I was drumming my pen softly, however much impatient, at the wooden desk. Where was Miranda? I wondered, sighing deeply at the class-room door. Zach entered in the wake of a mere count of seconds and I adjusted my gaze to linger else-where. I did not wish to deal with him until I had a decent confrontation of yesterday’s events with Miranda.
Yesterday... Hmm… I sighed again, like an aged, cranky old lady and I had been doing naught but that, tossing over my sleep with a much disturbed previous night.
Intuitively my palm reached for my cheek and I blushed deep within. I could still sense his imprinted touch, almost burning into my inner-most layers like sweet infernos.
After Zach had reluctantly slumped away from the Porsche, Samuel’s expression mirrored a kid’s joyful awake at the dawn of Christmas. And that was the commencement. My nerves and senses became unexplainably drugged, alert and tingly: all at the same instant.
He did not speak to me afterwards; he was much deep in thought for doing so. The car was brought to a halt before a shadowy and secluded corner, prior to dropping me home. I recalled my state of nerves there-forth and my face that masked partial confusion. I also recalled drawing further behind in the seat once Samuel turned to me. His eyes had taken a turn for a darker hue, however impossible it was in that pitch black night.
I remembered him drawing close, then; his personal fragrance, that manly scent, veiling my senses when I did not heed to my mind that screamed: run.
“Every date ends with a kiss,” his voice was so low, almost a murmur and yet I had heard every term that left his mouth. Or his lips, that were parted and slowly leaning forward …
“Linda!” My body jerked suddenly, startled and I turned to watch Miranda at our table. She was chuckling at the effect of her abrupt call out.
A shy smile crept to my lips, much unnecessary evidence to the most recent of illicit thoughts. Miranda eyed me suspiciously up and down but could not voice out whichever fact that hastily formed from pure judgement. For Mister Lark, entered the classroom and we rose to our feet to greet him with the daily ‘Good morning, sir’.
“‘Morning, ‘morning, be seated. I have terrible news,” he said and waited till every student settled down. “My question sheets appear to be stolen.” He stated as a matter-of-fact with a ceaseless act of sweeping hark-eyes. Many gasps of shock ran throughout the student body and Mister Lark narrowed his eyes every now and then to judge individually.
“In fact, should I discover the person behind this treacherous deed, I shall ensure expulsion from this school immediately and without the slimmest hesitation.” He spoke each word with such stern fierceness that I experienced a swift, shivering tremor run though my torso.
Each head seemed to nod of its own accord, agreeing reflexively and unconsciously to his words. Mister Lark was declared dangerous waters but of the stealthiest kind. We dared not cross him and I shook my head at the thought of some-one to have been so audacious in riling him up.
“’I’ll be in the headmaster’s office to report of this detained theft and I require pin-drop silence in this class. Do I make myself clear?” Once again we nodded and he stepped outside with his fury trailing after him.
With knitted brows I faced Miranda, “Perhaps your battery died, yesterday?”
She rolled her eyes. “The very same, precisely at the ‘l’ matter,” she told me and looked around to ensure a score of nil eavesdroppers.
“Lesbian?” I offered in a hushed tone. She nodded and my mouth formed a circular enclosure with realization seeping through.
“What happened afterwards?” she continued in her whispering proposition.
I hesitated for a nanosecond against the odds of our conversation being overheard and reported to Mister Lark. “I’ll write it down,” I concluded to which she agreed with a bob of her blonde head.
Retrieving my sketch book from the confines of my black Nike bag, I began drafting the remaining scenario out for her, pausing at the occasion of Zach’s withdrawal. It was of foremost requirement to discuss the relative peculiarities afore writing down the proceeding moments. I smiled at the latter, oriental thought.
She scanned both sheets while I waited patiently for her comeback.
Miranda shortly raised her head with a rather comical look of confusion plastered onto her countenance. She stared between Zach and Eliza, and returned her gaze at me. “Huh?” she asked in bewilderment.
I shrugged. Even I could not pinpoint the distinct relation between the pair.
“Zacharias Smith. Elizabeth Moors. Blond and burgundy haired; a player and a nerd, outgoing and reserved – they’re total opposite polarities!” She exclaimed softly and rubbed her chin until her eyes bulged from a sudden awareness.
