when I met her, Clare Johnson. She was a pretty girl even back then, with the most amazing smile I have ever seen. She was sitting on the veranda, singing to the roses that were blooming. It was spring at that time and the singing girl had astounded me. Her voice was pure and light hearted. It seemed to lift my gloomy spirits at that time.
When she first saw me she didn’t shun me like the other kids, she smiled at me and together for that whole afternoon we had talked. However, we drifted apart soon after that. Simply because I didn’t know how to keep friendships…no, it wasn’t I didn’t know…It was I didn’t want to.
But I never forgot about Clare Johnson and her beautiful voice. If I must say, she was my very first friend. Like I said, I was a pretty stupid person myself.
I raised my hand and placed it on her head. “Please stop crying…I will help you.”
And with these words alone, Clare looked at me, her eyes pleading. I was drawn into the web of mystery and horror. Just with four simple words, “I will help you.”
Clare’s story started off slowly, but it became dark quickly, taking on a totally different tone, by the time she was done, I was satisfied. She had given me enough information. Enough information to fit into a truck.
“I heard a rumor,” was what she said, starting off slowly and she blushed when she said it, embarrassed over something.
“I am in love with Alex…Alex Warrington,”
That was a surprise, because I could not think of any girl who would be in love with that fat headed idiot. Well, if she interacted with me, then I’m guessing she really loved idiots. Well, good for you Alex. No wonder she screamed when Alex landed on her chest.
“I love him a lot, I do not know why…I heard a rumor it was started by one of the seniors in the school…at 12 mid night if you enter the girl’s bath room on the third floor near class 3-F and the janitor’s office, you would see a boy dressed in a black dashing suite and a long twisted hat, he would be in the mirror, replacing your reflection. His face would be covered by a white mask…he would ask you a question, ‘Guess my name in three tries, get it right and I grant you any wish,’ he would say. I wanted Alex to love me so I climbed the stairs to the third level and there it was a small girl’s toilet with only 2 cubicles. I entered it shortly before 12 and like the rumors said…there he was a boy dressed in a weird suite and a tall crooked hat…he had a white mask but on the mask…was a red painted smile…”
Clare started to shiver at this point and it took me a while to calm her down. After a short while, she continued again…
“ He asked me the question and I happily guessed…I said the following names…I do not know how I came to know of them…but I said it anyway…the words just seem to pop out of my mouth…and I don’t even know them…the names were, ‘Toute ,Devoir and Mourir.’ The man in the glass stared back at me and shook his head at all three answers. Somehow I felt very sad…and scared. The man laughed, I don’t know why he did and he placed his finger on his lips, “You’re going to die…in 5 days,” he said to me and the next thing I knew I was running in terror. I knew not to look behind because I knew he was behind me chasing after me. Somehow I knew his face beneath the mask…I knew it but I didn’t want to look at it. I ran out of school and back home, I thought it was all a dream but then I heard a voice behind me whispering the number 5 and the next thing I knew a scar like this had appeared on my left hand.’
I listened to her. Her story sounded unbelievable.
“Did you tell this to Sarah?” I asked her. Clare nodded and then she begun to sob again. “She didn’t believe me and called me the most horrid word in the planet.”
I can guess…hmm, dick head, asshole, bitch, slut…somewhere along the lines. For some reason I remembered Esme face. The word bitch running from her lips, the cold pure anger I felt then. Somehow, I remembered.
Then I remembered another thing. Didn’t something happen in the school 5 years ago, something involving the third floor bathroom toilet. It was just 2 years before I transferred here. “Toute, Devoir and Mourir…” I whispered, something clicked in my mind and I got up.
“AH!” I shouted shocking the sobbing Clare.
She looked up at me and I glanced down at her.
“Do you remember the man’s face?’ I asked her. Clare scrunched up her face, it was her thinking face. Telling you frankly it looked like that of a Pigs. “I cannot,” she whispered she grabs her hair and tried to pull it out, “I cannot.”
“I’m going to die,” she whispered.
I grab her wrist hard and pulled her hands away from her hair. ‘Look at me,” I said, in a serious voice a rarely use. Clare looked shock and she looked at me. Her blue eyes meet my silver ones. She was scared, so scared, the terrified soul behind those eyes was truly terrified. “You’re going to be alright, it was a dream,” I told her. Clare shook her head.
“No, no it wasn’t!” she shouted, “the mark it’s here!” showing me the mark waving it in front of my face. “It’s here Riddle! No one can save me…!” her bewilderment was understandable. After all in 4 days she was going to die.
I smiled and grabs her left hand tightly. Clare gasped, her eyes rolled back and she slumped. She had fainted. My hair was glowing a sliverish white, my eyes burning. I winced, feeling something burning into my left hand. Soon, my hair turned back to black and I smirked. Clare woke a few moments later.
“Huh, what…huh why am I here?” she asked. She saw me and she shrank back a little. “Riddle,” she said before smiling. That warmth smile from before was the exact replica of the warm smile she had 3 years ago. “Are you feeling better?” I asked her. Clare looked at me confused.
“Yes,” she said.
She got up and touched my shoulder. “Well, looks like I got to go,” she said.
“Don’t hang out with Sarah anymore,” I told her. Clare looked at me before smiling sadly. “I can’t Riddle, my Dad company belongs to Sarah’s Dad unfortunately…I have to be nice to the girl.”
“Then…join the choir again,” I said and Clare smiled brightly, the autumn setting sun illuminating her. She seemed much happier than before…the scar on her left hand gone. “I’m going home now Riddle, are you?” she asked me.
“Uh…yeah, I’m waiting for Alex,” I said.
Clare flushed when she heard Alex’s name. “Oh, ok, well then…bye,” she said.
She was a cute little girl. As I watch her go, I smirked, raising my left hand so that it caught the glow of the sun. My hand glowed orange and I stared at the mark on my hand. “And now, I die in 4 days.”
But before that, the school’s archives.
Toute, Devoir and Mourir
Esme
“I still can’t believe Headmistress Clancy didn’t even suspend you,” John Lee Matthews murmured against my cheek as he patiently bandaged my knuckles, his gentle fingers slowly wrapping the soft white cloth over the open wounds. The tossing wind swiped his brown side-bangs flat across his head, the tips of his fringe shading his blue eyes. A trickle of blood oozed its way down my palm.
“It’s not that hard to believe,” I retorted in a hiss as the tender cloth wrapped a tighter grip around my sore knuckles, the bare wounds stinging at the contact, “She always had a crush on me.”
“Dream on, E.”
All around us, red blazers lounged about in the open courtyard, silver trays glinting on cobbled tables as the junior and senior class took their break for lunch; the younger students of Redfield Institute always dined on the other side of the school. Everyone was here, as per usual; Sarah and her usual gang of preppy girls sat at the center of the courtyard, thick textbooks bustling over their table as food was sacrificed for studies. Jocks stuffed their faces by the door, a couple of them tossing a football to one another over other people’s heads- I couldn’t help but notice, with a generous amount of satisfaction, that Parkerman was still missing. The rest of the fragmented courtyard was occupied by the mere commoners of this grand parade; classic misfits such as Locket and gang ate at their lunches silently, exchanging brief comments over the noises of the world. The rest of the student body kept to themselves too, the different cliques in this world of the rich and the elite segregated and divided from each other by a defined line.
It didn’t matter if it’s only all in our heads.
“You know what I don’t believe?” a smooth, accented voice cut through my reverie, pulling me back to the oh-so-fabulous present. Ignoring the pain in my head and the newly-acquired one in my knuckles, I snapped my head across the table.
Morgan Bell sat demurely on the edge of the stone bench, her plait green skirt splayed out on the hard grey in a pretty manner. Dark luscious hair rippled down her white-claded back, like a waterfall of black; the icy wind tossed its refined strands around her firm shoulders, the black framing her face tumbling above in a messy spill. As it usually was, a sleek BlackBerry twinkled in her pale hands, her manicured thumbs busying themselves with texting. Long pale legs streamed out of her short skirt and ended in sparkling heels.
“What?” I raised an eyebrow at her, blinking away foggy tears, “What can’t you believe?” Beside me, on the cobbled table top, John still busied with the bandages.
“You.” Morgan answered simply, not even bothering to look up from her all-important texting. Pretty glossed lips frowned slightly at the flashing screen. By the door, the jocks were cheering on to some internal competition among them.
“Huh?”
“You were late today, Esme,” she finally drew her eyes away from the phone, a heavy sigh breathing out along with her accented words, “You failed that test.” Her phone buzzed in her pale hands but this time, she didn’t even bother with it. Beside me, John’s fingers finished the final touch; I had always like the way his fingers glided over my skin, the way his soft touch could always comfort me. His breath was hot against my cheek.
With a heavy sigh, I rolled my aching eyes.
“Yes, mother. I was late today. I failed my test. Sue me.”
