A Week

The rest of that first week passed by much like the first day, though there was certainly a palpable pressure building. Alex imagined it was a bit like that saying about the frog in the slowly boiling pot of water. Every day the temperature rose a bit more and more, and everyone was just waiting for the point when the heat would be unbearable.

Matthew finally stopped playing his music that Monday night. If it was because he decided to stop, or because Eloise talked him into it, Alex couldn't be sure. Maybe it was just starting to annoy him too much to be worth it anymore. Besides, he was finding other ways to be a petty flatmate. Tuesday morning Alex woke up to find Matthew already gone, but he had used so much hot water that Alex had to take a cold shower. On Wednesday Alex got back to the flat late after finishing some homework at the library. A giant bag of American crisps Jack had given him was gone from where they had been on the kitchenette counter. He also discovered when he went to make tea that the carton of milk he bought was put back into the mini fridge even though it was empty. They were all such small offences, but they stung so much worse with the knowledge that Matthew was doing it to aggravate him.

Alex seldom saw the criminal mastermind in their flat. He only ever used the place to sleep and cause mischief. If he thought he could get away with it, he probably wouldn't even sleep there. Most nights Alex heard him come through the front door right before the curfew was set to strike at ten. He must have been going to the McAvoy dormitories to be with his friends and avoid Alex until the last possible second. Then in the mornings, he got up early enough to be gone by the time Alex woke up, either off to his friends' rooms or the dining hall. Of course, Alex knew he must be spending some time at theirs. How else would he be messing with all of Alex's stuff? But he must have a radar for detecting when Alex was near, because the only times Alex came in and he was there, he was holed up in his room. As long as Alex was in, that's where he stayed, listening to his blasting music until he turned it off at curfew.

The only times Alex properly saw Matthew were in PE and French class. They started to play football on Tuesday, just running drills at first. Alex could tell as soon as he saw Matthew and Emilio partner up for passing drills that they were both exceptional players. Matthew especially. His footwork and handling were better than anyone Alex had ever met. And when they started dribbling drills, he was quick and never faltered. Alex kicked the cones more than he kicked the ball, and tried not to combust when he heard Emilio and Matthew laughing under their breath. On Wednesday and Thursday, they worked on shooting drills, all talking turns as the goalie. While Matthew was on goal, almost everyone was trying to hit him rather than make a goal. But he blocked every single one of them. The boys who were trying to score never managed. And when he was kicking, the only time he didn't make it was because he hit a goalpost, not because the goalie stopped him. When Alex was on goal, the ball Matthew kicked rushed right by his head and into the net before he could even think about reacting. Alex knew he was already shit at football, but it stood out next to how good Matthew was. After another class of drills on Friday, Alex heard a few of the less hostile boys murmuring about wanting him on their team for the scrimmage matches Mr Sanders had planned for the next week.

Every time their eyes met, all Alex saw was Matthew's disdainful glare. It was easy to avoid that during PE when they were outdoors and had activities to distract them. Matthew stayed with Emilio, Alex stayed with Jack, and Mr Sanders' amicable nature kept the tension down. But the second they were in the same French classroom, forced to sit next to each other and both without an ally, the tension was so thick it was a wonder neither of them suffocated from it.

The worst it got was Friday. Madame Montgomery had been developing a not-so-subtle habit of picking on Matthew for readings and answers to difficult prompts. As if she was trying to push him to transfer out, or maybe just liked to watch him struggle. His pronunciation wasn't perfect, but he was understandable. Alex noticed he tended to pronounce certain words as if they were Spanish, not French. Alex had the inverse of that problem when he first started learning Spanish. And about half the time Matthew could answer a question correctly, it just took him a few seconds to process what was being asked and then construct his response.

But every time Matthew answered something incorrectly, Madame Montgomery got extremely judgmental about it. Even though Alex was sure they were questions that half the class would have got wrong too. She must have known that, because every time he was wrong, she would ask Alex the question right afterwards. As if to make a point that the answer was simple, although Alex had years more lessons than any other student in that room.

Alex's little voice had urged him to point that out. Or maybe even ruin Montgomery's weird game by answering incorrectly on purpose. But he never listened. He would answer he knew Montgomery wanted, she would look at Matthew with condescending satisfaction, and Alex would feel Matthew's contempt emanating from him like a furnace. If Alex had dared to look at him, he probably would have gotten burned for the first time in his life.

