Bloodcurse

The Ocean

I'm unkindly shaken out of my sleep by my roommate, and I almost can't resist the urge to kick him in the shin as he continues to rattle the frame of my bed with his foot.


"What do you want," I moan tiredly, pulling the covers over my head.

He yanks the covers back again and a set of fresh clothes suddenly hits me in the face. "You are late."

Groaning in utter annoyance, I swipe the clothes off of the bed and turn over to face the wall. "Go away!"

Something else that feels a lot like one of my books knocks into me from behind.

"Max, I'm this close to murdering you right now."

For the past two months, this has been my morning routine - Max has taken an inexplicable interest in whether I miss first period or not, and I haven't had a chance to skip class once since he's resorted to using violence to wake me up every day. I'm guessing this has something to do with Edward, but I'm continuously too exhausted to remember to call him out on it.

Studying has been my personal hell. Between trying to keep up with Freddie's Spanish lessons and Adam coaching me through math exercises over the phone, I've barely found the time to sleep more than five hours a night - much less do anything unrelated to coursework.

Staying on track with the other Coolidge Sec students is like trying to catch up with Usain Bolt in a sprint. Everything may look like high-school, but really it's closer to the Hunger Games. I've never been in a more competitive environment, and that doesn't even apply strictly to the academic aspect: every single day here is a test. Are you wearing the right clothes? Has your family made any headlines since yesterday? When was the last time you were featured in a magazine? How many invites to big public weddings have you received this year?

If Freddie is second-to-last in those rankings, I'm still a huge step behind him. It's incredible how people treat you according to where you fall in their conception of social standing. Basically, apart from Freddie and Max, I haven't talked to anyone unless it was absolutely mandatory in order to achieve a good grade in a group project. It's... sickening, really.

"Get up, Polansky. I won't stop unless you do."

"I know," I exclaim, sitting up abruptly as I feel the last straw break the camel's back. "You never fucking stop, do you?! Why do you even care, Max?"

He stares at me as if the answer to this is completely obvious. "My father asked me to."

I scoff. "And you always do what he says?"

Max doesn't even flinch. "Yes."

"God, could you even be more spineless if you tried?!"

"There is a difference between obedience and spinelessness. Not that you would know anything about discipline and integrity."

That's it. That boy has officially tried me enough today. "You wanna talk to me about integrity when you're literally just a puppet hanging by your dad's strings? Fuck you, Max."

"You will not survive in this world if you refuse to stay in your place."

"What about homeless people? Don't they deserve to get out of the place they're in?"

Max lifts an unimpressed black brow. "If they choose to live that way, then no."

I don't even know what to say to that, so I just shake my head at him. "You're awful. Genuinely."

He shrugs this off as if I had just told him there's a stain on his shirt and goes back to sorting through the notes on his desk. My patience already worn dangerously thin, I grab my bathroom kit and walk out of the room, not wanting to stick around for more of Max's privileged bullshit.