“It was 40 percent of your grade, Esme!” Morgan’s blue eyes stung me as she raised a voice a little, her thick Irish accent rolling over her smooth voice, “You’re not going to able to pass it!” Her pretty blue eyes widened dramatically as she took on her usual stance around me; maternal. Manicured hands deftly shut away her buzzing phone. Beside me, John commented in a dry tone.
“And if you don’t pass Math….”
“I know, I know,” I sighed heavily as I pulled back my bandaged hand, the abrasions still hot and bothered, “I fail the year. I can’t graduate. But….that’s not important right now.”
“Right!” Morgan rolled her azure eyes in great irritation, her pretty face screwed up in upmost distaste, “I forgot. The girl who dodged you…that’s what’s important!” Her chiming Irish voice dripped with heavy sarcasm. Overhead, a tumbling brown of a football swirled above us, narrowly missing the top of John’s head. He was quick though; with a swift, single movement, he glided off the table and back down on the grey bench, his red blazer crinkling as it descended from his lap to the floor. With a scowl at the laughing jocks, he picked up the tumbled red deftly.
“It is important!” I played with my hands to relliterate my point as I practically shouted down at Morgan, “She-freaking-dodged-me!! Can’t you see, Morgan?! Can’t you see what she’s doing to my reputation?!” I knew I was speaking too loud; probably everyone in the courtyard could hear my every word. I didn’t care though. No, today, all I cared about was that tiny Asian chick and what she did back-
“I thought you didn’t care what other people thought,” John’s quiet voice finally broke through my reverie, unglazing my eyes. With a slight frown, I glared down at him; he stared back innocently at me, his blue eyes cocking a weird smile as his shaggy bangs hard lined across his forehead. Straight, brown hair wavered at the base of his neck.
Ah, John.
Always the heart-breaker.
“Fine,” I gritted my teeth in annoyance as I smoothly slid down from the table top and back onto the bench, filling the empty space between the Morgan and John in a single movement, “Fine. Be that way. It’s always good to know that your best friends also happen to be your worst enemies!” All around us, a gale picked up again, knocking over drinks and carrying papers away in its cold grasp. Shocked gasps echoed away.
Beside me, Morgan’s frown finally dropped. With a little laugh and all-too-familiar smile, she reached forward and wrapped a smooth pale arm around my neck.
“Oh, Esme!” her voice sounded like Christmas bells as she mockingly-chocked me, her raven hair blowing into my impassive face, “We love you, you know that! I mean, that’s why-…”
“That’s why we’re worried,” John finished for her in a slightly humoured voice, a small smile twitching his lips as he gazed at the two of us with amusement, “We’re worried and we have every right to be! Your Math test…Headmistress Clancy…Jesus, Esme! If your brother even catches whiff of any of this….”
“He won’t,” I managed to choke out as Morgan finally eased her grasp around my neck, a playful smile helplessly dousing all our lips. Somehow, the rather tense atmosphere between us all had melted away into just plain humour; it had always been like this from the very beginning. From the moment we had met each other-John and I knew each other from birth while we only just met Morgan 2 years ago-there had always been something between us. A strong bond always seemed to unite us, so strong that I can safely say that both John and Morgan could easily pass off as my brother and sister.
Heck, it has happened before.
Like now.
“And how exactly are you going to do that?” the amused smile never left Morgan’s face as she slowly withdrew her icy cold arm, folding it uncomfortingly back towards her lap. Her blue eyes flashed at me with a playful glint. On my other side, John watched us in silence, his own smile slowly melting away into the icy wind. At the door, a couple of beefy jocks had gotten themselves into a brawl.
In a single swift movement, I arched both of my arms and curled them around my two best friends, drawing them towards me. Warmth relighted my world.
“I’m going to go illegal.”
Rumors spread from the toilets
Riddle
In my country there was a saying, “Nothing is more poisonous than the words of a rumor.” It was a wise saying, said by a man whose name I could not remember. Here I was seating in the large mass hall watching the people gather into their own little clique.
It was a normal routine, a routine so mundane that people needed to make it exciting. That was how the rumors started. A person like me would never get why rumors started, I guess you could call me different. I was unlike other people, I had no clique, and the idea of a clique irritates me. My only friend was Alex.
Now, Alex was sitting beside me eating lunch from a very expensive looking lunch box. As usual his food looked mouth watering, but I knew better than to ask from him. I never want to beg for food ever again. I took out a rice ball from a weak looking plastic bag and observed the girls at the rear end of the large mass hall.
Sarah and her beautiful goons. The chick with the red hair, the green eyes, the beautiful flawless face and the pea size brain. Don’t get me wrong, I hold nothing against beautiful girls with pea size brains, but Sarah was a different case altogether. Sarah was THE MEAN, girl with the pea size brain. You get what I mean?
She’s basically the role model of the good rich girl gone bimbo, or something along those lines. Look, I hold nothing against bimboes, some of them are good creatures, but most of the time, their shallow thinking really gets to me. Put me a room with a bimbo and I would kill her literally, like I said, stupid people are on my hate list.
So Sarah and her goons were talking, today their conversation seemed serious. Sarah was glaring down at a girl, with a pretty face, a typical blond hair and blue eyes. The girl’s name I remember. Her name is Clare, Clare Johnson. Her father was the leader of a famous perfume industry and her Mom a famous news reporter seen on the prime time news. She was the splitting image of her Mom, but their characters were miles apart.
Clare Johnson was not fit to be in Sarah’s group. She wasn’t as shallow as Sarah and her goons. She was smart and pretty, but somehow or rather she hung out with them. Clare was a pretty good girl when she wanted to be and she was pretty nice too. I have often caught the pained look on Clare’s face when she was forced to do something cruel when Sarah ordered her too. Clare Johnson was not fit to be in the Barbie dolls, I for one know that very well.
“Geez, Rid, you’re staring at Sarah’s gang again, are you a lezzy, surely you can’t be interested in those girls,” Alex voice flittered across the air meeting my delicate ears. I faked a laugh, “Thank you Alex,” I said and bowed, half a rice ball still in my mouth.
“Why so interested?” Alex asked stealing a glance at them before whistling. “Though that chick Andrea looks pretty hot today,” he added.
“Ah, yes, she’s roasting,” I said, stuffing another rice ball into my mouth and looking at them again. The girl’s all wore their skirt uniform shorts, showing off their long beautiful legs. Their blazers had sequences on them that gave them a sparkly edge. I call Sarah and her goons, the Barbie dolls.
“Clare is really getting it,” Alex said to me and I nodded, stuffing another rice ball into my mouth. Sarah seemed to be scolding Clare and Clare seemed troubled. Her eyes were darting here and there, and her fists were clenched tightly together.
That’s when I saw it, the red scar on her left hand. I almost choked on the rice ball. That mark I have seen it before. Something about that mark called to me. Somewhere from the debts of my deep memory.
“Hades marking,” I whispered.
“Huh, you say something Rid?” Alex asked. I smirked and stood up. This looks very interesting. It could just be a tattoo, but I knew Clare Johnson would never do anything like a tattoo; it goes against all the good bimbo code.
“Alex gets up,” I commanded him, smiling.
“I do not like the smirk, Rid,” Alex said sighing but he got up anyway.
‘Just take this little adventure as a very good life experience,” I said in a flat voice.
“Oh joy,” Alex said rolling his eyes. I raised my leg and his eyes widened. ‘Rid, NO!”
He was too late, I kicked him hard. He went spinning dramatically into sideways in spirals, hitting many chairs and tables along the way. Many students screamed as Alex crashed into them spilling food all over the place. He stumbled, trying to stop himself but failed miserably. I stood there laughing, many people laughed too, watching the scene with interest. He finally came to a stop in the middle of the Barbie dolls gathering. Sarah looking very shock. Alex resting on Clare’s chest.
“Ahrrrrrrr….” Clare screamed, before slapping Alex away. Ouch, that got to hurt.
“Rid, I will kill you,” I heard Alex say before sinking to the floor. I walked towards the table. Sarah glared at me and seemed to shrink back a bit.
“Why so scared?” I asked her, taking a sit next to her. Sarah’s eyes widened.
‘What are you doing here!?” she seethes. Her goons, or blond and ready to defend their leader with cheap fake nails gathered around her and nodded. “Use your brain for once will you, Alex fell so I had to help him,” I said. Spectators were gathering round the table and Sarah was looking rather pissed off.
“You kicked him!” Sarah seethes. She looked like medusa, ready for the kill. Alex was on the ground, a huge bump on his head, moaning in pain. I stepped on him and he shot up.
“Are you alright, dear Mr Warrington?” I asked. Alex flashed me a very cold smile. “Yes, Rid, I feel so good, in fact I feel great enough to do this!”
He lunged forward and grabs me tight around the right arm before twisting it. Pretending to be the weak idiot who knew nothing about fighting, I started to scream girlishly. The Barbie doll gang was looking at us in disgust. Sarah was disgusted, Clare however distracted.
Alex twisted my arm again and I pretended to fall forward in pain, landing on Clare who shrieked. I fell on her with a thud and we both went down. Alex released me.