Friday was when Montgomery had paired up the class for their first partner conversations. She instructed every other row to pair with the person on their right, and of course, Matthew was to the right of Alex. Alex worked up the courage to look at him, and he was staring back with that familiar mask. But before either of them could even attempt a conversation, Montgomery stepped in between them.

"Mr Montoya, switch seats with Ms Chastain," she said. " She is better suited to partner up with Mr Conrad ."

Matthew was visibly processing what Montgomery said, but as soon as he translated it his expression turned even more sour than it had already been. He wordlessly got up to switch seats.

"Wait," Alex said quickly, his panic causing him to say it in English. He noticed Montgomery didn't automatically chide him like she always did whenever Matthew uttered a syllable of English. "We can still-"

"No, she's right," Matthew interrupted, his tone short. "You should only be made to socialize with people on your level ."

Alex stiffened at the venom and double-edged meaning of that last word. He couldn't recover before Matthew had already gone and Morgan Chastain had taken his place. Madame Montgomery walked away with a smug grin. Alex was left to carry on a stilted conversation with Morgan while ignoring the sinking feeling that his relationship with Matthew had somehow managed to get even more hostile.

The only time throughout the week when Alex felt like maybe things weren't going to go up in flames like everyone feared, was when he saw Eloise in their drawing class. On Tuesday Jack was uncharacteristically insistent that they get to class after lunch as soon as possible. They arrived when the room was still relatively empty, but Eloise was there already. Jack walked up right away, and Alex all but ran to follow him in case he said something stupid.

". . . this fine afternoon?" he was asking when Alex caught up.

"Right now, I'm confused as to why you're still trying to talk to me," Eloise answered. Alex noticed her expression was guarded, but slightly less so than it had been the day before.

"Cuz Al was telling me yesterday how cool you are."

"Was he now?"

Alex shoved Jack lightly as his face warmed. "I wasn't," he mumbled without thinking.

"Oh? You tell him how uncool I am instead?"

"No!" Alex said quickly, his voice laced with panic. He calmed down when Eloise and Jack shared a laugh, cluing him to the fact that she was joking.

"Alex did tell me a little about you, Jonathan," Eloise continued.

"You can call me Jack. And by the way, I feel like I should clarify things-"

"Oh, I doubt anything you want to add will make you sound any better than Alex managed to convince me you are, Jackie."

"Does that mean you'll let me sit next to you today?"

"Hm," Eloise hummed, looking deep in thought. "No. But why don't you ask me again tomorrow?"

Jack seemed more than satisfied with that, and the three kept chatting as more students filed in. When their teacher walked in Jack went off to sit next to Warren again. Alex hesitated momentarily since Eloise didn't invite him to sit with her again. She gave him a small smile as he sort of awkwardly stood there, giving him enough confidence to sit down on her left.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday went pretty much like that too. Jack would rush them off to the art class that he hated so he could chat up Eloise. Then he would ask to sit next to her and she told him to ask her again the next class. And Jack never stopped seeming delighted by that answer.

"Do you ever actually want her to say yes?" Alex asked Jacked as he walked him to his Mandarin class on Wednesday. "Because you seem happy every time that she says no."

"I'm happy she's still thinking about it," Jack clarified. "Or, at the very least, she's humouring me and pretending to. She's not shutting me down, that's the important part."

"Hm. I think you just have a type."

"It's not Indian girls."

"No, it's Indian girls who push you off swing sets."

Jack snorted out a laugh and shoved Alex's shoulder. "Fuck off," he said without denying it.

While Alex sat next to Eloise during all those classes, they didn't talk that much. But it was a comfortable silence, one Alex had never really experienced with anyone other than his dad. Now and then Eloise would show him a silly cartoon she drew instead of the repetitive sketches they were meant to be doing. Alex would cover up his laugh with a cough so often that the teacher tried to send him to the infirmary for cough medicine on Thursday. After he insisted that he was fine, Eloise drew him as a sickly bedridden Victorian child, causing him to laugh-cough even more.

On Friday they were set up sketching plastic fruit, and rather than do that Eloise was drawing a portrait of someone. Alex assumed it was one of the students who was sitting behind the fruit they were meant to be drawing because she did look like she was referencing something.

