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Over the next few weeks, the whispers in the corridors of Arison had grown, so that it sounded like wind whistling through the pipes, following Opuntia everywhere she went. As September faded into October, and the dark green of the forest bloomed into brilliant reds and oranges, blooming too was the loom of mystery over the student body’s heads. Unlike the blurring passage of time, the distinction between the mindsets of the Arison population was becoming clearer every day, with the ideals of each being drawn with defined lines.
Michael Deangelo was still flaunting his support for the “ender of Arison’s” actions and had soon collected a supportive group of followers, but that wasn’t very obvious from the outside. Opuntia had to admit that they were at least doing a good job at remaining secretive since she was only aware of them because of her friends trying to be recruited into their group, the so-called, “coven of Caliban,” as the know-it-all Dorian Dalloway called it. It seemed as if they were still holding on tightly to the ideas of the Tempest, as the character of Caliban was a prominent figure in the play, known by most for possessing a magical power that was abused by his superiors. Notes would get passed around school, littered with drawings of nighthawks and even burning crosses, only to be quickly hidden away before a teacher could see.
But obviously, not everyone was in support of these actions, and some were even more blatantly against it than Opuntia. Of course, Jeremy McCain would never be caught dead going against the school, so he had seemingly put himself in charge of trying to expose the coven, but as of the end of October, had no success. Even years-long friendships were getting torn apart because of the ender, with the most prominent example being Roger Vorhees and Michael Deangelo. Once the closest of friends, along with Dorian, the three always had a dynamic that worked; that balanced each other out with the wariness from Roger, the spontaneity from Michael and the confidence from Dorian, much like how Opuntia’s friends worked together. But Michael, with the uncovering of this mystery, had gone on a downward spiral that even Roger couldn’t talk him out of, and he had dragged Dorian with him. Now, Roger would often be found eating alone or with no one but Jeremy McCain, roaming the halls with his clasped hands and sad russet brown eyes. He had transformed his prayer group into a cover for the group against the coven of Caliban, or as Teddy put it when Roger asked him to join, “the rebellion against the rebellion.” Cas even more appropriately titled it, “the brotherhood of archangel Michael,” just to jab at Michael.
Opuntia couldn’t help but feel sorry for Roger, but even if she tried to reach out and comfort him, or even ask if he wanted to sit with them, he hurriedly turned away, utterly refusing anything to do with her. She couldn’t say she was surprised. All this talk about Arison once again brought her into the spotlight, even more than she was usually. She was now not only the “girl at Arison” but also the daughter of the Executive advisor, and for some, she was their closest shot at getting revenge on the school. Just like she thought of herself, some of the students saw her as a living and breathing part of the building as if she had just climbed right off of the wall. So, she was left out of everything, with neither side choosing her to join their efforts in this war of teenage ideology. She was left to the sea of neutrals that was shrinking every day, as each team rowed their boats across it and anchored up new members by using hidden messages and persuasion. That wasn’t to say that the school wasn’t trying to calm the chaos, however.
New efforts had been taken by the staff to prevent any more messages or property damage from occurring. Now, staff members would be forced to patrol the corridors at night in shifts, instead of the usual single night guard. This was met with dismay from the students, not only because they could no longer sneak around, but also because their teachers were now even more grumpy than usual from lack of sleep. More security measures were added when a security dog was added to watch over the atrium, a drooling Rottweiler the Caesar Six had privately named, “Hammy” after seeing him devour a chunk of ham.
“I think he’s kind of cute,” Engelbart remarked as the group passed by.
“Well, sure, as long as you don’t get too close, then your face will look like that ham,” Teddy laughed.
The most daunting measure of all that the school had taken was something that Opuntia was taken aback by because she was so sure that Redwood and her father would want to keep the situation under wraps as much as possible. But low and behold, a private investigator was hired, or at least, suspected to be hired, since she spotted a tall thin man with a handlebar mustache and notepad standing next to Redwood one day, listening intently to Redwood’s muttered sentences and jotting down notes. Sampson had seemingly confirmed this once he saw him as well since the man looked eerily similar to a PI his father had hired to do background checks on his subsidiary companies, as he owned one of the most successful businesses in the entire country: Laurier Steel.
All of their rooms were checked, and more than one student was busted for owning contraband: alcohol, cigarettes, the usual stuff. But even with all of this, increased security measures, stricter punishments and even a visible uprise in assigned schoolwork, the battle was still on, and even the Caesar Six could not escape it.
