Wicked Games Academy

CHAPTER 18

I decided to leave Clive's side at the ball. There were other boys I wanted to spy on.

Hale was getting a lot of girls, but more for his good looks than the pins, and Cory chatted with one girl for a long time.

Will was in a corner with a few girls in awe of his eastern descent. I asked a girl which girl was Mona Alistair and they pointed me to a girl who was there, watching Will. The girls left and Mona and him made eye contact.

Not wanting to intrude I walked away and looked for Wyatt—wanting to keep this complicated trio apart—and Wyatt was doing just fine. He was pretending to be nice and polite, laughing at something three girls were talking to him about, but I knew he was probably thinking they weren't worth his time.

Samuel was not swamped by girls because he was plainly shorter than most of them with their high heels. He spoke to a few girls, taking the initiative, but he simply wasn't popular.

I had girls stop me as I went on my stroll to see how my friends were doing. I was boring, though, and replied I wasn't interested in writing letters and got a lot of them give up easily.

Stein and Vic were the party of the twelfth years. Surrounded by around fourteen or so girls, the two talked about each other and Vic wasn't grinning in his creepy way. Instead the two talked about how strong the other was, how he would be a great husband, and so on. Girls swooned over them and the other twelfth years boys stood there to mingle into the sea of girls.

At first I thought they were popular until a boy passing by told his friends "They always do that act—they have a glass eye and prosthetic hand. See how Stein is wearing gloves and Vic is smiling?"

It occurred to me why Vic was always grinning. He had to smile with his cheeks raised so it made his eyes crinkle naturally. It made half of his eyes disappear and one couldn't notice which was the glass eye.

Realizing it made me feel less afraid of the two and not pity but find them relatable. Everyone has fears, a smelly breath, premature white hairs, acne scars—the list goes on.

Yet it was unbelievable how perfect Clive was, not only in looks but the way he interacted with the girls. He flirted but never went too far, had one on one talks with girls who he met and always remembered names. He was still talking to girls now in a line.

"Insane, isn't it?"

I flinched before seeing Samuel standing there.

"Oh, you mean Clive? Yes. He's good with girls," I said.

"It's insane how he doesn't even have to try. Look at his hair."

I surveyed Clive's hair, as natural as always, wavy and curly, falling into his eyes sometimes so he has to push it back. Once it fell below his nape a boy our grade trims it for coins.

"It's the same," I said in confusion.

"Look at us. We all have our hair yelled back or neatened. Even you, Nathan." Samuel pointed out the way I put my hair that day. I realized how he was right.

Those of us who came from knight families knew to style themselves to look proper, and I imagine that's why Wyatt was so pleasant to the girls today, because he couldn't dirty the reputation of a Whitecastle.

Adopted refuges like Will also knew to adapt to the style of putting his rather long hair back. But Clive was mysterious. He didn't have proper guidance and his hair was a mess. Thankfully he looked good, but no one else made that mistake.

"Good evening, Nathan Rottings, I believe?" The voice made me turn. It was a girl I couldn't remember. I don't remember any, in fact. Last year Clive occupied all of my thoughts.