Chapter 3 - Henry

I have spent the entire week trying to make August notice me. And every attempt failed. I asked if she wanted a ride home, she said "No". One time, I saw her walk out from Chemistry carrying flasks, test tubes and beakers and offered assistance, again, she said "No". Every day I waited for her to walk past our class so I could help her carry the picked-up books back to the library. And every day she would say, "No". I have never been rejected in my entire life, but August has already compensated for that. I have also never been challenged before. Every quest was so easily completed that it became unexciting. Like watered-down wine. Dull. Pale. And makes you want to spit. But with August, every failed attempt, felt like revival.

It was after a week-long humiliation that I had an epiphany. August isn't the same as the others I've encountered before. She's not playing hard to get just to make me want her more. She actually despises my existence. I know she didn't like Theo. I mean, how could you like someone who makes your life difficult? But it never made sense for me before that she doesn't like me too. I didn't do anything to her. I never tyrannized her in a way. But then again, I really didn't do anything. I just watched as Theo tormented her. So maybe, I shouldn't be asking her out yet. Maybe an apology should come first.

The following week, I had every intention to apologize. It surprised even myself that I wanted to do it for real. But time wasn't a friend. August always seemed to be caught up with something. She is never not moving. Hell, the girl's schedule would rival my father's.

She's the head of the Highbrows and the Vice President of the Student Council. Monday mornings and Friday afternoons are spent in meetings with the other delegates. She also works as a Student Assistant and has shifts in the library on early mornings, on her vacant periods and for a few hours after school. On Wednesdays and every weekend, I found out that she also has a job as a barista at a local coffee shop. To top it all up she has to maintain her scholarship so all the remaining free hours she has is dedicated to studying. I understand now when she said she didn't have time to spend on Theo's nonsense. I wondered if she even has the time to be seventeen at all.

I felt terrible for even thinking about bringing down a girl who works her ass off and who probably is a scholar because she needed to be. It isn't her fault that we're intimidated by her. And if she hates us, well, I'm pretty sure we deserve it. Here we are with all the lavishness and grandeur. Never having to worry about our futures because it's already laid out and prepared for by our parents, so we can squeeze in games and foolishness while she can't even find the time to be angry when we mock her. And now I know she may have wanted to scream at Theo or punch him on the face or play his stupid games because she knows she can win. But she also knows that Theo's father is powerful. And one mistake can actually cause her all the chances of a better life.

August does not get the same privilege as us. She can't be stupid or childish or be inconsistent because she constantly needs to prove she deserves to be here. Through observing and learning her lifestyle, I gained a new found respect with the girl they called the Ice Bitch. So if I'm going to pursue her, which I won't– she does not need another mess added to her life, but if I do, I'll do it for real. Fuck the deal. I don't care about the yacht or Lancelot. I don't care about Theo or Arlo making fun of me for years. Or if I have to bring Dove to Paris. I decided I'll drop it and let August be. She has enough on her plate and she's better than us and Theo can just suck it up.

"Henry."

The voice was low, almost shy. The inbetween of a breath and a whisper. And I don't think I've ever heard her like this before. Her voice was usually firm, unshakeable. Like the final speech of a General before leading his men into battle.

August stood before me, head still high but her eyes were everywhere. As if she's going to fall apart if she looks at me directly. She's ashamed but her pride is fighting back.

It was still early in the morning and there were no students yet. It was just me and her and the long silver lockers down an empty hallway.

I really didn't know what to say so I just waited for her to speak again. It was funny looking at her this way. The conflict in her face as she tried to swallow her pride. The darkening of eyes, the twitching of eyebrows, the curving of lips. Finally after a couple of deep breaths, there was the headstrong August again.

"Meet me in the library at lunch. I need to speak with you."

And then she left. She didn't wait for an affirmation. She didn't even turn back . It was as if she expected, no– like she knew I'd just do as she says. I see how she can be annoying. Even her request felt like a command. How dare she order me around?

