Chapter Nine
CASSIE
I was conflicted. I wasn't sure what Matt meant to me at this point. Was he the kind man who had helped me change the plaster on my forehead in my most vulnerable state, and allowed me to nap in his office, or was he that cold bastard who invented ways to bully me in class whenever he got the chance to?
He was my English teacher and was only three years older than me. Sometimes, I wondered if I was overthinking the situation, but the curiosity in my mind won’t let me rest. It keep churning in my head, and I decided that if I was going to come to a resolution, I was going to follow him after English class and ask him.
I didn't know how it will go yet, but I knew questions will have to be asked eventually.
"Dawson!" His voice threw me out of my tentative daydream. I looked up and stood to my feet. "What are the major structures in the post-realm politics." he asked, "As discussed in the literature?"
"Um…? What literature?" I asked, confused.
"Post-realm politics. In the books we've read, you've told me there are two main political parties, one right-wing, and one left-wing. They have different perspectives on what it means to live in a post-realm society, and who should be responsible for the defense of the realm." he explained. "I want to know what major structures protect these ideologies."
I knew the answers; I remember learning them all on my father's lap at such a tender age. The structures are in place to guard several mystical creatures that lived in our realm. My father said knowing politics will make me a better leader in the future, and when I ascend the throne, I’ll be able to apply my understanding of all he had taught me into the real world, but for some reason, I was dumbfounded.
The thought of my father sending flitting images of the night we had to leave River Valley into my mind, and scenes I had thought I had forgotten all came crashing back to me in waves.
A sharp pain stung up my nape, and I held my head as I struggled to breathe. I remember it all, how my father was decapitated, how he was strung to wooden poles and displayed in the royal chambers in mockery - I remember it all, and it made my lungs burn.
As I struggled to gain balance, Eric who sits in the same class as me rushes to me. "Are you okay?" He said, holding me. I wasn't okay, and I didn't think I would be anytime soon. The pain tore through my system at the remembrance of those horrible moments.
I struggled with myself, trying to accept the concept of my father's death, and everything that came after. What I could never imagine, was the reason why my father had gone down in such a way, and for what. At the moment, what also irked my pulse was why Eric was looking at me with worry when we had bad blood between us - at least after what had happened that night.
When I finally regained enough strength to move, I stepped out of his reach. I looked from Eric to Matt and he was there, unmoved and unbothered, looking at me like I was some sort of maniac.
"The Joint Power structure," I said, in a gentle voice, almost inaudibly.
Matt nodded, and I wondered if he'd bought my pathetic excuses or if he'd somehow figured out how much of an effect he had on me. I looked at Eric, and he had a bland look in his eyes. "Tick Tock.' he whispered before returning to his seat.
I felt so flustered, and my face was turning red. I knew I had to excuse myself before I made more mess of things. It was like everyone in Advania High was messing with my head on purpose. There was Matt, the English teacher who was fire and ice at the same time, and there was Eric who thought the world revolved around his clan and was trying to poach me for reasons I did not understand. There was also this mystery girl I had to find to give me answers.
I sat back down, holding the back of my head, and just a split second later, I was saved by the bell.
I went after Matt. I had made up my mind that dying of embarrassment was better than the frustration of his behavior towards me so, I needed to talk directly to him. I realized that in every class, he was constantly making me the subject of attention which was making me garner a lot of hate from his fan club and subject me to more emotional turmoil. I was like my father – I liked to be definitive about the things that surrounded me. I hated to be conflicted, and I’d rather be aware of what Matt meant to me. Was he an ally, or was he a foe?
He stopped all of a sudden and turned to me. His eyes were dark as if it changed colors – I realized that it was high time I spoke up about what was really bothering me. “Can we talk?” I asked.
“About what, Dawson?”
“I wanted to ask…” My voice was failing me again. What is it with this man? Why did my common sense evade me anytime I am with him? Why am I always short of words when I look into his eyes? It was unlike me. He took two steps close to me and stopped a foot away from me. His eyes searched my face and stopped at the plaster on my head. He sighed deeply and that was about the first real emotion he had ever displayed.
Before I could think of why he came that close and why he was making that face, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me along.