The Patron Saint of Monsters

Chapter Three Part Two

Oleander was having difficulties breathing and she felt as though she was about to burst into tears, she was not sure why the idea of Ian attending the party at her house was enough to reduce her into a bundle of sobs but it appeared to be and that was quite disconcerting for her. She was beginning to fear that she had developed such strong feelings for her idea of Ian, that the real him would not meet her rather grandiose expectations. That was the plight of the reader she decided mentally with a firm head nod, constantly falling in love with various fictional characters had led her to fictionalize her life and the way that certain events would occur, she hoped that she cared for more than just her fictional Ian. She figured that she must like the real him, her infatuation with him was based on more than his appearance, she had not given the boy a second glance until she had begun to take into account, the titles of the books he carried around. She felt as though no one could read such beautiful prose and meaningful poetry and not be worth knowing. She thought that maybe her urge to cry was a mixture of both anxiety and excitement.

She entered the library with purpose in every long stride, her worn chucks beating against the smooth wax floor. She saw Trina in the corner with a stack of old yearbooks, she walked in that direction, Valerie and Rebecca falling into place around her before she reached her destination. Trina was quickly scanning through the list of names on each page looking for every Trent, so that she could mark the page and show them for her to pick out the proper one, much like a witness picking out the criminal from the binder of mugshots at the police department.

‘Why are you doing that?” snapped Rebecca as Trina turned the pages quickly.

Trina began to explain the thought process behind her actions when Oleander interrupted her with an “You’re overthinking this.Here” She reached forward and grabbed the book flipping towards the back. “The student index.”

Trina felt mildly embarrassed and thoroughly annoyed with herself. “Good idea.” she mumbled.

Oleander squinted down at the pages, just now realizing that she did not know Trent’s last name.

“Dammit.” she uttered, reaching into her pocket for her phone. A swift search for “94 suicide, New Devinshire, Trent” revealed that his surname had been Matheson.  

She began to look through the list of people with last names starting with the letter M. She quickly found Trent and flipped to the first page it listed him as being on, it was his senior picture. He looked very handsome in his gentleman's coat and crooked black bowtie. She could not stop herself from smiling at the sight of him. She wistfully ran her fingers over the rectangular image of him and failed to hold in her sigh.

“Woah, ghostie was a hottie.” Rebecca said while looking over Oleander’s shoulder.

“Let me see.” demanded Trina. Oleander showed her and Valerie the page.

“Let’s look at the other pages his on.” suggested Valerie, the girls all agreed and Oleander flipped back to the index and then to the next page.

“Guitar club, chess club, book society , peer mediation group? What the fuck is that” Oleander asked while naming off all the after school activities that Trent was photographed for participating in.

“It’s when you discuss your problems with another student and they try to help you solve it.” Trina informed her.

“He is clearly stoned in all of those pictures.” Rebecca noted.

“He looks really sad.” Oleander added with a pout that she could not quite comprehend.

“He looks more lonely than sad.” Valerie argued.

“I cannot think of anything more sad than being lonely whilst being a member of this many groups of people.” Oleander defended.

Trent had been listening to the girls he, for the most part, refrained from thinking about his life before he was assigned to Oleander but with the sight of his old school pictures and the girls observations and discussion of him he could not help but remember. Trent had hated high school, in fact he did not care to even walk down the familiar corridors, accompanying Oleander only because he was too worried for her not to. He had felt unbearably alone during that time of his life, and possibly even before then, he remembered his life only as a blur of unhappiness and feelings of inferiority, he was glad to see that Oleander was far better off than he was yet he still felt sorry for himself. If not for the Trent that he had been before, then for himself now, desperately seeking the affections and attention of the one person he had ruined things with. He hoped that maybe all of their speculations would make them empathize with him more, he was dying for another chance to speak with them. He’d even use the Ouija board.