Secrets of the Harts

26 November 2010

I could feel my head pounding like...some sort of mad thing before I had even opened my eyes. When I did, I regretted it since everything appeared to be spinning slightly and the ceiling did not look a thing like my own.

I sat up, a little too quickly causing even more giddiness, and realised that I really was not in my room.

Instead, there were various posters of what I assumed to be bands pinned haphazardly on the walls and random articles of clothing sprawled around the room. Of course, a shirtless Dylan sleeping soundly in the other bed helped me to realise that I was in the room he and Luke shared.

How did I get here?

As hard as I tried, I could not remember much from last night. I suppose I deserved it for not knowing my limits but you couldn't exactly blame me for it. After all, I had never taken alcohol before until last night. Since I couldn't recall anything, I had to assume that Dylan had saved me from the embarrassment of being drunk and sleeping in the corridors. Anything that I did while intoxicated couldn't have been too humiliating, I hoped.

It did seem a little odd that Dylan Fuller would do something nice for me. There was probably a reason behind it, but my aching head could not conjure up one.

Yawning, I got out of bed quietly and dug for my keys in my back pocket. When I had finally located it, Dylan murmured, with his eyes closed, "Good morning."

Why hadn't I moved fast enough to escape this?

***
"Uh, good morning."

He smiled slightly at her obvious discomfort. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes... Thank you."

He didn't know exactly why but he felt surprise at her thanks.

"So, what exactly happened last night?'
"Lots of things."

She paused, as though wondering if he'd deliberately avoided giving her an easy answer. He smiled at this too. She must really have been out of it for her brain to work so sluggishly. He heard her fiddle with her keys for a few moments before saying, "I guess, um, I'll be going now."

Dylan nodded and she left quickly.

When he was sure that she was gone, he opened his eyes.

It was too bad that Christina Drake couldn't always be this shy and nervous. She was a lot easier to handle compared to a cold and mysterious one. Speaking of which, who the hell was Owen?

And why couldn't he get that damned kiss out of his head?

28 November 2009
"Hey! You're back!"

He managed a tired smile. "Yeah. How's your Thanksgiving?"

I leaned against my door (I had just been about to leave for breakfast) and replied, "It was alright, I suppose."

I guessed it was, because I still couldn't remember anything. "What about yours?'

The corners of his smile wobbled slightly and for a second, I could envision a younger Luke trying not to cry but that strange mental image disappeared when he said, "It was okay."

Well. It seemed that neither of us seemed keen to share about our Thanksgivings.

"So anyway, I reread to kill a Mockingbird over the break." His smile seemed more sincere now and I let the thought that something wasn't quite right with Luke go.
"How did you find it this time?"
"Better than before."
I beamed. "I was right, aren't it? It gets better with each time."
"Sure. But I prefer Atticus over Jem."
"Everyone likes Atticus."

29 November 2009
I was done with my lunch when a girl suddenly appeared in front me and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

I toyed with the idea of saying yes but figured that since I was leaving, "No."

She didn't seem to notice my coldness. Instead, she hurriedly placed her tray on the table and sat down soundlessly. And she didn't say anything to me.

A little unnerved by her silence, I studied her more carefully. Large blue eyes, glossy long hair and petite. She looked like a prime candidate to be picked on, especially in a school like this. In fact, she reminded me a lot of Jane Something.

That thought could get me into a lot of trouble. "You're new, right? What grade?"

"Junior."

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling, though it was the second time I'd heard this. "I meant the danger grade."

"Right." She blushed prettily and I narrowed my eyes. You couldn't blame me for being overly suspiciously over her blush. I'd not seen a real one before. "I don't know. But I guess it'll probably be low. Maybe a E?"

I'd rarely met someone labelled E, since they weren't considered very dangerous. Those parents preferred to keep them close and those that were sent here were usually cured of misbehavior after a short stint.

She looked up and gazed fleeting at me before turning her gaze back to the table. "I'm Tiara Aarons. Tia for short."

Tiara?

"I don't know what my parents were thinking," she mumbled to herself.

There was nothing I could say to that that didn't seem friendly. So I introduced myself. "Christina Drake. Level C."