Page 135 of A Dead Man's B-Side
I started to shake my head before pausing.
Was it?
I didn’t act particularly out of character. I’d suspected Ajax had been the one to send Malikai to his demise and acted upon my suspicions. There was no use playing around the point. I might have outed him to Marigold and August, as I’m sure Rain had known, but they all had their secrets and weren’t of the judging sort.
Rain was just as frustrated with their positions on the fence, and tomorrow needed to work without a hitch, because we were nearing the holidays and we had nothing to show for it yet.
Nevertheless, I knew I owed him an apology. And I will do just that tomorrow. “I’ll sort it out with Ajax.”
“That wasn’t what I asked, Sasha.”
“Well, I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“Are you fond of Paris?”
I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “Where is this coming from?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes.”
Wolf shook his head and opened his mouth to say something else before deciding to reword his initial thought, “I mean… Do you like her?”
I nodded my head at how conspicuously I had answered. “Yes. Most days.”
Wolf let out an exasperated sigh. “No, I mean–... Never mind, just–never mind.”
“Better that way.” I nodded again.
“So… how’d you find the literature exam?”
“Fine.”
“Did you always like literature?”
“Not always. And then I met someone who made me enjoy it.”
“Who?”
The quick back and forth ended when he asked that question.
The importance of reading instilled in me never went away. Even when I didn’t have time or was too dirty and run ragged to be allowed into the public library, despite the word ‘public’ displayed at the front.
“It doesn’t matter now. You should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Wolf easily agreed, finding that I wasn’t in a willing mood for our nightly conversations. We finished the cigarette quickly, in silence and between the two of us, before he headed back to his dorm.
If I had known what tomorrow would mean for me… If I had known… I would have savoured my time going to bed.
Chapter Twenty-four
Alexandr Miroslav
1982
“Alexandr, it’s nice of you to finally join us.” Mr Browne’s strong voice came to me like the voice of a ghost. Not in a melancholic way, as I’m sure you assumed, but rather a jolting, out-of-body, panicked experience.
He sounded suspicious as I lifted my eyes from the ground they’d been glued to, instructed repeatedly by my mind that with minimal eye contact came minimal attention. It seems I’d been wrong.
