Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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WHAT'S YOUR FAVOURITE COLOUR?Hers was silver. His was blue, dark blue, he said, like the sky a little after the sun sets, a never-ending blue.
He liked tea more than coffee, preferably with sugar and milk while she had hers black. He'd wrinkled his nose at that. That's not very British of you, he'd commented.
One place he'd never been to but wanted to go before he died was Greece. She'd blinked at him then, You've never been to Greece? She'd grown up staring at those Grecian statues in his yard, grown up hearing his mother tell her stories about Greek mythology with an adoring light in her eyes.
His mother didn't look like him, she'd always thought that. Atalanta had her genes, the dark gold hair and genius mind. Matthew looked like his father. Elias al Nassar came from an Egyptian family who formerly dwelled in the oil business. He gave his son his dark nest of hair and startling gold eyes.
Freya's memories of him were vague. The image of a warm-faced man leaning over the open bonnet of an expensive car, uncaring that his Italian leather shoes were stepping in car oil.
She hadn't been at his funeral.
However, Freya's memories of Minerva al Nassar were bright and clear in her memory.
Whenever Freya was over by his house as a child, via Atalanta's invite, Minerva al Nassar would have her sit in the kitchen as she baked biscuits for her and Atalanta and tell her stories.
She would always remember the time she told her that the name Freya was also the name of a goddess. Freya had gone home and told Victoria excitedly and her mother had chuckled, saying, "It was just my grandmother's nickname. Frances-Laura. Her brother shortened it when he was a toddler because it was too long for him to say."
In their game, Matthew asked her questions too.
What was her favourite movie? When she said Titanic, he looked surprised. She'd poked him with a pen at that but he'd shaken her off with another question.
His favourite movie was the last of the Harry Potter movies. It was then Freya's turn to wrinkle her nose and tell him that the best one was easily the fifth one and that he had bad taste.
It became a routine. A week passed, where she would attend classes, avoid Amelie and Karsyn on a daily basis, and after it all, look forward to seeing Matthew in detention where they were in their own little world.
Each day, they asked each other twenty questions. It was only twenty. Yet somehow, the hour flew by fast, when they got lost in conversation. And then they would part ways outside the library, in the shadowed hall by the side door.
