"This is what she had become."
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Cleopatra Banks' last week in the small town of New Chelsea is nothing like she would have imagined it, but nothing could have prepared her for the stinging betrayal she's faced with and suddenly the prospect of...
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"Sorry Cleopatra," Ethan whispers from beside me in a monotonous voice.
I try not to look at him as he drives forward, Shania Twain (I think) keeping us company over the car's speakers.
"But you don't even want to go, can't you refuse?" I ask him. We had plans for our short March holiday, it's the only holiday we'll have during the year that won't be as hectic. School tends to get cutthroat once the second term rolls around even with the other breaks in between.
And here he is, telling me he has to, no! Must participate in a Math tournament in a town ten billion kilometers from here.
"I don't have a choice in this," he replies with finality and any hopes of spending time with him dwindle to nothing.
"Why don't you have a say? You have every right to refuse him," I reply, still keeping the fight even when I know that any argument I try to make is pointless.
"It's not that easy Cleopatra, you don't understand," he says.
I finally manage to spare a glance at him when we stop by a red traffic light. His lips are turned downwards and his shoulders have slumped forward. For some really obscure reason, I want to crawl up into his lap and hold him until he smiles. I like seeing him smile.
"Then make me understand Ethan," I plead with him. He spares a glance at me and a painful wave of emotion surges through me at the look in his eyes. Whatever he's not yet ready to say in words he's trying to convey with his eyes. He seems vulnerable and almost lost.
Clearly, this is bigger than the tournament. Whatever is going on with Ethan and Buttercup goes beyond the surface, another complex piece to add to the puzzle that is Ethan Rhodes. A piece of his life that he's not yet ready to share with me –amongst other things.
He focuses his eyes back on the road and drives on after the traffic light gives us the go ahead to move and those walls that he ever so often erects around himself come right back up.
"If we win, it'll mean we'll go on to the next round. If we keep at it, maybe we'll reach finals which means..." he trails off and I gulp nervously. "You'll be away more," I whisper and he nods.
"I'll make it up to you when I get back Ipromise."
"I'll make it up to you when I get back I promise."
"Jeez, you make it sound like you're going off to war," I spare a humorless chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "It is war, you should see how those crazy nerds fight for the buzzer," he laughs and I do too.
"So you've been to the tournament before?" I ask. "Yeah, we've won twice in a row. Principal Regan's looking for a third win," he says without any excitement in his voice.
Of course Buttercup's looking for a third win. He's always looking for something to put his prestigious and pretentious school on the map. It's all about keeping up appearances –St. McLeod Learning Institute must remain the best school in Victoria Springs and possibly the whole country no matter whose sanity is affected in the process.
