A Hallway of Leaves

Eleven

The buzz and the continuous ringing of my phone wakes me up in a supposed to be fine October Friday. Apparently, the person who dares wake me up seven in the morning really wants a kick on the ass. Though a part of me wishes that it will finally be Sam who will do so, because he won't only receive a kick from me when we meet again after two weeks of no communication, no answering of my calls and texts, no show in any of our classes and no annoying presence lurching on the door next mine; for he'll certainly receive a punch on the face and gut as well from me.

Unfortunately, the ringing of my phone is because of Airin calling me, and not Sam. For unknown reasons, I don't know why she is calling at such time of the day, knowing that I am one of the late risers of today's youth. Morning starts for me at eight o'clock, that's why all my classes start at nine and that I decide to stay in the dorms to avoid going to school way too early.

I slowly reach for it clumsily from my bedside table and tentatively answer it with an audible sleepy voice. I yawn, "Airin, it is still too early for you to—"

"ADA JULIA VERA WESTON!" she screams at the phone. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

"Tell you what?" I am still so sleepy to understand her words, that she is clearly panicking already wherever or whatever she is doing right now. I know too well as that being a Friday, she has a class at this hour. And it seems to me that she has a very long spare time to make this call.

"When are you going to tell me that you know Brión Siadhail personally?" she inquires.

That lone question makes me push myself up and sit on the bed upright. My brain cells all working in such frenzy as I ask the most probable one for me to be sure of my own assumption, "What do you mean?"

If Airin is right in front of me at this very moment, she already rolled her eyes at me on catching up slowly on where everything is leading on. She then adds, "That Sam Bryce Beltrami is Brión Siadhail? Sam! Frenchie is Brión Siadhail! That's the very reason why I told you the first time I met Sammy that he looks like Brión Siadhail. And I am a fool not to realize that it is really him! I should have seen it behind his disguise! Darn it! Why haven't you told me?"

"It's much better if I'll explain it to you personally, Airin," I answer solemnly. "Look, I am sorry that I didn't tell you. I am not in the right place to tell it to you."

"Sammy blackmailed you?!" she assumes right away. "Is he really Brión Siadhail?"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, where have you learned about it?"

"Haven't you received a message on your own? You and Frenchie are the current headlines of Chitchatted UCD Gossip, Mi Adá! That's the very reason that I called. Not because I am angry with you and Sam keeping the truth from me, but I know that there's an explanation, and I'll surely hear the reason from either or both of you, as you've said." Airin's voice starts to sound way too distress, and the background chattering and muttering of wherever she might be right now starts to grow thicker. "And might I tell you that there's countless of students and media personalities gathered around Roebuck Hall Residence wanting to catch either you or Sam. Girl, I can't even make it to the front steps. Guards barred them after all. Did I even mention that barricading the perimeter are highly-trained guards based on their appearance? What's this all about?"

I hurriedly move away from my bed and rush to the French doors leading to the balcony. I am thankful that covering them were black-out, thick, white curtains. I take a quick peek for a moment, not wanting anyone to catch sight of me at all. And heck... Airin is right.

It seems like the whole student population is gathered outside. I can't even see passed through the thick group until the tree lines across the streets of the residence. There are also news anchor around, countless of them, doing a current report about the scenario. And the main complete highlight is the fact that standing close to the residence gates are rows and rows of military guards; no doubt that Sam already knows about this issue and his father, the General of the Air Force and also an English Baron, steps in. After all, General Beltrami owes my father thanks for having a close watch with Sam's health.