Chapter 22

LIFE IS A series of unexplained events. And the sight of Marc in the lobby of the female accommodations bring new meaning to the quote.

I didn't believe my eyes at first - chose not to. But then he lifted his cap and started running a hand through his hair. I did a double take, because the sight of Marc was just fucking surreal. I thought we said our goodbyes and I'd made peace with Skype calls as means of confiding in my confidant.

I in turned offered him no 'hello, no 'how are you?', no 'its been a long time, Marc', most definitely no 'why are you here?'.

"How the fuck did you get in?" I hissed.

Marc was nothing like the prep-school snobs here. Where most males here wore designer brands and left a capitalistic footprint on the ground they tread, Marc wore bruises and scars and left a path of reverent (frightened, judgmental, worried - take your pick) facial expressions in his wake.

I sighed as I plopped down beside him. I said it before, I'll say it again: it felt fucking surreal.

"I just walked in, why?" He turned to look at me. His eyes landed on my hair first, then my eyes, then the Calculus textbook that I hugged to my chest.

"They didn't stop you?"

"Were they supposed to?"

Marc looked tired. Not from sleep deficiency, from something with a larger scale of importance than one's physical needs. He smelled like cigarette smoke. I, I - I hugged him.

"God, I miss you," I mumbled into his chest. "I didn't know I missed you until you showed up."

He hummed. Really wasn't one for talking.

"You, uh, you plan on leaving soon?" I asked as we pulled apart from each others' warmth.

"On Friday I fly back."

I nodded slowly.

The lobby was empty - we had common areas on every floor, which left the lobby deserted save for people who were waiting. My palms were still sweating from the earlier encounter with Jaxon. Guilt invaded my senses for an unfathomable, unexplainable, decidedly illogical reason.

"Are you gonna show me your room?"

I froze. Then, very slowly, I slid my smaller hands into his manlier ones.

"I'm not sure I can do that here."

"Why not?"

"They have rules..."

"Rules? Since when you cared?"

I blinked at him. Because fucking hell he had a point. Everything came crashing down, everything I'd done here, every single effort I put into being an upstanding member of Richmond fucking Park Academy. Since when did I care?

The thoughts were like razors, slicing cleanly through every single rationale I made for my good behavior. Blurred rationalism.

I sighed. Dispelled every recalcitrant inclination inspired by Marc's presence.

"Marc," I bit my tongue. It was so easy to be this upstanding student with strangers, because they knew close to nothing about my past. With Marc it felt innately pointless. Someone with a past like mine shouldn't be concerning herself with authority, discipline and people-pleasing of all fucking things.

He just stared, unimpressed.

The time was 10:13pm. It was a cold night, most students would be snuggled cozily in their beds. There were two CCTVs angled towards the elevator and the entrance respectively. Marc had this rugged beauty attached to him, this nonchalance present in most nihilists we see.

"Come on," I stood up, dragging him in the same direction. His facial features softened.

"Andie, you don't have to. I didn't mean to - "

"Shut up, follow me."

Past the fire escape door and up the wooden stairs we went. On the eighth landing, we emerged. Me, panting, Marc, wide eyed.

"How much are you paying to be here?"

"With or without the bribery?"

He went 'ha ha' mirthlessly. We had two CCTVs on my floor, one facing the main hallway, another one in the common area. We disappeared behind my door, and found ourselves in my room. Really more of a studio apartment than anything.

Marc's curiosity meandered, leaving him in a frenzy of opening and closing cabinet doors, disappearing and re-emerging from the bathroom and finally, standing before my fridge asking if I had beer. I couldn't help but smile.

"I have wine," I said. Expensive wine that I nicked from the party.

He hummed as I poured us two mugs of that.

My room wasn't small, but it suddenly felt that way with Marc sitting across me on the peninsular-cum-dining-table. Marc looked way less scary cleanly shaven, I can attest to that. With a beard he was certifiably every parents' nightmares. Made worse whenever he wore his wife beaters, they only revealed the script and the symbols he tattooed onto his skin.

"You never told me you were coming," I said. "I would come back sooner, or clean the place, or something," I winced as my eyes landed on the clothes I'd scattered earlier today.

"Why the drastic change, Andie?" Marc asked instead. I could tell he was itching to ask it. Perhaps, out of courtesy, hoping I'd explain. And I would if I could find a way to justify how much of a conforming pussy I'd become in his absence.

"I'm tired of disappointing my parents."

"Oh?"

"I... I belong here."

"By here you mean being around people who are rich like you?"

I nodded in defeat. "Yep.”

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked. “You told me these people capitalize on the weaknesses of others through dirty and immoral means. You said they wreck families and suck the life force out of working Joes to the advantage of their wallets.”

Marc had an unreadable facial expression.

"I know," I conceded. "We pitied them because we had the freedom of knowing the only person we could disappoint was ourselves. You taught me how to live for myself, not for anyone else. But I'm an only child. I owe that much to my parents."

"Did you just realize this?"

I took a large gulp of wine. Left a warm trail down my throat.

"No, Marc," I said evenly. "My parents found out I was wasting my life away. They decided that I was too immature and too irresponsible, hence they made one last decision on my behalf, one supposedly in my best interest, to have me sent to this place."

"You talk weird now."

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You never used so many fancy words before.”

“Well, um,” I glanced down. “What do you want me to say?”

“I dunno.”

I looked at him. He looked back at me.

“I didn’t know you were this rich.” He said softly. “Why did you even become my friend?”

I cocked my head. "Marc, do you feel subpar or something? The size of a person's family fortune is the last thing on my mind, trust me. Dude, I think so highly of you, you have no freaking idea."

"You just seem so different," he stared at his wine. His mug had a Snoopy illustration, one that I'd fixated my eyes upon in lieu of staring creepily at his face.

"Just my physical appearance," I assured him.

"Nah, you’ve gone soft."

"That too."

"You’re studying and obeying rules."

"I told you, I'm trying to earn my parents' trust back. All of this is part and parcel, unfortunately."

Marc downed all the wine in one gulp, and proceeded to pour more for himself. He sighed.

"I bought you clothes. You wanted plain T-shirts."

My heart fluttered. "Thank you, Marc."

He dug into his backpack, finally retrieving a H&M paper bag and placing it before me.

"How much were they?"

"More expensive than plain fucking T-shirts should cost but don't worry about it."

"I love you so much, Marc."

His lips finally lifted. I loved Marc's smile, it was lopsided, and it always cancelled out on the ruthless expression he loved wearing. His smile lasted as quickly as it came. Endearing but short lived - typical of all things associated with my best friend of eight years.

"Alex sent that dick pic out."

"Alex did what?" I spat out my wine.

Marc downed his second mug of wine in one go, before pouring the third mug for himself. "Alex forwarded Patrick's third foot to the school. Including the teachers."

"What the hell," I near yelled. "Why?"

Marc shrugged. "Guy won't tell. But I came here to say goodbye."

I was so confused. "What do you mean?"

Marc sighed, not meeting my desperate gaze. "Think hard, Andie, I know there's a brain somewhere under all that hair. What happens when you get charged for defamation but can't pay the damages?"

"I'll pay for everyone," I said, wide eyed. "My parents won't allow their only heir to get her record tainted. But what the fuck," I spat out. "I gave strict instructions not to send his dick out. Our little stunt was only to shake the boy up, not to ruin his entire future. Jesus - "

"I suspect Alex got provoked into it."

"What? By who?"

"By Patrick, Andie."

"Doesn't make sense."

He downed his wine, finally deigning to look me in the eye. His almond shaped eyes were always heavy, half-asleep, as though nothing would ever be interesting enough to keep him awake. But his eyes were open now, pale blue irises staring straight into hime.

"He was trying to frame us, I think. He'd been bugging us for the past few weeks, I should've killed him when I had the chance."

"Bugging how?" I asked.

He moved his gaze towards the Snoopy mug that he nestled in his hands. "Name-calling and shit. Which I admit was ballsy."

Marc was right. It was ballsy and uncharacteristic of Patrick - of anyone, in fact. We were the runts of our generation, a group of no-good kids who indulged in cheap thrills and debauchery. The average student would avert their gazes in our presence. This was no story book, no 'hot bad boys with golden hearts' unfortunately. Reality saw teenagers and teachers wanting nothing to do with us.

"When did Alex do that dumbass thing?"

"Just yesterday."

"You're really fucking calm for someone who knows he can be jailed!" I finally exploded, letting go of my clenched fists. There were deep red crescents on my palm. Hurt to the touch.

"'Cause there's nothing I can do," he sighed, taking a swig from his mug for the umpteenth time. Snoopy's smile seemed to be mocking our circumstances. His hands wrapped my wrist, stopping me from flinging my mug across the room in an action I knew I'd regret.

I calmed myself down, opting for dainty sips of wine instead.

"Who the fuck does Alex think he is? You think - you think they're gonna blame me for planning the whole thing in the first place?" My voice came out shakier than I intended. All of a sudden, I was the nine year old who sat beside Marc in English class. The vulnerable sack of flesh who came to school with red and swollen eyes.

Ten year old Marc - held back a year due to bad grades - had demanded to know why I spent my nights crying. Something I vehemently denied, but something he argued he could recognize anywhere with the amount of crying his own mother and sister did. A friendship blossomed thenceforth, lasted till today with us sitting face-to-face, hand-in-hand and decidedly afraid of a possible defamation claim rich in all kinds of aggravating factors.

I smiled bitterly at the memory of our friendship. I never told Marc my father owned a global payments technology company bigger than Visa and Mastercard combined, no, he found out himself by asking how I kept managing to procure insane amounts of money that no teenager should have access to.

"Get some rest, Andie. We'll discuss this tomorrow."

"Where will you be tomorrow?"

"Dunno yet," he said as he poured the remainder of the wine into my mug. I downed it quickly. “I’ll figure it out when tomorrow comes.”

Left me lightheaded and tingly all over. I smiled at Marc, suddenly feeling a deep appreciation for the male before me. I was a nostalgic, affectionate drunk - for the better or worse. I fell asleep that night in the safety of Marc's arms. Just like old times.