Stockholm Syndrome ch. 1 - Days to Count
Decided to skip the intro. It was, after all, quite the pointless prologue, now that I look at it.
ACT 1: DAYS to COUNT
I constantly dream about lots of things, usually either scary or weird. I try to ignore most of them; they’re baseless, just effects of my late-night shows watching. But lately, they begin to fall into a pattern. I don’t know what this is all about. I thought ignoring them as usual would make them go away, but they didn’t. I cut down late-nights, but they still keep coming. It’s creepy. These dreams… they all keep showing me the same thing over and over again. It’s really creepy, and it’s freaking me out.
--
Established during the eighteenth century, Niebel High opened its gates to exclusive families around the world. For three hundred years, it remained private, accepting only people of great stature or wealth, and because of this, the school population was never dense. Only big in space and extravagant in design, the campus boasted of eight, four-storey buildings: one building each for the freshmen, sophomore, junior and seniors, the Main building for the school administration, the Sub-main building for the school organizations and committees and faculty, the Grand Library, and the gym. It was famous by its own right, having half of its old history filled beyond the page’s margin with names of the world-renowned achievers-
“Jeanne Vergessen! Get back here!”
And of course, the troublemakers who took the school’s motto of living up to one’s dream seriously.
“Stop that idiot!”
Really seriously.
“Just one more corner…”
Seventeen year old Jeanne reassured his frantic self as he pushed past throngs of turning heads and bustling students hanging around the hallway. Skidding to a stop, Jeanne quickly turned around the corner and ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and almost stumbled against a passing student who managed to avoid him in time. Behind him, Disciplinary Committee officer Maria Delacroix gave chase, screaming in a fit of anger.
“God damn it! Jeanne Vergessen!”
Jeanne ignored the scream and just kept on running as fast as his thin legs could carry him.
Spotting the boy’s loo around the corner, he dived straight for it before the school police could catch him. Not even a dignified officer of the Disciplinary Committee would chase him beyond any door with a male sign simply because she’s a dignified girl and he doesn’t give much of a damn about dignity when it comes to saving his hide.
As to why Jeanne was running down the corridors and being chased by a high-ranking officer of the Disciplinary committee instead of going to the Guidance’s office… well, the kid just didn’t know when to shut up and be led to the Guidance counselor’s office like a good, little boy. Long story short, Jeanne Vergessen was once again knee-deep in trouble.
The start of the new school year was delayed due to constructions, and now that they were three months late, the teachers were cramming every lesson they could into a single one-hour lecture. Jeanne, being dear ol’ Jeanne, still couldn’t make any notes worth to copy despite being a junior already much to the great annoyance of his teacher.
Meanwhile, back in the lavatory, Jeanne locked the door. He even tried pulling the knob to test its strength.
“What in God’s name have you done this time, Vergessen?”
Jeanne’s cheek twitched at the voice. Warily, he turned around and blanched at the sight before him.
Perched on the edge of a sink was the campus’ richest blonde boy (and probably the shortest, too), Armand Botticelli. His bright, green eyes gleamed with mirth as he smirked at Jeanne.
“Jeanne, don’t tell me you pissed off someone again,” another voice said, this one deeper in tone than Armand’s.
Leaning against Armand’s sink, Jeremy Reiner, a tall brunet with permanently narrowed dark eyes scowled at him. In his hand was a can of beer, and upon closer inspection on the disarrayed state of his uniform, Jeanne figured the older boy was in another round of skipping class.
Jeanne never liked it whenever he got stuck in a room with the school’s dastard duo, even more if there were six cans of beer involved. Jeremy already had the school uniform’s blue coat off and the white dress shirt inside out of the standard black slacks, blue tie pulled down. He didn’t have to wonder, really, on how Jeremy managed to smuggle such a number of beers into school ground, much less walk around looking like that without getting apprehended by the Disciplinary officers.
Back to the situation at hand, Jeanne’s cheek continued twitching. He had two choices. Option A: turn around, open the door, and face Maria. He could always dodge her punch and run away or even head straight to the Guidance counselor just to get her off his back in exchange of a detention. Option B: answer Jeremy and Armand’s questions, which was never a grand idea to feed.
“You know, the last time I answered those questions,” he pointed at Jeremy, “you glared at me like hell froze over and Bottle Boy there gave me a lifetime’s worth of sermon.”
“That’s the point, you dolt,” Armand said, leaning his weight on one hand. “You have like, nine-lives. I have to make sure I got my point across those nine lives.”
Jeanne scoffed. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“And you’re stalling,” Jeremy drawled as he rolled his eyes. “So, what did you do this time?”
“Oh, I just asked Maria if she had gained weight.”
“Did she call you a prat?” Armand asked as he reached for another can of bear. Jeanne nodded. A blink of the eye later, a can of beer went flying towards his head and Jeanne quickly ducked to avoid it. The tin can met the steel door behind him with a loud bang. Outside, he could hear the startled yell from the Disciplinary officer.
“Are you mad?!”
“You’re a jerk, Vergessen!”
“Anyway,” Jeremy quickly cut in before Armand could throw another can of beer at him. “Get out of here before you drag us into trouble. Your trouble.”
