Complicit in His Chaos Book 1: Tempted

by Keilan Shea

  The fingers digging into my shoulder withdraw. Cautiously, I turn to face Caesar and Jet. I can’t formulate a response, but the ringleader holds his hands up in surrender. “No problem here, Crown President Biggs. We’re leaving.” And just like that, they do.

  “Are you all right?” Caesar asks. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I say, eyes glued to my shattered screen. He sees it too, of course, so I add, “I dropped it. It’s my fault it broke.” I want to forget this happened and move on. I’m sure they won’t bother with me again, anyway. I’m not the most exciting person to tease or bully.

  “I see, but if there ever is a problem, you can tell me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re meeting up with Theo, right? Ritsuki left with him, so you’ll likely run into him too. I’m sure he’ll be happy to fix your phone at no cost to you since you seem to be on friendly terms.”

  “We’re not exactly …” I press my hand into my ribs. They don’t hurt so much now, so maybe I won’t bruise. But that’s the least of my worries. I need my phone. “I have to go.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Jet drawls and examines his buffed fingernails. “The Crown is pretty big and Ignacio was a pest on the tour. You don’t know your way around yet, do you? We’ll escort you to the cafeteria.”

  “I … don’t think Ritsuki will help me with my phone. It’s lunchtime.”

  “No?” Caesar raises an eyebrow. “Then let’s head to Uchiyama Engineering. There’s bound to be some member of the faculty there with a scarce agenda. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “You two go,” Jet says, shoulders hunched as he takes his leave. “I’ll get us some lunch.”

  Caesar thanks him and says, “This way.”

  I want more time to mull this over, but I can’t settle for a broken phone because I can’t jeopardize my scholarship. For the rest of the day, I’d be late or absent due to becoming hopelessly lost. Would anyone believe such a pitiful excuse?

  “I apologize if it sounds as if I were eavesdropping,” Caesar says. “I overheard what you told Lucas on my way to the locker room and assumed you would be eating with Theo.”

  His eyes are on me. I can feel the heat of his gaze, but it’s impossible to return. Yes, I’d have to crane my neck because he’s humongous, but his presence is equally as intimidating. Or maybe it’s not his presence. It could be my brain’s fault. My subconscious won’t let go of what I’ve heard.

  “It wasn’t a private conversation,” I say.

  “You were wise to lie to him,” Caesar continues.

  “Who?”

  “Lucas.”

  My eyebrows furrow.

  “He isn’t someone you should get intimately involved with,” Caesar clarifies. “I can’t recommend being alone with him either. Officially he’s safe and clean—he is a student here, after all—thanks to Waypoint Academy’s efforts. The same can’t be said of Drake Griffin.” Caesar pauses. “You’ve heard about this, haven’t you?”

  I clear my throat and nod.

  “I’m sure I’m not the only one questioning the circumstances of Drake’s suicide.”

  Caesar isn’t explicitly saying it, but he’s asking the same questions I already asked myself. Specifically this: did Lucas have something to do with Drake’s suicide? It’s an awful thing to consider, but there it is. Speculation. Judgment without proof.

  “As you said, he’s here,” I muse, “which means he’s clear.”

  “Officially. But don’t worry too much about it. I’ll keep an eye on him.” Caesar smiles pleasantly. It’s not a big toothy grin, and his voice has softened.

  Everybody keeps warning me about everyone else. Who am I supposed to believe?

  Then Caesar presents his party’s badge. “If you do run into any jerks who won’t let up, show them this. They won’t dare continue.”

  “Why would a badge change anything?” I ask. “You’re the president and Blake is gone.” Plus, the “jerks” who didn’t “let up” were wearing these badges.

  “It’s just a precaution. These are tumultuous, and frankly unprecedented, times. Blake’s people are desperate and believe he’ll return, so we remain divided by heightened emotions until they accept that he won’t. You’re unaligned, making you the perfect target and outlet. I understand it must sound silly to you, but we’re all in this together. The sooner I can unite everyone, the better.”

  It never ends! Is everyone lying to me or does everyone think they’re telling me the truth?

  Forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore. Caesar is Crown President and I need his help to get my phone fixed. So, I accept the badge.

  CHAPTER 13

  My phone is fixed before lunch ends and Caesar pays for it, refusing to accept any money I try to offer him. It’s troubling and a relief since I feel bad for mooching but am glad I won’t have to beg money off Naomi since what I have probably wouldn’t cover the cost. Then we eat lunch with Jet and the teacher who fixed my phone. I’m quiet, as usual, though they include me while they talk like old friends. It’s all so normal—but better since it feels like I’m wanted—and the rest of the day proceeds similarly.

  I’m optimistic about the dissonance between parties resolving itself within the week. Caesar didn’t say anything about how I shouldn’t be friends with Blake supporters or act as if they’re enemies. He didn’t try to intimidate me either. If the two sides talk out their differences rationally, they’ll compromise, right? I hope so. There are no sides anymore.