I heard a few people laughing at our ethics. Sarah was calling for her goons to stop us, but none seem to want to go near us. Well, this was going as planned.
I pushed Alex off, before grabbing Clare’s left hand and bring it close to my eyes. Yes, indeed, it wasn’t a tattoo, it was a scar. Clare’s eyes widened and I saw a definite shock in them. The scar was a cross, a big fat cross, like you know in pirate movies where X marks the spot. This was one of those big cross.
I helped her up and released her. Before turning around and finding Mr Carl looking at me. Alex was shrugging and far away. “That traitor,” I whispered underneath my breath.
“Riddle!” Mr Carl screamed into my face.
“Ah, shit,” I whispered.
“Why did I get scolded,” I muttered. Alex beside me snorted so loud I was about to call him a pig.
“Because Rid, not only did you kick me, you caused a food mess in the mass hall and landed on a girl’s chest and you do know what a girl’s chest contains.”
I raised my eye brow. “Yes, I know big boobs,” I muttered. Alex who was drinking from a bottle spluttered and he turned extremely red. My oh my, play boy here was surprisingly innocent. “What!? Rid, sometimes I think you’re a guy,” he said.
I looked at him, his true character was showing through and he seemed to realize it because he turned away and shouted something insensitive to a unfortunate kid who happened to be standing in the corridor we were walking down from.
“What if I am a guy?” I asked him. Alex stopped and glared at me, gaping.
“Rid…you don’t mean…”
“No, I’m not,” I said and he heaved a sigh of relief. “It would be a big shame if you were,” he whispered to me.
“Why?” I asked.
Alex paused for a moment before holding his hand to his chin pretending to be deep in thought. “Because I simply need a pretty girl for a best friend,” he said, “I’m a play boy you see; I like to make me girls jealous.”
“How was Clare’s boobs?”
Alex turned red again and I saw his fingers twitching.
“Go get the girls, too pure pure boy,” I said and Alex came after me as I ran laughing.
Alex had afternoon lessons that day which stretches on till evening. Using my free time I had, I walked to the back garden. Some time alone without Alex would be beneficial for me. I like quiet places you see, it helps me to think.
My thoughts gathered back to Clare, the mark on her left hand was disturbing no doubt. A symbol I had seen before, somewhere in a book and somewhere else. “The mark of Hades, the mark of death,” I whispered. Was Clare Johnson going to die?
The thought sent chills down my back. The scar…was real…
I looked up and to my surprise I saw her, Clare Johnson. She was sitting on the white dome shape wood vendera. The vendera was surrounded by fallen autumn leaves and a sheet of shallow snow. She was crying, her face cupped in her hands, her scar showing through.
I shouldn’t bother…after all Clare Johnson was with the Barbie Dolls, the stupidest people on Earth apart from Alex and the other girl…Esme. I was about to walk away when…
“Help them sis,”
A long distance voice echoed through my head. I clenched my fist. “Dammit,” I whispered, “Damm, damm, damm, damm, damm, DAMM!”
Walking through the bushes I walked towards the crying girl. My feet crunched on the snow making an odd sound. Clare noticed and looked up quickly and when she saw me she was stunned. “Riddle,” she whispered.
“Err…yeah, aloha?” I said, trying to act all casual. Clare forced a laugh through her sad face and I unclenched my fist. The mark on her hand seemed redder and thicker. “Why were you crying?” I asked her. Clare hesitated before shaking her head. “It’s nothing, Riddle, nothing at all…”
She drifted off and stared towards the sky. “I was just thinking how beautiful the sky-“
I cut her off, since I did not want to hear about how beautiful the sky was. “Are you going to die?” I asked her straight forwardly not cutting the point. Clare was so stunned her lips opened and closed like those of a gold fish. It would seem I was right.
I was more solemn now and I bent down and picked up her hand.
“How did this happen?” I asked.
“NOOO!” Clare shouted pushing me away, “Don’t touch me Riddle, the curse…it can spread!”
I caught a glimpse of her eyes and I saw the fear in them, the horrifying fear.
Three years ago, I was alone, I had just entered school, my uncle had sent me here and I was all alone. I had no one to talk too so I explored the school on my own. I was looking for someplace quiet and I had found it somehow. It was this place, at the back of this school a small magical garden, like the garden in the secret garden. I fell in love with it at first sight.
I often went there after that, but I was still lonely, without any friends. Since I was always making jokes and stuff, my reputation grew from that one Asian girl, to the weird kid. Back then, Alex hasn’t showed up yet. That’s when I met her, Clare Johnson. She was a pretty girl even back then, with the most amazing smile I have ever seen. She was sitting on the veranda, singing to the roses that were blooming. It was spring at that time and the singing girl had astounded me. Her voice was pure and light hearted. It seemed to lift my gloomy spirits at that time.
When she first saw me she didn’t shun me like the other kids, she smiled at me and together for that whole afternoon we had talked. However, we drifted apart soon after that. Simply because I didn’t know how to keep friendships…no, it wasn’t I didn’t know…It was I didn’t want to.
But I never forgot about Clare Johnson and her beautiful voice. If I must say, she was my very first friend. Like I said, I was a pretty stupid person myself.
I raised my hand and placed it on her head. “Please stop crying…I will help you.”
And with these words alone, Clare looked at me, her eyes pleading. I was drawn into the web of mystery and horror. Just with four simple words, “I will help you.”
Clare’s story started off slowly, but it became dark quickly, taking on a totally different tone, by the time she was done, I was satisfied. She had given me enough information. Enough information to fit into a truck.
“I heard a rumor,” was what she said, starting off slowly and she blushed when she said it, embarrassed over something.
“I am in love with Alex…Alex Warrington,”
That was a surprise, because I could not think of any girl who would be in love with that fat headed idiot. Well, if she interacted with me, then I’m guessing she really loved idiots. Well, good for you Alex. No wonder she screamed when Alex landed on her chest.
“I love him a lot, I do not know why…I heard a rumor it was started by one of the seniors in the school…at 12 mid night if you enter the girl’s bath room on the third floor near class 3-F and the janitor’s office, you would see a boy dressed in a black dashing suite and a long twisted hat, he would be in the mirror, replacing your reflection. His face would be covered by a white mask…he would ask you a question, ‘Guess my name in three tries, get it right and I grant you any wish,’ he would say. I wanted Alex to love me so I climbed the stairs to the third level and there it was a small girl’s toilet with only 2 cubicles. I entered it shortly before 12 and like the rumors said…there he was a boy dressed in a weird suite and a tall crooked hat…he had a white mask but on the mask…was a red painted smile…”
Clare started to shiver at this point and it took me a while to calm her down. After a short while, she continued again…
“ He asked me the question and I happily guessed…I said the following names…I do not know how I came to know of them…but I said it anyway…the words just seem to pop out of my mouth…and I don’t even know them…the names were, ‘Toute ,Devoir and Mourir.’ The man in the glass stared back at me and shook his head at all three answers. Somehow I felt very sad…and scared. The man laughed, I don’t know why he did and he placed his finger on his lips, “You’re going to die…in 5 days,” he said to me and the next thing I knew I was running in terror. I knew not to look behind because I knew he was behind me chasing after me. Somehow I knew his face beneath the mask…I knew it but I didn’t want to look at it. I ran out of school and back home, I thought it was all a dream but then I heard a voice behind me whispering the number 5 and the next thing I knew a scar like this had appeared on my left hand.’
I listened to her. Her story sounded unbelievable.
“Did you tell this to Sarah?” I asked her. Clare nodded and then she begun to sob again. “She didn’t believe me and called me the most horrid word in the planet.”
I can guess…hmm, dick head, asshole, bitch, slut…somewhere along the lines. For some reason I remembered Esme face. The word bitch running from her lips, the cold pure anger I felt then. Somehow, I remembered.
Then I remembered another thing. Didn’t something happen in the school 5 years ago, something involving the third floor bathroom toilet. It was just 2 years before I transferred here. “Toute, Devoir and Mourir…” I whispered, something clicked in my mind and I got up.
“AH!” I shouted shocking the sobbing Clare.
She looked up at me and I glanced down at her.
“Do you remember the man’s face?’ I asked her. Clare scrunched up her face, it was her thinking face. Telling you frankly it looked like that of a Pigs. “I cannot,” she whispered she grabs her hair and tried to pull it out, “I cannot.”
“I’m going to die,” she whispered.
I grab her wrist hard and pulled her hands away from her hair. ‘Look at me,” I said, in a serious voice a rarely use. Clare looked shock and she looked at me. Her blue eyes meet my silver ones. She was scared, so scared, the terrified soul behind those eyes was truly terrified. “You’re going to be alright, it was a dream,” I told her. Clare shook her head.
“No, no it wasn’t!” she shouted, “the mark it’s here!” showing me the mark waving it in front of my face. “It’s here Riddle! No one can save me…!” her bewilderment was understandable. After all in 4 days she was going to die.
