The White Rosebush

Chapter 19: Loyalties

Chapter 19: Loyalties

Now he was just trying to spite me; I was sure of it. This was Ivan's way of getting me back after all the drama I put him through yesterday... Ha-ha, I thought blandly. I was almost certain he was sitting somewhere, watching me, as I stared at the hole in the ceiling which, to my own displeasure and expectation, had remained unoccupied. Yes, he was undoubtedly enjoying every second of my own annoyance and boredom, taking it all in with that stupid grin on his face. I closed my eyes and pictured it... Sure the smile was exasperating enough, but what got me were his eyes... They were so irritating, so sickeningly innocent, so taunting, so instigating, probably smug... So beautiful. No! Not beautiful. They aren't beautiful, I thought to myself. They're stupid...

Even in my mind, that sounded weakly pathetic... I couldn't think like this; I owed too much to Andreas, but for some reason, I couldn't help comparing them. Andreas was smaller, considerably weaker, and plain in appearance. Ivan was the opposite in every way. But then again, I'd never seen any part of Ivan's bare skin besides his face. He never took his Siberian-winter-resistant apparel off, which covered his entire body. So, in reality, I had no idea what his body was like... Why am I thinking about Ivan's body?! I punched myself in the forehead, as if trying to knock those romantic thoughts from my head. Curse him for being so beautiful... I sighed as my mind drifted to that last thought; yes, there was no point in denying it. Ivan was beyond beautiful. He was gorgeous... But that doesn't mean I love him.

""Excusez-Moi!" snapped a rather exasperated voice behind me. I jumped a considerable height and spun, around, annoyed, to face another teenage girl. She was tall, but young in the face with black eyes and even blacker hair... She must have been rather found of that color because she was also dressed entirely in black. If her unorthodox appearance wasn't enough to make her off-putting, she was glaring at me impatiently, tapping her foot. I had begun to learn that when a member of Rozovyĭ kust looked at me with any form of disdain, it meant that they were about to become a tremendously ambitious pain in the rear.

"What?" I didn't really understand why she was acting so cross, which led to a surge of annoyance. Why was it that everyone in this stupid society seemed to either hate or obsess over me? It was like there was no middle ground...

"I 'ave been calling you for almost a minute, chère," she sighed intolerantly. Her voice was thick with French ancestry and had a very annoying, obviously fake, tone.

"I'm sorry," I recited mechanically, having gotten used to saying those two meaningless words whenever anyone expressed anger, sadness, or annoyance with me. "I didn't hear you."

"Obviously." Now I was really aggravated.

"What do you want?" I asked slowly, trying to keep my temper centered. The French were so full of themselves... She didn't answer me; rather she spun in a circle, causing the unsightly black dress to sway around her legs in an overly exaggerated fashion. I just looked at her with the upmost confusion. What was THAT supposed to be?

"I am Valérie," she said dramatically, taking on the tone of some kind of performing mystic gypsy. "And I am pleased to bless you with greatness of my presence." Oh, god...

"I didn't recall asking who you were," I snapped nastily. "And I don't care to be frank. I just want to know why you're bothering me." Rather than being taken aback by my aggression, she frowned with pity on her face.

"Zat is 'orribly rude, chère ..."

"Don't call me chère!" I growled. "I don't even know you." She tsked a few times, looking at me kindly. More than kindly... It was almost as if she felt sorry for me.

'You 'aven't embraced your inner morals, 'ave you?"

"My what?"

"Your morals, chère. You're bitter, an' I can tell you why." I glared at her rather exasperatedly.