For as long as anyone had known, Adam had always been the leader of The Living Dead. Well, at least that’s what Sara and I called them. They were none other than the most popular people in our school, the ones who had it all: whose wild night outs and candid affairs fuelled the school gossip.
They didn’t know us, of course and nor did they know about the outrageous nicknames we came up with. I doubted that would have cared, if they knew. Sara and I weren’t what you would call popular or even likeable, thus our opinion wasn’t designated to matter to them or anybody else, for that matter. With our almost identical black rimmed glasses which practically covered most of our faces and an uncanny liking for books, we basked in our nerd status.
A few months ago however, I had been a part of them, an inseparable part- at least that’s what I thought. But life is strange like that, when you think you have it all under control and you’re sweating trying to make sure it stays that away, life does a complete 360; proving you wrong.
When that happened, what did I do?
Well, I tried to stay strong till the stress got to me and began to crack its way through my system, then I made another mistake. I opened up to none other than the evil mastermind of The Living Dead: Adam Flint.
*
It was just another typical Tuesday afternoon and today, I had happened to miss my bus; subsequently stranding myself in school for another hour as I waited for the staff bus to leave.
Heading towards the library, I took a seat at the far end corner -from where I could see other people and more importantly, the clock but no one could see me. Taking my newly bought mini laptop out of its case, I began to work on my Literature Essay which was due next week. I wasn’t a procrastinator, with the heaps of assignments and tests we were getting as well as the dreaded IGCSE exams which awaited us in May; I could hardly afford to procrastinate. Leisure time didn’t exist in my life, all the free time I had was spent on solving past papers, revising previous units and reading new ones.
From the several essay and emphatic tasks options that we had been given, I had chosen to write an essay on whether Edgar Linton’s refinement made him weak or whether it made him stronger (emotionally) than Heathcliff. Normally, I would have gone for an emphatic task instead. They were more difficult than essays, but I loved writing them and writing as another character had never possessed a challenge for me. Essays were harder for me, I tended to deviate from the topic or forget the issues the question was asking me to address. Thus driven by my need to excel in my Literature paper, I had chosen to write an essay.
Wuthering Heights always fascinated me, and I admired Bronte’s treatment of Catherine and Heathcliff’s love story, even though I personally thought that they would not have been completely happy together. Plus, I had a thing for tragedies and doomed love.
I took out a plain paper and began to list down all the events in which Edgar had acted…rather effeminately-for lack of a better word-and pondered over his motives. Emily Bronte unlike other authors, showed that culture was a sign of weakness not one of refinement, that was the reasoning I was supporting; but I needed to gather evidence-consisting of quotes-to support my explanation.
The sound of wood scraping against the parquet floor startled me but I didn’t look up, assuming one of the teachers or some junior school student had decided to sit with me. I was pretty close to several junior school students, since most of them came in my bus and I found them adorable enough to listen to their stories and occasionally help them with their homework.
After finishing my brainstorm, I had arrived at a conclusion and was ready to start my essay. I raised my head to look for my laptop and the movement caused me to see the person sitting next to me. Sucking in a deep breath, I gawked at the icy blue eyes which fixated their gaze on me. I was about to ask him what he was doing staying back in the library on a Tuesday, didn’t he have crazy parties to attend to? But that sounded very rude, and my mom had raised me well enough to not ask questions like that-even to people who I hated.