  After my last class, AP Chemistry with a teacher matching Lucas’s description, gets out, I make my way to Lancaster Library.

  “Hello, Ms. Za—Hannah.” My face burns. I wish I could prepare every conversation like a speech. It’s the only way I speak eloquently. Unfortunately, you can never predict with 100 percent certainty what another person will say.

  “Melody. I see you’ve already filled out your digital application for student librarian, and I’ve already reviewed it.”

  I was hoping she’d say that.

  “You’re hired.” After checking over her shoulder, she winks. It’s a playful gesture that doesn’t fit her intimidating height or her stoic persona. “I emailed your schedule just as you stepped through those doors. If it’s too demanding, let me know. Your classes come first.”

  I beam. “Thank you so much.”

  “How was your first day?”

  My backpack weighs on my shoulders, Caesar’s badge scalds my collarbone through the crisp material of my uniform, and a phantom pain ignites my rib cage. “I have some homework to keep me occupied until dinner.”

  “Enjoy the quiet, then.”

  “And the view.”

  “Have you tried the solarium?”

  “No.”

  “It’s my favorite place to read and I imagine the ideal place to study. The babbling brook is the best part.”

  “Babbling brook?”

  Hannah gestures vaguely toward the ceiling. “See for yourself.”

  I would if it wasn’t guarded by a white rabbit. I nod anyway and take the spiral staircase, made of the same dark wood as the bridges connecting the mezzanines, to the floor I explored previously. I don’t have the stomach for the fragile glass elevator today, so my tired legs get no rest. They burn and protest as I keep my eyes glued to my Mary Janes and ignore the elevation.

  When I’ve reached the intended mezzanine floor, I marvel at the library’s fantastical architecture all over again and glimpse gold swirls on the railing of the nearest bridge. I’m tempted to cross the bridge to better see the swirls, because I think they might be glyphs, but I continue straight. Even though a part of me wants to explore, I’m a creature of habit. I’m reluctant to relinquish comfort. But before I can rediscover the perfect window nook, my phone rings. I dig inside my backpack to retrieve it. Naomi’s name is on the screen.

  I dip into one of many unoccupied recesses and settle into a corner created by a bookcase and wall to accept the call. Immediately, Naomi ask
s, “You’re done with classes for the day, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d they go?”

  I relay the vague positives: what my classes are, the workloads, and the experience of navigating the expansive campus. “I’m at the library now, about to do some homework.”

  Naomi takes a moment to respond and changes the subject. “I got a hold of the superintendent today after persistently calling every hour.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I even took the day off to do it. Was Lucas in any of your classes?”

  She didn’t ask the superintendent this too? I twist my index finger in a stray ringlet that wants nothing to do with my headband. “Yeah. PE.”

  Naomi curses.

  “Nothing happened,” I add. “W-what did you find out about Lucas?”

  “He’s ‘reformed.’ Albert Mulberry assured me Gilded Academy did its due diligence and didn’t make this decision lightly. He said Lucas has every right to be there if he maintains his good behavior and that anything beyond that is none of my business or concern.”

  I wonder if the Crown Principal didn’t tell the superintendent about Lucas’s balancing act on top of one of Lancaster Library’s gargoyle phoenixes.

  Naomi huffs. “I bet he’s getting special treatment because of what happened at Waypoint Academy.”

  “You mean Drake Griffin,” I say.

  “You looked him up.”

  “After everything you said, I had to.”

  “And? What do you think?”

  “I should stay away from Lucas.”

  Naomi groans. “I should be relieved to hear you say that, but it’s not enough. I don’t want you there anymore. Can’t we transfer you back to Samohi? It’s a great school.”

  “No!” My voice is too loud, but no one shushes me. Still, I lower my voice to preserve the sanctity of the library. “No. Please, Naomi. Only one person among millions was awarded this scholarship, and it was me.”

  “Don’t say it like that. It makes me sound like a villain.” Naomi must shift positions because the sound of rustling fabric pierces the would-be silence. “What about Theo? Have any classes with him?”

  Changing the subject again means she isn’t going to pull me out today. I temper a sigh. “He’s reading The Sister Star. I’m going to ask him if he wants to start a book club. We have creative writing and PE together.” I’ve learned Gilded Academy has several book clubs, but none focus on fantasy. To become an official club, I’ll need at least five members. That’s not important, though. An unofficial book club won’t be banned. It’s just … friends hanging out.

  “That’s great, Mel!” Naomi overemphasizes her excitement to hide her apprehension concerning Lucas. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Anyway, I need to do homework.”

  “All right. I love you. We all love you.”

  “I love you all, too.”

  I end the call and drop my phone into its designated backpack pocket. Then I creep out from the shelter of this recess as if anticipating an ambush or judgmental glares for being so loud. Neither of these hypothetical situations realize because no one’s nearby, though I do spot a student crossing a bridge. The library isn’t as empty as it was yesterday, but the odds of someone already occupying my window nook are slim.