“And make it fast,” Armand added with a scowl.
Frowning, Jeanne crossed his arms across his chest, messing up his blue tie in the process. “Miss Cougar’s outside waiting to pounce on me right now.”
“And there’s no way we are letting you compromise us,” Jeremy reminded him. “Friends or not, I don’t care.”
“Yeah, remind me why I always bother to help you,” Jeanne snapped back with a glare. “You two always get away with it and I barely do. It’s unfair, you know.”
“I apologize that we are so cool they always let us do as we please,” Armand said as he fixed a pointed look at Jeanne, before jerking his head at the window behind him.
Sighing, Jeremy just threw his hands exasperatedly into the air before reaching around to pull the loo’s window open. “Just get the hell out of here. You’re making my beer stale.”
“Cool,” Jeanne grinned in return. “I won’t tell Mikhail that you sneaked off with Bottle Boy to drink with you.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“You tell him and I’ll kick your arse when I see,” Jeremy warned with a glare as Jeanne jumped over the window, one leg after the other. “Keep yourself out of trouble, even just for a semester. You already have too much.”
“Yes, sir!” Jeanne grinned again, waving at the two.
They met last year in the middle of a week of suspension for messing around with the Disciplinary committee. Jeanne had found Jeremy fighting some of the girls, and without a second thought, he jumped in to help. Proper introduction and the unvoiced sworn fealty happened afterwards when both were locked up in Mr. Velmonte’s special algebra class to solve a hundred algebraic questions. That had started their habit of helping each other out of troubles, no matter how cold Jeremy was or how infuriating Jeanne could get.
And through the unsocial company of Jeremy, Jeanne met two other people who were uncharacteristically close to him-Armand, who he only addresses as Bottle Boy, and Mikhail Anderson, the only other person whose glares and scowls rival Jeremy’s.
But Jeremy and Mikhail didn’t get along really well thanks to some sort of rivalry and misunderstanding, and this he learned only after getting punched in the face by Jeremy for asking.
Landing in the outskirt of the football field, Jeanne breathed in the early morning breeze and smiled. No, there wouldn’t be anyone from the Disciplinary to drag him back to the Guidance counselor in this side of the campus. Thank heavens their campus was large.
Smiling brightly, Jeanne jogged away and headed for his homeroom class. He had to meet up with Meia in three minutes, and he was sure the blond girl would throw a fit if he was late for their meeting.
--
Meanwhile, at the school library, two seniors were wasting their day away, the older one being his usual dazed self and the other watching his best mate being a living failure.
Chris Balteisse yawned loudly, earning a glare from the librarian outside their executive room. He glared back, and after a short display of frustration, the librarian turned away. Funny how different it was two years ago when he was still a delinquent, before he became after he became the Council and Disciplinary Committee’s president. Any staff in this campus would have done anything to get him expelled, but now, he might as well own the entire place. In fact, so influential he had become he managed to install an executive room made of glass at a corner of the library, beanie chairs covering its floor. Their only electronic appliance was an old, second-hand coffee maker that Zide bought from a bargain sale.
Twirling the end of his long ponytail with two fingers, not caring that he had only tangled the black strands, Chris slumped further back into the beanie chair, scowling darkly at his friend’s head. Unlike Chris’s, Zide Arcanum’s black hair was dyed and slicked back with some unknown product that Chris had no inclination of knowing. Whatever it was, it must be hideous.
“Damn loser, couldn’t even move on,” Chris growled out, kicking his friend off his beanie. The other simply swatted his foot away.
Zide slouched on his beanie chair looking like a defeated king, a large scowl marring his handsome face.
“Look! Look! She… she let him carry her books and her bag! She never let me do that!”
He hissed at his best mate before grabbing a book and smacking it at his head. “Maybe it’s because you were never her boyfriend. Damn it, Zide, get over it. You could barely introduce yourself to her. I don’t even know how you can be jealous.”
Zide groaned in pain, looking up to send a good glare at his friend.
“You are cruel.”
“And you are pathetic,” Chris shot back, tossing the book at the teen next to him. “Now get over it. I’ll kick you if you don’t. She’s nobody.”
“Says the guy who dated a girl then stole her seat as Disciplinary captain.”
“My love life has nothing to do with yours-or the lack thereof,” Chris said as he straightened up. Zide gasped at his best friend’s words, grabbing his chest in mock pain.
“Chris Balteisse, how could you? I thought you are my best man!”
“Trust me, you will not be needing one in the near future.”
“Hey!”
“By the way, did Shaina call you?”
Zide blinked widely, fixing his best mate with an odd stare. “No… why?”
“She should be hunting me by now…”
Zide froze in realization as Chris stood up and made his way to the coffee maker lying conspicuously on the floor. On normal occasions, after lunch means Council meeting. It wasn’t usual for Chris to be hanging out during this time of the day.
“You skipped a Council meeting?”
“For your sake? Yes.”
“Really, Chris.” Zide’s tone turned lower as his lips began to frown, narrowing his eyes at the Council president. “You ditched a Council meeting?”
