The Girl in The Green Scarf

T w e n t y - o n e

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
SEBASTIAN

"You know you can't hide in there forever, Bash," Alex calls through my closed door.

He has been knocking on it none stop for the past half an hour but I made a vow to myself that I won't give in to his annoying persistent nagging no matter what. I have to admit, it is getting on my nerves though. I mean how am I supposed to concentrate on chewing my chips with him knocking all over my head?

"Actually I think I can, cousin," I say, trying to keep my voice nonchalant. "I've got my laptop; newly installed, strong WiFi; drinks and bags of chips to last me a whole week, plus the toilet is a few steps from my bed!"

I'm sprawled across my bed in only a pair of sweatpants, with a bag of chips, a can of soda and my laptop set on the bed before me, checking out photography tricks online. The first thing I did once I arrived home yesterday evening - after enduring the welcoming of the staff at the mansion and a lot of Alex's pestering - was to grab as much chunk food and drinks from the kitchen as humanly possible and take refuge in my bedroom.

"It's unhealthy to stay locked in your room for 24 hours straight."

"I'm pretty sure it's unhealthy to knock your fist against wood for half an hour straight too, but you're doing it, so you're in no position to lecture me about what's healthy and what's not," I say, tossing a chili flavored chips into my mouth, savoring the taste before downing it with a gulp of soda.

"You're lame, Bash," he says, and I can clearly hear the irritation in his voice. He stops knocking and then his footsteps retreat.

Finally, I think to myself, all but sighing.

I don't mean to be this hard on Alex, but he just wouldn't let certain topics go.

The whole drive home he kept pressing the matter of where I was for the past ten days and what I was doing with the 'crazy Muslim girl who we bet on'.

I understand why he would want to know why I just went poof, but I'm not the craziest person about sharing and I'd really like to keep this - not so wonderful - experience my own.

I want some time, without him lurking over my head, to figure out what - fake - story I'll be telling him, since I can't avoid his questions forever.

But everything I think about has a loop hole or just doesn't make any sense at all - Alex is slightly out of it, but he isn't a total fool. And once he sees my bruises even more questions will rise in that annoyingly curious head of his.

The injuries on my face can just be brushed off as ones from the fight at the border, but I will not be able to explain the serious cuts and bruises on my body.

I shift on bed so that I am now lying on my back. My chest is covered with hues of purples and reds which are impossible to miss.

Another round of knocks on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and I spring into a sitting position, making the chips spill out of its bag and all over my sweatpants.

"Housekeeping," says an over bubbly, high pitched voice, which is also obviously Alex's.

I can't help but roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt at faking a female's voice. Does he really think me such an idiot? But nonetheless I go with it.

"That moron Alex told me we didn't have a house keeper! What a tool," I say, getting to my feet. The crisps fall from my lap to the ground and I have to step away from them not to make a mess.

I consider opening the door and telling Alex to clean this up since he's so keen on playing the role of the house keeper but I know if he makes it inside my room, he wouldn't leave again without a bedtime story which includes me and what happened in the past ten days.