I smiled and grabs her left hand tightly. Clare gasped, her eyes rolled back and she slumped. She had fainted. My hair was glowing a sliverish white, my eyes burning. I winced, feeling something burning into my left hand. Soon, my hair turned back to black and I smirked. Clare woke a few moments later.
“Huh, what…huh why am I here?” she asked. She saw me and she shrank back a little. “Riddle,” she said before smiling. That warmth smile from before was the exact replica of the warm smile she had 3 years ago. “Are you feeling better?” I asked her. Clare looked at me confused.
“Yes,” she said.
She got up and touched my shoulder. “Well, looks like I got to go,” she said.
“Don’t hang out with Sarah anymore,” I told her. Clare looked at me before smiling sadly. “I can’t Riddle, my Dad company belongs to Sarah’s Dad unfortunately…I have to be nice to the girl.”
“Then…join the choir again,” I said and Clare smiled brightly, the autumn setting sun illuminating her. She seemed much happier than before…the scar on her left hand gone. “I’m going home now Riddle, are you?” she asked me.
“Uh…yeah, I’m waiting for Alex,” I said.
Clare flushed when she heard Alex’s name. “Oh, ok, well then…bye,” she said.
She was a cute little girl. As I watch her go, I smirked, raising my left hand so that it caught the glow of the sun. My hand glowed orange and I stared at the mark on my hand. “And now, I die in 4 days.”
But before that, the school’s archives.
Toute, Devoir and Mourir
Esme
“I still can’t believe Headmistress Clancy didn’t even suspend you,” John Lee Matthews murmured against my cheek as he patiently bandaged my knuckles, his gentle fingers slowly wrapping the soft white cloth over the open wounds. The tossing wind swiped his brown side-bangs flat across his head, the tips of his fringe shading his blue eyes. A trickle of blood oozed its way down my palm.
“It’s not that hard to believe,” I retorted in a hiss as the tender cloth wrapped a tighter grip around my sore knuckles, the bare wounds stinging at the contact, “She always had a crush on me.”
“Dream on, E.”
All around us, red blazers lounged about in the open courtyard, silver trays glinting on cobbled tables as the junior and senior class took their break for lunch; the younger students of Redfield Institute always dined on the other side of the school. Everyone was here, as per usual; Sarah and her usual gang of preppy girls sat at the center of the courtyard, thick textbooks bustling over their table as food was sacrificed for studies. Jocks stuffed their faces by the door, a couple of them tossing a football to one another over other people’s heads- I couldn’t help but notice, with a generous amount of satisfaction, that Parkerman was still missing. The rest of the fragmented courtyard was occupied by the mere commoners of this grand parade; classic misfits such as Locket and gang ate at their lunches silently, exchanging brief comments over the noises of the world. The rest of the student body kept to themselves too, the different cliques in this world of the rich and the elite segregated and divided from each other by a defined line.
It didn’t matter if it’s only all in our heads.
“You know what I don’t believe?” a smooth, accented voice cut through my reverie, pulling me back to the oh-so-fabulous present. Ignoring the pain in my head and the newly-acquired one in my knuckles, I snapped my head across the table.
Morgan Bell sat demurely on the edge of the stone bench, her plait green skirt splayed out on the hard grey in a pretty manner. Dark luscious hair rippled down her white-claded back, like a waterfall of black; the icy wind tossed its refined strands around her firm shoulders, the black framing her face tumbling above in a messy spill. As it usually was, a sleek BlackBerry twinkled in her pale hands, her manicured thumbs busying themselves with texting. Long pale legs streamed out of her short skirt and ended in sparkling heels.
“What?” I raised an eyebrow at her, blinking away foggy tears, “What can’t you believe?” Beside me, on the cobbled table top, John still busied with the bandages.
“You.” Morgan answered simply, not even bothering to look up from her all-important texting. Pretty glossed lips frowned slightly at the flashing screen. By the door, the jocks were cheering on to some internal competition among them.
“Huh?”
“You were late today, Esme,” she finally drew her eyes away from the phone, a heavy sigh breathing out along with her accented words, “You failed that test.” Her phone buzzed in her pale hands but this time, she didn’t even bother with it. Beside me, John’s fingers finished the final touch; I had always like the way his fingers glided over my skin, the way his soft touch could always comfort me. His breath was hot against my cheek.
With a heavy sigh, I rolled my aching eyes.
“Yes, mother. I was late today. I failed my test. Sue me.”
“It was 40 percent of your grade, Esme!” Morgan’s blue eyes stung me as she raised a voice a little, her thick Irish accent rolling over her smooth voice, “You’re not going to able to pass it!” Her pretty blue eyes widened dramatically as she took on her usual stance around me; maternal. Manicured hands deftly shut away her buzzing phone. Beside me, John commented in a dry tone.
“And if you don’t pass Math….”
“I know, I know,” I sighed heavily as I pulled back my bandaged hand, the abrasions still hot and bothered, “I fail the year. I can’t graduate. But….that’s not important right now.”
“Right!” Morgan rolled her azure eyes in great irritation, her pretty face screwed up in upmost distaste, “I forgot. The girl who dodged you…that’s what’s important!” Her chiming Irish voice dripped with heavy sarcasm. Overhead, a tumbling brown of a football swirled above us, narrowly missing the top of John’s head. He was quick though; with a swift, single movement, he glided off the table and back down on the grey bench, his red blazer crinkling as it descended from his lap to the floor. With a scowl at the laughing jocks, he picked up the tumbled red deftly.
“It is important!” I played with my hands to relliterate my point as I practically shouted down at Morgan, “She-freaking-dodged-me!! Can’t you see, Morgan?! Can’t you see what she’s doing to my reputation?!” I knew I was speaking too loud; probably everyone in the courtyard could hear my every word. I didn’t care though. No, today, all I cared about was that tiny Asian chick and what she did back-
“I thought you didn’t care what other people thought,” John’s quiet voice finally broke through my reverie, unglazing my eyes. With a slight frown, I glared down at him; he stared back innocently at me, his blue eyes cocking a weird smile as his shaggy bangs hard lined across his forehead. Straight, brown hair wavered at the base of his neck.
Ah, John.
Always the heart-breaker.
“Fine,” I gritted my teeth in annoyance as I smoothly slid down from the table top and back onto the bench, filling the empty space between the Morgan and John in a single movement, “Fine. Be that way. It’s always good to know that your best friends also happen to be your worst enemies!” All around us, a gale picked up again, knocking over drinks and carrying papers away in its cold grasp. Shocked gasps echoed away.
Beside me, Morgan’s frown finally dropped. With a little laugh and all-too-familiar smile, she reached forward and wrapped a smooth pale arm around my neck.
“Oh, Esme!” her voice sounded like Christmas bells as she mockingly-chocked me, her raven hair blowing into my impassive face, “We love you, you know that! I mean, that’s why-…”
“That’s why we’re worried,” John finished for her in a slightly humoured voice, a small smile twitching his lips as he gazed at the two of us with amusement, “We’re worried and we have every right to be! Your Math test…Headmistress Clancy…Jesus, Esme! If your brother even catches whiff of any of this….”
“He won’t,” I managed to choke out as Morgan finally eased her grasp around my neck, a playful smile helplessly dousing all our lips. Somehow, the rather tense atmosphere between us all had melted away into just plain humour; it had always been like this from the very beginning. From the moment we had met each other-John and I knew each other from birth while we only just met Morgan 2 years ago-there had always been something between us. A strong bond always seemed to unite us, so strong that I can safely say that both John and Morgan could easily pass off as my brother and sister.
Heck, it has happened before.
Like now.
“And how exactly are you going to do that?” the amused smile never left Morgan’s face as she slowly withdrew her icy cold arm, folding it uncomfortingly back towards her lap. Her blue eyes flashed at me with a playful glint. On my other side, John watched us in silence, his own smile slowly melting away into the icy wind. At the door, a couple of beefy jocks had gotten themselves into a brawl.
In a single swift movement, I arched both of my arms and curled them around my two best friends, drawing them towards me. Warmth relighted my world.
“I’m going to go illegal.”
Monday, March 8, 2010
1ST CHAPTER
Aristocrats Puppets
Prologue
Prologue
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all,”
The man was a funny one, standing in the middle of the girl’s bathroom. His head was raised, staring himself in the mirror. He wore a mask, a white mask so white it bore no face except a wicked smile that was the color of red. The man wore a black gentlemen’s suit and a black long cape to compliment his suit. His tall crooked head complimented his dressing style.
He looked himself at the mirror and stared himself down. Behind his mask bore a wicked smile that no one but him can see.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all,”
His masked mask illuminated itself on the mirror. The striking red smile on the mask seemed to whisper back at him.
“You.”
Chapter 1
The faker and the fire girl
The man was a funny one, standing in the middle of the girl’s bathroom. His head was raised, staring himself in the mirror. He wore a mask, a white mask so white it bore no face except a wicked smile that was the color of red. The man wore a black gentlemen’s suit and a black long cape to compliment his suit. His tall crooked head complimented his dressing style.