“Do you think they’re dating or … or … having an affair as absurd and revolting though that might seem?” she asked, tilting her head, in a low whisper. My forehead creased. Indeed, the mere idea happened to be nauseous.
“Or maybe they’re related? Whichever the cause, don’t you feel victory being hurled at our side? Eliza is the key to all our unanswered questions!” I grabbed both her arms on a note of joy. A grin slowly took charge of her features and subsequently, we were both gazing between the pair; a mischievous smirk clearly visible on our faces.
-------------******--------------
It was after lunch-break that we decided to encounter Eliza along-with the mysterious line of issues. We spotted her at the library, alone and almost sad, reading a book: Wuthering Heights?
“Hello Eliza,” Miranda greeted her whilst drawing a stool right beside and sitting on it. I imitated the same onto her left.
“H… Hello.” She stuttered, obviously flabbergasted. I had to resist fully from bursting into peals of laughter. We seemed like extreme villains in the picture at whole.
“Nothing to be afraid of, we’re here for a quick interrogation. That is, if you cordially co-operate with us,” Miranda hunched an eyebrow at her. She took turns in staring wide at both of us and we waited for her response.
Slowly, she nodded.
“It’s simple, actually. We need to know why exactly Zach had been at your place; timing, 11:02 p.m., yesterday.” Miranda and I discussed before-hand on the strategies of tackling the situation. I presented to her the idea of mentioning the time. It would reduce her chances against plain denial.
The reaction from Eliza, however, was unforeseen. She shrunk in her stool, hunching her shoulders and blinked repetitiously at either of us. Her face had gone as pale as the alabaster sheets. One option was to be neglected, I was certain; Zach had definitely not been there for personal pleasures.
“W… Why do you w… wish to know?” she stammered profusely. Something was clearly wrong and it triggered my interests only much further.
“It’s important Eliza. Perhaps we might confide in you but we require these essentials before doing so. Please co-operate. Why was he dropped at Lake Moira?” I asked her calmly. Neither Miranda nor I had the least of expectations to withdraw without having fulfilled our purpose. Those answers were substantial.
She sat upright on the stool and narrowed an eye at me, “Are you spying on us?” I could only raise a brow at her question.
“Us: as in, you and Zach being a couple?” Miranda asked and disfigured her obvious reaction with a fake cough.
“Eww, no! Never, ever!” Eliza grossed out and shuddered. Miranda and I exchanged a glance. Then there was only one validation left over.
“You’re related to each other?” I asked her, unfolding my palms on my lap. My heartbeat threatened to expose my calm facade, with its rather rapid beats.
She waved an arm in thin air, “I’m not going to utter a word unless you both tell me why these details are suddenly, seemingly significant?” She had crossed her arms over her bosom. Gone was the introverted girl she was known by.
I questioned Miranda visually and she nodded with her eyes, to convey that she would handle Eliza.
“Alright, we’ll approach that matter later. Do you happen to know ‘Samuel’, perchance?” Miranda asked her with all the solemnness apparent on her features. Though why my heart celebrated at the mention of that particular name was entirely another matter.
“What do you want to know about Sam?” she asked much curiously. She had even replaced her spectacles on the bridge of her nose. So she did know Samuel by reference to calling him as such.
“What information could you spare us on him, other than the obvious to being the ruler’s son?” I asked her.
She paused, pondering for a moment. “My compromise still stands. Tell me the reason behind this questionnaire and I shall spare you the entire story. If the reasons are satisfactory, that is,” she told us flat out. I sighed. I never knew she could prove to be much problematic.
“I am to betroth him, alright. Now could you kindly speak up,” I told her with much aggravation. Miranda gawked at me whilst Eliza’s expression magnified hers in manifold, with eyes literally bursting out of their sockets.
“I - don’t - believe - you.” She stated slowly and shook her head thoroughly to mark her words. Her braided plaits flew about until she stopped. Miranda’s manifestation clearly wished to indicate that she was proving to be much of an ‘annoying, pesky little brat’.
“Look here, Elizabeth Moors. We gave you our reasons so start speaking. Or this discussion shall persist through the route to Lake Moira and within your cottage till you decide to confide every scrap of detail with us,” Miranda half-rose from her seat, menacing at her.
