Frankly My Dear, All's Fair in Love and War

3: The Rocky Road to the Prettyvile

Desmond

People say that I'm heartless.

Of course, no one has actually said it to me right in front of my eyes; they think that would equal social suicide and they were damn right. But even though the words were whispered in careful confidentiality, eventually it would reach my ears. It's inevitable.

These people. These students in St. Pulkeria, they just don't know when to stop talking.

I didn't know when all of these 'heartless' rumors started. Maybe I did something that made someone upset. Maybe I did hurt someone's feelings. I didn't know, nobody ever told me anything.

When I go to school, I don't see a place to study and learn manners. I see a place full of power-hungry hyenas. I see blood-sucking leeches and ass-licking goats. The whole place is a fricking jungle, and they see me as their King because they think I'm incapable of feelings.

Except August. He's different, that boy. He's probably the only person that considers me as a friend, and not as a benefactor.

It didn't take me long to figure out that I can do or say practically anything, and I can always get away with it just fine. Before long, I don't even need to search for company. They come to me in big herds, and they're never upset. No matter what I do, they never told me anything bad and keep everything under that mask of pursed smile.

But they would talk.

Yes, they always talk. They never stop. Ever.

Of course, they never bother to invite me to join their late-night phone calls or secret hangouts after the parties. They will smile and fawn over me at school. They will text me unnecessary things, and ask me to come to their parties. But they would always talk to each other, to everyone, aside from me. And these talks, these secrets, they matter the most.

It used to pain me; it used to keep me up all night. But my throat clenches whenever I try to confront them about it, and none of them ever attempted to talk to me. So, I figured, this is it. This is my place, and below me are theirs.

It's not like I should complain about it. Sure, there are all kinds of gossip and nasty rumors, but there are also adorations and envy. It's fair trade.

Being Desmond Arrington isn't so bad once you can manage to endure ever-constant pressure and solitude.

People say that I'm heartless, and they make me think that they are right.

Whatever.

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Chapter Three: The Rocky Road to the Prettyvile

Cassie's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she stared at the big door that loomed over her. The sign said 'Ping-Pong Room', but she never knew that St. Pulkeria has a Ping-Pong club, or students who would sacrifice their social standing by joining it.

"It's the Ping-Pong room," she said to her new companion Lucas Montgomery, a shady guy with ever-present smile that always looked like he's planning something mischievous.

"It's the Ping-Pong room," he confirmed.

Cassie's eyes got even smaller. She had every reason to distrust Lucas this time, and he knew that. Just about ten minutes ago he cornered her in front of the counselor's office and led her here. Up until now, she never knew that the school had this room, or an unused adjoined building on the west.

"Are you sure?" Cassie was still suspicious about it. Lucas' eyes had this twinkle that never went away. She hated looking at it.

Lucas went behind her and put both his hands on her shoulders. It made a loud thump. "I'm sure. I've texted everyone on our way here, so you can meet the fellow haters right away."