He looked himself at the mirror and stared himself down. Behind his mask bore a wicked smile that no one but him can see.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all,”
His masked mask illuminated itself on the mirror. The striking red smile on the mask seemed to whisper back at him.
“You.”
Chapter 1
The faker and the fire girl
Esme
Hell has no fury like a woman’s scorn.
Especially one who was having a massive hangover.
With a final groan, I gulped down the last of the cooled water. Little bobs of icebergs glided against my chapped lips as the icy liquid slithered its way down my throat, cooling me. As it was before, the drink of sanity was welcoming into my mouth, its tasteless flavour slowly subduing the sting of scotch and whiskey; even now, 8 hours after all that consumption, the dry taste of alcohol still stained my tongue. My stomach threatened to lose it beneath my skin, convulsing and dancing away in a giddy rhythm.
I really shouldn’t have drunk last night.
“All better, Miss. Conner?” a cracking voice resounded behind me, its soft dissonance pulling me back from my sorrowing self-pity. My head ached seemed to spin off its axis. With a slow, heavy blink, I turned my sludgy head past my shoulder, my neck moaning in protest at the slight action.
Standing two feet behind me, the glass bottle of water still cramped in his long fingers was Anthony, at full attention. Despite all odds, I cracked a smile. Against the backdrop that was the penthouse living room, the old man before me was as usual; he was dressed in a tweed black suit, a simple black tie hanging down against his waxen white shirt. His pure white hair was sleeked back against his skull with thick, scented gel, the few cropping of grey here and there an unblemished sort of mist over his haloing head. In the faded morning light, he looked like an old painting or some sort- his horn-rimmed eyeglasses were perched at the end of his hawk nose, reflecting the shimmers of the grey-clad sky above. Wrinkles of age and worry lined his pale face, his gaunt skin loose at his cheeks and jaw. A wry smile of concern cracked across his weathered face.
How many times had I actually valued that smile?
“How many times do I have to tell you, Anthony?” I stifled a yawn as I turned away from the elderly man, towards the world that laid below us, “Don’t call be Miss. You may be my butler but hell, you practically raised me. It’s too awkward.” From under the satin robe, my stomach churned unappreciatively, threatening to open the flood gates at any second. Hot bile gushed up my throat.
“Only for one more time, Miss Conner,” Anthony insisted smoothly as I snapped up a lazy hand to my mouth, cupping it over my chapped lips, “If you may.” In my other hand, the small glass threatened to fall from my fingers.
Standing there, staring out of the glass-paned walls and down onto the misty city below, I cursed my stupidity. This always happened. Always. Every single time there was a party of any sort, every time my brother decided to throw a fund raiser or some idiotic tea-party, I always drank beyond my fill. Scotch, vodka, whiskey, some good old wine….you name it, its there; my brother would always make sure that the fancy, all-important guests at our parties were entertained with a limitless and wide supply of alcohol.
He just keeps forgetting to make sure his little sister doesn’t over-indulge herself.
So yeah.
This hangover…
I blame him.
“Miss Conner,” Anthony sighed wearily as he shuffled away behind me, his heavy feet padding against the carpeted marble with a trembling ease, “Don’t you have to get to school?” A raspy cough echoed away behind me, wet and trembling; it sounded like a cat coughing out a giant fur ball. With a frustrated moan, I released myself and crashed my head against the cool glass in despair.
Lying out before me, stretching as far as the eye could see was the awakening dawn of New York City. The arising Great Apple- even my mournful, hangover state could not discern its beauty. All was a glazing jewel of faded blue; even from way up here, at the very top of the Conner Estate, the details of the world’s most famous city was painted out before me in a mosaic of pale blue, grey and white. Autumn shrouded the blue skyscrapers-smog and mist leeched its way among the hazy buildings, its reaching white fingers hiding the busy streets below. Pokes of naked trees and flashing red lights peeked up from the icy white blanket below, the towers of concrete rising from the white in turrets of spiraling blue. Up above, the sky was a painted grey, shreds of wispy rain clouds hidden behind a generous bank of haze; it casted a faded blue-grey hue over the city, tingeing the leaping skyscrapers with dirty dread. Shreds of sunlight streaming through the clouds casted mellow light over the taller structures. In the far distance, Brooklyn awoke in a heavy daze, the hick autumn mist and reaching haze shrouding its concrete peaks. The glass was cool as ice beneath my skin.
Ah, New York.
How much I love and loathe thee.
“Miss Connor-…”“Alright, alright! I’m going!” I threw my hands into the air as reality pulled back to earth, Anthony’s smooth voice cutting through my fog of imagination. Without a care for the spinning of my head or my convulsing, turbulent stomach, I pivoted on my heels to glare at the silver-haired man.
“I’ll go get ready,” I savagely bit with narrowed eyes as I gingerly slammed the small, empty glass back on the nearby table. The silver furniture wobbled uneasily at my weight, the few silvery ice cubes laughing merrily. A stray hand fell down to my cold thighs, fingers pulling the hem of the silk robe tightly. My brain seemed to be jumping about in my skull.
“Good” was Anthony’s only answer. During my little reverie of New York, of the shimmering blue city below, the silver-haired old butler had made his way behind the black-topped bar at the other end of the room. It was a long, polished bar, the black shiny top stretching from one door to the next. High-rise velvet chairs rose up along its entire length, lining it in a shoulder of glistening black. A small fire raged at the wall behind, trapped within a modernly cut hole in the marble surface.
Behind the bar, Anthony busied himself with replacing the glass bottle in his ginger hands back among the other crystals of whiskey and rum; bottles of different shapes and sizes lined themselves atop the bar, their sweet, tempting contents surely having passed my lips at least once yester night. Standing in quiet solace, the silver-haired butler’s wry smile was gone, though his chapped, thin lips still twitched with slight humour.
I loved Anthony. I really did. Throughout all my years on this heavenly playground, the man had been like a father figure to me, second only to my own brother. So, yeah. I loved Anthony. It’s just that, sometimes, his lack of emotions, or rather subdued ones, had a way of riling me up.
Like now.
With a slight puff, I spun on my heels and began to walk, the short silk robe twirling around me in a blooming flower of red and black. The soft silk kissed my thighs as I began my defiant march out of the room, my bare feet stomping against the soft red carpet. My stomach churned and rumbled in agony, the hot stinging bile a vile stain in my mouth. Eyes began to water.
As I came upon the door, Anthony’s voice crackled softly, much like the soft cracking of the small fire at the wall.
“Oh, and Miss Conner…perhaps on your way, you might try awakening your brother as well. He has a meeting with the mayor in 20 minutes and we all know what happens when he loses.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“You’re late,” Christopher decided for me as he frowned down at his watch, the sleek black surface on his wrist ticking a soft silver. The pale light of the passing morning reflected in shades on its face.
“So are you,” my voice was leaning on a moan as I clutched my heavy head in weary hands, my short sand-coloured hair gliding against my skin as they streamed down to my wrists. At both sides of my head, an aching, stubborn pain was maturing in great waves; the effects of last night seem to like me more and more. Beneath my feet, the limousine bumped over a large hump.
“Well, yes,” Christopher looked up from his watch with an impassive stare, his hard brown eyes boring into me like the points of daggers, “But unlike you, Esme, I don’t have to sit for a very important test today.” His voice was gruff as usual; Christopher had this unique way of speaking. Upon his first few words, the man could easily convince someone of an idea or put them down before they even have a chance to defend themselves. It was a gift, many people say, a gift I seem to have as well. The gift of a silver-tongue. According to Lord Warrington, just the other day, my Christopher’s sleek vocabulary was often his strongest selling point. According to the man, it’s the very reason why Chris was so successful in his work.
Well, I say bullshit. Having an older brother who can convince you that you and only you were in the wrong is not my idea of a gift.
Hell, it’s a curse.
“So?” I argued through the curtain of dark blonde hair as I lifted my head up tiredly, the taste of hot bile still staining my tongue with a vengeance, “You have that meeting with the mayor too. It’s just as important.”
“No, its not. Your test counts for fort percent of your final Mathematics grades, Esme. You know how important today is.”
“Yes, it is,” I narrowed my tearing eyes as I glared my way across the compartment, my eyes meeting my brother’s hard ones with as much determination as I can muster, “I’m not stupid, you know. I know that today is important to you too-if you don’t get to that meeting soon, Mayor Jenkins is going to give the Parkview Hotel lot to AICA. You’ll lose…and you don’t like to lose.”
My head swarmed as I finish my sentence, cutting me off quickly as another fresh stream of headaches rocked apart my skull. I fucking hate this. Sitting opposite me, Christopher raised a single eyebrow in response.