Eliza frowned at both of us and then stared nonplussed at me. “You are to betroth Sam? Either you’re lying for Sam would never wed a commoner like you or more so, someone plain. Not that I am not. But you are certainly not his definition of a wife-to-be. So how can I trust you while I have known him as far as my memory goes?” she shrugged, indifferently without realizing the effect that her words had imposed. Each syllable was much like a stab of a spear, bruising an ego that I did not know had existed until this moment. Was he making a fool of me? Were these dates meaningless to him: a mere sense of burdened responsibility? Why then did he request for a kiss the day before? Was that what he requested from every girl he befriended, or perhaps much more? Was I simply considered as another quest to him?
I was offended and more so, hurt. Involuntarily, I rose from my seat. I heard the scraping of furniture and looked up to see Miranda rushing at my side. She pulled me to a corner and whispered at my ear. “Linds, don’t rush to conclusions. Weren’t you always wondering why they had chosen you rather than other lassies? We need answers Linds. Eventually we could sort out the lies from her honesty. Please, cope with me ‘kay?”
I bit my lip, trembling and nodded, allowing her to lead me to same position.
“Too late,” We turned around to see Eliza behind us. “Zach is on his way, here. I’m sure he would never have kept such from me. You’re both lying.” We faced each other and there was only one thought on our mind.
“RUN!” We screamed in unison and rushed away from the library. Neither of us had ever been awarded with detention. However, today, that was beyond reason and doubt. That did not stop us from running, though.
In a matter of minutes, we were facing our dormitory door. But there was an occupant inside and we had both paused breaths. Zach was lazily reclining on a sofa at the corner, smirking at us. Crap.
--------------- ***** --------------
“Liz tells me that you had been rudely interrogating her; especially Blondie, here. Is that true?” We were plastered to wall and standing heedless of a gap between us after Zach had locked the door and confirmed our fears: he would not get caught for having trespassed the girls’ dormitory. Nor had he any intention of letting us go.
I clasped Miranda’s fingers with my own and bravely spoke, “Well then, she must have blamed you, by now, for keeping this whole marital issue a secret from her.” The intended reaction was found; Zach had tensed up for a moment.
“Keep Liz away from this. Do you understand me?” I had never seen him in rage before so his words came out rather as a shock to both of us.
“Why?” Miranda managed to ask whilst applying the pressure of her fears onto my palm.
Zach sighed and rose to his feet. “I’m not going to hurt either of you,” he told us upon seeing our equally horrified expression. “Whatever you had wished to question her, ask away. Linda would know, of course, that I hadn’t lied to her previous queries.”
I flinched, bothered that I could not see Miranda. What do we do? The thought was gnawing at my mind.
“Liz doesn’t know of this whole matrimonial issue nor does any member of either clan apart from family. Keep it that way till Uncle Francis declares it himself.” He told me straight in the eye. I looked away. Did that mean Eliza was, in fact, not related to him?
Neither of us chose to pose questions at Zach. The atmosphere seemed to throw us cautions at being alone with him. One mistaken word could result in grave consequences. And none would come to know of it.
“Alright, I see that you won’t start speaking anytime sooner. For that matter, the nature of Liz’s relationship with us would be none of your concern.
“And the date was fixed today. You’ve two weeks left for the wedding, so be prepared.” With that he chose to leave, as always, creating behind an aura of complete shock.
Before he could leave, though, I mustered my strength to question him; to demand him of some truth. “Why did it have to be me, Zach?” My voice came out almost as a mousy-squeal. “There are tons of girls in this village who possess riches, beauty and maturity. What is to become of my studies and the final exams - I have yet a year to graduate. Does none of this matter to any of you or … or Samuel?” I was breathing heavily, staring directly at him. I needed to quench my thirst for these niggling questions and problems that promised insanity in the near future.
He stared back, not breaking contact. A second or perhaps minutes may have lapsed until he finally heaved. “You probably have detention after school. My answers would then, be presented to you in writing. It would be best to hurry for class now.” And for some reason, he smiled at the pair of us and exited the dormitory.
“Urgh!”
“Psychotic!”
“Crazy!”
“Ego-centred freak!”
“Arrogance-filled jerk!”