“A Council meeting with the board of directors and the office of student affairs... Yes.” Chris shrugged nonchalantly as he stood next to the coffee maker. “Don’t worry, Shaina will come up with an excuse. That’s what secretaries are for, anyway.”
“But,” Zide spluttered, and he spluttered some more as his brain began to comprehend the situation. Chris Balteisse, famous and oh-so-diligent Council president for two years, every student’s role model, had skipped an important Council meeting. That had never happened before.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Don’t lie to me, Chris. What happened?”
Chris stayed silent for a while. Slowly, his eyes trailed to their tiny room’s glass wall, leaving them visually vulnerable to everyone outside their small haven. It was the only condition the head librarian had for them. At least they have the privilege to make it sound-proof.
“I’m currently on probation until school festival,” Chris finally answered, ignoring the look of utter disbelief in Zide’s face. “I’ve been under it since March. That’s why I didn’t go to the summer camp.”
“Why?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know.” The coffee maker made a whizzing sound, prompting a smack from the Council president. “And I doubt I’ll ever know.”
“You didn’t even ask?”
“Zide, I know how the higher-ups act. You know, too. It’s common knowledge they are just waiting for the chance to axe me.”
“But that doesn’t give them the right to suspend you and kick you out just because they don’t like you.”
“Zide, let it go.” Chris sighed. “It’s not like losing one seat is going to make everyone respect me less. It’s not like I wanted the seat anyway. I just beat the guy in the election, so what? I just have to wait for someone else, maybe Shaina, to beat me this year. And oh, I’m not out yet. I’m just under probation.”
Zide was about to retort when someone knocked on the glass panel. Shaina Lee, Council secretary for four years, was standing outside, a clipboard held against her chest. With a nod, Chris let her enter the small, air-conditioned room.
“The meeting’s over?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t question his absence-or the lack of rebellion over his current predicament.
Shaina dropped onto a beanie bag unceremoniously, stretching her tired legs as she handed the clipboard to Chris with a heavy sigh. Chris waited with bated breath as she rubbed her tired, blue eyes under orange-rimmed rectangular glasses. It seemed like she was willing to let his absence go.
“There won’t be any election, and they’ll let you keep your seat under one condition. There must no misdemeanor or major offences to occur within school premises. And you’ll be under Dr. Binder’s watch.”
“That’s two conditions.”
“They put the two together in one sentence. I just separated them.” Shaina huffed, taking back the clipboard from her leader. “So, any grand idea?”
“I think we need a talk,” Chris said then gave Zide a look. Sensing the look, Zide just pouted at him before grabbing his bag and dragged himself out of the room without another word, but not before Chris patted him softly on the back with a small smile. The other returned the friendly gesture with just a curt nod.
After making sure Zide was out of the library and no one outside were looking at them, Chris sat down, leaving the coffee maker to wheeze itself to death.
“Why is Binder suddenly my caretaker?” Chris asked immediately, trepidation eating his patience away.
“Because he’s planning something, obviously, and you’re in the equation,” Shaina answered in the same tone, tucking a stray dark brown strand of hair back. She straightened up on her seat, fixing her pleated skirt out of habit.
“Then how did he get the old gits make him my caretaker?”
“Mind control, Chris. Don’t forget he can do that.”
“But on school administration?”
The two stared at each other again intensely, their eyes doing the communication their words couldn’t make. Dr. Binder Hart was their school doctor, notoriously famous for torturing any student who dared to cross his path with his mere presence alone. But Chris knew there was more to be told about the mad doctor. Like what Shaina said, the man had the power to control people’s mind, and the only person in the coven who can do it. If he decided to put Chris under his scrutinizing watch, then Christ must start putting up his defenses. As the strongest heir of the coven, he knew the ambitious doctor would do anything to have some form of control over him; that was why the doctor had been uncharacteristically nice to him since his transfer to Niebel High.
Finally, Chris broke their eye contact, leaning back on his seat. “Please don’t tell me this had something to do with the coven.”
There, he said it. The forbidden word. He had finally said the bloody word that had put him in this ridiculous probation after he had mentioned the word during an outburst in the middle of a hallway. But Shaina wasn’t a normal student. No normal student could be the Council secretary as early as the first day of her freshman year, hence she only took the word in a stride and nodded in confirmation.
“I don’t like the sound of it either, but it’s true. The coven is acting up again. I don’t know about yours, but my mom called me last night and asked me if I’m alright. She even told me to be careful, Chris.”
Chris’ eyes narrowed. “The coven’s been pretty quiet since the Vatican incident two years ago. Why the sudden activity?”
“Well,” Shaina paused, looking away hesitantly. Standing up, she left the clipboard on the floor, before turning around for the door. Chris frowned as he realized his assistant had decided to shut herself up again.
“Shaina, you are not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
Slowly, the Council secretary turned her head, giving Chris one of her grimmest smile. “What I have is only a guess, but one thing I know for sure is that someone from the Vatican incident is right here in this school, and she had somehow gotten close to him.”
“What?”
Shaina’s smile quirked on one end as her hand turned the doorknob. “She’s here, Chris. She is here, and she has befriended the boy who is supposed to be dead. Obviously, with an arrangement like this, something big must be coming. Something really big.”
