k n i g h t i n q u e s t i o n

"I'm worried about Miles," I confessed to Ean, three afternoons later, while we were on our shift at Wavelength.

It wasn't that I worried about him all the time (well, actually, I did), but Marcel wasn't the only one who kept me updated about Corvus' activities. Miles did the same, any time the seniors in his frat called for a meeting, he'd text me to tell me if there was any news.

I'd tried calling Miles multiple times, but couldn't seem to get through his line. Either his cell was disconnected, or it had run out of battery. I hadn't heard from Marcel either, which eventually made a tight knot of anxiety form in my stomach, and a disconcerting feeling that I couldn't quite shake away.

"Well, if you're worried, go see him," Ean returned emphatically, pushing me aside as I tried to work the cash register.

Needless to say, the machine still befuddled me, and I was certain it was going to remain a constant source of mystery; along with the hundred and one other electronic gadgets I'd never quite learnt how to operate.

I frowned, watching him tinker with the cash register, punching in the numbers with ease. The thought of visiting Miles had crossed my mind, but I had other priorities at that moment. "You know I can't, I have to watch the shack."

"I'll watch the shack."

"Aw," I cooed, reaching up to pinch his cheek. He swatted me away and shot me the middle finger, but I was unfazed. Ean was a huge softie, and I loved that he and I got along just fine. "You're the sweetest."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, shoving me in the direction of the back door. "So leave."

But I hesitated. While I did want to check up on Miles, the thought of going there alone was fairly intimidating. I was certain I'd feel like a complete child among all the other college students, returning to campus for summer classes.

"Hey, Ean?" The question had slipped past my lips before I could even reconsider, and he glanced over at me. "Want to come along?"

He grinned, a knowing look on his face. "You're scared, aren't you?"

"I'm not," I cried, pointing at him threateningly with the ice-pop I was currently chomping on. Every bite gave me a mini brain-freeze, but I loved that sensation. "I just don't want to get lost, that's all. And you know how I lose my way all the time."

This wasn't entirely a lie. I was hopeless at finding my way. I'd once gotten lost in a shopping mall, and since I'd forgotten to bring my cell then, I spent the next three hours wandering around, because it was far too embarrassing to go up to the front desk and actually explain to them that an eighteen-year old girl had somehow gotten lost in a six-storey mall.

Ean seemed to buy my explanation, for the next moment, he was obligingly flipping the 'OPEN' sign around. After sending a quick text to Mom, telling her that we had something to see to, he began to lock up the shack using his own key.

There wasn't going to be any problems with Mom, I was sure of that, since I knew she was more than happy to hear that we were 'bonding'. She liked all sorts of bonding, family-bonding, sibling-bonding, the more the merrier.

Ean caught up with me, sending dust flying in my direction as he kicked at the sand lazily. "Well, this should be fun."

"It will be. Like an adventure," I enthused, but then faltered as he looked at me a little strangely. "Come on, can't you show some excitement about this? We hardly spend any time together."

"That's because you're a constant source of embarrassment to me."

I scowled, knowing that there was a teasing smirk playing on the corners of his lips. "How rude. You should be flattered that I even bother about you - most older siblings don't."

"Then their younger siblings must be terribly fortunate."

So continued our banter, which was something very typical between the both of us. We loved teasing each other, as most siblings usually did, and even though he could get terribly obnoxious at times, I honestly didn't mind. It was far better than us arguing all the time, anyway.

We were on the bus when Ean finally noticed where we were headed. "Why're we going to Riverton when Miles is on break?"

"Because that's where he lives," I explained, "You know those stately houses on campus, where the professors live? His Dad's the dean."

Ean frowned in confusion. "How did you know that?"

"Because Miles told me, he said his father was the college dean - "

"No, I meant the thing about professors living on campus."

I shrugged. There were a lot of things I knew about Riverton, even though much of it I didn't actually want to know. But it was difficult to explain it explicitly to Ean, so I instead settled for saying, "Most campuses have that anyway."

Ean still looked puzzled, but he was soon distracted when the bus pulled to a halt, and we had to get off. We walked the rest of the way to the Riverton campus, which wasn't far at all.

Riverton was a beautiful campus, filled with lush greenery and grand buildings. No doubt the school was well funded and wasn't on any sort of tight budget whatsoever. But somehow, that beauty seemed marred when I thought of the initiations and hazings I'd seen.

Despite it being the summer break, there were still quite a few students around. And after stopping a girl to ask her for directions to the dean's house, Ean and I headed in the direction she pointed and soon arrived at a lovely white two-storey house. It had a certain grandeur to it that other houses in the vicinity lacked.

And I was suddenly feeling a whole lot anxious. So, nudging Ean, I muttered, "Ring the doorbell."

Ean rolled his eyes but rang it all the same. It took awhile, but we were soon ushered into the house by an old, maternal-looking lady who seemed to be the housekeeper.

I was just about to inquire about Miles, when she escorted us into the sitting room, told us that the Dean would be down to see us soon, and left, presumably to call him down.

Ean and I stared at each other in shock for a moment, until he let out a low whistle. "This is going to be awkward."

I had to agree. This wasn't going according to how I planned, at all. For starters, I'd expected Miles to greet us at the door. And I didn't plan on meeting Miles's father at all. The housekeeper had probably presumed we were students here.

But we weren't. And I dreaded having to explain to Miles's Dad.

Lowering my voice, I murmured to Ean, who was looking thoroughly uncomfortable, "Be on your best behaviour."

"We should make a run for it, honestly."

"Don't you dare ditch me."

"No, I mean it. We could create a distraction, I'll yell 'Fire!' and you can run - "

But his words were cut off when a deep, crisp voice echoed down the hall, and the both of us immediately shot up straight in our seats, our postures rigid.

"You asked to see me?"

It was Miles's father. Glancing at him briefly as he entered the room, I immediately noted the similarities Miles shared with his father. The shade of their hair colour was the same, and so was the slope of their noses.

He scrutinised the both of us closely, no doubt sizing us up, and I felt my cheeks burning under his gaze. It was fortunate that I'd spent most of my life being scrutinised like an ant under a magnifying glass, such that intense stares like these hardly bothered me anymore.

Standing up, I took a bold step forward and lifted a hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Darcy Evers. And this is my brother, Ean," I added, pulling Ean up from the chair so that he was standing beside me.

Mr Callaghan gave my hand a firm shake and nodded briefly, expression still stern and unrelenting. "Which faculty are you in and how may I help you?"

Biting my lip nervously, I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Well, here's the thing - we're not from Riverton," I stated, flatly, wondering if he would, perhaps, throw us out of the campus if that were the case.

His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. "Not from Riverton? Which school are you from, then?"

"Macrae, sir."

Then there was that beat. That beat of realisation where the person, if he was a local in this area, realised that I wasn't from a normal school, nor was I a normal student.

"Macrae?" He repeated, and was there that hint of judgement in his tone, or was it just me? "The school for - "

" - kids with special needs," I finished simply, and beside me, I felt Ean's posture go rigid. "Yes, that. I'm a senior there."

His eyebrows knitted together tightly, like a spool of tightened thread that refused to unwind, no matter how much one tugged on it. It was unlikely that Miles could ever unwind such a person, much less me, a total stranger.

"So how may I help you?" he asked, unexpectedly.

I was rather expecting him to press on about my education, but since he didn't, I decided it was best to just cut straight to the chase. "I came to see Miles, sir. If he's at home, that is."

His frown seemed to deepen even further, and I half felt like bolting. "Miles isn't home. I expect he's out teaching, as usual. How do you know him?"

"We - " I cut myself off abruptly. It probably wasn't the best idea to mention the hazing, for I wasn't even sure Miles had told his Dad about it in the first place. "We met at the beach."

"At the beach?"

"Yes, sir, my parents run the shack down at the beach."

"And you and Miles are...?"

I knew exactly what he was hinting at. "Just friends."

He nodded, a look of relief on his face, and I couldn't help but frown. What would his expression have been like, if I'd actually lied and said we were dating? Not that we were, of course. But the alternative seemed like something he thoroughly wouldn't approve of.

"So, tell me, Darcy, will you be attending Riverton eventually? It'd be nice to have a student like yourself. The school board will - make some proper arrangements, I'm sure," he added, when I didn't say anything.