“Urgh!”
We finally uttered our pent-up frustration at him and hurried for Literature, hoping against feeble hopes that we would be granted vindication for being late by ten minutes.
The left over subjects had passed without further drama. It turned out that Zach had taken liberties to have us excused by Mrs Cole, our Literature teacher. When the school bell signified the end to another day, we treaded nervously to the office.
“The Year eleven boys’ dormitory requires a patch of cleaning up as Mrs Ready has declared a day off on a note of illness. Arrange and assort every unkempt item, sweep the floors thoroughly and mop the tiles till they shine. That would serve for the earlier ruckus at the library,” she half-smirked at us and we walked away dejectedly with our heads down, to collect the cleaning equipment.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. You’re involved in this due to my inability to cope with life. I’m sorry.” I told her sincerely, still looking down while our feet carried us to the top-most floor.
She brought me to a standstill and poked me on the chest, “Don’t you ever say that! Alright?-!” I nodded solemnly and slowly, when I saw the first signs of a smile forming on her lips, we broke into a fit of silent giggles.
Arm in arm, we strolled merrily to plunge into the finest moments of our punishment. Our mirth and amusement, however, was short-lived when we chanced upon the Year Eleven boys who had not left school yet.
“I thought it would be empty.” Miranda whispered, incensed. I shared her views with panic and slightly nodded for they had noticed us before we could launch an escape run. We gulped simultaneously. Paul was no doubt, amongst their throb too.
The burly looking football player that I had bumped into a few days back swaggered towards us with a gangster of boys preceding him. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t for Paul’s goody-to-shoe sissy and her comrade who have landed themselves in detention”. His so-called gang roared out in enormous cackles.
Paul swatted past the humungous tribe of boys and stood before us. I could read every emotion that flitted across his face: shock, disbelief, anger and disappointment. I hung my head low in shame, biting at my lower lip. He took a few more steps till his shoes touched mine.
“What are you doing here, Linnie? Miranda?” he asked in a low voice that plainly stated he was upset. He was Head-Prefect and I had stained his reputation.
“We’re-here-on-detention,” I hurriedly mumbled and Paul clutched my arm painfully tight. Was he extremely mad at us?
I risked a glance upwards but only to catch him menacing past me. Swivelling my head behind, I could have slammed my head into dozens of bricks. Beyond question, Zach stood there with a letter in his hand, alarmed by the situation. Today happened to be enlisted amongst the worst days of my life. Miranda exchanged a look of uncertainty and I shook my head; my case was a lost cause that continuously spiralled down and even deeper below.
We were glued to each other in the bench that was opposed to Paul’s seat. Zach, however, opted obstinately to remain in a standstill position.
“I have some-where else that I must be now. I’m going to leave if you’re done with the stare-match.” He took one step forth and the doorway of the dormitory was correspondingly obstructed by Randy, the football player, along-with his team-mates.
“Fetch the letter from his grip, Mark. I need it unscathed, though,” Paul spoke without a blink at a black, sleek haired boy.
Zach’s eyes grew wide and he pocketed the letter instantly. “Let’s play fair guys. Don’t want to mess with the high-ranked now, do we Paul?” Paul grew grim for his friends understood that there was more to the scene than the naked eye could perceive.
“High-ranked-?” Randy questioned in his tough voice.
“Ah, you see, that’s a problem for another time to discourse. If you’d excuse me, I need to be off now.” No-one dared stop him. I saw Paul clench his fists, his jaw was set firm. This was our moment to make a bee-line, too. Thus, I held Miranda’s hand and we swiftly raced out of the door-way and to the wash-room that was located on the second floor.
We both panted heavily and slid down the door. My head throbbed to extreme measures, promising the wake of a mighty migraine. I clutched my forehead tight; the pain was un-endurable, as always, till an hour after my medication was flushed inside with a glass of water.
“Linda?” Miranda called out softly and tapped my shoulder. “Let’s report to the office that the dormitory isn’t cleared of students. We’ll pipe in that they might be having extra-classes. Come on, I’ll take you home afterwards.” I did not understand the on-goings nor heard the words that Miranda just spoke. I allowed her to lead me wherever it was by trusting her wholly. Forcing my eyes shut, I almost commanded my system to shut down and did not realize the usual wave of blurriness that plunged me into pitch black darkness: I had fallen unconscious.
