The Class Reject: A Martyr in Maelstrom (Book III)

86 | Finale

Miren was still wearing the dress from the funeral, which shouldn't have been a bad thing, except she was outside, in the heart of Rinzen's ghost campus.

She knew what had gotten into her--there was too much to think about, too much to process. And here she was, making a move that was far too calculated for her current mental state. She played with the locket Jeno gave her in one hand and carried her uniform and other male clothing in the other, before she stopped at the founder's fountain.

There was nothing particularly special about it--it was just a basic statue of some old white man crafted out of steel and other elements that stood about seven feet tall. It's design was as intricate as it was modern. Coins and clothing and other school supplies and memorabilia (including a raccoon mascot head, don't ask) littered it's silver mosaic base, and streamers and tissue paper hung from the structure itself, all part of an end of the year prank. However, what was exposed of the statue still glimmered in the hot, setting sun, albeit far less radiantly than it did in the bright of day.

With a sigh, she placed the bag on the ledge, as well as her cardigan. Now sleeveless, she should have felt more exposed, but she didn't. She circled the rim of her sunglasses--Sara's sunglasses-- with her fingers before pursing her lips in mock contemplation. But there was nothing to think about.

She lifted the plastic bag and prepared to invert it. "Thanks for the memories." The clothes then submerged into the shallow waters, a Rinzen Racoons sweatshirt taking the longest to soak up the water and sink to the metallic floor. It died a slow death.

Then she returned to circling the rim of her sunglasses, before deciding to put them back on. They were so small, but in a way, they were the most powerful tool of physical deception. Eyes were the key to the soul. Then again, she was no longer confident (hell, she was never confident) that she had one.

She then removed them, the world around her immediately brighter, or for a pessimist, less dark. Then she folded them, and mock throwed them toward the fountain like a paper airplane a couple of times before her hand collapsed at her side.

"Just do it," she said through her teeth.

"Or don't." The voice could have been confused with the voice of reason, but as sad as she was, she definitely wasn't hearing voices. "You don't have to do it, Miren."

Her mouth opened to object, if only for the hell of it, but she had more concerning matters at hand. Especially when said problem stopped at her side.

"How did you know, Axel?" she said, more annoyed than surprised. Her eyes landed on his forearm wolf tattoo because looking at him felt too hard, too real.

"Your phone," he said matter-of-factly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "When you crashed at my apartment at the after-prom party, I called Sara a couple of times to see if she wanted to get our equipment from the mansion and go to brunch with the band. But your phone kept buzzing while you were sleeping. So I used your thumb print to go back onto your phone to delete my call record. And then I snooped just enough to make sense of my suspicions. Sorry."

Miren nodded. She should have felt something, anything, but the closest feeling she could detect resembled relief. "And what are you going to do now?"

"I think that's a question you need to answer for yourself." Although his voice was calm, his hazel eyes were too intense for a recently graduated senior voted 'Most Likely to Be Famous'. "If I was going to tell somebody I would have already. But I do have something worth mentioning."

"I'm listening."

"The producers at prom, Jules and Patricia, loved us. They offered to let us open for Albatross One on their European tour this summer and want to sign us."