"Our little counter-party is a go, by the way," Eloise said, so quiet Alex almost didn't hear. "We've got Taika's Super Nintendo set up on the little television in the lobby. Crowd-sourced some board games and card decks. Baptiste and his roommate are going into Brighton tomorrow with some money we pooled to get crisps and drinks and stuff. I had to argue a bit with some of the older boys about keeping the party dry. Hopefully, they'll keep their promise of practising temperance for the night."

"Sounds like it'll be fun," Alex said.

"It's nothing fancy, but yeah. Everyone seems excited. . . I won't be offended, by the way. If you don't want to come. I don't want you only showing up cuz you felt obligated or anything like that."

"I do want to. I hope you believe that. I just think you all might have more fun if-"

"What are your favourite crisps?"

"What?"

"Crisps. You're my favourite. Tell me. I'll tell Baptiste to get them, give you some motivation."

"I-"

"Tell me, come on."

". . . You're going to laugh."

"Promise I won't."

"It's. . . Monster Munch. Pickled onion."

Eloise let out a snort of laughter that was involuntary. She didn't seem to care that she drew the attention of every other person in the room. Especially Jack, who looked slightly jealous about being left out of a very funny joke.

"Wow, I can't believe you broke your promise," Alex said, feigning hurt.

"You can't be serious," she said once she composed herself. "What are you, five? And pickled onion is the worst one, by the way."

"It is not, cheese and onion is."

"Oh, you take that back right now, sir."

"If you like cheese and onion then your opinion on crisps is automatically voided."

"I will fight you. I will crane kick you like that little karate white boy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you seen any film ever?"

"Sean made me watch Star Wars once."

"Sean?"

"My cousin. He's in school in Dublin now. He's got a crush on the pilot one."

"Ah, a man of taste. Alright, I'll add VHS player to the list of things we should try to rustle up for tomorrow night. VHS player and your cursed Monster Munch."

"Eloise, I-"

"And if you don't show, I'll just pawn the crisps off to you on Monday, yeah?"

". . . Yeah. Okay. Who are you drawing?"

"Oh, no one in particular," Eloise said, but as she added more distinct facial features Alex was sure it was meant to be Jack.

On Saturday Alex had a string of tutoring sessions, mostly for language. If his other grades ever dropped below a threshold his mother considered unacceptable, then she would usually schedule extra lessons with the professors themselves. Luckily, she never seemed to expect more than slightly above the bare minimum to pass and let him get away with being an average student. But his language proficiency was something she wanted him to excel at. He knew one reason was the importance of being multilingual in their foreign business interests. The investment firm, the foreign property holdings, and the import and export ventures. She wanted him to manage it all just as she had, and that included not having to rely on translators like her siblings sometimes did.

The second reason was based more on a hunch than anything his mother said to him. Alex was more or less bilingual from the start, given how much time he spent with his father, hearing him speak both Hindi and English. Then when his French lessons started, he picked it up rather quickly, thanks to Monsieur Abbey being such a good teacher. The fact that he was still so young probably helped too. From then on language was something that Alex just had a better knack for than a lot of the other things his mother expected from him. He still had to put in a lot of hours and effort, but even his mother could see his natural affinity. He always figured that since he seemed to be "gifted" at it, his mother was determined to milk it for all she could.

Since Mary's party had been "cancelled", Alex headed to the library first thing in the morning. He didn't see Matthew Montoya when he left, but the door to his room was shut and there were no traces of him having been up yet. No empty coffee mugs or cereal bowls, and the brown boots he wore everywhere were still by the door. He was taking a break from his aversion to sharing the same breathing space with Alex to sleep in on his weekend. Alex's petty little voice tried to talk him into making a racket as he left. Maybe bang on the cabinets. Or smash a mug or two. Alex ignored him as best as he could, but he slammed the front door harder than he should have.

Most of his tutors were fine teachers, but they were far more distant than Monsieur Abbey had been. Half of them were outright cold. His German tutor was a middle-aged man named Benjamin. His Mandarin tutor was Professor Munn's daughter, Lily. She was a fairly friendly woman in her mid-20s who was studying to be a teacher. She probably felt comfortable enough to be more casual with Alex due to her mother working at the school for so long. His Korean tutor was a woman named Heather who looked like she was in her mid-30s, but the way she spoke sometimes made Alex wonder if she was much older. His Spanish tutor was a strict man named Mateo who used to teach at a secondary school in Brighton.