"I'd love to, sir, but I'm afraid I can't."

"And why not?"

Well, one had to be truthful, even though the truth was somewhat humiliating. "I didn't exactly do well in my SATs. I'm hoping to retake it again this November, and maybe I'll pass this time round."

His gaze turned somewhat calculating. It wasn't an unusual expression, I'd seen it before on people, people who were smart and well-educated. They acted like doing poorly in the SATs was the biggest calamity that ever happened.

It wasn't. My parents told me that bigger tragedies have happened. Planes crashed and people died during wars and there were thousands of starving people in the world.

Those were the real tragedies. Not some simple exams.

So, with a smile that I hoped seemed bright enough, I continued, "I think I will too. Miles is great at teaching me."

The second his expression turned disapproving, I knew I had said the wrong thing.

"My son teaches you?"

"Well, yes."

"Are you a part of his class or - "

I was digging a deeper hole, not just for myself, but for Miles, but his gaze was unrelenting, and I found it difficult to actually lie. "He offered to and I said yes. It was really nice of him to do so, and he's a brilliant teacher."

"And he knows that you've got - problems?"

Ean inhaled a sharp breath, and I knew Mr Callaghan's words had hit a raw nerve. Not just with me, but with Ean as well, who was terribly sensitive about my learning disability, even more so than I was.

I couldn't lose my cool. Not now. Keeping my gaze levelled, I tried to remember my parents' words. Nothing to be ashamed of, Darcy, they'd always told me, hold your head high, don't be ashamed of anything.

It had taken me some years to get that drilled into my head, and I occasionally still doubted myself. Under his gaze, I felt like my learning disability was something to be ashamed of, and I hated that. I felt thoroughly small and stupid.

Maybe that was why Miles was thoroughly afraid of disappointing his father. Because he had to face his father's gaze every single day of his life, no escaping there.

"I don't have problems," I replied, evenly.

"I've done a study in learning disabilities once," He continued, oblivious to the tension in the room. "While some of these wear out with time, others don't. And if yours still acts up sporadically, realistically-speaking, you may have a difficult time doing well in your SATs."

"That doesn't mean I can't try."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Darcy. But if you want to get into a good college like Riverton, it might take a little more than having decent grades for your SATs. Have you been for any internships, or taken any summer jobs?"

I shrugged. "No, not really. I work at my parents' shack every summer."

"What about your future?"

"What about her future?" This came from Ean, and he sounded positively aggravated. I was half afraid he was going to snap any moment soon, for the expression on his face was stiff.

Miles's father frowned at Ean's tone, before ignoring him and turning to speak solely to me. "Well, aspirations, of course. Have you kept your eye on any future job prospects? Have any ambitions, perhaps?"

Swallowing nervously, I shifted on my feet. "Not really. I'm still quite undecided."

"A senior and still so indecisive? Surely you can't expect to work at your parents' shack all your life?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ean snarled, but I hastily pulled him back.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, offering him an apologetic smile, "But we really have to go. My brother isn't feeling well."

Without waiting for his reply, I tugged Ean out of the room. He trailed reluctantly behind me, but I could feel the anger radiating from him, even as we left the house and headed up towards the main exit of the campus.

"What a dickhead," Ean complained loudly, the second we were a good distance away. He was kicking at the gravel beneath his sneakers, and I knew he was well and truly annoyed.

I couldn't blame him - I was too. It wasn't so much what he said, it was the way he said it, which made me feel utterly humiliated about my education, or lack thereof. And all the confidence I had built up suddenly didn't seem to matter much in the grand scheme of things.

Thankfully, these sombre thoughts soon flew out of my mind when Ean received a call. He pressed his cell to his ear, listening to the other person on the end of the line, and his expression grew more worried as each second passed.

"What?" I hissed, curiously, because Ean often didn't look this worried. There were times when you could pre-empt some bad news, something that had happened which was out of the ordinary. This was one of them. "What's wrong?"

But he held up a finger. The other person seemed to speak to him for a little while longer before he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to look at me, his expression grave. "That's Marcel. She knows where Miles is."

"Where?"

"Back at the beach. In the bathrooms. Apparently, he's going through the sixth round of hazing right now."