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Opuntia never learned what Sampson was really up to that day until many years after the fact. She only remembered arriving to class just on time, taking her seat without a word and beginning her test, with Mr. Drownreef looming over his students like a grim omen. She was putting 100% of her energy into this test, not even because she cared greatly about her result, though that wouldn’t be untrue, but because she could not bear to think about anything else. She was more focused on this than anything in her life, but even still, she seemed to be the first one in her class to hear the sounds drifting up from the floor below.
There was cheering, chanting of some kind, and though she couldn’t make out the words, she had a strong feeling of what the mob was saying. And there was music, music that sounded grand, larger than life, that sent vibrations through the floor of the classroom even with it only being a faint hum from where she sat. There it was, her ‘front row seat’ though this was as close as she wanted to get. She knew she was wasting precious seconds but she couldn’t help snatching a glance at her peers around her. Of course, Wilfred was paying the commotion no mind, since he was scribbling as fast as lightning on his test sheet, his face pressed so close to his paper that she thought he would get graphite smudges on his nose. To her left, Teddy was tapping his pencil absentmindedly to the beat of the music but also seemed unbothered. To her right, Opuntia could see that Engelbart looked nervous, but what else was new? With his hands running through his amber-brown hair and his eyes constantly flickering at the clock, it was clear to her that none of them seemed to care, again. But she was brought back to her senses by a loud smack that made the whole room stiffen at once. Drownreef had whipped his wooden ruler through the air and onto the desk of a student in the front row.
“Eyes on your own paper, Dovey,” he commanded in his rumbling drawl.
“Sorry, sir, it’s just hard to focus when there’s a lot of noise downstairs.” Greg Dovey dared to peep. Opuntia expected Drownreef to grab Greg’s paper and tear it to shreds as she had seen so many times before, but Drownreef could not deny the growing buzz and swell of orchestral-like music, and she watched his sunken face change as curiosity took over him. With a hurried look back at his students, he poked his head out of the classroom door, only to find other teachers doing the same all across the corridor.
“Is this a choir rehearsal for the Christmas mass?” She heard him ask Mr. Maystine in a low whisper.
“Not that I know of,” Maystine replied. But they didn’t have to question it any longer, because the whoops and cries from the cafeteria right below their feet were growing louder by the second, and they were calling one name,
“Laurier, Laurier, Laurier,”
Opuntia buried her face in her hands, trying to keep her composure and get back to her test as the seconds ticked by. She wanted to run towards the noise, but she also wanted to take off running the other way, into the cold winter morning until she drowned in the slippery snow. But when she opened her eyes, all she saw was the picture of the cerebral cortex she was supposed to be labelling.
Drownreef then quickly snapped the door shut and reminded his students of how much time was left, something that Opuntia knew, regarding both her test and her friend’s time at Arison, was very little.
The staff of course kept the rest of the students in the dark for the rest of the day, as they had with everything else, but it was so extreme by now that they were instructed to stay in their classrooms during lunch period, with their break only consisting of a silent thirty minutes with heads firmly between their arms on the desk. For her, it was English class, with only Cas keeping her company since Sampson was obviously absent. Mr. Martin was especially on edge, fearing another ender attack, so he viscously shouted at anyone who moved an inch. He was even harsh on Roger Vorhees, the type one Diabetic who had not eaten all day and was therefore trembling with hypoglycemia.
Despite what Sampson Laurier had said many times before, he was not a moron. After all, he had put an entire expulsion plot that would be remembered for decades and pulled it off without a hitch. But what he failed to consider was how his ‘flawless’ plan would be viewed by others, especially the staff, whom he was so sure would blame him and only him. But unluckily for him, and unluckily for the rest of the Caesar Six, that was wrong.
