Glass [ENG]

6. Sanctum

I locked the apartment door, hiding the keys to one of my coat's pockets. At noon, when at this time of day I usually just woke up after the night mode of work. I was having a mental argument with myself about what happened last night, walking down to the block exit.

"Excuse me?" I asked, waking up from a momentary mind eclipse.

The last thing you'd expect from a mistrustful, alienated guy is to ask you for help. That's why I took a moment to analyze his behavior. He looked like he was forcing himself to say those few words.

However, when he finally turned his head in my direction to answer me, not far behind me, the voice of the vice-manager crashed through the party noise.

"Glass! Britt and Kate need an extra pair of hands. People are flooding the bar like crazy!"

Looking at a woman a few meters away from the bar direction, I nodded to her, which she obviously considered a good sign, because in response to me, she disappeared, probably taking up other duties.

I was about to deftly walk away from Kendrick, ending a rather unusual discussion, but he beat me to it, cutting through all the innuendo hanging in the air.

"It's about Benjamin," he stopped my turn with his statement. His eyes were serious, honey and impenetrable. "I'll be at the bus stop at his school around noon tomorrow. It's the same one you're having course in. You can do whatever you want, but it's important."

And he disappeared behind the curtain, fading into the darkness to the accompaniment of the pale shafts of light on his back.

To be completely honest, I wouldn't have walked out of my apartment if it wasn't for the young, battered face that kept popping up in my subconscious. I didn't get it. I didn't even know the boy. All he did was get in my way and ask me a bunch of uncomfortable questions. He was spinning around me like the moon around the earth. He was burning green holes in my existence to get to the truth.

And despite all this and the fact that I really did not like children, at noon I got off at the bus stop, from which I usually walked on foot to the school building.

And the presence of a blatant, beer-colored look assured me in my actions. I was really here.

Kendrick was standing next to the stop sign, leaning against the pole and holding the phone in his hand. The sun was not strong enough to break through the prevailing cold, but its rays still flickered in his golden eyes. Fixing the hood of the brown sweatshirt under his long black coat, he stood up straight and a moment later started walking in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" I asked, frowning.

"Somewhere warmer," he replied louder, without turning.

And I could already feel agitation creeping into my head. I followed him, taking my time. I was beginning to feel a little guilty that I decided to meet him after all. That I couldn't just ignore him and Benjamin. That curiosity won over logic, leading me to this place at this moment.

Kendrick took a turn behind the building, walking down another, smaller, greener street. Losing their colors trees formed even rows along both sidewalks, as did the lush, aesthetically cut bushes. As usual, the grass was breaking through the pavement bricks.

Less than two minutes later, the guy unexpectedly turned left, passing through unbearably creaking doors of one of the few places spread out on both sides of the street. I looked at the place logo above the door to clear my doubts, but the name and the sign itself were half illegible, half simply incomprehensible to me.

Cursing in my head, I finally walked through the door. Through the large portal windows, the sun, bypassing the branches of the trees, fell into...

Where?

I couldn't tell if it was a modern library, a café/tea place, or a meeting spot for all kinds of art extracurricular.

Kendrick turned to his right, weaving between dark brown round tables and old-fashioned, patterned high chairs. There weren't many people here, which wasn't surprising given the start of the week and the relatively early hour. As I followed him, I looked behind me at the bookshelves a few meters high to the left of the entrance. Then my attention was drawn to a rather large, anointed part of the floor in front of it. Or rather, spread out on it a large, white cloth serving as a canvas. In the background, a quiet sound of music was flowing, completely different from the one you can hear on the radio.

It was the first time I'd seen a place like this, and I didn't know what my first feelings were about it.

"You've never been to Sanctum?"

Kendrick's question distracted me from watching my surrounding. He was already sitting in one of the two chairs at the table by the window, clearly waiting for me to join him. He was leaning one forearm against a piece of wood, one eyebrow raised in skepticism and suspicion. I reached him, sitting across from him and resting my back loosely against the backrest. I crossed arms on my chest, replying to him with a neutral facial expression.

"No."

A spark of interest, as if on cue, flickered in his eyes.

"You haven't lived here very long."

"What about Benjamin?" I cut off his inquisitiveness without emotion, although annoyance and slowly ending patience were pressuring me from the inside.

At my question, his face got covered with a dark, gloomy shadow. Any skepticism toward me has given way to focus and distrust. He leaned against the chair, his hands resting on both chair arms, so that his hands hung freely over his legs. Despite his seemingly relaxed posture, one of his legs twitched slightly in a nervous tic, which I barely noticed from behind the table's surface.

"Like I said, he trusts you. He refuses to tell me or my friends anything. You're the last person who can find out something." His stare was beaming with certainty, but was also showing some sort of discourage.

"About what?" I wanted to ask, but at the same moment I connected all the dots.

"About who beat him up?" I asked, although I did not miss the fact I said the word 'beat' in a strangely negative tone.

And judging by the brief, scrutinizing look of the person in front of me, I reluctantly noticed that it wasn't just me. However, after a moment Kendrick shook his head, saying:

"It's more about who started it."

"That's it?" Then I frowned, analyzing him for a change. "You think your brother was first?

He let the air out slowly through his nose with obvious agitation.

"Cousin," he said vaguely. "They weren't in camera range. His parents picked him up from school the way you saw him yesterday," he paused for a moment, but I felt like he wasn't done just yet. "Both Ben and the other boy refuse to take the blame."

I followed his simple train of thoughts, summarizing.

"So, one of them is lying." Made sense.

I didn't know why Benjamin would be the one hiding the truth. An image of the cautious, though curious, boy appeared in my head. I understood his cousin's doubt and yet to be satisfied cluelessness. It discouraged me from asking the kid about various theories. Although the fact that Kendrick reached out to the last person he could trust strongly emphasized his intimacy with the boy and the degree of sacrificing his beliefs for the boy's sake.

"I'll see what I can do." I got up from my seat and fixed the coat belt, seeing that the guy was lost in his thoughts, staring at something through the window. "Don't expect miracles."

I watched with a weary face as he turned his head in my direction, once again piercing me with his honey-colored, watchful gaze.

"That's what I'm looking forward to the most."