Vanilla

Sixteen

A/N: Le hwello there! It's Xander's birthday and if you're looking for some qqqquality content, please head on over to Inkitt at 'Not Good for the Heart' for some strawberry goodness! But uh, I guess you could also choose to read this first, whichever you're interested in since I did leave it at an awful cliffhanger. Heeheeeeee

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[Vanilla]

"It means what it means," was all Si Yin had to say in conclusion, leaving me in a perpetual state of confusion. "He wants to... you." For some reason, she'd filled in the unspoken word by doing something with her hands. It looked very complicated.

"Yes but," I immediately reasoned otherwise, "according to every English dictionary ever made, to rile someone is to annoy or bother them. For instance, riling water means stirring it up and causing the once settled sediment to muddy the clear water above—"

"Yes but you're making two very grave mistakes here. One, your knowledge doesn't include Urban Dictionary's definition of rile and two, he said rile up, which can be different from just rile because it maybe includes getting it up," Si Yin shrugged without blinking and returned to stuffing her mouth with local flatbread.

It was half-past-six in the morning, otherwise known as an incredibly early hour for the kind of heavy breakfast the local chefs here at the institute were preparing for us first-years. Ariq and I had been two of the few students who'd arrived at the dining hall on time and seen the Rio Negro at its finest hour, glistening and reflecting the early light in the most serene manner. Sleeping in bunk beds was honestly worth the view we had on the top floor overlooking the pier and the river itself.

"You are being very vague," I pointed out, piling grilled mushrooms onto my plate. "What does 'it' refer to and, does Urban dictionary's definition of rile differ greatly from every other English dictionary? Also, you might be reaching at this point."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said at once, turning away to sip at her glass of acai juice. "Is 'reaching' even a word?"

By this point, I couldn't even tell if she was genuinely confused or simple pretending to be so that I couldn't point out the absence of a link between her ideas. That, and the fact that everyone was late for breakfast and we were far behind schedule, so the instructors and facilitators were shouting downstairs and it was hard to concentrate on a single thought with all that noise.

"I said bring your day bags, not your entire suitcase!" I could hear Chef Palmer from where I was seated, her voice slowly gaining clarity as she came up the stairs and didn't stop regardless. "How many times do I need to repeat myself? We're only visiting an indigenous village—not staying overnight or going to war so you won't be needing food supplies or three extra sets of clothes."

Just to be sure, I gave my day bag yet another check to ensure that I'd only brought whatever that was necessary. Truth to be told, I was running on high-risk. My A4-sized backpack had my notebook filled with outlines, my pencil case, water bottle, wallet, a packet of tissue paper and nothing else. No extra set of clothing, no medicinal ointment, face towel—nothing like that. It wasn't as though any of us had a concrete idea of what to expect at an indigenous village either way.

Learning would all come down to the best of friends and worst of enemies: curiosity.

The lot of us were split into two groups that cycled between paying the indigenous village a visit and the gathering of fresh ingredients in the rainforest for lunch, otherwise known as foraging. Something that I'd always been interested in but never had the chance to experience.