Adler | The Aces of St.Sinclair BOOK 1.

Want | A TWENTY SIX

I walked into the grounds of St. Sinclair, no longer having the worries of my family on the risk of losing their business weighing my shoulders but in its place were the unclear intentions of a shrewd man. Granted, I was glad he hadn't been a disappointment when being cornered but I wasn't looking forward to whatever obligated labour he'd have me do sooner or later.

I sincerely hoped it was later so I could bide time to form a counter.
It was currently break when I arrived and I had my tracks set on meeting up with my friends who were probably wondering where I'd been. I hadn't even checked my phone yet for calls or the likes.

When I did, I came to find a recent text sent through the school message board. It was a club meeting notice. I was wondering why Garren had for once used the system when he'd been so adamant on directly sending to my other phone, until I read the heading: IAO

I gasped. It had completely slipped my mind. International Academia Olympics, the annual and biggest scholar event with the junior matches was commencing around this month. There were no questions any longer- this was dire and mandatory.

I viewed the time the meeting was scheduled and saw that it was ten minutes ago.

I cursed, changing my course to dash over to the Coeus clubhouse. Several pairs of eyes landed on me when I entered the conference room, panting. I brushed them all off except for the dark haired boy at the centre, perched on his supposed 'throne'. He was certainly sat like he was royalty.

"You're late." There was no lightness in his tone, it was stern and disapproving.

I felt twice as more apologetic. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry, what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, your Majesty."

He nodded. "Take a seat."

That was it and all attention reverted to him alone while I occupied a chair.
As I caught up with the briefing, I was forced to admit, Garren wasn't as bad as I'd originally thought he'd be with the head arms of Coeus left in his hands. The meeting was purposed to share the official dates for the IAO and to organise suitable prep exercises. Not only had it been a reasonable and adequate initiative to take, Garren surprised me further with a chart aimed to work around everybody's schedules for anyone who held priorities with other clubs or activities outside the school region.

I was baffled in wonder to when he'd even learnt what the other members did- much less had I imagined he'd considered them. The chart even detailed on what each of our core strengths were and the weaker ones to improve what he predicted would be a major factor on this year's sets.

Those weren't the sort of things somebody could put together in an hour or two- genius or not. This was a plan put through careful thought and effort. It was like seeing a new side of the notorious autocrat. Putting aside when he congratulated Andrew on his new haircut, stating that the former one made him look like a potato head. Then told Fraiser he'd cancelled his audition slot for a TV series with the justification Fraiser didn't have a chance in hell even if he was the only candidate in the audition.

I guessed some things never changed.

He wrapped it up five minutes later and I folded my hands on my laps when Garren ordered me to stay behind. Soon, the only ones present in the room were me and The Aces. A foreign air hanging over us. I'd taken my eyes away from them for a day and suddenly they seemed to be further out of my league.

"You were pretty late today, Stevie," Garren started. "Had there been an issue getting the message on time?"

"No." I confessed, feeling odd with this side. He'd been the captain for nearly a month and I'd narrow mindedly presumed he wouldn't have taken the post seriously and only now was I recognising it. Here I had been the one slacking off.