“You, girl, come with me,” the librarian beckoned her in a hushed voice but held some urgency. It was the last period and Opuntia was attempting to appreciate her upcoming break from school, and admittingly catching up on some calculus homework when she was abruptly coaxed from her seat in the corner. Quickly stuffing her books away, she followed the wheezing and balding librarian across the school, through hallways glowing from the blood-red sun, down the stairs slick with slush from outside and through the atrium now lit up by a grand advent wreath. As she followed cautiously, small hoards of boys pushed past in the other direction, heading to the Christmas mass but not forgetting to gawk at her as they went. They knew where she was headed. She knew where she was headed and she was cursing everyone and everything in her mind. Up the dreaded stairs that led to that god-forsaken place: Redwood’s office.
It was a relief but not a surprise to find that she was not alone, for as soon as she levelled the top of the staircase she was met by four pairs of eyes, some worried, some annoyed, basically summing up how she felt.
The librarian did a head count of all of them, panting from his long journey, before opening the door a sliver to the headmaster’s office. Opuntia tried to get a peek inside to see if Sampson was there but couldn’t see a thing.
“They’re all here, professor,” the librarian said in his hoarse voice.
“Very well,” Redwood called back, in a tone that could only be described as a stick of dynamite, ready to blow in mere moments. “We’re bringing them in one at a time. Call Lehoten first.”
Everyone looked up at Wilfred, who was able to maintain a calm disposition even after being sent to his doom. He straightened his posture and smoothed out his uniform pants before walking into the room, Teddy just managing to give him a swift shoulder pat as he did so. The door closed with a whoosh.
The four remaining held their breath. It was like they were getting killed off one by one, slowly being lured from the group before the pounce, and as the librarian hobbled back down the stairs, they were finally able to speak their minds, but none seemed to want to.
Eng immediately took to pacing back and forth around the corridor, his pallor slowly becoming more and more apparent. “This…is so bad, very, very, very bad.” He muttered under his breath.
“Don’t worry,” Teddy tried to assure him, though he was looking nervous himself. “We really didn’t have anything to do with this. They have no proof.”
“But if Sampson’s right about the ender—” Eng began to point out, remembering Sampson’s theory on Redwood being behind the ender acts would have to involve him getting framed with no evidence.
“But that’s him, they can’t expel us, or not Wilfred, at least,” Teddy continued, gesturing to the closed door of the headmaster’s office. “It’ll lower the school GPA by a full point.”
Cas, on the other hand, was perched on the banister railing looking down to the atrium, his hand pinching his nose bridge like he was in great pain or frustration, probably both.
“I knew this was a stupid plan. I knewww it,” he said in his drawled-out tone.
“Oh, did you, now?” Opuntia asked him, the first time speaking to them all day. She could feel her emotions begin to spill out again, as much as she hated to see it. She was telling herself to stop being emotional but it was just too much. The anger and helplessness was only building more and more, weighing down on her chest like an anvil, and she needed to breathe.
“Because you didn’t seem to care at all during the society meeting.”
She watched Cas clench his jaw at these words and knew he had feared this response from her. Engelbart had stopped pacing, and Teddy’s face suddenly grew very sheepish.
“Diomedes,” Redwood’s sharp voice was once again calling down the hall, but it was a name she did not recognize. She whipped her head around to see Wilfred being escorted towards the dorms by the vice principal, only the back of his large frame visible.
“Who is—” Opuntia started to ask, but she then saw Engelbart, whose face had nearly achieved desaturation.
“That’s…me,” he said in a barely audible whisper.
“But your name is—” Cas also began to speak but Eng cut in,
“It doesn’t matter,” he turned away from them, ready to face his doom.
“Wait, hold on,” Opuntia said before reaching out to fix his characteristically crooked tie, knowing how cutthroat Redwood was about the uniforms.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, some of the colour thankfully returning to his face. He then shuffled into the dimly lit room, and there was silence for only a moment before Opuntia turned to her friends, completely forgetting the tension she was building between them.
“I never knew his name was Diomedes,” she said abruptly, feeling slightly guilty since she assumed this was probably something a friend should know. She tried to think back to every single conversation she had with him, and could not remember him saying his name. Only Engelbart.