The Council secretary left, leaving Chris all alone inside the small glass room. The trembling coffee maker was still making its wails in the background. Grudgingly, he dragged himself out of his seat and attended to its dying call before unplugging it. The wheezing noise stopped, and as Chris tossed the cord carelessly to the floor, he grabbed his things and the clipboard and left the library in silence, leaving gloom in its wake.
--
Jeremy exhaled, watching the nicotine smoke curl in the air. He knew he shouldn’t be smoking while in detention, but there was no teacher or disciplinarian around to reprimand him. There was a Disciplinary member a while ago, but she was just a rookie and he had easily fooled her into leaving him alone.
Leaning back on the chair, rocking on its two hind legs as his ankles crossed on top of the desk, he let his arms hang limply by his sides, tongue playing with the cancer stick. Right after Jeanne had safely gotten out of the boys’ toilet, Maria Delacroix had banged the door open. In less than a minute, Jeremy had Armand shoved out as well, saving the blonde’s arse from detention.
When Delacroix took him to the Guidance counselor’s office, still pissed that she didn’t get who she wanted, he only kept quiet and dragged his feet along the hallway. No one turned a head, and no one minded them. Out of fear, he guessed. Ever since Jeremy arrived at this school, it had become a routine for him to visit the Guidance counselor every other day.
“And now, it’ll be every day,” the counselor had said, looking at him disapprovingly. But the middle-aged lady didn’t say a word anymore other than a warning.
An irregular series of knocking broke him out of his reverie. The rocking of the chair stopped as he stared at the door locked from the outside. Slowly, it slid open, a sliver of white fluorescent light pouring into the room. Without bothering to remove either his legs or the cigarette between his lips, Jeremy let the chair fall back to its four legs as he patiently watched the shadow bring in its owner.
Adrian Herald grinned at him, keycard on hand.
“For someone on detention, you sure have a lot of gall.”
“I believe that’s why they call me gallant, Herald.”
“Well, detention’s over.” Herald tossed the keycard onto the desk, dark blue eyes twinkling in mirth. “I believe you owe me one now.”
Jeremy snorted loudly before puffing out the cloud of smoke. “Self-serving bastard,” he muttered, and he made sure Herald heard him well. He then motioned at the keycard on the table with a jerk of his head. “What’s this for?”
Tugging on a strand of dark brown hair, Herald tilted his head as his shoulder leaned on the doorframe. “It’s for Armand. Just give it to him. He knows about it.”
“Give it to him in person. I’m not an errand boy.”
“I know that. You’re too noble and high-bred to be one.”
Jeremy froze in his seat, stopping mid-rock. He stared wildly at Herald, but when the latter made no notion of confirming what he had thought, Jeremy straightened up. He threw away his cigarette and made his infamous scowl.
“What do you mean by that, Herald?”
Herald shrugged nonchalantly. “Exactly what the words meant.”
Leather shoes hit the tiled floor, the chair’s metal legs scraping against the floor as Jeremy stood up and grabbed the keycard. Herald stayed stationary in his pose, but the suspicion in his eyes gave everything away to Jeremy. The older boy might have the upper hand in their relationship, but that didn’t keep him from doubting Jeremy.
“I’m not here to play games with you, Herald. Out with it.”
“I’m just giving you an early warning, Reiner. Don’t get yourself involved anymore.”
“I think that’s going against the whole point of me being here, Herald.”
Herald groaned exasperatedly. “I didn’t smuggle you into London just to have you captured, Reiner. Jesus Christ, don’t make my job harder than it already is. It’s not easy maintaining a straight face when you have to worry about some gang of misfits doing God knows what.”
Jeremy shrugged in reply, and he knew that only irritated Herald instead of assuring him. Well, Herald should see it coming. Jeremy wasn’t a cooperative person by default.
With a defeated sigh, Herald just waved his hand in the air and gave Jeremy a stern look. “Just call Armand and tell him to be careful too, alright? I’ll check up on you guys next week,” the older boy said before stalking off without waiting for a reply from Jeremy. He must have known it was plain useless to expect one.
When the three of them had arrived at London a year ago, the first name that Ægis, their benefactor, had directed them to was Adrian Herald. With a restriction order on their head thanks to the Vatican incident, they didn’t really have any other choice but to see him. So they went and looked for Adrian Herald, then a junior student at Niebel High who had too much free time to spend. After a few pushing and shoving and fiddling around, all of their papers were fixed and Adrian Herald had the three enrolled in the middle of the first semester.
But when the dispute between Jeremy and Mikhail began, Armand caught in the middle, things turned sour for the trio. With Herald’s help, Mikhail had left them in a blink of an eye for the Council. At that time, the Council was in an inner power struggle, and then-president Chris Balteisse needed all the supporters he could get. Since that time, Jeremy barely had a conversation with Mikhail Anderson. Both showed no initiative to patch things up, which only made matters worse.
Slipping the keycard into his coat’s inner pocket, he left the detention room without a word of report to the Guidance’s office. The Guidance counselor had already stopped keeping track of his records anyway. Armand was the only person he had to report to, and knowing the blond hothead, it wouldn’t be long before he starts calling him for his whereabouts.