Alex met with Lily first, at nine in the morning. He spent an hour with her, and then as she left Heather arrived. The same went on as Heather was replaced by Benjamin who was replaced by Mateo. By one o'clock they had all gone, but Alex was left with stacks of practice exercises and readings. He wasn't sure how long he sat there until he was stirred out of his work by a ceramic mug being placed on top of the Spanish paragraph he had been reading. Alex jumped a bit and raised his head to see Jack. The pain in his neck, when he moved, was his first clue that more time had passed than he realized.

"What are you doing here?" Alex said, moving the mug before it could form a ring on his book page.

"Waking the dead, apparently," Jack said, hopping up to sit on a free patch of the table. "Have you left that table since you got here?"

"Yes."

"For anything other than the bathroom?"

". . . No."

"M-hm. Thought so. Here." Jack reached into the pocket of the ragged hoodie he was wearing and pulled out a couple of packets of shortbread biscuits. "Figured this would go better with your tea than Cheetos."

"Thanks," Alex said, putting aside his work for a moment while he opened a packet. He hesitated before dunking it in the tea. "Did you make this?"

"If I said yes, would you still drink it?"

"I mean, I would try, I guess."

Jack rolled his eyes and smirked. "I'm not that bad, you know. You just judge me cuz I didn't know you were supposed to take the leaves out."

"Why would you think we were drinking the leaves the whole time?"

"I don't know! It's gross no matter what!"

"Jonathan," a voice chided. The two looked over to see the librarian, Ms Turner, on duty behind the circulation desk. "Just because you two are the only ones here doesn't mean I need to hear your shouts echoing off these walls."

"Sorry Ms. T," Jack said in an exaggerated whisper. She just shook her head and went back to ignoring them. "And your girlfriend made it, by the way."

"Right, I know you don't mean Hannah, but- Wait, Eloise?"

"She popped her head in here earlier and saw you hard at work. Didn't want to bother you. When she saw me trying to figure out the difference between all the teas they got in the dining hall, she offered to make it for me. Well, make it for you. She was probably just worried I'd fuck up your precious leaf juice."

"That was very kind of her."

"Still think she doesn't like you?"

"It's just tea. You were trying to make me tea."

"But she just met you! I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before she asks you out. Invites you to a party or something." Alex didn't say anything to that, but something in his expression must have given him away because Jack punched his shoulder so hard that he almost knocked him over. "No way, she did already, didn't she?"

"Mr Farrow," Ms Turner warned again.

"Sorry!"

"What makes you think that?" Alex muttered in a way that all but confirmed Jack's guess.

"Dude, it's written all over your face. What did she say? What did you say?"

"It's not what you think. The scholarship students know everyone is upset about Mary's party and that if it goes through tonight, it might be best if they steer clear of it. So, she was going to have her party going in the McAvoy dorms. Something small, with no drinks or anything that would get them in trouble. But it's meant to be for them ."

"But she invited you," Jack pointed out.

"I told her I didn't think it would be a good idea if I went, but that I would think about it."

"And have you?"

"Thought about it?"

"Duh."

"Kind of."

"And?"

"Still think it's a bad idea."

"But do you want to go?"

"It's not-"

"Christ, Al, just work with me for a second," Jack said, sliding down from the table so he could be eye level with Alex from a chair. "Just, for a second, stop thinking about the grand schemes of our lives. Stop thinking like our families want us to, that we're all pieces on their little chessboards. That we're bound by strict rules and can only move in certain ways. Wyverns like Miranda and Eloise aren't pawns. Our parents aren't kings and queens. We're not their horses."

"They're called knights," Alex interrupted. Jack looked at him with an expression so deadpan Alex had to stifle a chuckle. "Sorry, you were being very profound and poignant. Go on."

"Just let yourself fuck around a little, Al." He leaned in and continued in a real whisper. "If Noah Brennan can get away with having love children all over this stupid island, then you should be allowed to go to a dry high school party."

"I'm not Noah Brennan, Jack," Alex reminded him. "I'm Alexander Conrad. And besides, this is different. It's not that my family will think it's improper. I mean, they would, but that's not what I'm worried about. There are kids at that party that are looking for a break from us. I don't want to ruin that for them."

"We can't stay separate forever."

"We're mixed up all day."

