Inhale

3.

"Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be more lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."

The shoddy landline in the hallway perpendicular to our own was hardly ever in use. Josiah used it sometimes to call his parents but that was the most action it ever saw because he was the only one who knew how to use it properly. The half erased dial was a challenge in itself which was further exacerbated by the fact that if you didn't hold the receiver at the correct angle, the only sound was choppy static. If I'm being honest, this reflected the state of most things at the academy.

"Laurence?"

The sound of Marcel, the youngish man working the grounds back home, pulled my mind back to the phone. It also brought it back to the pain in my neck; I had been holding my head sideways to the angled receiver for the last five minutes. The ringing had changed into a peculiar whirring around the third attempt and I had started to worry my call wouldn't go through at all.

"Julian," I reminded him absently. He had always called me by my last name, as though I was an army cadet. "Sorry, someone walked by."

This was a lie. Nobody had walked by. The dorm blocks were locked during break times; Josiah had discovered a loose pane in one of the ground-floor windows. We had been using it ever since to come back inside during the colder days. This was how I ended up in the dorm blocks during break in the first place. I had been meaning to drop off some of my books but the sight of the lonely phone got trapped on my shoulder like webbing. On and on it stretched until it snapped me back and I was dialing the number of the home phone I knew would be plugged in on the small counter in the lobby by the kitchen.

"Is everything alright?" Marcel echoed. Many voices were resonating in the background and he sounded out of breath.

"Is Ruell having a party?" I shifted my weight onto my other leg.

"What? Oh," he huffed with a laugh. "No. You know what he's like - he has a few friends over from work. Having a drink."

I could hear at least thirty voices through the lazy buzzing in my ear. "A drink? It's not even midday," I muttered. "I thought the scotch was all done, anyway. After the wake."

For a brief moment the receiver slipped in my fingers and static overwhelmed. I resisted the urge not to throttle myself with the cord as I rebalanced it. Half of Marcel's sentence was erased by the sound.

"-so he came back and now Dorian and I are doing our best to...accommodate. The whole thing will probably end with someone pissed and drowning in the fountain anyway."

A beat. Though I knew Marcel to have a foul mouth, I had not known him to use it in front of me. I sensed his horror through the silence and then the exhaustion in his sigh.

"So sorry. I promise they won't touch the fountain, yeah? Upstairs is all locked up, too..." A loud pop followed by raucous laughter swarmed in my ear. "Listen, Laurence, Dorian's looking for me. I need to go help her. Give us a call in a coupla' days. See you."

"Call me Julian-" I started, but he'd already hung up the phone.

***

Our history teacher, an unfortunate looking man named Mr Sallow, had twisted something or other over the summer holidays, and wouldn't be returning until after the half term. Gratefully, I accepted the free period, knowing I would be entitled to study where I please. On the way down from my uninspiring phone call, the corridors became blissfully empty. My movements remained detached; only curiosity tugged me along. I had not seen anybody - not even Josiah, who spent many of his breaks in our dorm. My only hopes were that he had enough presence of mind to reserve our seats in the lounge. I needed that desk in the middle. Mr Sallow, despite his ailments, had still managed to assign an essay on primary sources and their value.