In the pale morning light, I couldn’t help but study my brother through pained tears; his sleek brown hair was pulled back across his head as per usual, still wet from his hurried shower. Dark, broody eyebrows shadowed above his cold eyes, his dark eyelashes skirting along his high cheekbones like soft kisses on skin. As he always was, he was shaven, his strong jaw line free of any freckling of hair save a single, uncoloured mole. The passing light from the tinted car windows danced shadows across his angular face, the light chasing dark along the ridges of his sharp nose and strong jaw. French cologne tainted his black suit and tie, the quick skirts of the sweet-smelling pink still diffusing into his white cuffing and collar. A gold tiepin glinted against the black cloth.
My brother was handsome.
It was no wonder I found three half-naked women in his bed this morning.
“Well,” Christopher interrupted my reverie, his sleek brown finger reaching to me to stroke away my falling hair, “Unlike you, my dear sister, I happen to the owner of one of the biggest company in the United States, let alone the richest man ever to set foot in this city. Trust me when I say that I’m a great asset to this state; the Mayor knows best to wait for me.”
“And I’m the sister of you,” I quickly shied away from Christopher’s touch, arching my back straight and leaping my head out of my hand despite the resounding pangs, “ The school knows best to wait for me too.” At my words and action, my brother’s finger froze, a dark emotion flickering across his face. It was an emotion I had seen so often before, an emotion that was becoming frequent these days. Yet, despite it all, the man opposite me said nothing; instead, he chose to retreat his finger back to himself, his face flashing back into its normal, emotionless, impassive self. My back slouched against the velvet seats.
Silence eroded us away.
For the next 10 minutes or so, the limousine sped its way down the cobbled streets of Upper East Manhattan, its freshly-changed tyres bumping and hiccupping at several intervals. It was uncomfortable ride to say the least, especially with all the renovations they were doing on the 96th street; loose granite pebbles on the road made me want to throw up all over again. The world outside was busy as the floor beneath my feet; people walked in hurried steps down the clean pavements, crowds of somber black and brown making their way to their routine working lives. Cars mobbed the sleek black roads too, the flashing yellow of a city cab to the shimmering black of a Jaguar but two of the crowd beyond the tinted windows. A traffic police officer stood among the growling vehicles, his giant white hand herding the morning traffic in an orderly fashion. His partner rode a dark horse nearby, towering over all in sight; only the looming brown buildings above outmatched him completely.
It was busy, noisy world outside.
Yet, in here, it was as death itself had come knocking.
“Look,” Christopher broke through the silence like the slashing of knife through cloth, his voice taking on a sudden verge of friendliness “I was thinking…”
“What?”
“Why don’t we have dinner tonight, Esme? Just you and me?”
“Nah,” I shook my head at him gingerly before turning my aching eyes back to the world outside, “I’ve got plans with Morgan and John.” Across the velvet black compartment, my brother’s face fell slightly. Somewhere behind me, a driver cursed in crude Hispanic.
“I’m sure you can change those plans.”
“But I don’t want to,” I shrugged away as my fingers started to play with the hem of my green skirt, my watery eyes closing momentarily to let the sudden seizure of a headache pass, “John and I were supposed to play that new video game together.” My stomach lurched again.
For a moment, silence eluded us again. Then, after a moment’s breath, my brother leaned forward in his seat, eyes boring into my face.
“Esme….this has got to stop.”
“What’s got to stop?”
“This…this distance. Between us. It was never there before. I mean, when you were a kid-“
“That’s the thing, Chris,” I answered simply as the long car halted at a sudden traffic light, jolting us both from our seats, “I’m not a kid. Not anymore.”
“Still….that doesn’t mean we have to-…”
“Look,” I cut him off before he could continue, reaching down the leather to grab my folded red blazer with fierce hands, “I’m late. And if I get caught late one more time, that asshole Mr. Carl is going to send to me to detention. I can’t afford that, ok?”
“Esme, please……”
“We’ll talk tomorrow or something, alright? See you later.”
And with that, I was off; without a moments thought, I grabbed the door handle and swung it open in the middle of traffic. Cars horned and a motorcycle narrowly dove by as the black sleek door crashed outwards with all force, my black-covered legs jumping down to the granite as quickly as possible. From inside the limousine, my brother yelled out angrily but I didn’t care-with a spinning head and a roiling stomach, I ran my way down 96th Street, shutting out my calling name.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My footsteps echoed down the marbled gold floors as I charged down the corridor, my long legs striding out in great lengths. My heart raced in my chest; this was all so fucking screwed. All around me, students in red blazers dodged out of my way, black-padded feet skidding out of my path at the mere sight of me. It was a good thing though; unlike most kids at this bloody school, I didn’t have to squeeze my way through anything.
As I stormed down the classic hallway, ignoring the wary stares, my numb, aching mind whirled around the events of the past few minutes. I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. How dare that fatty Mr. Carl do that to me?! How dare he give me an F for that damn test when I didn’t even have a chance to take it?! How dare he?!
So I was a little late.
Yeah, big deal.
At least I freaking bothered to show up!
With the fat F tucked under my arm ,the swirling, gossiping red madness that was the students and a panging hangover that just wouldn’t go away, I began even more sure of it; I hated this school. Every single thing about it. From its snotty, well-endowed students who were oblivious to life beyond New York to its grummy, ass-sucking teachers; everything about this goddamn place sucked. Even the freaking toilets; do you know that they actually have a red plush couch in the girl’s bathroom?! A COUCH!! Why the fuck does anyone ne-
Suddenly, something hit me smack on my side, like a baseball bat to my left arm. Pain struck me for a brief moment before a soft cry escaped my lips as I went crashing to the golden floor, my knees buckling at the sudden new weight. Before I knew it, I was lying on the cold marble like a dead animal that had just been run over by a car; a new weight pressed down on me, a dirty shoe weighed down on my nose.
All went still as the hangover seized me in its palm again, my headache returning to haunt me. The new pain didn’t help either; somehow, the pain in my left arm seemed a thousand times more then it should have been.
As I laid there, unmoving in my sudden quake of pain, the weight on top of me began to rise, the dirty shoe sliding away from my face. My stomach churned as a shadow quickly darkened over me, blocking out the fierce lights above. My vision began to blur up all over again.
“Do you need help?” a deep female voice reverberated above me, the shadow above me darkening greatly. Before I could stop myself, a soft moan escaped my lips; every part of me wanted to die right there.
As my moan finally diminished into a soft wince, I pried my watery eyes open; a skinny Asian girl was bent over me, her silver cat eyes gazing down at my still form with slight worry. Black short hair topped her small head, her pale skin a toxic white in the hallway’s light. A single hand was held out towards me. All around us, the sea of dark red was a harsh silence.
For some unknown reason, the pain throughout my body seemed to feed my already riling anger even more; absently, a strange desire to reach up and punch the living daylights out of the girl overwhelmed me like a riveting flame. After all, she must have been the one who pushed me down! My knuckles clenched in on themselves as I matched the girl’s stare with a furious glare.
Above me, the girl’s strange eyes glazed over with a sudden shock; she regained her composure in a blink of an eye though, a gleaming smile spreading across her pale face as she reached forward and said again:
“Do you need help in getting up?”
“No, thank you,” I found myself snapping at her with an unexplained rage, fury roiling beneath my skin like churning waves, “I don’t need help, since I pretty much was fine until some idiot came running out of nowhere.” Somehow, the rampant anger seemed to dull the aching headache by a little.
Above me, the girl’s lips twitched in a humoured smile. My anger roiled even more. Without warning, she reached out a hand towards me but I, of course, didn’t need her help; I flung her hand away roughly and proceed to gather my weary, sore self off the golden floor. Muscles moaned in protests at the gesture and my head spun even more wildly; I had to get up eventually though. As I arched myself back on my feet, the crowd around me seemed to pull back even more-perfect. A painful tear fell to my black shoes as I gazed down at my uniform; mud and grass blades from the floor had been transferred to my shirt, littering the waxen white expense with dirty dots. Nails bits into my fleshy palms.
“Way to go, bitch!” I yelled furiously as I snapped my head back up to the strange girl before me, my teeth biting into those words savagely. I can’t believe she just did that-now, not only were my grades ruined! Thanks to Miss Cat-Eyes over here, so was my shirt! I had a very good mind to lung at her and throttle her with my bare hands. Behind the short strange girl, a pretty golden-haired boy echoed a shaky laugh. The light caught in his goldilocks as he leaned forward and whispered something into the girl’s ear; she didn’t seem to care. Instead, the silver-eyed girl’s lips stretched into a thin smile, her weird eyes widening at some inside joke. Her cheeks were of a rosy colour.
“Ah, so stupid.”
“What did you just call me?!”
In reply, the little girl before me stuck out a cheeky tongue.
That was it. Before I could contain and control myself, I lurched forward, fist flying. Anger drove me towards her as my clenched fists sailed for her face, my every nerve springing to life as I made my attack. Ignoring my panging headache, I swung my fisted hand-and met air.
Somehow, by some immaculate miracle, this strange small girl had completely dodged me. With complete ease, she leaned away from my assault, moving smoothly past my flying fist. The bank of air striking my hand melted away my anger instantly.
