The Philosophers' Game

Chapter 2: The Game

Chapter 2: The Game

The next morning marked the start of my adventures in unpacking all of the cardboard boxes stacked in every single room of the mansion. My dad brought back donuts from the donut shop downtown, and we ate breakfast on the tiled floor of the kitchen. It was pretty quiet, as far as breakfasts go. No one really felt like talking.

After that, I sorted through all the boxes stacked in towers in the living room, trying to find all of my things. It was very tedious and time-consuming. By ten o'clock, I had barely even made a dent in the seemingly countless amounts of boxes, and I hadn't even begun lugging them upstairs to my new bedroom in the west wing.   

It was around the same time when my mother walked into the room, arms folded over her chest, and informed me, "Your father invited an old friend and his son over. They'll be here any minute to help us unpack."

I waited until she was out of the room to groan and throw my head back in annoyance. Right now? You've got to be kidding me, I thought to myself before racing upstairs to the bathroom next door to my empty room. I didn't really want to socialize, to be honest. I probably looked like a mess.  

But don't get me wrong - I definitely liked the way I looked. I was admittedly prettier than average, though I was no blonde bombshell. Meaning I actually had to try to look good. Thanks to expensive skin care products, I had been acne-free for a while, and I had enough tricks up my sleeve to keep my long, straight, light brown hair from lying flat all the time. Today I decided to go with a quick side braid.

Suddenly the ringing of the doorbell echoed throughout the house, and I cursed under my breath. No time for makeup. So after examining myself in the mirror once more and picking a piece of lint off my pink t-shirt, I strode calmly down the curving staircase. I heard Dad's voice greeting our guests, and for some reason my heart started pounding. I only noticed it because I wasn't usually this nervous meeting new people.

And then I stopped dead halfway down the steps and sucked in my breath. My mouth was probably hanging open. I wasn't exactly relieved to see Socrates standing in my entrance hall, but I supposed it could have been worse.

"Well, hello there. You must be Candace," a tall, distinguished-looking man - Socrates's father - called up to me. He broke his handshake with my own dad to give me a friendly little wave. I just blinked at him dumbly.

"I'm Andrew Dunfield. The Fourth." He paused to motion for his son to step beside him. "And this is A.D. the Fifth. But we just call him Drew."

I only nodded, because wow. Socrates - I mean Drew - was Wealthy with a capital W. Not only did his namesake give it away, but also the Rolex watches and preppy outfits both he and his dad were sporting. And with his eyebrows raised at me nonchalantly, he had that bored teenage heir look down to a T - another thing we had in common, and the kind of thing you don't fully notice in the darkness.

"Why don't you two start bringing some boxes upstairs?" Mom suggested lightly, looking back and forth between him and me. We exchanged glances and indifferent shrugs, then obeyed. They obviously wanted some adult-only time.

Socrates - or, again, Drew - still hadn't spoken by the time we reached my room, which was all beige and empty except for two things the movers had brought up for me last night: a four-posted bed that sat in the far right corner and a love seat situated directly under the large window to the left. Headed for the love seat, he simply placed the box he'd been carrying on the floor and stuffed his hands in his pockets.Then he stared blankly out the window at the roofs of other houses. There was also an equestrian center way out in that vicinity, but you couldn't really see it.