The day was Halloween, but from an outsider’s perspective, it was just any regular day at the school. Unsurprisingly, no one had dressed in costumes, and no festive decorations were hung up, well maybe besides the very real spiderwebs that always hung in every corner. It was a Saturday, which meant mail day at Arison. All of the boys were eating their breakfast, lost in regular conversation when the delivery boy came around, usually a first or second-year student, who had learned all of their names by now. Opuntia was absent since she was finishing drafting a letter to Ida, detailing everything that had happened since her trip to NVHS.
“Did I get another letter already?” Wilfred asked confused, as the delivery boy handed him a small taupe envelope. “But I just got father’s, surely it couldn’t have been delivered in time,” As he said this, the mail boy handed out letters to Teddy, Sampson and Eng as well, before quickly striding away to the next table over, giving one last indicative look in their direction.
“Why am I getting a letter from Austin, Texas?” Sampson blurted out, reading the address on his letter before Wilfred motioned for him to be quiet. He had already carefully opened the envelope and scanned its contents, and soon, they all did the same.
All of the letters were identical. They were lined pieces of parchment cut in half, with the same message displayed in all capital letters.
“This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.” Do you? Do not deny it!
Today after Halloween mass, the forest.
Tell no one. We will know.
Destroy. Letter.
-- C.O.C
The boys looked up at each other, trying to process what they had just read. Before saying anything, they had all shredded their letters into pieces as small as snow, following what the words had said to do. All but Cas, who had not received one, sat in silence, watching them with an unreadable expression.
“Another Tempest quote I bet,” Was the first thing Teddy said.
“Taken out of context too, I bet,” Cas said, rolling his eyes.
“They’re getting serious now, I can’t believe they even got the mail boy on board, I always thought he was such an L7,” Sampson raised his eyebrows, impressed.
“But what will happen if we don’t go? This letter sounds as if they’re so certain of us attending?” Wilfred said in almost a whisper, leaning in so no one could overhear. From across the room, Michael watched them intently, trying to study their expressions to see whether or not they were on board.
“Dude, who says we shouldn’t go?” Sampson shrugged.
“Of course you’d think that,” Cas shot back.
“No, no, listen.” Sampson started, pausing to take a sip of orange juice.
“Yes, I know it’s breaking rules, whatever, and Michael is bordering on screwy, but if we want to find out who’s behind this, then we need to pretend that we’re in with them. Who knows what they could let slip?”
“Pretend? Half of the time it sounds like you agree with him, Sampson.” Wilfred pointed out.
“And I don’t know how Opuntia would feel about this,” Teddy reminded them, with her absence lingering in the group.
“Ok, I hate this school as much as anyone else but I don’t agree with this dorky, turf war with Shakespeare quotes, let’s make that clear,” Said Sampson, gesturing at the envelopes they had just received. “And Opuntia? Hey, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right?”
Teddy and Wilfred looked at Sampson disapprovingly. Teddy was usually always on Sampson’s side, but his friendship with Opuntia was too strong to disobey her feelings, even if she hadn’t made them clear.
“It will be helping Opuntia, she’ll be so grateful if we could find more information about the ender,” Sampson coaxed them, looking around cautiously to see if she was approaching.
“That is true,” Wilfred said slowly, tapping his chin in thought. “The ends justify the means, I suppose. But would still it be rewarding if we got caught, even if were able to figure out who is behind this?”
“Yes,” said Sampson.
“Maybe,” said Teddy.
“I don’t want to be lying, though,” said Eng, grabbing his hair, uncomfortably.
“It wouldn’t be lying,” said Sampson, almost exasperatedly. “We just wouldn’t bring it up, How would she find out?”
“She is kind of in the dark about the whole coven without us,” Teddy added, slowly but surely coming around.
“Right. And, Eng, you don’t want to get on their bad side. Luther Pollock has a wicked temper, and I’m sure he’ll be there.” That definitely seemed to win over Engelbart enough.
“So, is it settled then?” Wilfred asked, still sounding unsure but left with no other choice.
“Just tell me what happens…” Cas spoke up for the first time in a while. He wasn’t looking at them but was taking the time to polish his glasses, even though they were already clean.
“You’re not going? But we just said--” Teddy began, but Cas cut in.