“You dodged me,” I whispered in utter shock, staring at the little girl before me. Never, in all my life, has that ever happened before. Never. Ever. I never missed anyone, not since the day I first began fighting. Every single fight I had been in, every single match I had against some scum from the streets had always ended up with me making every blow count. I always win.
But now, I just lost to a little girl.
“Well yeah,” the strange girl said casually as she turned a quick wave from me and walked away, moving in complete ease. It was as if the pain had bled away. All around us, the red blazers began to come back to life; students rushed towards the little girl in excited shouts and cheers, praising the girl for her victory. Life flooded back into the crowded hallway like a gust of fresh air. My lips parted in complete shock.
That-did-not-just-happen.
“Guess you’re not so tough after all, huh Conner?” A cocky voice breathed from across the hall, drawing my disbelieving eyes away from the girl’s crowded back. Standing against the lockers was none other then Greg Parkerman, his beefy arms drawn across his wide chest in an easy fold. Tanned muscles rippled beneath his blazer as a smug smile splashed across his face, his thick eyebrow raised. The hallway’s light made his brown hair look even brighter.
Parkerman.
Perfect.
In a single stride, I crossed the crowded hallway and sailed a tensed, embarrassed fist at the tanned, smug face watching me.
And this time, I didn’t miss.
Riddle
I for one thing do not like stupid people. Their stupidity makes me want to puke and the sheer sight of them makes me want to run away. Stupid people are just people with no brains. They hold no value for life, they hold no value for anything and their ignorance is terrifying. However, because of their sheer stupidity, stupid people have nothing to hide. Their just stupid, that’s it. No one questions their stupidity, no one turns to face them, and no one wants to be their friend.
So I admire them, their stupidity, their stupidness, ah, all the stupid. This was life.
So I admire them, their stupidity, their stupidness, ah, all the stupid. This was life.
“Do that again Riddle!?” Alex shouted at me. I looked at him and smiled, snatching a milk carton from the kid who stood beside me I proceeded to open it before pouring the contents into my nose. The boy was protesting but I did not care. The milk burnt the insides of my nose; I felt my nasal crying out in pain. The pain was real and I liked it.
“That is my milk!” the boy exclaimed, the people who have surrounded me started laughing at my antics. The boy seemed angry and hurt. I realized this but I did not stop. The milk rushes up my nose and I snorted it out, feeling the pain vanish. The boy grabs the milk carton from my hand gave me a finger and walked off. I laughed and hi-fived Alex who looked at the kid and started to shout names at him. “Sensitive boy, you should be a girl!” he said. His insensitivity always shocks me, but I was good at hiding my true feelings so I just laughed.
“And ladies and gentlemen, I am now a cow, want some milk?” I said standing up and bowing. Alex gave a snort of laughter and I bowed again. Some people cracked up, other just shook their head. I turned and found myself facing Mr Carl.
Ah, bullshit. This was life.
Alex and I were the jokers in school, yes the jokers. We come from a school where all the rich snobby people go. The school was called Redfield Institute. Alex here beside me was the son of Lord Warrington, the Ambassador of England. We lived in New York City and here, rich kids come to stay. Kids like Alex Warrington beside me.
“Did he give you an ear lashing?” Alex asked me. I shrugged and turned to him grinning cheekily. “Oh, Mr Carl, yep, bet he couldn’t take anymore of the cow action,” I said. Alex frowned before snorting.
“That teacher is whack, Rid,’ he told me. Rid was a short form of Riddle. Alex called me that because he said having Riddle for a name was too sad. It kind of makes you anomalous. I rather like it. Because being a Riddle made you nothing, but a question.
So here we were walking down the red carpeted corridors of the famous Redfield Institution. A huge chandelier hung in the hall, we past that. There were the jocks hanging out near the lockers, the strong looking people who looked like super models but have pea size brains…well not of them, but you get what I mean. Then there were the bookies, the nerds who sat together in a group reading some math’s notes. That’s when I realized. “Ah, we have a math test today,” I said.
Alex raised an eye brow at me. His curly blonde hair bounced as he bounded in front of me and stopped me. His blue green eyes stared into mine. Alex could easily be popular if he wanted to. Well he was with the girls, but that has got nothing to do with me. Because Alex Warrington was a classic Stupid case on my list, but somehow I hung out with the boy, because beneath all that stupid exterior of his laid a more definite character. We were both fakers living in this world. Fakers and liars of the highest levels.
‘You mean you forgot about the math test,” he told me and I shrugged.
‘Err…yeah,” I said. “But I’m smart,” I said, adding it.
Alex was irritated, “Yes, oh bloody great genius, you are so very smart,” he said. I smirked and looked at the nerds again. That’s when I spotted him. Ben Locket, the extreme nerd of today’s society. Ogling over an Anime figure and dusting it with a paint brush. He was fat and his uniform looked ready to burst. The mess of black hair on his head was messy. He stood near the school’s wooden red oak stair case. Many people passed him without glancing at him. He seemed happy this morning. The Anime Figure seemed different from the one he had the day before.
The son of a famous Shipping company president, Ben Locket story was kind of like, the son of the rich and famous gone awry. He looked up and our glances matched. Alex beside me was giving the lecture about how smart people who brag would lead to their down fall. I managed to rebuttal him by saying, “I got a scholarship into this high class grade a school.”
That managed to shut him up good.
Ben saw me and he smiled warmly and said, “Hello, Riddle,” he said. I clenched my fist. What, was he stupid, why did he say hello to me in front of Alex. I really hate stupid people. Alex glanced at Ben and snorted.
“Oooh! Isn’t it that fat nerd who plays with his dolls all day long,” Alex said before sniggering. I wanted to roll my eyes so bad but held myself. Alex stared at me and I felt peer pressure mounting onto me. I saw Ben red in the face; he was fidgeting more with his doll. Somehow his actions brought out a fresh memory in me and I my fist rolled up tighter.
“Locket, locket, I need a key to unlock your locket,” I said rapping and Alex did some jiggling movements with his hands. Ben looked like he was about to cry and I was about to sing, “Fat Boys don’t cry.” I started to laugh. I couldn’t help but noticed the hurt Ben had in his eyes. However, the situation was laughable so I laughed. It was easier to laugh than to cry. It was easier to laugh then to be kind to somebody. It was so much easier to be somebody else than to help the person out.
“RIDDLE!” a voice shouted down the corridor and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand. “Oh bloody shit,” I said and Alex was about to run away. I grab him and gave him the if-you-run-away-now-I-will-kill-you look.
“Hey, don’t drag me into your misfortune, your smart do something about it yourself,” Alex told me his pretty face cringing up in fear.
“Oh, so now I’m smart,” I said, holding back his red blazer uniform. He reached out and tried to pull my green checkered skirt but I scooted over to the side and almost made him fall.
“Well, you are smart, what do you want me to call you, a dumb asshole!” Alex told me.
“RUN!” I said and we both were about to run when somebody grabs the both of us from behind the turns us around. I gave a slight shriek as I saw the eyes in front of me. Eyes filled with fury and they were burning.
In front of me stood as Asian girl very much like me. She had long black shiny hair like mine, but I have short black hair. Her pale petite face and her stunning brown eyes were beautiful. Her name was San Geong and she was my first friend…or what you can call my mother.
I flashed a smile at San Geong. “Yes, my mother,” I asked her, “What can I do for you?”
“Yes, Princess,” Alex said joining in.
San Geong flashed her eyes at us and pointed to Ben. “Say you’re sorry!” she said. I glanced at Ben who had turned completely red and was squirming. He looked very embarrassed and at the same time very sad.
My chest clenched and I looked at San Geong.
There was a person more terrifying then MR Carl in school and Mr Carl was already enough terrifying. Mr Carl a big potted middle age man who is out to make my life miserable. He had hated me since day one…well in day one I kind of tripped him in the middle of the corridor as a dare. Since then I had been known as the Joker.
I hated that name; it was filled with so much stupidity that it was unbearable. But I kept it straight, the stupid name of the Joker. Put me in a bat man movie and I would be some unbearably hot actor who plays some insane psychopath. Anyone could play that if you asked me.
The person more terrifying than Mr Carl was San Geong herself. The Korean girl was an enigma. She was a justice holder like no other. Often helping out people and treating humans with sincerity.
‘Say you’re sorry to Ben,” she scolded me and I pouted. She glared at Alex who gulped and smiled, trying to charm her with her looks. San Geong was not flattered. She was like a General from some boot camp. A fierce General with eyes like a hawk and a sense of justice like that of God.
“Say you’re sorry Riddle!” she practically screamed my name down the corridor. Students who saw the scene started to laugh and I felt nothing except irritation.
Ben looked like he was about to cry. San Geong looked daggers at me. Alex was somewhere far away.
I hate stupid people.
“Ok, ok, princess,” I said and Alex smirked when I sank to my knees and bowed down to San Geong and Ben who grew even redder than usual. “I am so oh, very sorry, princess,” I said, emphasizing each word with feeling.
