***
The school premises resembled a girl's uncombed hair nest. Tresses balancing one another. The weather was perfect. Crystal skies, small blue birds singing to their families at the top of their sweetest notes, accompanied by the fountain we had at home.
Heavy aroma of cookies and roses and mellowness wafted in air.
I mentally thanked Dawn for drawing open the curtains. Few sun drops seeped in through the shield, the insides of my cabin baked as much as I was, halting in their steps as soon as the feet accidentally kick something, a rectangular object that feels a lot like... ash tray. "Shit, I hate myself."
I quickly escape the tranquil cloud and putting on slippers, I run off to freshen myself up.
***
Outside, it was sunny.
April was my favorite month.
Particularly because, the dining hall would be empty.
"Alexander! I'm running late."
Except for Tabitha.
"I don't think he's coming, mum."
And her very overbearing daughter, of course.
I cough audibly, having reached them, I glare. "What is it, Tabitha?"
She's doing touch up while simultaneously eating maple syrup soaked pancakes. Chewing, wiping mouth careful not to smudge her perfectly painted mouth, she glanced up. "Have you forgotten?"
Forgotten about...?
My confusion must have reached her cause a high pitched giggle floated above us. "What did I say? Alex remembers everything except the ones worth remembering." spoke Aubrielle Marie Hamilton.
Crossing my arms and rolling my eyes, I wondered how could dad leave his two most precious ones with somebody like me. "Say it, Bri." It came off rather impatient.
The message got across, not to my dear ones, but surely to the servants. They were quivering at my commanding tone. Thank God I have them. "Lisa, I don't have time for stupid womanly games."
Lisa, the head servant, a plump Russian woman stirred. "Uhm, uhm. She... Err, it's that day... Sire."
My octaves sent the world spinning in search of new Hitler as they touched skies and beyond, my hands stomping the table surface. A loud noise erupted. As a result, many dishes were dropped. Glass shattering. Syrupy mess. Urk.
"What are you getting at?"
***
There was no way in hell that I was traveling in the same car as her. For once, Bri was in agreement. She hated my driving style. Said it was too cautious. I didn't see it why though, I neither drove slowly or excelled my speed.
Lana Del Ray lifted my spirits. Her mystic voice almost made me forgot everything else. I started to hum.
Then, as fate would have it, the god thundered in form of iron gates opening themselves. Like the red Sea parting. Red... Ah, reminds me of a certain somebody. Uncharacteristically plaited reds. Maroon plaid skirt, devilishly tight cardigan over collarbone exposing undershirt... Red, as in the mouth made to mock.
I park.
I cuss myself for exploring the forbidden areas of mind when I should be driving.
"Morning, Mr Hamilton!" I pluck my bag from the passenger seat and drop it in the watchman's hands. "How are you today? Today's the big scholarship student coming, aye?"
He doesn't stop me, just trails. "By the miracle of Almighty! Now those who can't afford Wellington can also come here! Isn't diversity nice?"
"I think so."
He smells like horse sweat.
Ew.
On the school ranches, I peek. To look at the goddess but I only find Hortense. Her wild unruly curls ironed back, the usual, on a black horse they're flying as the laughter and joy oozes off her. I'm watching her from distance but I can tell there's nothing she enjoys more than company of animals.
When the watchman parts, I'm still a bit awe-filled by how Hortense can be full of life.
Also, black horses are cool.
On reaching my outstretched office, I'm handed a mug of coffee. "Two cubes of sugar, " my assistant added without tearing off her gaze from the work at hand.
I do shrug off my coat after I remove it. Then, I sit. "Why is today April the eleventh?" I complained. It was unusual. Not to plant my feet on the desk and try to dramatically dip back in my over comfortable chair, not much of a shocker, but the fact that I did it every year - it was... Insulting. "Why can't father take care of it? The papers are set tougher each year and yet some brainy storms in. . ."
"Are you referring to brainy Smurf, sire?"
I wallowing in pity checked the work calendar. Somebody had used a hideous shade of red lipstick, a vermilion lining, to mark 11. I think I know who.
"I believe I was," I forced.
"Very witty."
"At least I have you."
"You always will, good sire."
I can't believe she's twenty one and still here. I guess, there are exceptions to my earlier theory.
Lastly, I asked Dawn to keep the door open.
Women can be nice, some of them anyway. Let's see if the girl father's taken in is.
I unconsciously trace up her report and murmur.
"Emmaline."
***
