09| red

NADIA

I sat down, my eyes landing on my brother's tattoo, which had been there for as long as I could remember.

The intricate design seemed to dance on his skin, a constant reminder of a secret he kept hidden. I remembered asking about it when I was younger, and he told me he got it when he was just 16. I had assumed that, like our parents, I would eventually get one too. But now, that idea seemed far from true.

The tattoo was a symbol of a bond, a mark that signified belonging to a specific group or family. But I didn't know what it meant, and Zeke's reluctance to explain only made me want to know more.

"I can't tell you anything," Zeke said, his voice blank and unyielding. I rolled my eyes, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Thanks for a waste of time," I said, getting up from the chair.

"You're welcome," he replied, his expression unchanged. I shot him a middle finger and headed to the bathroom, eager to wash away the disappointment.

As I showered and got ready for the day, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. What was my family hiding from me? And why did Zeke's tattoo seem to hold so much significance?

I was forced to push away my thoughts when I found myself in English class already. Another literature lesson where Mr. Grayson was droning on about our current novel, "The Great Gatsby". I barely paid attention, my mind wandering to the strange encounter with Zeke.

"Hey, what's up with you?" I heard a voice whisper. I turned to see Vicky, her green eyes gleaming with boredom. I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek. "Nothing," I replied, not wanting to get into it.

Vicky raised her hands in defense and went back to her own world, leaving me to my thoughts.

Mr. Grayson continued to lecture, oblivious to the sleepy students around him. The door opened, and my eyes landed on a familiar figure. It was Elijah, his hood up, revealing only his nose and lips. He tilted his head up, his eyes scanning the room, the action was simple but he made it look so perfect. 

He made his way to the only empty seat - the one next to mine.

"My Gray, I think you should learn a thing or two from your sister about perfect attendance and no late coming," Mr. Grayson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Elijah ignored him, and walked over to my desk. "Take your seat, Mr. Gray. I do not have all day," Mr. Grayson continued, his voice firm.

I noticed his jaw clenched as his olive eyes, which had been hidden by the hood, finally came into view as he took off his hood. Our eyes locking.

He took his seat next to me, his woodsy scent - a mix of pine, cedar, and a hint of sandalwood - engulfing me. I tried to not make it obvious that I liked it, but my nostrils flared slightly as I breathed in deeper.

"Well, you look like shit," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear, as Mr. Grayson continued to drone on.

Elijah's eyes narrowed slightly, but he replied bluntly, "Good, that makes two of us." My lips parted in shock, and I felt a spark of amusement at his straightforward response.

"I see you also had a shitty morning,"

"Just stating the obvious, Evens," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

Mr. Grayson cleared his throat, his eyes on us. "Ms. Evens, do you have an answer for us?"

I blinked, my mind still on Elijah's scent and our exchange. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, do you have an answer for us?" Mr. Grayson repeated. I looked over at Elijah, absolutely puzzled. "Can you repeat the question, please?"

Elijah smirked at the sight and I just knew he was enjoying this. "I think Mr. Grayson wants to know about the symbolism of the green light in The Great Gatsby," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I turned back to Mr. Grayson, my mind racing. "Oh, uhm," I smiled slightly. "The green light represents the elusive American Dream, which Gatsby longs for. It symbolizes hope, wealth, and the unattainable goal that Gatsby strives for."

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "I think it's more than that. It's a symbol of Gatsby's obsession, his fixation on something he can never have."

Mr. Grayson nodded. "There are opinions that vary, class. Good insights you two."

Just then, a classmate, Jake, chimed in, "I think the green light is just a fancy way of saying Gatsby's got a crush on Daisy!" The class erupted in laughter, and the bell rang, dismissing us from class.

"Guys, don't forget about your literature research I'll be giving you in a few days," Mr Grayson said but more than half of the class was gone by the time he said that.

□□□

"Have you guys ever felt like your parents were hiding something from you?" I ask, and the whole group goes silent, looking at me like I had just shifted into an alien.

"Yeah, a number of things," Vicky shrugs. Anthony chimes in, "Like the time I found out my parents had a secret stash of embarrassing dance videos from their wedding."

I shake my head, "No, I mean something more serious." Vicky raises an eyebrow, "What, are your parents getting a divorce or something?" I trail off, "No, no... I don't think so. It's sort of like one of those long-life secrets."

Anthony quips, "Well, unless your whole family are in reality werewolves, then I don't know what." Vicky rolls her eyes, "Don't listen to him, he's just an airhead." I shake my head, the curiosity eating me up.

Ishan speaks up, "Or even worse, they could be a part of the mafia." I shake my head, "I think they would tell me, no?" Ishan counters, "Well, they've hidden a secret for nearly two decades, so I'm sure that isn't far-fetched - with all due respect, though."

"Have you guys seen Elijah?" Ishan asked, chewing on his fries. "He said he'd help me with this detention task, and I really need to get it done before Mr. Ronald breathing down my neck." Vicky shrugs, indicating she hasn't seen him, and the rest of the group follows suit.

"Well, help me look for him, because I really need his help with this essay. Elijah said he'd assist me with research and editing, and I can't afford to mess this up."

Just then, two doll faces appear at our table, and I sigh with an eye roll, kissing my drama-free day goodbye.

I arch my brow at Barbara, who plops her handbag on our lunch table like she's claiming territory. She mirrors my actions, expecting me to roll out the red carpet for her and her little Lord of the rings.

Barbara clenches her jaw, her eyes flashing with determination. "I need to talk to you." I smirk, enjoying the show. "Is that a request?" I tease, knowing she's not here to make small talk.

"Yes," she grits out, looking like the word pains her. Her gaze darts to the rest of my friends, who are watching the exchange.

"Don't worry, we'll leave you alone. Another second in your presence, I might catch a rash... or something equally contagious," Vicky says. They then saunter off, leaving me with Barbara and her tension.

"So, spit it out," I say, my curiosity piqued despite myself. Barbara hesitates, her eyes darting around the cafeteria like she's searching for an escape route. "It's about... your brother," she finally blurts out. I stifle a laugh, my eyes widening in disbelief.

This had to be some joke, right?

"Is this some joke?" I snort, but Barbara's expression remains dead serious.

I shake my head, chuckling. "Look, if you want to talk to my brother, just do it, okay? He's not God; there's no need to put him on a pedestal." I say, trying to reason with her. "So, no can do, okay?" I turn to leave, but Barbara grabs my arm, her grip strong.

"I'll do anything, okay?" she says, her eyes pleading. I raise an eyebrow, surprised by how desperate she was. "Anything?" I repeat, my mind racing with possibilities. She seems to regret her words instantly, but it's too late now.

"Well, first, you're going to apologize for what you did to Blue - publicly - and... write a poem about your undying love for him," I say, enjoying the power dynamic shift. Barbara's eyes widen in horror, but she nods, giving in.

"Fine," I smile victoriously, my eyes landing on something - or someone - behind her.

From a distance, I see Elijah, surrounded by a gaggle of girls, his expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Bastard. He was here the whole time.

Barbara follows my gaze, her eyes narrowing as she turns back to me. "Well, well, well. Seems like I'm the only one who's head over heels,"