“I didn’t know either,” Cas agreed, looking strangely impressed. “He only ever just went by his last name, but well, Engelbart can technically be a first name, so I just assumed that was it.”
Opuntia still felt guilty.
“How could we have never learned his name? Is it just us that don’t know?”
Teddy was shaking his head, with a small but sad smile.
“I knew, but if I had to guess I don’t think Sampson or Wilfred know either. It’s just one of those things. He told me he doesn’t really like going by his first name.”
“How could you not like a name like that?” Cas said, almost aghast. “Diomedes is one of the greatest warriors in all of Greek mythology. He was integral to the Greek’s success in the Iliad!” This was the most excited Cas had sounded in a while, clearly illuminated by this discovery.
She supposed Eng-- or Diomedes, just thought his name was weird, but then again, her name was Latin for cactus, so she really didn’t have the right to talk.
“I got to choose any English name for myself and I didn’t choose that, damn.” Cas babbled on.
“Just, don’t bring it up, OK?” Teddy made them promise. “I mean, there’s obviously a reason why he didn’t tell anyone, I only know because I’m his roommate.”
“A reason besides speaking three words per day?” Cas suggested cruelly.
“We’re not going to say anything,” Opuntia replied, now remembering why exactly they were standing in an empty hallway, parked right in front of the headmaster’s office.
Soon, Cas was called in, leaving the party to two people. She and Teddy sat in silence for a while, Opuntia now taking Cas’ place on the banister. The bell had rang and the students were now congregated in the church house, leaving the school a ghost town besides themselves. It grew darker and darker as dusk fell, and there was the sound of music again, but this time, it was indeed the choir and their softly eerie rendition of O’Holy night.
“I know you’re upset with all of us,” Teddy broke the silence, turning to her with the same sheepish expression. “I get it, I would absolutely be upset too,”
Opuntia just sighed. Of course, she was upset, she felt like a walking tumour of emotions, but she just let her friend continue.
“My reaction was the same as you when Sampson first told me,” Teddy explained, though Opuntia found it hard to believe.
“I guess I just didn’t want things to change, and so abruptly…” Opuntia finally said.
“I don’t want them to change either, but think about it, things already have changed so much since last year,”
He was referring to the ender, and Opuntia supposed he was right. There was no way of returning to the way things were. Back when the only problems were school work and Jeremy McCain’s annoying comments. This was a permanent stain on their legacy that the six of them could never escape.
“But I think even more than that,” Teddy pushed on, “I just want everyone to be happy. And I guess Sampson’s gonna be way happier once he gets out of this place so I didn’t want to ruin that for him. That’s why I didn’t say anything,”
Guilt flooded Opuntia once again, this time for a different reason. In an attempt to keep her friends together, she had somehow driven them further away from her. Sampson was leaving. And she didn’t even bother to face him. Maybe she was jealous that he could be free while she would never be. She just looked away from Teddy, pursing her lips and staring down the dim corridor. She sat there, feeling like an idiot. But Teddy would not rest in trying to cheer her up.
“Ok, obviously things won’t be the same but you’ll still have the rest of us, right?” he said with a halfhearted smile. “I’m sure once we all have a long break, and get some university acceptances, everything will be a breeze. Well, maybe not a breeze, but we’ll be happier.”
“Yeah…” Opuntia sighed. In actuality, none of these promises lifted her spirits. She didn’t know if she wanted her spirits lifted. She just wanted to sit there and let all of her feelings out. But she at least appreciated the fact that Teddy was trying. He was hopelessly pulling an anchor out of the sea, trying to get it to see the sky. And it wasn’t working, but at the end of the day, he was trying. For her, Sampson, Eng, everyone. She only wished he didn’t tear himself apart having to worry about how everyone else was feeling.
“Theodore Dodgerson,” the booming voice beckoned once more. He too went into the unknown, giving a wave to her and holding up crossed fingers. She was left alone.