At lunch that day, I ditched my usual circle and found myself searching aisles and aisles of bookshelves for her. Finally, I found her sitting in one of the more secluded areas in the library. There was only another student around who immediately left upon seeing me.

August wasn't surprised to see me nor was she elated. Her face didn't betray any emotions. It's just the same stoic, apathetic mask she usually displays. There was no trace of the jittery August I witnessed this morning. She gestured on the seat in front of her and I sat without a word. I've never really been obedient to anyone but there's something about August's effortless authority that will make you follow her before you can even think about it. In hindsight, I recall that in every school event she was often voted to lead because whatever she says, the class does. I don't know if it was her presence, or her voice, or the way she looks. But it has always been there, even on the first time I saw her addressing the Freshman class on the first day of school. I think even then, we all kind of felt she never gets disobeyed.

"How much was it?" She started. There was impatience not only with her tone. It reverberates all through her.

I didn't know what she meant at first so I could only look back. But as I began to settle and feel more at ease, I realized what she was talking about. How she knew, I don't have a clue.

"What do you mean?" I lied. One of the things I think I do best.

August smirked, unconvinced. With one eyebrow raised she replied, "Oh you know exactly what I mean."

A bluff. She's challenging me. I'm sorry Oomnitsa, you won't make me crack. "I really don't".

This time she leaned forward. Both hands laid in front, palms clasped together. She reminded of a cop ready to tell you they knew you were guilty from the start.

"'The' Henry Hughes, suddenly giving attention to the only person who is the object of his best friend's vexation is enough to raise suspicion. But his best friend knows he won't be able to woo her into obedience so he made a deal with his handsome, cunning, but secretly dead inside bestfriend to do it for him for a price." She stopped and took a breath, "It sounds a lot like a movie I've watched before. But let me know if I'm hitting a bullseye."

I laughed a hollow, nervous cackle. But I was determined not to get caught. "You think I'm handsome?" I said, trying to stray the conversation. "But no, that sounded like a fanfiction written by a thirteen year old between herself and Harry Styles."

"That was weirdly specific but I'm going to assume that's just how you do your metaphors. And really, Hughes? All you got from there was 'I think you're handsome?"

I shrugged, "What I got from there is you don't know me. Why is it impossible for you to believe that I might actually want to get to know you?"

"Because you don't. And you do this thing when you lie. So yes, I might not know you much but I know enough and you're not being honest."

That caught me a bit off guard. No one ever told me I had a quirk when I lie. Not even Dove. Not even my mother. This could be another bluff. "What thing?" I asked.

She leaned back and crossed her arms, "And why would I tell you? You'll get conscious and will stop doing it."

"You're bluffing."

She sighs, "You got the scar on your forehead because you fell off a tree trying to save a kitten."

How did she know this story? Is August my stalker? She didn't strike me as one. But then again she can be making this up or heard it from someone and just overall pretended she actually knows.

"No. I got this from–

"–from a fight with a twelve year old when you were only eight." She said, completing my sentence. "That's the story you tell because that sounds cooler. See!" August smacks the hardwood table and the sound echoes in the library. That made us stop for a second but when nobody reacted she continued, with a softer voice this time. "You're lying and I knew you would lie about it because you did that thing before you spoke."

"How the hell do you even know about that? Are you stalking me?" This was a rising, genuine concern.

"You told me about it in English Literature Class. I think you were high."

The moment she said it I felt the memory bubble up. It was still blurry, but it was resurfacing. I was high, she was right and I vaguely remember we were supposed to write something about a childhood memory. I think I was partnered up with her and we were supposed to discuss phrases on each other's work that struck us the most. Now I know how I came to the conclusion that I didn't say something smart when I last spoke with her. I can't even remember what she wrote about. Dammit.

"Fine. But that does not mean I'm lying about everything else."

August lets out a long breath. She was exhausted. She has never talked this much with anyone. Not even Gwen.

"Just admit it. I won't get mad. In fact–" this time she wavered. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to say it. There it was again, herself battling with her stubborn ego. "I have another proposition."