ACT 1: DAYS to COUNT
I constantly dream about lots of things, usually either scary or weird. I try to ignore most of them; they’re baseless, just effects of my late-night shows watching. But lately, they begin to fall into a pattern. I don’t know what this is all about. I thought ignoring them as usual would make them go away, but they didn’t. I cut down late-nights, but they still keep coming. It’s creepy. These dreams… they all keep showing me the same thing over and over again. It’s really creepy, and it’s freaking me out.
--
Established during the eighteenth century, Niebel High opened its gates to exclusive families around the world. For three hundred years, it remained private, accepting only people of great stature or wealth, and because of this, the school population was never dense. Only big in space and extravagant in design, the campus boasted of eight, four-storey buildings: one building each for the freshmen, sophomore, junior and seniors, the Main building for the school administration, the Sub-main building for the school organizations and committees and faculty, the Grand Library, and the gym. It was famous by its own right, having half of its old history filled beyond the page’s margin with names of the world-renowned achievers-
“Jeanne Vergessen! Get back here!”
And of course, the troublemakers who took the school’s motto of living up to one’s dream seriously.
“Stop that idiot!”
Really seriously.
“Just one more corner…”
Seventeen year old Jeanne reassured his frantic self as he pushed past throngs of turning heads and bustling students hanging around the hallway. Skidding to a stop, Jeanne quickly turned around the corner and ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and almost stumbled against a passing student who managed to avoid him in time. Behind him, Disciplinary Committee officer Maria Delacroix gave chase, screaming in a fit of anger.
“God damn it! Jeanne Vergessen!”
Jeanne ignored the scream and just kept on running as fast as his thin legs could carry him.
Spotting the boy’s loo around the corner, he dived straight for it before the school police could catch him. Not even a dignified officer of the Disciplinary Committee would chase him beyond any door with a male sign simply because she’s a dignified girl and he doesn’t give much of a damn about dignity when it comes to saving his hide.
As to why Jeanne was running down the corridors and being chased by a high-ranking officer of the Disciplinary committee instead of going to the Guidance’s office… well, the kid just didn’t know when to shut up and be led to the Guidance counselor’s office like a good, little boy. Long story short, Jeanne Vergessen was once again knee-deep in trouble.
The start of the new school year was delayed due to constructions, and now that they were three months late, the teachers were cramming every lesson they could into a single one-hour lecture. Jeanne, being dear ol’ Jeanne, still couldn’t make any notes worth to copy despite being a junior already much to the great annoyance of his teacher.
Meanwhile, back in the lavatory, Jeanne locked the door. He even tried pulling the knob to test its strength.
“What in God’s name have you done this time, Vergessen?”
Jeanne’s cheek twitched at the voice. Warily, he turned around and blanched at the sight before him.
Perched on the edge of a sink was the campus’ richest blonde boy (and probably the shortest, too), Armand Botticelli. His bright, green eyes gleamed with mirth as he smirked at Jeanne.
“Jeanne, don’t tell me you pissed off someone again,” another voice said, this one deeper in tone than Armand’s.
Leaning against Armand’s sink, Jeremy Reiner, a tall brunet with permanently narrowed dark eyes scowled at him. In his hand was a can of beer, and upon closer inspection on the disarrayed state of his uniform, Jeanne figured the older boy was in another round of skipping class.
Jeanne never liked it whenever he got stuck in a room with the school’s dastard duo, even more if there were six cans of beer involved. Jeremy already had the school uniform’s blue coat off and the white dress shirt inside out of the standard black slacks, blue tie pulled down. He didn’t have to wonder, really, on how Jeremy managed to smuggle such a number of beers into school ground, much less walk around looking like that without getting apprehended by the Disciplinary officers.
Back to the situation at hand, Jeanne’s cheek continued twitching. He had two choices. Option A: turn around, open the door, and face Maria. He could always dodge her punch and run away or even head straight to the Guidance counselor just to get her off his back in exchange of a detention. Option B: answer Jeremy and Armand’s questions, which was never a grand idea to feed.
“You know, the last time I answered those questions,” he pointed at Jeremy, “you glared at me like hell froze over and Bottle Boy there gave me a lifetime’s worth of sermon.”
“That’s the point, you dolt,” Armand said, leaning his weight on one hand. “You have like, nine-lives. I have to make sure I got my point across those nine lives.”
Jeanne scoffed. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“And you’re stalling,” Jeremy drawled as he rolled his eyes. “So, what did you do this time?”
“Oh, I just asked Maria if she had gained weight.”
“Did she call you a prat?” Armand asked as he reached for another can of bear. Jeanne nodded. A blink of the eye later, a can of beer went flying towards his head and Jeanne quickly ducked to avoid it. The tin can met the steel door behind him with a loud bang. Outside, he could hear the startled yell from the Disciplinary officer.
“Are you mad?!”
“You’re a jerk, Vergessen!”
“Anyway,” Jeremy quickly cut in before Armand could throw another can of beer at him. “Get out of here before you drag us into trouble. Your trouble.”
“And make it fast,” Armand added with a scowl.
