Page 22 of A Dead Man's B-Side
Her welcoming smile didn’t wane or wilt, despite what I was sure was a skeptical tilt of my lip sent back, as I remained seated and watched with an arm over my chair.
Paris narrowed her eyes and looked ready to throw in the toweland most likely return to her dorm to do something like fix up her makeup or plan her accessories for the following week.
It was Ajax who stepped forward with another practiced smile–I wonder if that was one of the required skills to be admitted to this school–barely giving me enough attention for a once-over. “Well, let's get on with it.”
He clapped his hands together and turned to walk away. Instinctively, I followed, not sure if he’d pause to wait for me.
Something told me he wouldn’t.
It seemed, from what I’d come to understand, that they were all playing a part. I didn’t know them well enough, I’ll admit, but it was obvious they didn’t like each other.
I trailed after the pair out of the building from whence we all came.
The two students whom I awkwardly followed led me through tennis courts and study halls, and somewhere along the way, I started to feel like a child following his divorced parents as they squabbled at every step and turn. Ajax said Fenlon Hall was an eyesore and that the board should reduce it to rubble and build something fresh. Paris muttered that he was one to talk, which earned her a pretty heated scowl.
Paris spoke begrudgingly about dorm utilities, and the rules students must follow. No stealing, no breaking and entering, that type of stuff. She said aside from having broken the rules, it was social suicide if you were caught.
“You would know,” Ajax huffed out.
Once again, I felt as though I should be picking at the nonexistent lint on my uniform and trying my best to act like I wasn’t picking up on the thick tension.
I have my own reasons for being here. Anything else is above my level of consideration.
A storm was approaching, swallowing the sky one dark cloud at a time. I wanted to warn them, but again, I swallowed my tongue. I’d rather let them run their words dry on each other than turn their attention to me.
They talked about the campus buildings, mostly.
Remington Tower
Thirteenth Chamber
Abbot House
The Quarters
Paris explained that the dorms were called the Quarters; my room was in the Fourth Quarter, in accordance with my year. Abbot House had the student lounge, the Abbot Council, and Jett’s office at its spire. Thirteenth Chamber is mostly for the arts, and Remington Tower is next to the dining hall and consists exclusively of labs for students specializing in science. Sometimes you could smell the bitter tinge of chemicals from the labs when they open the windows to air out.
When the dark clouds had begun to rumble and the patter of rain against the walkway sounded, Ajax sighed as if I were the root and cause of all his problems when he sent me a look that suggested the coming storm was somehow my doing. I didn’t like being treated assuch, but tell me, would anyone?
So, I remained silent and followed as they both rushed to the closest building, the Dining Hall. It reminded me of an old cathedral, but less religious. When Ajax held the door open for me to enter behind him, Paris slid in at the last crack before it shut, and the scent of old wood washed over me. Maybe it was the familiarity of it that had the pair unbothered as they wandered in, but I couldn’t help but scrunch my nose, wiping my nostrils with the back of my hand and sniffing again, like the smell was a liquid I could wipe away.
It was the same feeling I’d hoped I would become immune to after lunch.
I’ve been in worse situations, gas station bathrooms with smells so putrid, it would make the air in this place feel like fresh petals against bare skin. I was in no place to act so superior.
The ceiling was high and lost among the moulding and renaissance paintings. I think every building was similar, with the Rec Zone being the only exception. It was rustic, sure, and preserved. But it didn’t look ready to collapse, and I was sure Castle Hill was ready to splurge if it came to that. Students here demanded the best, or more specifically, their families demanded the best. Even now, the dining options were foods I’d never heard of, let alone dreamed of eating.
Paris threw her styled curls over her shoulder before hobbling down the open path to a table just by the entrance. She plopped down, but before her butt even reached the chair, Ajax spoke up gruffly, “We’re not done yet. Get up.”
She removed one foot out of its heel and began massaging it. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she hissed with more malice than I’d expected. It seems there's more going on between these two than I’d thought. None of my business, I mentally repeated.
“Besides, these heels are new. They aren’t broken in yet. So, unless you want me to slow down this jolly tour party, you can wait.”
She huffed, close to scowling, before settling for an annoyed pout. Ajax didn’t seem pleased, but I bet even he realized we wouldn’t be moving anywhere until the rain stopped.
I couldn’t help but ponder the infrastructure flaw. Would students be forced to be tardy because the weather got them stuck in another building?
Choosing the seat opposite Paris, it took a few moments of awkward silence between us for Ajax to gesture to the seat next to him. I didn’t know if he was being friendly or simply cordial, putting on an “upholding Castle Hill’s reputation” facade. I decided to go with the latter; better to expect nothing out of this encounter.