"In classrooms. With teachers watching and they all outnumbered. Maybe a little unsupervised comingling is what we need. And you won't start anything. I doubt they will since they'd be too scared of getting kicked out."

"You're trusting everyone involved to act very rationally, aren't you?"

"And I feel like you're overestimating how much these kids hate you. Besides, it's not like you're showing up uninvited. Eloise will be vouching for you. I'm sure your little French boyfriend will too."

"I thought Eloise was my girlfriend."

"It's called polyamory, Al. Though I have a feeling you're too high-strung to have any fun with it."

"Baptiste likes Matthew, I think," Alex said, recalling how flirtatious the two had seemed.

"Wow. What a throuple you guys would make. Wait, quadruple? No, that sounds weird. Anything more than three would just be, like, a love group, wouldn't it?"

"Jack, please. Do not give me another language to learn. My mother's already trying to find me a Japanese instructor."

"Really? Sweet. Maybe you can be my translator, I've always wanted to visit Tokyo."

"What if you came with me?"

"To Japan? Yeah, that's kind of the point."

"No. To the party. At McAvoy."

"I wasn't invited, you were."

"What if Eloise said it was okay?"

Jack looked down at the sleeve of his hoodie. "Nah, she'd probably say something like 'ask me next time'," he mumbled as he picked at a loose thread. Alex had a feeling that her brushing him off was starting to get to him.

"If she says yes," Alex insisted, "would you want to? I know you were excited about the haunted chapel."

"Will you go if I do?"

"I think I'd feel. . . braver if you went."

Jack smiled in a way that looked half bashful, half self-satisfied. "If your girlfriend is alright with it, then yes."

"She's not my-"

"Right, right. Sorry. What's the term in free love circles? Partner Number One? Or would it be rude to imply a ranking system amongst your lovers?"

"Piss off," Alex said, but his statement was undermined by his snort of laughter.

"Montoya has got to be Number Three though, right?"

"Why does he have to be a part of it at all?"

"A two-for-one package. Like when you buy those combo bags of chips cuz you like Doritos and Cheetos but it come with Sun Chips too. Like honestly, who likes those fucking things? They're like the Raisin Bran of the chip world."

"Again, I know you're technically speaking English, but your words mean nothing to me."

"Sorry, crisps," Jack said in a slightly mocking British accent. "Combo bags of crisps. That makes more sense guv'nor?"

Alex tried to answer around his giggle, but it came out heartier and louder than he expected.

"Jonathan Farrow!" Ms Turner shouted. "I have the right mind to kick you out!"

"It wasn't even me that time!" He argued back while Alex just laughed even harder. Jack shoved his shoulder and stood up. "Let's get going, you've been in here too long."

"But I still have-"

"Finish it tomorrow," Jack said, gathering up all Alex's work packets and books. "Come on, we need to make sure I have enough time to make me decent enough to not offend your lovers."

"Wait, that means you'll come?"

"Clear it with your girlfriend first. She should still be in the dining hall. But if she says yes, then yeah. I'll go."

"You won't mind missing Mary's party?"

"Not if it will get you out of your room. Besides, I may make it if the mob runs us out like you think they will."

"Thank you, Jack. It..." Alex wanted to say it meant a lot, but his voice got stuck in his throat.

Jack rolled his eyes and pulled Alex to his feet, almost making him spill the full mug he still had in his hand. "Relax, dude, it's just a party. And if I get bored, I will leave."

"What if it's boring and Eloise asks you to stay?"

"If she asks me to stay then I won't be bored," he said, tucking Alex's language work under one arm. He threw his other one around Alex's shoulder. "Though, I gotta say, if she ever does express interest I don't know if I could deal with being in the same polyamorous bubble as you. We may have to fight for her."

"That sounds sexist."

"Chicks dig being fought over, Al."

"That sounds sexist too. But I wouldn't even fight you over her, Jack. I don't think I like her like that."

"Would you pretend to? To get me extra points?"

"No."

"Wow, not even going to consider it huh? I mean, it's not like you would need to do much, I feel like it would be pretty believable for me to lay you out in, like, two, maybe three seconds-"

"Piss off," Alex said, trying to shove Jack away, but he just tightened his hold and pulled Alex along with him. Half of the contents of the mug flew out as they tripped over themselves, splashing on both Jack's and the library's hardwood flooring. Jack screeched as Ms Turner stood from her desk.

"Both of you, out!"