October Academy

Chapter 31

Darcy stands over me, one hand leaning onto the bookshelf above my head, the other holding the folder out in front of me.

"Thanks," I say quietly, reaching out to the folder.

He pulls it back, "Just some light reading?"

"It's none of your business, thankyou," I chirp.

"Oh really?" he smirks. "I'll just borrow it out myself then." He turns away, taking the folder with him.

"Wait," I say, grabbing his blazer and tugging him backwards. "Please?"

His expression softens. He passes the folder to me. "School project?"

"No... it's a personal project."

"Need an assistant?"

I nod unconsciously, like my body is telling me keep him around before my brain has a chance to stop it. Which version of Darcy will I get today? Kind and alluring? Or cold and cruel?

We take a seat at the nearest table. The table is hidden behind the corner of another bookshelf, surrounded by three book filled walls.

We take a seat beside eachother and I open the folder. I put the search results paper beside me and look but can't exactly decipher how the folder has organised the news articles. I scrunch up my face, leaning in closely to interpret the contents page.

"How do I find these?" I ask Darcy.

Instead of taking the folder from me, he leans in closer, face resting just above my shoulder. His brows furrow in thought. I realise I've been starring at him, so I look back down at the paper and follow his train of thought.

"Ok, should be this one," he says, opening the folder to the fiftieth page. "Here," he points to an article dated twenty years ago.

I read it quickly a few times, because the first couple of times I didn't take anything in. Partially because reading is hard. Partially because Darcy's cologne is distracting me.

The article is about the death of an eighty-year-old woman who escaped a nursing home. I doubt it's relevant.

"Try the next one," I tell Darcy.

He flips between the pages again, eyes going back and forth between the search results that I printed and the binder in front of him. I've never seen him so focussed before. Why is it so sexy?

I read the next article, which this time is about a toddler that drowned in an unenclosed pool. The thought makes me shiver. "Drowning would be the worst way to die," I whisper.

He turns to face me, eying my features.

It shouldn't make me feel anything. I shouldn't feel drawn to him. I shouldn't feel so hot and bothered. I shouldn't think about kissing him.

Especially when the last kiss I had turned out so great. (Note the sarcasm).

"What about burning?" he says, just as quiet.

"Burning?"

"Going to hell?" he breathes so quietly, I think he regrets it.

"Do you think you're going to hell?"

The lights above us flicker.

He hesitates, like he doesn't know if he can trust me yet. "Sometimes I don't think I'm worthy enough."

"Why wouldn't you be worthy?"

He pauses, looking back at the folder. "Damaged people don't go to heaven."

"There's no such thing as damaged people, Darcy."

He bites his lip and looks away.

"You're not damaged," I say. "Not at all."

He turns back to face me, eyes reaching mine with such an intensity I have to look down at the book.

"Umm, what about the next article?" I change the topic faster than you can say Darcy Fuck Me Kane.

"Right," he says, flipping through the pages. "What about this one?"

My eyes skim over it, focussing on the key words. October Academy... Missing students... conspiracy... cover up...

"Can we photo-copy this?"

He nods.

We walk over to the photo-copy machine. While Darcy photocopies the article, I quickly google the journalist. Maybe I can contact them and ask them some questions about...

I put in their name and the first thing that comes up is a missing persons report. "The author went missing," I gasp.

Darcy walks over, eyeing over the screen. "Do you think they're covering it up?"

"It says here that the journalist was a conspirator who suffered with schizophrenia. Lost her job and then ran into the forest. Was never seen since."

"Is this about Tim?"

"Someone put a letter in my backpack telling me to check the library."

"Who?"

"I have no idea."

The bell rings. It sounds off in the library, it's pitch slightly lowered and in a minor key. "Thanks for your help," I say, turning away to leave.

"Jade," he says, "We have architecture."

"Oh?"

"Let's just walk together."

.

.

.

On Monday morning, I somehow wake up early enough to make it to breakfast. I text Perry to meet me but she doesn't answer.

I realise halfway across campus, as I walk through the courtyard, that my skirt is half backwards. I put down my books and backpack in front of a stone angel statute. I quickly fix my skirt, then lean down to pick up my books.

When I stand up, straight across the courtyard I can see Callum.

My heart beats faster in my chest. I see Gladys giving him a tour. He's carrying a suitcase. He's moving on campus? I shouldn't be surprised, half the teachers live on campus. Besides, he must've felt guilty staying at Ben's for so long for free.

I quickly look away before Callum can catch me starring. I pretend to ignore him, lifting up my head proudly and walking to the cafeteria as if he didn't exist.

From the corner of my eye, I can tell he's staring at me. But I don't give him the satisfaction. He means nothing to me.