Mrs. Aldridge offers me some tea and I accept.
The three of us sit, sipping our drinks, the silence excruciating for me to bear. Finally, Davis breaks the silence. “I always like to meet new students like this before school starts. I understand things haven’t been great for you lately, and I hope you find your experience at Ryland Academy is a turning point for you.” I look over at Mrs. Aldridge who is giving me a sympathetic face. I can tell she knows what happened to my parents, the fire, but isn’t sure if she should say something. I appreciate her silence. Too many times people try and be a shoulder to cry on, when all I want is to cry by myself and be left alone.
“I’m happy that I’ve been chosen for this scholarship by Mr. Cain.” I say. Mrs. Aldridge’s expression changes from sympathy to a small smile.
Davis looks at me funny for a moment before he continues. “Now I spoke with your last principal and understand that you’re a keener, a good student who takes her education seriously. That is exactly the type of person Ryland Academy attracts.” He continues to go over some information about the school. I take mental notes of anything he says I deem important, but most seems like fluff. Look how important this school is, and all the students in it. Did I mention I’m the principal, and look how great I am as well.
He’s mid-sentence in the history of how the school was built when I stop him to ask where their bathroom is located. Mrs. Aldridge gives me instructions and I excuse myself from the table.
I walk down the large hallway and count the doors along the way to ensure I’m going in the right direction. I’m thankful when I find it. I would hate to look stupid, wandering aimlessly around a mansion when I’m about to start my senior year at an elite school. When I walk back towards the indoor patio, I notice a large room with the door open. On the sides of the room are shelves full of books. I can almost smell the musty pages from the old collection. I notice a large desk in the middle of the room, with various guns hung on the wall. Some look like they could have been from the civil war.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I take a few steps inside. I look over some of the older looking guns. I wonder how many of them were used. A title under an old revolver says Billy the Kid.
In between the revolver and an old musket is a large window facing the backyard. I notice a young man, shirtless, running in a field and throwing footballs into a tire hanging from a tree. He tosses it and it lands perfectly between the circle in the tire. He runs back to a pile of footballs, grabs another and repeats the exercise. The man has a large physique, and if it wasn’t for him throwing a football, I would assume from his build that he was an athlete. I wondered if he’s Davis Aldridge’s son. He doesn’t exactly look like either Mr. or Mrs. Aldridge though.
It takes me a moment to realize I’m plainly gawking at this shirtless hunk from the window, like some teenage stalker. I’m about to look away when the man outside looks up and sees me. He squints his eyes at me, and I quickly turn away.
I’m about to leave the room when I look at one of the bookshelves and notice the weird titles of some of the books. Torture in early seventeenth century England. The Mortician’s Guide to a Body, 1st edition. A newer book is called Torture Techniques and their Effectiveness. A light grey leather book catches my attention. I slide it out to look at the title, but there is none. On the front of the book is a dark blue emblem with what looks like an animal emblem standing in an aggressive stance, as if ready to attack. I take out the book and open it, wondering what could be inside.
“Those aren’t exactly my favourites.” A voice says from behind me. I close the book, put it back on the shelf and turn. A young man in a V-neck sweater with a collared shirt underneath, and medium length blond hair is smirking at me. “If you want to read one of my dad’s torture books though, you can borrow it. From behind, I didn’t take you as the mid-eighteenth-century torture fan type.”
I take out one of the books. “Actually, I’m more like a seventeenth century torture fan girl. How long were you checking out my behind for?”
“Not long enough apparently.” He says. He walks up to me with a smile. “I’m Chase Aldridge.” He shakes my hand and his grip is strong but endearing. He uses his forefinger to caress my wrist. Even though he has a slender physique, you can tell he’s ripped. His cologne is welcoming and not too strong. “Yes, the lame woman and man you have been spending time with are my parents. I’m sorry that you had to meet them for the boring meeting he makes everyone do. Has he told you all the fascinating things about Ryland Academy yet?”
“He was just getting to the good stuff, on how the school was built.” I say, laughing.
“I’m glad I can save you then.” I look at the walls covered in different guns. “I can only imagine what you must be thinking of my family. Gun nuts who love a good torture book in the evening.”
I smile. “I was trying to keep my opinions to myself.”
“If you think this room is bad, you should see mine. Would you like a tour?” He turns to me with a devilish smile.
I laugh to myself. “Whoa, now. Laying it down a little thick there Chase. Do you always flirt with girls this way?”
“Just the interesting ones, Elle.”
I raise an eyebrow
