The Casanova's Class Clown

Chap. 34: Candidates

Cardor nodded solemnly, and it struck him that the gamer guy might actually no more than Oliver would prefer. "DDA would never accept them anyway. We run a very thorough background check on all the students to make sure we don't get into unwanted trouble."

The heartthrob couldn't help but laugh. "You guys asked for trouble the minute you let guys like me do the dirty work. Heck, you've dedicated an entire department for firebrands!"

Cardor simply nodded. "Like I said. Make sure we don't get into unwanted trouble."

He had to blink at that. Could it actually be possible that the SSD was dedicated to cause trouble? An entire department of rebels and slackers piled into one place to cause a certain degree of chaos, because it was wanted by the posh school known as DDA? He blinked again, the thought settling comfortably at the back of his brain, then smirked. If he had learned anything about the Heirs after his first year of high school, it was that one should always expect the unexpected when it came to any of them, and putting up an entire department for the purpose of being able to make a little Fourth of July happen on the second week of the school year might just be one of them.

The grin disappeared when Cardor tapped on the photos on the table. "If we're not dealing with a megalomaniac serial killer who has a thing for giving teenagers near-death experiences, these two are our most likely candidates for prosecution."

He talked like a lawyer, Oliver thought, but his focus was more on the girls in the pictures, the deadly thought crossing his mind that they might actually be able to do it. Kill other people. Or at least try. No one's died yet. Oliver read the reports both official and not. But after everything that happened that night, everyone was sure Emma was next on the list.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his brows wrinkling his forehead in thought.

"Police already came to the same conclusion," Cardor continued. "They've already checked both girls out. Ruby Faint's transferred to Valentine Prep, and Sicily Ambers goes to Diamonds High."

His jaw flexed. Diamonds High had been a long-running rival and enemy to DDA, something about a long-standing war going on since both schools started, and even Oliver, who had a knack for not letting rumors rule his judgement before getting to know someone, had to admit that Diamonds High was nothing but trouble, even worse than the SSD. If not all then most of the students there were nothing but bad influence and snooty personalities. They put the 'stare' in 'STARE-yotypical'.

The gamer guy plopped down on the nearest bean bag, kicking aside a bunch of crumpled paper planes as he did, and continued to talk, "Albeit they were both the popular kids in Felicity, Ruby displayed the most activity in the bullying rung. The football team had nothing on them. In fact, the football team looked like they were having a tea party when these two got together and started plotting."

Oliver nodded in agreement, then shot Cardor a suspicious look. "How would you know? You didn't go to Felicity."

He shrugged. "I did my research. A couple of interviews and anonymous asks and I got what I needed."

The heartthrob cocked a brow. "You went online for schoolwork?"

His shoulders drooped, giving Oliver a look that said he thought the heartthrob was dippy. "No duh. We've got people for that."

Oliver shrugged. "Had to ask." Of course Cardor would never actually use his official internet profile. The Heirs were followed everyday by reporters of some kind, wanting to know the life of the kids who would soon run the most affluent high school in the entire world. This forced the teens to keep to themselves even online, running alias profiles instead. This was a well-guarded secret among SSD students, and Oliver was just happy he understood the ramifications, and could freely talk about it in closed quarters.

"You think it could be Ruby?" Cardor asked after a second, picking up a photo.

Oliver stared at the one left on the table, then had to look away, continuing his pacifying clenching and unclenching fists technique. He shrugged. "I think that girl is capable of a lot of things, even using other people to get it." And the image of Emma flashed in his mind, laughing away the tears streaming down her cheeks, alone and believing she could handle anything by herself.

His hand went to his temple where the bandage still wrapped around his head was fresh and new. The memory of the last few days suddenly flooded his mind; Emma not breathing on the clinic bed with a pillow on her face, Emma with a bloody arm dealt by a knife, Emma having to drag him out of a burning car after God knows what kind of wounds, Emma having to sleep in freezing point caves with fresh and deadly wounds strewn about her entire body, Emma passing out the minute help arrived and they were sure they'd get back to civilization, Emma mummified with all the bandages strapped around her in the hospital--

Cardor looked up when the table flew across the room, flipping backwards as it hit the ground, the empty box of pizza that had laid on it laid limp on the grimy floor, the photo flying weakly in the air, going down by G-force like a leaf in autumn. He watched Oliver fume, shoulders and chest rising and falling in an angry breathing regime to calm himself.

"You're gonna pick that up, right?" It wasn't really a question.

Oliver shot him a glare, then looked as if he remembered where he was and wiped the sweat from his nose with the sleeve of his blue blazer, and nodded. "Sorry."

Cardor nodded, but said nothing, waiting for Oliver to calm down. No point in talking to a bear while it was still angry over losing a cave fight with a pack of wolves.

A beat passed, then another, and Cardor spent the time crossing his legs over each other and placing the photo in his breast pocket then threading his fingers together, elbows on his knees.

"You done?" Cardor asked when Oliver plopped back on the sofa, head in his hands.

The heartthrob nodded weakly.

"Good. Because we've got a couple of girls to chase."

And that joke, coming from Cardor Florence, could make a goth chuckle.