Reapers - Thirteen Brothers

V - Rumors (1 of 2)

"Aramis!"Carter came running as he fumbled on the huge stack of folders he was carrying. He had to catch his breath before he could finally speak. "I was worried since I saw you came in with Vincent Sin—"

"Have you seen Lindsay?" I immediately asked as we headed into the classroom, purposively avoiding the topic about Vincent what's-his-face. I had a rough morning. I didn't want to let him ruin the rest of my day. Besides, I still had Dad to worry about. It was times like these that I wished I had my old cell phone with me. Just so I could check on him. Honestly, I didn't think I would need it since I had no life, no friends and did not intend on acquiring both in the near future.

"She called earlier this morning," Carter answered. "Said she got the hives again so she won't be coming to school maybe for three days or so."

"That's too bad. I hope she's okay."

"Don't worry too much. She's been having that since kindergarten." He sat on the empty seat next to me while carefully arranging the folders on the table. "Why? Did she borrow money from you?"

"What? No. I just have to talk to her about... something."

"Oh... Forget I said that." He smiled apologetically. "What about?"

"Uh... What are those for?" I asked, eyeing on the stack of files in front of him just to change the topic. He would think I was some escapee from some mental institution if I told him about what I saw last night, so I didn't bother.

"These? Uh... my reports," he mumbled, sounding hesitant.

I threw him an unconvinced look. "On the second day of school? And I don't remember having that much homework."

In no time, a couple of girls in cheerleader uniforms approached him. With the same Barbie-blond hair and orangey-tan skin, they could have been twins.

I assumed they were popular in Schuylkill because everyone else stopped their habitual morning chat and watched them strut their stuff around the classroom. My classmates looked like they were about to worship the ground the cheerleaders were walking on.

Things never change. In every school I had been into, there were always people like these—the socially-gifted—who everyone seemed to think highly of. The less fortunate—the future businessmen and lawyers who would most likely contribute to the society after several more years of standardized emotional torture, also known as high school—were always those who were just trying to fit in, more or less. And then, there were those who just try to get by. Like me.

"Hi, Carl," the skinnier blond said, twirling her bleached hair around her finger. "Is that my report?"

She snatched a couple of folders from Carter's hand before he could even say yes.

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver," said the other one.

The first girl pinched Carter's cheek and giggled. Then, they both paraded out of the classroom, mouthing you're awesome at Carter who just blinked like he got kissed by a movie star.

And poof! They were gone. Just like magic.

"Actually, i-it's Carter," he muttered, watching them leave.

If the cheerleaders heard what he said, they didn't show any sign.

"Nice. So I guess you're building a homework factory..." I muttered dryly. "Shouldn't you like, I don't know, at least get paid for that?"

I caught a glimpse of Vincent entering the room. He languidly slumped on his usual seat in front of me, barely glancing at my direction as he did. Not that I expected him to do so.

"It will all be worth it," Carter replied, looking really pleased with himself. "Mark my words, Aramis Rayne. One day all my hard work will pay off and I will be invited to one of Mira Webber's pool parties soon enough. When that day comes, I'll be up there on the ladder with everyone who's anyone."

All I could do was shake my head in dismay before a couple of jocks basically shooed Carter away after grabbing most of the folders he was carrying. The poor guy almost tripped over while heading back to his front row seat.

"Nerd," scoffed the bulky varsity guy sitting beside me.

It was unbelievable how big jerks they could be just because they were in their Letterman jackets. I stomped on the big dude's face with my Converse and smashed his nose—in my head, of course.

As if he could read what I was thinking, I caught Vincent sneering at me.

"What?" I snapped at him.

I must have said that a bit louder than intended because the class quieted all of a sudden. A rumble of murmurs filled the room. Everyone tried not to look at us though. Come to think of it, I never saw anyone talk to Vincent Sinclair even once either. It was like there was this unwritten rule that no one should show a hint that he ever existed.

"Nothing."

Vincent hunched on his table, closed his eyes and propped a pair of headphones over his ears.

***