------------------- ******----------------
I dampened my lips with a flick of my tongue. My throat was dry although I did not sense any signs of my previous headache. I felt the sides with my palms, not yet willing to open my eyes to reality. The bed-spread was soft, so that conveyed the fact of being brought to my room. Miranda, my inner mind called out and I jerked from bed with a start.
“Hey”. I squinted and rubbed at my eyes but that did not make a difference to the silhouette before me. Was I truly awake?
“Are you feeling better now? Your Mum informed mine of the incident and I hurried over. You’ve been given an injection by our family doctor and have been asleep ever since then,” Samuel smiled at me and crossed his legs. Yet, the frown on my face did not wish to disappear.
“Where’s Miranda?” I asked him, ignoring his intent stare upon me and the loud thud of my heart-beat.
“Your blonde friend-?” he asked to which I nodded. “She left upon my arrival,” he simply stated with a shrug. That statement made me frown only deeper.
I crumbled in a heap onto my bed for Samuel only triggered memories of the last scenarios that had occurred. “You’ve only two weeks left for the wedding, so be prepared”. I recalled Zach’s words very distinctly and my face appeared blank, devoid of emotion. Was this the end?
“What’s wrong, Linda?” Samuel asked. I did not move an inch. It would not be too long until I broke into a hazardous mess of tears. I had too much to deal with in the past couple of weeks.
“Linda?” he softly touched my arm and I slapped it away, immediately, red-faced. I was breathing heavily and moved away from him. Samuel seemed like a mass of confusion and hurt by my recent activity. However, my personal grief and fury clouded the slightest capability to reason.
“Go away,” my voice cracked. I avoided his gaze and pointed a finger at the door.
“Why are you behaving like this?” he asked in worried concern.
“Just GO – AWAY!” My voice came out loud this time. Even I could not grasp the cause for my insane behaviour. Only one matter was clear and appeared highlighted in bold letters before my eyes: Samuel was the main cause for my life’s destruction. Perhaps I was acting on instinct without thought.
“What’s wrong with you, Linda? What did I do? I came here, worried, when I received the news that you had passed-out and you treat me like this, instead?” He was furious, I could tell. But that did not pave way to a descent in my temper.
“Are you asking me what is wrong?-! You – that’s it! Didn’t you have another choice but me to wed? And how exactly did you agree to this wedding? As far as rumour goes – you certainly DON’T marry COMMONERS - LIKE - ME!” I yelled at him, my temper gaining an upper-hand. I was losing control, I knew, but I could not stop the words of fury that wished to slice him wherein it most hurt, as I was.
The door flung open and Dad stood there, very stern-looking, followed by Mom and Bill. “What’s going on, son?” he asked Samuel.
Samuel, already fuming, stared hard at me, shook his head and chose to leave. Mom and Bill walked after him while Dad stood rooted to the spot.
“Why were you screaming earlier, Linda? Is this how I brought you up? The school called earlier to inform of your detention. What is the meaning to all this nonsense behaviour?-!” he asked heatedly. I stared at the floor, I was still furious and unlike other circumstances, Dad’s words did not create the intended guilty-effect upon me. What was happening?
Suddenly, he grabbed hold of my arm and shook me. “When I ask a question – I expect an answer. Why – were – you – screaming – at – Samuel – earlier?” I flinched. Dad had a strong grip on my arm that was beginning to physically hurt.
“ANSWER ME, LINDA!” He blared at my ear.
“I don’t want to marry him.” I told him in a very low voice.
There was silence and it seemed to stretch for a while. Mom arrived with the news that Samuel left without a word.
“You’ll be attending school for this week alone. After that, you shall be confined to your room till the day of your marriage.” Dad spoke in his strict tone that did not pave way to be argued. I stared up, helplessly but he was already walking away and so were Mum and Bill.
I bolted the door and fell to my knees, a strange noise emitting from my chest. Picking the pillow from bed, I hurled it at the door and began punching it when it bounced back at my thigh. And then, I wept like I had never done before. And sleep finally over-rode my senses.
P.S. Hi!
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<<<Samuel to the right>>>