Chapter 13
Lina's POV
The news of Blair's expulsion had already spread throughout the entire school.
Everyone knew I had broken her nose bridge, and her father, who commanded wind and rain in New York, not only couldn't do anything to me, but instead had his own daughter withdraw from school in disgrace.
In the hallway, several girls who had been chatting together saw me, and their voices clearly lowered.
I walked past them and heard hushed whispers behind me.
"That's her..."
"Blair's nose bridge..."
"I heard behind her is Moretti..."
When I walked into the classroom, the originally noisy room instantly went quiet.
Everyone lowered their heads, pretending to read or chat. No one dared to look at me.
I walked to my seat. That desk that had been splashed with red paint and could never be cleaned properly was gone, replaced by a brand new desk with a shiny lacquered surface.
There was nothing on the desktop. It was clean as a mirror.
The class bell rang.
The math teacher walked in—a middle-aged man wearing round-framed glasses. Supposedly he had taught at MIT before, then came to St. Herman for some unknown reason.
He wrote a string of formulas on the blackboard. Chalk dust rustled down as he began to lecture.
I tried hard to listen for ten minutes and discovered I still couldn't understand.
But I copied the notes very carefully—every symbol, every step, every detail I didn't understand in class but that Luca had broken down for me during tutoring—writing stroke by stroke in my notebook.
Halfway through writing, I suddenly stopped.
Because I remembered what Luca had said this morning: "You have plenty of time."
When he said this, his tone was very light, as light as a leaf falling on water.
But what was hidden beneath this sentence was heavier than any threat or promise I'd ever heard.
Time.
For an assassin, time meant a mission countdown, meant what time the target would pass which intersection, meant how many seconds until the poison took effect.
Time was precise, ruthless, something that could be interrupted by a bullet at any moment.
But the "time" Luca spoke of didn't seem to mean this.
His "time" was being able to think slowly, learn slowly, slowly figure out things I'd never had the chance to understand before. It was also being able to solve problems one by one, write character by character, live day by day.
I lowered my head and continued copying notes.
Sunlight from outside the window came in and fell on the back of my hand holding the pen, warm, like Luca's palm against the back of my head last night.
When the bell rang for break, a short-haired girl carrying a cup of coffee carefully walked up to me.
It was that girl from the bathroom that day, the one who had wanted to help me open the door.
"What is it?"
"Um... hello," she placed the coffee on my desk, her fingers nervously twisting the corner of her clothes. "My name is Margaret. You can call me Maggie. Can I, can I be friends with you?"
She paused and extended a hand toward me.
I looked down at the extended hand. Her hand was very small, nails cut short, no nail polish.
This was an ordinary person's hand—hadn't held a knife, hadn't pulled a trigger, hadn't been stained with blood.
"Are you sure you want to be friends with me?" I asked.
"Why not?"
"Because yesterday I broke Blair's nose bridge."
Maggie froze for a moment, then smiled.
Her smile was very wide, showing a row of not-quite-straight teeth, her eyes curving into two crescents.
"Isn't that even more reason to be friends?"
Looking at Maggie's smiling face, I suddenly found this person somewhat interesting.
Not because of her courage—I'd seen too much courage at Raven. Courage alone got people killed.
It was because her eyes held no fear, no calculation, only something pure, naive, naively innocent.
That thing was probably called "goodwill"? I wasn't quite sure.
"Okay," I said, reaching out to grasp her hand.
"Then from today on, we're friends." Maggie let go. "Oh right, next class is literature, held in the library. I'll take you there. The route is a bit roundabout."
I followed beside her, through the hallway, down the stairs, past the courtyard lit brightly by sunlight.
Maggie talked as she walked, saying the literature teacher especially liked calling on people to read aloud, saying the window seat on the library's third floor was most comfortable, saying the cafeteria's lasagna on Wednesdays was the best.
I listened to these things that were novel to me, occasionally nodding in response.
The scarf around my neck was blown up by the wind, then fell back. It pressed against my collarbone, the soft touch involuntarily making me think of Luca again.
"That scarf around your neck looks so nice. Where did you buy it?" Maggie's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"I don't know," I said. "Someone gave it to me."
"A gift? Who gave it? A boyfriend?" Maggie's eyes instantly lit up, asking with a gossipy expression.
"Not a boyfriend." I paused. "My uncle."
Maggie made an "oh" sound and didn't ask further.
The library was very quiet. Sunlight shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, dyeing the bookshelves and tables and chairs a pale gold.
The literature teacher was indeed as Maggie said—she called on her to read aloud.
She read a passage from "The Great Gatsby." Her voice flowed like a stream through the quiet library. When the last syllable fell, the wind outside happened to blow the curtains, and sunlight jumped on the pages.
I watched Maggie sit down, her cheeks flushed slightly red from nervousness and excitement, and suddenly felt that distant green light in "The Great Gatsby" wasn't so hard to understand after all—
Like the "time" Luca spoke of, like the temperature on the scarf, like the light in Maggie's eyes at this moment—all things I'd never touched before.
When the bell rang for break, Maggie immediately pulled my wrist and ran outside. "Come on, let's go to the cafeteria! It's Wednesday today. We absolutely can't miss the lasagna!"
Her palm was a bit sweaty but very warm. I didn't pull away, letting her drag me through the hallway.
The cafeteria was bustling with voices. The aroma of food rushed toward us. Maggie expertly pulled me into line and even got a tray for me.
The lasagna was layered upon layered, cheese melted on the surface, emitting a rich creamy fragrance.
I picked up a piece with my fork and carefully put it in my mouth. The savory meat sauce and soft noodles melted on my tongue—a taste I'd never experienced before.
Maggie looked at me, eyes sparkling. "Delicious, right? My recommendations are never wrong!"
I nodded without speaking, only lowering my head to continue eating.
Maggie ate while chattering away about school gossip: which teacher was strictest, which club was most interesting, which boy was most handsome.
After eating, Maggie pulled me to a bench in the courtyard to sunbathe.
The wind gently blew past. A corner of the scarf brushed my cheek. I touched it, remembering how Luca looked standing at the door this morning—dark gray turtleneck sweater and black coat, and the warm paper bag he handed over.
...Why did I keep thinking of Luca? I was somewhat annoyed at myself for uncontrollably thinking of him.
"Lina, come to my house after school! My mom's cookies are especially delicious! We can also watch movies together and do homework together!" Maggie's voice interrupted my thoughts.
I hesitated for a moment, ultimately choosing to refuse. "Sorry Maggie, I have something to do."
Maggie made an "oh" sound, then smiled and said, "Okay then. How about we eat breakfast together tomorrow? I know a super delicious sandwich shop!"
I looked at her expectant eyes, was silent for a few seconds, then nodded lightly. "Okay."
Maggie cheered. Sunlight scattered on her short hair like sprinkled gold dust.
I leaned against the bench and closed my eyes, feeling the temperature of the wind, the softness of the scarf, and that little bit of something slowly melting at the bottom of my heart.
So "time" really could be this slow, this warm.