Chapter 25
Lina's POV
The three of us walked on the road to school.
I was in the middle, Maggie on the left, Cecilia on the right.
The morning sunlight shone from behind us, casting three shadows on the sidewalk ahead—the one in the middle tall and quiet, the one on the left holding books with a light step, the one on the right not yet quite clear.
"Is the school big? Are there any fun clubs? Is the cafeteria good? Are there any particularly mean teachers? What clubs did you join, Lina? What about you, Maggie?"
Cecilia talked to Maggie across me, her voice passing over my shoulder and landing on Maggie's side.
"Uh... I joined the literature club and photography club. The cafeteria's lasagna on Wednesday is the best. The meanest teacher is Mr. Hoffman who teaches physics. He has a wooden leg and makes a 'thump thump thump' sound when he walks. You can hear him from far away. As for Lina—"
Maggie glanced at me, the corners of her mouth lifting. "Lina currently only participates in the 'come to school every day' club."
"Maggie..." I said helplessly.
"That's still impressive!" Cecilia chimed in. "Consistently going to school every day is a remarkable thing, especially in a place like New York where winter is freezing cold. When I was in Rome, I absolutely couldn't get up on winter mornings. Every time, our family butler had to knock on the door six times before I crawled out from under the covers."
Then Cecilia started talking about her family butler—an Italian old man named Marco who used to be a chef and later changed careers to become a butler, his reason being "cooking makes people age, but being a butler only makes people bald."
Cecilia imitated Marco's way of speaking, lowering her voice, intensifying the Italian accent several times, furrowing her brows into a knot.
Maggie listened and laughed out loud. At first she covered her mouth, but later she just let herself laugh freely, even laughing to tears.
"Then guess what Marco said? He said: 'Miss, if you don't get up, I'll pour your coffee on that basil plant on the balcony and let it wake up for you.'"
By the end of her story, Cecilia was also laughing, her amber eyes curving into two crescents.
I watched the two of them laugh themselves silly and realized I was doing something I wasn't quite used to: I was listening.
Not the kind of "monitoring" listening, but real listening.
I didn't need to automatically file and classify every sentence in my mind, to mark threat levels and extract key information. I just needed to listen like listening to music, only feeling the emotions in it.
When we reached the school gate, I habitually glanced at the streetlight across the way.
No car, and no Luca either.
"Lina?" Cecilia followed my gaze. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing."
She tactfully didn't press further.
But I could feel Cecilia's eyes linger on my face for a moment. In that instant, her expression was quiet, a quiet completely different from all the outward liveliness she'd just displayed.
The next second, that quietness was rolled back into her smile, like a fleeting splash of water. Before you could confirm whether it was a fish, the water surface had already returned to calm.
"Let's go, take me to handle the enrollment procedures. Dear Luca said someone at the registrar's office is waiting for me. He called ahead."
Cecilia took two steps forward, then turned back to wave at Maggie. "Maggie, come with us! You know the school better than I do. In case I get lost, you can help me find my way!"
Maggie looked at her, then at me, then jogged to catch up.
As she passed by me, she lowered her voice and said something only I could hear.
"Your new roommate seems pretty nice."
I didn't respond to her.
Although Cecilia seemed nice now, I still remained doubtful about it.
Because my instinct told me Cecilia wasn't simple—you could tell from that glance she just gave me.
That moment of quietness, that silence completely opposite to her liveliness, was like someone who had performed a whole comedy, and the moment they took off their costume backstage, revealed an expression the audience never got to see.
Cecilia wasn't as outgoing as she appeared.
"Lina, come on!" The next second, Cecilia's voice interrupted my thoughts. She stood at the entrance of the academic building waving at me. Maggie beside her also waved, beckoning me over.
I stepped toward them.
The morning breeze lifted a corner of my scarf. The soft cashmere texture brushed past my chin.
I instinctively reached up to touch the edge of the scarf. The sentence Luca said in the car yesterday morning suddenly surfaced in my mind: "Don't overthink it. Sleep well."
Cecilia's enrollment procedures were handled very quickly.
Luca had called ahead. When the female teacher at the registrar's office saw her walk in, the smile on her face was at least three times sweeter than when facing other students. Even her speech slowed down, word by word, as if afraid Cecilia couldn't understand English.
Cecilia stood obediently in front of the office desk, hands clasped in front of her, her uniform skirt hanging impeccably two inches above her knees, nodding with just the right amplitude. Combined with those amber eyes, she was the picture of a well-bred Italian young lady from a prestigious family.
I watched her from the doorway, and inexplicably felt a bitter taste in my heart.
Because when I enrolled, Luca didn't call ahead. He just processed my admission through normal transfer procedures.
At that time, I knew my identity was sensitive and it wasn't good to be so ostentatious, so I didn't think anything was wrong.
But now, watching the fawning manner of everyone in the registrar's office as they handled Cecilia's enrollment, I realized again how different the treatment between Cecilia and me was.
"She's in your class." After finishing the procedures, the female teacher handed Cecilia the class schedule, then turned to look at me leaning against the door frame. "Lina, please help the new student get familiar with campus. If there are any problems, come find me anytime."
I nodded.
Cecilia folded the class schedule and put it in her uniform pocket, turned around and walked toward me, still wearing a smile, looking every bit the good student.
But when she reached my side, the arc of that smile didn't change, but she lowered her voice and said something only I could hear.
"That teacher sprayed way too much perfume. I'm suffocating."
I was still feeling a bit awkward inside, so I just glanced at her and didn't respond.
Cecilia didn't care whether I replied or not. She directly linked her arm with mine and walked out of the registrar's office.
Maggie was waiting for us in the hallway. Seeing us come out, she came forward. "Let's go, let's go. We need to hurry. This class is Mr. Hoffman's."
"Is it him? That physics teacher with the wooden leg?"
"He teaches math," I said.
"Teaching math but having a wooden leg, isn't that even cooler?"
I realized I really couldn't keep up with Cecilia's thought process.
We quickly ran to the classroom and found seats. As soon as we entered, the entire class's gaze fell on us in unison.
To be precise, it fell on Cecilia.