The First Case of Restlessness

397 11 6
                                    




"Are you going to finish that?"

Louis' eyes are glued to the half-eaten scraps left on my plate, his expression wildly attentive. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Haven't you already had seconds?"

"Third times a charm, right?" he smirks and inches his finger towards it.

"Louis, as much as it was amusing, I doubt anyone here wants to see you hurl again," Marlon pointed out quite literally. Brody nods in agreement by his side.

"What am I supposed to do, huh? Leave a perfectly good meal to waste? That's absurd! Right, Omar?"

Omar, a reserved boy with a mane of coils, doesn't bat an eye to the conversation. He's too occupied with collecting the group's cutlery to return to the kitchen. I only met him a few moments ago when he served us at the food counter. He's not as expressive as everyone else. He masks a straight face and his voice sticks to one octave.  Despite this, he seems genuine and considerate; making sure each stomach receives an equal helping. Not to mention he is a talented cook. If I knew pasta could taste this good I wouldn't have put up with anything else.

"I'd prefer you not to ruin everyone else's experience," he finally concedes, picking up the last dirty fork.

"I haven't already? That's good enough for me!" Louis declares. Before I can react, the rest of my dinner is gone. He gobbles it up, not leaving room to savour it at all. Omar dodges the unpleasant sight and leaves with the dishes.

Dinner at Ericson's is much more active than lunchtimes. It feels as if the enrolment rate has doubled since then. After we brought studying to a close, Brody and I struggled to find anyone. We read textbooks and highlighted the thesis until there wasn't enough time to change out of our uniforms. Thankfully, it made it easier for the boys to spot and guide us to their claimed picnic bench.

Louis burps vastly and sighs, rubbing his stomach with satisfaction. His face screws up as if his brain is racketing a thought. He suddenly lights up and looks around. "Wait, where the hell is Vi?"

Brody chews the side of her cheek. I don't even know what to say. My first introduction to Violet was messy. It could have gone much better than it did. She didn't even shake my hand. She stared straight through it, straight through me like I was nothing but water. I cannot seem to dismiss the thought of it as much as I want to. I care about it when I shouldn't. I don't give a shit if someone doesn't like me. I prepared myself for this and yet I'm here pulling at my sleeve in discomfort. Louis sighs at us.

"Oh god, what on earth happened now? Is she covered in glitter again?"

Brody gawks at him. "G-Glitter? What? No! Don't even remind me of that catastrophe."

"Not even the part when the vacuum broke and shot the glitter back out again?"

"Okay, what?" I interrupt before the conversation can escalate any further. Louis releases a laugh and claps my back.

"Forget studying. There are so many stories you need to catch up on. The glitter incident for starters, maybe Violet could tell you all about it."

Brody sniffs. "If she stops being so moody."  

"Oooh, you're dealing with Vicious Violet. Yikes."

"Vicious Violet?" I question, raising both my eyebrows. That does not sound promising.

"Mmhmm," he starts. "There's also Virtuous Violet, Vexatious Violet, Victory Violet..."

Louis lists them off his fingers one by one. Brody eventually gives up with him and turns to vent to Marlon instead. The two of them break off and engage in a world of their own. Louis rambles on of all possibilities that alliterate with Violet until a boy emerging from the crowd causes him to trail off. With such little time, I have come to learn that he has the attention span of a puppy. He waits until the slender boy is just about to pass us, then he shockingly seizes him into a headlock. "Woah! Where are you going?"

Delicate Pulse | Violentine Où les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant