International Affairs

Derek Livingston

Chapter 19: Derek Livingston

"Scared?" Aiden asked.

"Nah," Derek said, leaning back into his seat. "You?"

"Kind of," Aiden admitted.

"What do you think Katelyn is scared of?" Derek mused.

"How would I know?"

"You think she's afraid of something like spiders?" Derek continued to ponder.

"Hathaway?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't believe it," Aiden said, running his hand through his hair. "She'd squash one without even blinking."

"Hmm..."

"Man, I'm curious to what these Grace Marshall girls are scared of though," Aiden said, beginning to have his own questions. "Probably stuff like being 'imperfect.'"

"You're scared of girls."

"I am not!" Aiden muttered under his breath.

Derek smirked. "Aren't you?"

"Of course not."

"Why don't you talk to Jane then?"

"I do talk to her," Aiden said, defensively.

"Oh, Jane, let me show you the wonders of computer hacking!" Derek said in a falsetto voice. "Let me show off my incredible typing skills!"

Aiden rolled his eyes. "It's better than you," he retorted. "Jane is actually really into hacking and new technology. What does Katelyn like, huh?"

"Ice cream."

Aiden snorted.

Just then, Headmistress read off the next series of names. Derek was called, so with a quick wave, he headed down the dim hallway.

"Derek Livingston," he told the lady.

"Have a seat, Derek," the lady said, organizing the tubes and wires. "Are you nervous?"

"No," Derek said, settling back into his seat. "So what if you don't have any fears?"

The lady smirked. "None? Well then the simulation will be over quickly but I doubt anyone is fearless."

Derek just gave a polite smile and closed his eyes.

Derek slowly opened his eyes to gaze up at a familiar ceiling. His eyes slowly moved from its whiteness to the gold and green trim that lined the edges of the walls. Lastly, he saw sunshine streaming through the fancy curtains.

He was home.

Derek immediately sat up in bed. His king sized bed was just as comfortable as he remembered with his favorite green duvet.

"How did I end up here?" Derek thought to himself as he pulled back the covers and set foot onto the plush carpet of his room.

Everything was just as he left it. His hand touched the glossy wood of his desk. His books were neatly stacked and all his pens and pencils were organized in their proper cups.

"Advanced Biology," Derek read. His biology tutor gave it to him but Derek never ended up returning the book. He had run away that weekend.

Throwing open the closet, Derek flipped through his designer clothes, each one dry cleaned and hung up for him. The belongings made him uncomfortable. The expensive sports gear in his room was so familiar yet so foreign to him at the same time.