Rhombus [h.s]

15

15

We assembled at the North Study.

I used the word "assembly" because that particular meeting reminded me of The Assembly of Notables, you know, the expanded version of the French King's Council?

Let me geek out for a moment.

So in the sixteenth century, a group of high-ranking nobles having deliberate powers were convened by the King of France to consult on matters of the state. These assemblymen were selected by the king for their "zeal", "devotion", and their "trustworthiness" toward the sovereign. Basically, the role of the assembly was to advise the king on how to remedy governance issues, to give "professional" counsel on the matters at hand.

We had our own Assembly of Notables.

Liam Payne was the first assemblyman. He had zeal, he certainly was devoted, and he did seem trustworthy enough. Liam looked like your average hunky football player; handsome, tall, muscular: he was the type who could definitely get on a normal, subaverage guy's nerves. But that was the external impression only. For all his burly meat beauty, Liam turned out to be a total egghead, with ideas so carefully thought out it silenced some of the Murdock's.

Jude Keating from Murdock's composition class was the second assemblyman. The man had sinewy arms covered in thick curly hair, like some kind of tree-climbing forest creature. His jaw muscles worked on a stick of gum, and he chomped on it as if it had hurt his feelings. He was a good guy, laid-back and quick to laugh.

Becka Fox was next, a pale waifish blonde with bee-stung lips and dark bags under her eyes. She was either sick, undernourished, or a future runaway model. Liam had already joked that he couldn't decide whether he wanted to bang Becka or rush her to the emergency room. Which was pretty funny if you ask me. 

She read T.S. Eliot and chattered about her volunteer work at some pet-rescue center. "I'm not kidding," she said. "After the old lady died, we discovered there were more than fifty five cats living in her house."

"Oh my God," Liam fake-gasped. "How tragic."

"You should have seen it, asswipe. They were sick and undernourished; my heart was breaking the whole time. It was horrible and disgusting."

"Didn't anyone notice?" Liam asked.

"That's what I said," Becka replied, shifting in her seat. "It was just this old, lonely woman who lived by herself—"

"With, like, a million cats," Liam said.

"It makes me sad," Jude commented. "That poor lady."

"Those poor cats," Becka corrected.

The fourth assemblyman, Walter Rivers, started laughing for no particular reason, and Becka gave him the finger. Walter was the gangly mad, sometimes psychotic, genius with subzero empathy. He's the guy with no plan or motive. The guy who doesn't really care about the consequences. The guy who thinks of something and does it without giving it much thought. Walter's extremely intelligent (we called him boy wonder in Bio class) and cunning and mischievous, and always has a thing or two up his sleeve.

"We could all be wiped out," he said that night, leaning forward, waving his hands in excitement. "And the sun would still come up. Because nothing matters. So I say, to hell with Gordon."

A leaden silence filled the room. 

"I agree." Liam piped up. He sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a stress ball. "This plan is a good idea. I mean, the students shouldn't be afraid of their authorities. It should be the other way around. Am I right, Harry?"