Inhale

9.

"It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

(A/N: Josiah uses some pretty crude language when speaking to Evette. Skip ahead if this makes you uncomfortable. Implied intoxication in Julian and Killian's conversation and actual intoxication at the final scene of this chapter.)

Josiah shut the book in his lap abruptly. The lounge was pleasantly quiet, only including those of us who were missing our regular history lesson. We had managed to steal our seats in the far corner, which happened to be fortunately close to one of the four fireplaces.  Once more Josiah reclined on the black plush, his uniform blending against it. Evette was sat at the coffee table between us, leaning on Josiah's knees.  The fire crackled loudly at our feet, warming our feet. Although the rain had finally ceased, it was replaced by a crisp and icy cold. Winter was most definitely on its way.

The sound of the cover snapping shut echoed dully for a moment. Josiah scrutinised the cover, arms folded and huffed. "So this David fella loves Agnes and then what? they live happily ever after? He gets the girl?" Evette gave him a look over her shoulder, which she had propped up against another book on the desk. "wh'chu looking at me like that for?"

"Nothing, just very typical of you to assume it's just about 'getting the girl'" she said, chucking her vibrant braid over her shoulder. Josiah raised an eyebrow at me and then smirked at the back of Evette's head.

"Oh yeah? And how would you know?"

"Because you're known for being...you know."

"Promiscuous, moving, confident, bold, overall entertaining?"

Evette wrinkled her nose at the book, resembling her brother very much. "I was thinking more along the lines of - not particularly bright."

Something burnt behind Josiah's eyes for a fraction of a second, and vanished. "Don't you have a classroom to be haunting?"

"Don't you have somebody's daughter to be defiling?"

"Do you count as somebody's daughter, too?" He smirked at me, drunk on testosterone. Evette had gone very still, her pencil no longer moving. Josiah continued on, prattling on about something vain and self absorbed he had overheard Diana say. I was too focused on Evette to hear it and my head was underwater. Bubbling and gurgling and swirling and sinking. I'm a brilliant swimmer, now.

Do you count as somebody's daughter, too?

"You're a pig, do you know that, Josiah?" she hissed at him. She was barely taller than him even as she stood and he lounged, but the vehemence with which she said these words was immeasurably frightening. Evette struck him with her textbook, then again, and again, and again and again. At last, she picked up the David Copperfield, and I felt my stomach twist. Thinking better of it, she put my book down and glowered at him.

I had never seen Josiah so taken aback in my life. In all his time here he had never experienced a physical response to his taunting. Oddly, I felt pride for Evette, and a microscopic amount of inexplicable relief. In three swift movements she collected her things, and departed. Josiah turned to me, eyes wide and unblinking.

"Did I just get...battered? By Roberts?" He whispered to me.

I nodded, and pointed to the book. "It's one of her favourites." Evette and I often found it difficult to relate to one another's interests, given her inclination to maths and science, and my personal passions for English. Most of our friendship had been built on discussing emotions and her asking for my opinions, but not our hobbies. But something she did enjoy reading was Dickens, as did I. David Copperfield was the only book we had discussed together.