Seven hours after Sampson made his grand exit plan, Opuntia was called into the office. She was finally about to know the truth about what was happening, but for one of the first times in her life, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
As soon as she stepped inside that room painted a deep red, she observed just who had been hiding there all along. Of course, there was Redwood, but there was also the Vice Principal, who she had seen escorting her friends out after their interrogations. There was also that private investigator, painted like a silhouette against the frosted window, his eyes peering at her like a curious cat. Finally, when the door shut, she saw her father, bathed in shadow and cigarette smoke, his long fingers reaching in front of her to pull out a hard wooden chair for her to sit. She didn’t make a sound. She sat down, her back straight, her hair brushed away from her face, and her eyes staring unblinkingly at her principal, trying her absolute hardest not to show any fear behind them.
Redwood had to look around at his colleagues before beginning. The investigator flipped to a clean page in his notebook, and the VP had shakily pulled out a file with her name plastered on it. With this confirmation, Redwood finally began. He looked exhausted and like a fire running out of fuel. It was clear he was still upset but didn’t know how much more energy he could spend. Opuntia wondered if this fact would be to her advantage.
“Opuntia Madea,” Redwood began, his beady eyes meeting her own, the wrinkle in his forehead very pronounced. “I’m guessing you, like the rest of your friends, don’t know why you're here,”
Opuntia hesitated for a split second, then nodded. She did suppose she knew Sampson was going to do something Redwood would not approve of, but she didn’t know exactly what it was and technically had no part in it. If all of her friends had played dumb, she thought she should too.
“You speak when you’re asked a question, young lady,” Redwood snarled, and Opuntia felt a jolt of fear trickle down her spine.
“Yes, sir,” she corrected herself.
“So, you’re telling me you had absolutely no idea what Laurier was planning to do on this day?”
“No, sir,”
“Well, I, frankly, find that hard to believe since you and that little group are always attached at the hip.” Redwood spat, his eyebrows so furrowed they appeared conjoined. Opuntia didn’t know what to say to this. Yes, they were her friends. Yes, they were the only people in this goddamn school who looked out for her. Or, at least, they used to. It was a lot more difficult these days.
“I didn’t know, sir,” She said robotically. Her father had now circled around to stand next to Redwood, placing his hands down on the smooth oak table.
“You didn’t try to help him with his pathetic little stunt?” Redwood continued.
“No sir, I didn’t,”
“The attendance sheet says she was in biology class, Norman,” The VP murmured to Redwood, who snatched the paper from his hands suspiciously. Opuntia was nervously fixing her bangs and picking lint from her sweater as Redwood inspected. She was so desperate to find out her friends’ fates, whether or not Sampson was getting blamed as the ender, and, although she was pretty certain, if he was indeed getting expelled.
“I still find it very hard to believe that Laurier was able to keep his big mouth shut about this, and pull it off without any help, especially regarding you…” Redwood was now staring at Opuntia again, and with every second she was growing more and more uncomfortable. Again, she was at a loss for words. She hated this narrative he was painting of her. Did he think she was just that, Sampson’s muse? Did he not see how what he did was affecting her probably much more than him? She was no one’s muse, especially in this place.
“I don’t think he wanted any of us to get in trouble, sir,” Opuntia said in a voice as quiet as a mouse. Redwood scoffed and brushed her words off.
“More like savour all the attention for himself. And let me ask you this, missy, do you have any idea of why your very close friend would do something like this?” He was expecting an answer from her, and she knew as much as it hurt saying this, it wasn’t far from the truth.
“Most likely for attention, sir,” She said, not being able to look at him.
“Attention from who, exactly?” Redwood prompted her, further leading her to the answer he wanted. She just stared at him. Her tongue felt numb. She knew what he wanted, and she would not say it. She felt sick. Her hands were gripping her knees so tightly, that she could feel her fingernails dig into her skin. She would not say it. It wasn’t true. But miraculously, she wouldn’t have to answer, because at that moment her father had seen enough.