Frowning, Jeanne crossed his arms across his chest, messing up his blue tie in the process. “Miss Cougar’s outside waiting to pounce on me right now.”
“And there’s no way we are letting you compromise us,” Jeremy reminded him. “Friends or not, I don’t care.”
“Yeah, remind me why I always bother to help you,” Jeanne snapped back with a glare. “You two always get away with it and I barely do. It’s unfair, you know.”
“I apologize that we are so cool they always let us do as we please,” Armand said as he fixed a pointed look at Jeanne, before jerking his head at the window behind him.
Sighing, Jeremy just threw his hands exasperatedly into the air before reaching around to pull the loo’s window open. “Just get the hell out of here. You’re making my beer stale.”
“Cool,” Jeanne grinned in return. “I won’t tell Mikhail that you sneaked off with Bottle Boy to drink with you.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“You tell him and I’ll kick your arse when I see,” Jeremy warned with a glare as Jeanne jumped over the window, one leg after the other. “Keep yourself out of trouble, even just for a semester. You already have too much.”
“Yes, sir!” Jeanne grinned again, waving at the two.
They met last year in the middle of a week of suspension for messing around with the Disciplinary committee. Jeanne had found Jeremy fighting some of the girls, and without a second thought, he jumped in to help. Proper introduction and the unvoiced sworn fealty happened afterwards when both were locked up in Mr. Velmonte’s special algebra class to solve a hundred algebraic questions. That had started their habit of helping each other out of troubles, no matter how cold Jeremy was or how infuriating Jeanne could get.
And through the unsocial company of Jeremy, Jeanne met two other people who were uncharacteristically close to him-Armand, who he only addresses as Bottle Boy, and Mikhail Anderson, the only other person whose glares and scowls rival Jeremy’s.
But Jeremy and Mikhail didn’t get along really well thanks to some sort of rivalry and misunderstanding, and this he learned only after getting punched in the face by Jeremy for asking.
Landing in the outskirt of the football field, Jeanne breathed in the early morning breeze and smiled. No, there wouldn’t be anyone from the Disciplinary to drag him back to the Guidance counselor in this side of the campus. Thank heavens their campus was large.
Smiling brightly, Jeanne jogged away and headed for his homeroom class. He had to meet up with Meia in three minutes, and he was sure the blond girl would throw a fit if he was late for their meeting.
--
Meanwhile, at the school library, two seniors were wasting their day away, the older one being his usual dazed self and the other watching his best mate being a living failure.
Chris Balteisse yawned loudly, earning a glare from the librarian outside their executive room. He glared back, and after a short display of frustration, the librarian turned away. Funny how different it was two years ago when he was still a delinquent, before he became after he became the Council and Disciplinary Committee’s president. Any staff in this campus would have done anything to get him expelled, but now, he might as well own the entire place. In fact, so influential he had become he managed to install an executive room made of glass at a corner of the library, beanie chairs covering its floor. Their only electronic appliance was an old, second-hand coffee maker that Zide bought from a bargain sale.
Twirling the end of his long ponytail with two fingers, not caring that he had only tangled the black strands, Chris slumped further back into the beanie chair, scowling darkly at his friend’s head. Unlike Chris’s, Zide Arcanum’s black hair was dyed and slicked back with some unknown product that Chris had no inclination of knowing. Whatever it was, it must be hideous.
“Damn loser, couldn’t even move on,” Chris growled out, kicking his friend off his beanie. The other simply swatted his foot away.
Zide slouched on his beanie chair looking like a defeated king, a large scowl marring his handsome face.
“Look! Look! She… she let him carry her books and her bag! She never let me do that!”
He hissed at his best mate before grabbing a book and smacking it at his head. “Maybe it’s because you were never her boyfriend. Damn it, Zide, get over it. You could barely introduce yourself to her. I don’t even know how you can be jealous.”
Zide groaned in pain, looking up to send a good glare at his friend.
“You are cruel.”
“And you are pathetic,” Chris shot back, tossing the book at the teen next to him. “Now get over it. I’ll kick you if you don’t. She’s nobody.”
“Says the guy who dated a girl then stole her seat as Disciplinary captain.”
“My love life has nothing to do with yours-or the lack thereof,” Chris said as he straightened up. Zide gasped at his best friend’s words, grabbing his chest in mock pain.
“Chris Balteisse, how could you? I thought you are my best man!”
“Trust me, you will not be needing one in the near future.”
“Hey!”
“By the way, did Shaina call you?”
Zide blinked widely, fixing his best mate with an odd stare. “No… why?”
“She should be hunting me by now…”
Zide froze in realization as Chris stood up and made his way to the coffee maker lying conspicuously on the floor. On normal occasions, after lunch means Council meeting. It wasn’t usual for Chris to be hanging out during this time of the day.
“You skipped a Council meeting?”
“For your sake? Yes.”
“Really, Chris.” Zide’s tone turned lower as his lips began to frown, narrowing his eyes at the Council president. “You ditched a Council meeting?”
“A Council meeting with the board of directors and the office of student affairs... Yes.” Chris shrugged nonchalantly as he stood next to the coffee maker. “Don’t worry, Shaina will come up with an excuse. That’s what secretaries are for, anyway.”