“Do you see a letter for me? No.” They looked around and it was true, there was no envelope or remnants of a letter where Cas sat. They hadn’t even noticed, with the question of the letter right in front of their own faces.
“Hm, too much of a stickler for the rules, I guess,” said Sampson, giving a half-hearted laugh. But that probably wasn’t the reason, and they all knew it. Even Wilfred and Engelbart were as much of rule followers as Cas was, but there was something else that none of them dared to address.
There was something that separated Cas from the rest of them, even more than his lower-class upbringing. Casimir, whose birth name was Ichiro Seki, was a second-generation Japanese immigrant. He was the only one in all of Arison, in fact, he was the only person of colour to ever set foot in Arison. And of course, that led to some people making premature judgements about him, that even five years in, he would never be able to shake, and it was apparent now.
He just sighed, for once at a loss of quick-witted or sarcastic comments to say.
“Cas, if you don’t want us to go then we won’t,” Teddy stated, with the others nodding, Wilfred placing a hand on his shoulder.
“What? No, no, no, it’s fine,” Cas said quickly, trying to get over the subject as soon as possible. “Just go, to be honest, I wouldn’t have gone anyways.”
There was still silence from the group. Cas became more frustrated and gave one last effort to end this topic. “Look, I can distract Opuntia when you’re all gone since she’ll probably wonder where you are.”
“That sounds good,” Sampson nodded. Everyone agreed. Another plan was made but without the knowledge of their arguably most-valued member. It was true that they were doing it all for her, but then again, they also knew how much it would break her heart to find out they were keeping something from her. Unknowing she despised, but unknowing she was. 192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBBpxLx071d
“The Lord be with you,” Father Vito called out to rows of people watching him. The sun had almost set, its final rays of wine-coloured light refracting through the stained glass window above the priest’s head, bathing him in a red glow.
“And with your spirit,” the crowd replied robotically, most just being glad this signified the end of mass.
“Now, young pupils in Christ, before I send you off on this Hallow’s Eve night, I would like to say an extra prayer for you all, considering recent events at the school.” Father Vito continued before anyone could stand up. This brought about some murmuring from the people sitting in rows, looking at each other in surprise or whispering comments.
“Like a prayer is going to do anything,” Michael Deangelo muttered to Dorian, who smirked. Opuntia, being two rows behind them, partly agreed that whoever was doing this likely wouldn’t stop because of a prayer, but at least Father Vito was addressing the issue. They all murmured a prayer for protection against evil, some with more passion than others, before standing to depart.
But it all happened so fast. As Opuntia was just signing the cross in closing, she looked around wildly to see most of her pew already empty. She supposed she was so focused on watching Michael, looking over at him with disgust as he continuously whispered during the mass, that she hadn’t realized most of her friends had already gone. She looked up again, and Michael was gone too. She felt a strange feeling of loneliness wash over her, as she stood there in the aisle of the church, front and centre of that mosaic window depicting Christ. Rows upon rows were now vacant, faster than they were usually drained. The only sound now audible was the clang of the wine chalice as Father Vito cleaned it, deep in conversation with her father. She supposed she should get back to her room before he spotted her, and get back to studying, but before she could walk away something she hadn’t noticed had caught her eye.
She was not alone. There was Cas, sitting in silence, staring up at the ceiling as if he was watching the stars. She hesitated for a moment, nearly stumbling onto the dusty carpet in the aisle. She hadn’t expected to see him outside of the group, much less in church, and the thought crossed her mind if she should say something or not.
She had known Casimir for five years and had probably only spoken to him alone three times, and it was always about schoolwork. Sometimes he could be helpful, but she often felt as if he resented her, and was only friends with her to respect everyone else. It was because of this fact that she remained rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do.
‘He probably just wants to be left alone,’ she thought reasonably. But then she considered how many times she was left alone with her own thoughts when she didn’t want to be. All the times she felt like a sailor lost at sea, or a cosmonaut lost in space. She wondered if it were possible for him to currently be feeling like that and if it was worth the risk to ask.
“Why are you just standing there?” Cas suddenly asked aloud, not looking at her. She felt like a deer caught in headlights.
“Oh, Uhh, I was just leaving,” She replied hurriedly, thinking she should probably find out to where the rest of her friends had gotten to.
“You’re just going to leave?” He asked again, now turning around to look at her. She froze again, now feeling more confused than anything. Cas was asking her to stay? She had just considered the possibility of him maybe feeling lonely, but she didn’t think he would flat-out ask for company.