“Norman,” He said abruptly. “You do know who you’re speaking to, right?” She was taken aback. He had never even acknowledged their relationship on school grounds, though it was fairly obvious. And yes, he didn’t flat-out call her his daughter, but he was…standing up for her, in a way.
“I’m trying to conduct an investigation, Mordred!” Redwood suddenly cried out, immediately standing from his chair and turning to face Mordred, though he only came up to his chin. “This school is falling to pieces and if we cannot figure out who is behind it we’ll have no chance.” His voice was rising by the second, once again full of rage and not being able to control his temper. Opuntia shrunk back in her chair, mortified, but Mordred just looked down at him with indifference.
“For a stupid, no-good, low-life, stinking practical joke to be put on after everything else that’s happened this year, you of all people should be more concerned that Arison is getting eaten alive! We cannot tolerate it!” This was not the demeanour of a man who was the mastermind behind it all. Redwood was always blunt, unable to control his emotions just like her. And just like her thought with Mr. Martin, he either had to be putting on a hell of a show, or he was not the ender.
“Then we keep them here, we whip them into submission until they see no point in their asinine games,” was Mordred’s response. Was this what she thought it meant? The question was once again clawing its way out of her throat, and before she could help herself, she blurted out.
“Is Sampson not getting expelled?”
A pause. She knew she had spoken out of term but it was too late. Both Redwood and her father turned to look at her, and even the nearly blind VP squinted in her direction. Redwood’s gullet flew open but it was Mordred who actually answered. He leaned across the table to look his daughter in the face, their hair, their noses, and sharp jaws mirroring each other. When he spoke, it was as cold as ice.
“When a boy wants nothing more than to leave this place, what kind of fool would I be to hand that right to him?” His question hung in the air as Opuntia’s airway tightened, unable to say anything more. But the message was clear. Sampson wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t leaving. He couldn’t escape this wicked game no matter how hard he tried. Even the most dangerous outbursts would only make the school fight back ten times harder, and she was sure he was left with this news, absolutely seething. But did it make her selfish, and truly vile inside to feel some strange sense of joy?
“Please, it’s almost Christmas,” Vice Principal Howell was now clobbering to his feet, getting between Mordred and Redwood, who were still staring daggers at each other. “We need to go home to our families, I’m sure. It was unprofessional in my years of teaching to argue in front of a student. Especially, a lady.”
The two men continued staring at each other for a moment before Redwood eventually turned his back to everyone. The private investigator, who had not spoken the entire time, seemed to be writing down this whole conversation.
“Fine, have a merry Christmas,” was all the headmaster said, though his tone still sounded acidic. Without another word, Mordred swiftly strode out of the office, which was Opuntia’s cue to leave as well.
“…Merry Christmas,” she spoke awkwardly into the silence. She was once again left with that lingering look from Redwood, and she was unsure if it was targeted towards her or her blood relative who had just departed. But either way, his eyes of burning coal followed her out the door and stared at the spot where she vanished into the dark hall.
This had to have been the most chaotic day Opuntia had ever experienced in a while. Anger, fear, disappointment, guilt, and now this strange sense of bittersweetness carried her to her room next door, where her father waited for her, one hand on his hip, the other gripping her doorknob.
“You will pack your things immediately and will not say a word to anyone else. Is that understood?” Even with his small act of loyalty to his daughter, he was once again back to acting like she was a pain in his side, an annoying pest that had to be dealt with.
“Yes, Father,” she said back to him, feeling her tiny sense of elation diminish.
She had only planned to leave without one goodbye, and now she would have to leave all of her friends waiting. Two and a half weeks she would not see them. But in two and a half weeks, she would not have to deal with the newfound awkwardness and hostility between them. She just hoped that it would be fixed when they got back but that might’ve been wishful thinking. And as she looked back at Arison, a mere shadow against the slate sky surrounded by glittering evergreens, she knew all too well that it was no place to wish.159Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvMraV2CE2Q