“But,” Zide spluttered, and he spluttered some more as his brain began to comprehend the situation. Chris Balteisse, famous and oh-so-diligent Council president for two years, every student’s role model, had skipped an important Council meeting. That had never happened before.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Don’t lie to me, Chris. What happened?”
Chris stayed silent for a while. Slowly, his eyes trailed to their tiny room’s glass wall, leaving them visually vulnerable to everyone outside their small haven. It was the only condition the head librarian had for them. At least they have the privilege to make it sound-proof.
“I’m currently on probation until school festival,” Chris finally answered, ignoring the look of utter disbelief in Zide’s face. “I’ve been under it since March. That’s why I didn’t go to the summer camp.”
“Why?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know.” The coffee maker made a whizzing sound, prompting a smack from the Council president. “And I doubt I’ll ever know.”
“You didn’t even ask?”
“Zide, I know how the higher-ups act. You know, too. It’s common knowledge they are just waiting for the chance to axe me.”
“But that doesn’t give them the right to suspend you and kick you out just because they don’t like you.”
“Zide, let it go.” Chris sighed. “It’s not like losing one seat is going to make everyone respect me less. It’s not like I wanted the seat anyway. I just beat the guy in the election, so what? I just have to wait for someone else, maybe Shaina, to beat me this year. And oh, I’m not out yet. I’m just under probation.”
Zide was about to retort when someone knocked on the glass panel. Shaina Lee, Council secretary for four years, was standing outside, a clipboard held against her chest. With a nod, Chris let her enter the small, air-conditioned room.
“The meeting’s over?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t question his absence-or the lack of rebellion over his current predicament.
Shaina dropped onto a beanie bag unceremoniously, stretching her tired legs as she handed the clipboard to Chris with a heavy sigh. Chris waited with bated breath as she rubbed her tired, blue eyes under orange-rimmed rectangular glasses. It seemed like she was willing to let his absence go.
“There won’t be any election, and they’ll let you keep your seat under one condition. There must no misdemeanor or major offences to occur within school premises. And you’ll be under Dr. Binder’s watch.”
“That’s two conditions.”
“They put the two together in one sentence. I just separated them.” Shaina huffed, taking back the clipboard from her leader. “So, any grand idea?”
“I think we need a talk,” Chris said then gave Zide a look. Sensing the look, Zide just pouted at him before grabbing his bag and dragged himself out of the room without another word, but not before Chris patted him softly on the back with a small smile. The other returned the friendly gesture with just a curt nod.
After making sure Zide was out of the library and no one outside were looking at them, Chris sat down, leaving the coffee maker to wheeze itself to death.
“Why is Binder suddenly my caretaker?” Chris asked immediately, trepidation eating his patience away.
“Because he’s planning something, obviously, and you’re in the equation,” Shaina answered in the same tone, tucking a stray dark brown strand of hair back. She straightened up on her seat, fixing her pleated skirt out of habit.
“Then how did he get the old gits make him my caretaker?”
“Mind control, Chris. Don’t forget he can do that.”
“But on school administration?”
The two stared at each other again intensely, their eyes doing the communication their words couldn’t make. Dr. Binder Hart was their school doctor, notoriously famous for torturing any student who dared to cross his path with his mere presence alone. But Chris knew there was more to be told about the mad doctor. Like what Shaina said, the man had the power to control people’s mind, and the only person in the coven who can do it. If he decided to put Chris under his scrutinizing watch, then Christ must start putting up his defenses. As the strongest heir of the coven, he knew the ambitious doctor would do anything to have some form of control over him; that was why the doctor had been uncharacteristically nice to him since his transfer to Niebel High.
Finally, Chris broke their eye contact, leaning back on his seat. “Please don’t tell me this had something to do with the coven.”
There, he said it. The forbidden word. He had finally said the bloody word that had put him in this ridiculous probation after he had mentioned the word during an outburst in the middle of a hallway. But Shaina wasn’t a normal student. No normal student could be the Council secretary as early as the first day of her freshman year, hence she only took the word in a stride and nodded in confirmation.
“I don’t like the sound of it either, but it’s true. The coven is acting up again. I don’t know about yours, but my mom called me last night and asked me if I’m alright. She even told me to be careful, Chris.”
Chris’ eyes narrowed. “The coven’s been pretty quiet since the Vatican incident two years ago. Why the sudden activity?”
“Well,” Shaina paused, looking away hesitantly. Standing up, she left the clipboard on the floor, before turning around for the door. Chris frowned as he realized his assistant had decided to shut herself up again.
“Shaina, you are not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
Slowly, the Council secretary turned her head, giving Chris one of her grimmest smile. “What I have is only a guess, but one thing I know for sure is that someone from the Vatican incident is right here in this school, and she had somehow gotten close to him.”
“What?”
Shaina’s smile quirked on one end as her hand turned the doorknob. “She’s here, Chris. She is here, and she has befriended the boy who is supposed to be dead. Obviously, with an arrangement like this, something big must be coming. Something really big.”