I looked up with a cheeky grin and San Geong and Ben’s faces had turned completely red. Alex laughed so loudly. ‘Pleased now princess,” he manage to say to San Geong who was in shock. I got up and grab Alex and we started running down the old school corridor towards the back garden. San Geong was screaming behind us, but I could not hear what she said.
We opened the back door and escaped into the garden. Alex looked at me and I looked at him. We burst out laughing…but somehow the laughter felt very hollow. It felt so very hollow.
I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to kill myself for my stupidity, but however, I laughed.
“I hate stupid people,” I whispered. Somehow, I knew Alex heard it too.
It was afternoon and I sat in the classroom staring out of the window that had been painted over by glass paint. Now a pretty mural stood on the glass, the afternoon sun shone through the mural casting multiple colors into the classroom. The classroom was decorated simply. With a few potted plants at the back of the classroom. A golden floor and a few oak wood chairs and table. The teacher stood in front, still and gazing down at the students like a hawk.
A test was going on and I had finished it. The questions easy. I bet Mr Carl set them.
Ben a few seats in front of me was writing furiously on the paper, he scratched his head a few times and looked very lost. He was going to fail big time. San Geong like me had finished and was checking through it. Alex had given up and was staring at the ceiling.
I ignored them and turned to look outside the window. The blue sky stretches wide and far. Somehow time seem to stop. The trees some with red dark leaves, others almost bare rustled when a cold wind blew past. The wind carried some leaves towards the sky.
“When Autumn dies, it brings winter,” I whispered. “And the world becomes snow.”
An old haiku written by my brother. A haiku was a Japanese poem and yep, I came from Japan.
I accidently looked at the glass mural and found myself gazing at my own reflection. My cheeky smile I always carried had vanished, replaced by an expressionless face. I saw my own two silver eyes. They looked dark and haunting. They weren’t my eyes.
‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all,” I whispered. My eyes reflected on the glass panel stared back at me, drowning me in sadness.
A test was going on and I had finished it. The questions easy. I bet Mr Carl set them.
Ben a few seats in front of me was writing furiously on the paper, he scratched his head a few times and looked very lost. He was going to fail big time. San Geong like me had finished and was checking through it. Alex had given up and was staring at the ceiling.
I ignored them and turned to look outside the window. The blue sky stretches wide and far. Somehow time seem to stop. The trees some with red dark leaves, others almost bare rustled when a cold wind blew past. The wind carried some leaves towards the sky.
“When Autumn dies, it brings winter,” I whispered. “And the world becomes snow.”
An old haiku written by my brother. A haiku was a Japanese poem and yep, I came from Japan.
I accidently looked at the glass mural and found myself gazing at my own reflection. My cheeky smile I always carried had vanished, replaced by an expressionless face. I saw my own two silver eyes. They looked dark and haunting. They weren’t my eyes.
‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all,” I whispered. My eyes reflected on the glass panel stared back at me, drowning me in sadness.
Esme Conner was back. The “bad influence”, the “wild girl”. She strode down the long winded classic corridors in big strides. People avoided her and she looked like Moses crossing the red sea. The girl was famous in our school. Known for her sharp tongue, her good old temper and her countless arrest. Esme was a rich girl with an attitude, an attitude like that of a gangster, even the teachers can’t control her.
She came fast, moving down the hallways, she was in a bad mood and one could see that. “Oooh, the fire girl is mad,” Alex said as he saw her. Her short dark blond hair was bobbing up and down her head. Her eyes were squinted and in pain.
“You know what would make her even madder,” Alex told me. I didn’t have time to stop him. He pushed me and sent me crashing into the Fire girl. I had no time to stop it everything happened to fast. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, Esme Conner beneath me and my shoe on her face.
What came next was a harsh silence and it lingered on. I got up calmly. Really, there wasn’t any reason to be afraid of this girl, except the whole corridor of students expected me the Joker to be scared. I sighed. This was getting out of hand.
Esme was moaning on the ground so I squatted down. I heard a few girls gasp as I put out my hand for Esme. “Do you need help?” I asked. Esme opened her eyes and glared at me, our gaze matched and I was a little stunned.
The fire girl’s eyes were indeed scary. It put me off for a while. I regained my composure and I smiled at her. “Do you need help in getting up?”
“No thank you, I don’t’ need help, since I was pretty much fine until some idiot came running out of nowhere,” Esme snarled at me. I was slightly amused so the sides of my mouth twitched a bit. I smelt a little bit of a boozed breath. Ah, this girl had been drinking.
I touched her hand, wanting to pull her up but she flung my hand away and stood up dusting herself. “Way the go, bitch,” she shouted at me and the air in the corridor grew 10 times tenser. Alex somewhere behind me, the real culprit did some nervous laugh.
“Rid, let’s go,” he whispered behind me.
I smiled at Esme. The word bitch seemed to have brought me back to reality. I hated stupid people; remember…I wasn’t supposed to help them. I looked at the ceiling then back at her.
‘Ah, so stupid,” I whispered. Esme glared at me, her fist was clenched and I wanted to laugh ever so badly.
“What did you just call me!?” she shouted. Her voice echoed down the corridor making some boys and girls flinch. I however, continued to smile like an idiot. I was not a sane person.
Feeling the need to do something incredibly idiotic right then I managed to stick out my tongue. Esme went bonkers ready to jump me and hit me hard when I avoided her. She turned to glare at me in shock. “You dodge me,” she whispered.
“Well yeah,” I said, before giving her a wave and walking down the corridor. The silence in the corridors exploded and people rushed to my sides clearly impressed by me. I did not see the look on Esme face and Alex was looking pretty strangely at me.
“Riddle are you angry?” he asked me. I looked at him and he gulped. “I never seen you angry before…” he added whispering.
“She called me a Bitch, what do you expect?” I said. Alex frowned and he glanced sideway at me. My smile disappeared and I heard him gulp again.
“Ah, ah~, so stupid,” I whispered, and touched my tongue, before smearing it on Alex’s arm.
‘What the hell RIDDLE!” Alex protested.
This world is filled with stupid people, I hate them all…myself included.
She came fast, moving down the hallways, she was in a bad mood and one could see that. “Oooh, the fire girl is mad,” Alex said as he saw her. Her short dark blond hair was bobbing up and down her head. Her eyes were squinted and in pain.
“You know what would make her even madder,” Alex told me. I didn’t have time to stop him. He pushed me and sent me crashing into the Fire girl. I had no time to stop it everything happened to fast. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, Esme Conner beneath me and my shoe on her face.
What came next was a harsh silence and it lingered on. I got up calmly. Really, there wasn’t any reason to be afraid of this girl, except the whole corridor of students expected me the Joker to be scared. I sighed. This was getting out of hand.
Esme was moaning on the ground so I squatted down. I heard a few girls gasp as I put out my hand for Esme. “Do you need help?” I asked. Esme opened her eyes and glared at me, our gaze matched and I was a little stunned.
The fire girl’s eyes were indeed scary. It put me off for a while. I regained my composure and I smiled at her. “Do you need help in getting up?”
“No thank you, I don’t’ need help, since I was pretty much fine until some idiot came running out of nowhere,” Esme snarled at me. I was slightly amused so the sides of my mouth twitched a bit. I smelt a little bit of a boozed breath. Ah, this girl had been drinking.
I touched her hand, wanting to pull her up but she flung my hand away and stood up dusting herself. “Way the go, bitch,” she shouted at me and the air in the corridor grew 10 times tenser. Alex somewhere behind me, the real culprit did some nervous laugh.
“Rid, let’s go,” he whispered behind me.
I smiled at Esme. The word bitch seemed to have brought me back to reality. I hated stupid people; remember…I wasn’t supposed to help them. I looked at the ceiling then back at her.
‘Ah, so stupid,” I whispered. Esme glared at me, her fist was clenched and I wanted to laugh ever so badly.
“What did you just call me!?” she shouted. Her voice echoed down the corridor making some boys and girls flinch. I however, continued to smile like an idiot. I was not a sane person.
Feeling the need to do something incredibly idiotic right then I managed to stick out my tongue. Esme went bonkers ready to jump me and hit me hard when I avoided her. She turned to glare at me in shock. “You dodge me,” she whispered.
“Well yeah,” I said, before giving her a wave and walking down the corridor. The silence in the corridors exploded and people rushed to my sides clearly impressed by me. I did not see the look on Esme face and Alex was looking pretty strangely at me.
“Riddle are you angry?” he asked me. I looked at him and he gulped. “I never seen you angry before…” he added whispering.
“She called me a Bitch, what do you expect?” I said. Alex frowned and he glanced sideway at me. My smile disappeared and I heard him gulp again.
“Ah, ah~, so stupid,” I whispered, and touched my tongue, before smearing it on Alex’s arm.
‘What the hell RIDDLE!” Alex protested.
This world is filled with stupid people, I hate them all…myself included.
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