At the other end of the room, she saw her father begin walking towards the exit, so as not to be seen, and to obey her friend, she ducked back into the aisle next to him.
“I didn’t know you were particularly religious,” Opuntia said after a long moment of silence, still watching him stare up into the heavens. She felt bad if she was interrupting his praying, but she had a feeling he looked more lost in thought than anything else.
“I’m not,” he said simply, before shifting in his seat to fix his posture. “I don’t think anyone in this place is, besides Vorhees, of course.” He then crossed his arms, looking unintentionally defiant, as if daring her to disagree.
“I mean, Sampson always seems worried about saying the Lord’s name in vain, if that counts,” Opuntia considered, still wondering if she had made the right choice in staying.
“And you?” Cas asked, turning towards her with his eyebrow raised. “What do you think?”
“Me? About God?” Opuntia stuttered for a moment. She felt put on the spot, out of place. She was sure that these were the kind of things that Cas and Wilfred, wild intellectuals, would spend their nights discussing, this great big world conquered by their great big minds. But she was Earthbound, and she knew that.
She figured she didn’t think about religion or God as much as she should have. There were already too many things that were out of her control in her life that she didn’t know the answer to; she didn’t need to throw even higher powers into the mix. The idea of someone controlling her actions surely bothered her, but she could feel her brain itching for more, longing for those answers that she would never uncover in this life. And she didn’t like how Cas was now yanking her up from the ground and shoving her into the face of this conundrum. She partly relayed this to him as her response, albeit in a lamer, shorter way.
“Well, you know…predestination overruled, their will disposed by absolute decree or high foreknowledge,” was his response, which just left her even more confused.
“Is that another Tempest quote or something?” She asked him. He gave her an exasperated look, which she was used to seeing, although it looked a lot softer this time around.
“There are other books besides The Tempest, you know,” he said to her with a sigh. “It’s from paradise lost, which, honestly now that I think about it, is probably a much better book about rebellion that they could’ve used as their focal point.”
Opuntia just sat there with her eyebrows furrowed. They were back to the topic of the Ender, Michael Deangelo, and the coven of Caliban. She could never escape it. Cas seemed to notice her lengthy silence, with her now being the one to stare into space.
“…I do hope you know that none of us agree with what they’re doing,” he said, polishing his glasses once more. “It’s crass, and no, I’m not just saying that because I disagree with their literary analysis,” he said the last two words in air quotes, a light smirk on his hollow face.
“I know,” she lied, “but it’s only going to get worse.” She looked away to brush her bangs away from her face and pretend to appreciate the beauty of the church house.
“I mean, I even half-expected them to pull another stunt tonight, because it’s Halloween and all.” She added.
“There’s not going to be aaaany more stunts,” Cas said as if this was basic knowledge. “Because we are going to find out who’s behind it,”
She looked at him again, trying to see in his eyes if he really meant it. They were unblinking.
“Well, ok, understand that it may not be number one on my priority list, but I’m also determined to find out who this ender person is and expose them.” He explained truthfully, and she could recognize that he was trying his hardest not to sound cold in his demeanour. “But yes, school comes first. I’m not going to let my parents pay a fortune just to not get a quality education.”
She smiled and immediately felt sympathy again, remembering how hard he had worked to get into Arison, just to be scared of losing it all due to his friends’ unruly plans. At least she knew his parents, unlike hers or even Teddy’s father, would support him no matter what since he always spoke very highly of them.
“I’m sure they’re proud of you still,” she said admiringly. “Who wouldn’t be?”
But Cas just sighed and shook his head, turning his body away from her. She feared she had overstepped, but the lack of a sarcastic comment was at least a good sign.
They suddenly heard a set of muffled footsteps approach them in the form of Father Vito, looking surprised to see them still there.
“I’m sorry, I hate to shut you out of the Lord’s house,” he said in his huffed and crackled voice, “but you must get back to the school, it’s very late. An old man like m of e has a bedtime, you know,” he chuckled at these last words, before escorting them out of the church house, Cas and Opuntia walking side-by-side, the sky now splattered with stars. Cas nervously looked back toward the forest, wondering what the rest of his friends were up to, and hoping he had served as a good enough distraction. A distraction, that’s all that it was right? Opuntia didn’t think so, and subconsciously, Cas didn’t think so either.192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJJzp0Ke2fK