The Council secretary left, leaving Chris all alone inside the small glass room. The trembling coffee maker was still making its wails in the background. Grudgingly, he dragged himself out of his seat and attended to its dying call before unplugging it. The wheezing noise stopped, and as Chris tossed the cord carelessly to the floor, he grabbed his things and the clipboard and left the library in silence, leaving gloom in its wake.
--
Jeremy exhaled, watching the nicotine smoke curl in the air. He knew he shouldn’t be smoking while in detention, but there was no teacher or disciplinarian around to reprimand him. There was a Disciplinary member a while ago, but she was just a rookie and he had easily fooled her into leaving him alone.
Leaning back on the chair, rocking on its two hind legs as his ankles crossed on top of the desk, he let his arms hang limply by his sides, tongue playing with the cancer stick. Right after Jeanne had safely gotten out of the boys’ toilet, Maria Delacroix had banged the door open. In less than a minute, Jeremy had Armand shoved out as well, saving the blonde’s arse from detention.
When Delacroix took him to the Guidance counselor’s office, still pissed that she didn’t get who she wanted, he only kept quiet and dragged his feet along the hallway. No one turned a head, and no one minded them. Out of fear, he guessed. Ever since Jeremy arrived at this school, it had become a routine for him to visit the Guidance counselor every other day.
“And now, it’ll be every day,” the counselor had said, looking at him disapprovingly. But the middle-aged lady didn’t say a word anymore other than a warning.
An irregular series of knocking broke him out of his reverie. The rocking of the chair stopped as he stared at the door locked from the outside. Slowly, it slid open, a sliver of white fluorescent light pouring into the room. Without bothering to remove either his legs or the cigarette between his lips, Jeremy let the chair fall back to its four legs as he patiently watched the shadow bring in its owner.
Adrian Herald grinned at him, keycard on hand.
“For someone on detention, you sure have a lot of gall.”
“I believe that’s why they call me gallant, Herald.”
“Well, detention’s over.” Herald tossed the keycard onto the desk, dark blue eyes twinkling in mirth. “I believe you owe me one now.”
Jeremy snorted loudly before puffing out the cloud of smoke. “Self-serving bastard,” he muttered, and he made sure Herald heard him well. He then motioned at the keycard on the table with a jerk of his head. “What’s this for?”
Tugging on a strand of dark brown hair, Herald tilted his head as his shoulder leaned on the doorframe. “It’s for Armand. Just give it to him. He knows about it.”
“Give it to him in person. I’m not an errand boy.”
“I know that. You’re too noble and high-bred to be one.”
Jeremy froze in his seat, stopping mid-rock. He stared wildly at Herald, but when the latter made no notion of confirming what he had thought, Jeremy straightened up. He threw away his cigarette and made his infamous scowl.
“What do you mean by that, Herald?”
Herald shrugged nonchalantly. “Exactly what the words meant.”
Leather shoes hit the tiled floor, the chair’s metal legs scraping against the floor as Jeremy stood up and grabbed the keycard. Herald stayed stationary in his pose, but the suspicion in his eyes gave everything away to Jeremy. The older boy might have the upper hand in their relationship, but that didn’t keep him from doubting Jeremy.
“I’m not here to play games with you, Herald. Out with it.”
“I’m just giving you an early warning, Reiner. Don’t get yourself involved anymore.”
“I think that’s going against the whole point of me being here, Herald.”
Herald groaned exasperatedly. “I didn’t smuggle you into London just to have you captured, Reiner. Jesus Christ, don’t make my job harder than it already is. It’s not easy maintaining a straight face when you have to worry about some gang of misfits doing God knows what.”
Jeremy shrugged in reply, and he knew that only irritated Herald instead of assuring him. Well, Herald should see it coming. Jeremy wasn’t a cooperative person by default.
With a defeated sigh, Herald just waved his hand in the air and gave Jeremy a stern look. “Just call Armand and tell him to be careful too, alright? I’ll check up on you guys next week,” the older boy said before stalking off without waiting for a reply from Jeremy. He must have known it was plain useless to expect one.
When the three of them had arrived at London a year ago, the first name that Ægis, their benefactor, had directed them to was Adrian Herald. With a restriction order on their head thanks to the Vatican incident, they didn’t really have any other choice but to see him. So they went and looked for Adrian Herald, then a junior student at Niebel High who had too much free time to spend. After a few pushing and shoving and fiddling around, all of their papers were fixed and Adrian Herald had the three enrolled in the middle of the first semester.
But when the dispute between Jeremy and Mikhail began, Armand caught in the middle, things turned sour for the trio. With Herald’s help, Mikhail had left them in a blink of an eye for the Council. At that time, the Council was in an inner power struggle, and then-president Chris Balteisse needed all the supporters he could get. Since that time, Jeremy barely had a conversation with Mikhail Anderson. Both showed no initiative to patch things up, which only made matters worse.
Slipping the keycard into his coat’s inner pocket, he left the detention room without a word of report to the Guidance’s office. The Guidance counselor had already stopped keeping track of his records anyway. Armand was the only person he had to report to, and knowing the blond hothead, it wouldn’t be long before he starts calling him for his whereabouts.