  Releasing a pent-up breath, I trudge on to my window nook, but when I arrive, it is, in fact, in use. By Lucas Ignacio. He sits with excellent posture while strands of his mussed dark hair droop down, just shy of his resplendent eyes. He doesn’t notice the revolting bangs because he’s intently reading a book. While that isn’t an unusual thing to do at the library, the cover is … shocking. I stare at it for seconds before the image processes in my head. It’s a picture of two naked men embracing each other on a bed, their limbs strategically placed to censor their private parts. I blush harder than I’ve ever blushed in my life and forbid myself from settling my gaze on it again.

  Where did he get that? It can’t be from Lancaster Library. If it is, Gilded Academy has far laxer rules than Samohi.

  Lucas lowers his book. “Hello there.”

  I bow to make myself smaller and trip on my feet as I try to retreat.

  Lucas raises his voice. “Where’s the fire?”

  Since I haven’t seen anyone else nearby, he likely won’t get in trouble for his current volume, but I shush him anyway.

  He obliges and repeats, “Where’s the fire?”

  The word fire lets loose goose bumps all over my skin. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m searching for a quiet place to study.”

  “There’s more than enough room here to share.” He scoots across the half-hexagonal seat so that he’s taking up only one section of velvet, providing plenty of space for another person. I can sit, or lounge if I were the rebellious type, on it without coming close to touching him.

  Lucas fusses over the tiniest wrinkles that scooting introduced to his clothes and is met with a burst of static electricity. It must be a big shock, because I see the tiny flash. Lucas shakes out his hand and then holds it still to indicate the space. “Have a seat.”

  “That’s all right,” I say. “I’ll find somewhere else to study.”

  Lucas shrugs. “Too bad, Melly Mel.”

  “W-what?”

  “I get the distinct feeling you’re avoiding me. Believe it or not,” his lips spread into his most devious smirk yet, “I’d rather you say it to my face.”

  “Say what?”

  “‘Beat it.’ ‘Leave me alone.’ ‘Don’t talk to me anymore.’ Take your pick or get more creative.”

  My chest constricts. I press my hand to my rib cage, expecting pain, but it vanished hours ago. “I’m not going to say anything like that.”

  Lucas hums and returns his attention to his book. “When did you become a Caesar groupie?”

  I stutter and finger my collar, which has assumed a slovenly appearance thanks to my backpack straps. It’s half-upturned, revealing glinting gold and red. “He’s the Crown President. I’m not a groupie.”

  Lucas exaggerates a pout, his lower lip protruding. “No one’s invited me to dance.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t been offered a badge from either side.”

  “You said you weren’t going to pick a side.”

  “I’m not, but if no one attempts to recruit me, I can’t tell them to fuck off.”

  I have nothing to say to that.

  “Anyway, I won’t keep you, Melody.” Lucas slides off the seat, closing his paperback after saving his place with a finger gently wedged between the pages.

  He called me Melody. It shouldn’t make my heart pound like a hammer against my chest so hard that it’s about to crack wide open, but it does. My ribs aren’t bruised, and they did stop hurting. Until now. Right now, they hurt much worse.

  “W-wait, Lucas.”

  “Nah, the solarium is better anyway.”

  I do something unlike me. I catch his wrist when he’s about to pass by me. “Is everything they say about you true?” I direct this question at the polished floorboards because his face is off-limits. My fingers burn, half on his warm skin and half on the pressed fabric of his button-up shirt.

  Lucas cushions his reply with a drawn-out tone. “That’s a lot of ground to cover. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Everyone tells me I should stay away from you because you’re trouble. Dangerous even. When I searched your name online, they seemed right if I were to rely on inference, but I want the facts. The whole truth. You’re here now and …” My voice drops to a level he probably can’t hear, but I can’t gauge how loud I’m talking when blood is rushing in my ears like Niagara Falls.

  Lucas jerks out of my grasp and touches his left ear, pressing the pad of his thumb into the skull-shaped conch stud, but he doesn’t leave. He stays beside me, a thin pocket of air separating us. “Is everything they say about you true, lovely? People talk, but they often miss the point.” He chuckles. “Wow. That
was almost profound, wasn’t it?”

  “You were nice to me,” I say. “When I was sad, crying, and alone, you showed me funny cat videos. Some people at Samohi were only nice to me because they thought I’d do their homework. Boys would touch my arm as if it were some great overture I should be grateful for and—” I shudder. “I’ve never had a real friend outside of my family. Naomi, my big sister, says most men are pigs. And you’re always calling me lovely.” I cringe when I realize I’m rambling. “What do you want from me, Lucas? I’d rather you clearly state your intentions, too.”

  Lucas backs up, bends down, and catches my eye. “‘Let’s be friends.’ I already stated my intentions.”

  I tuck my chin farther so that his emerald-green eyes won’t penetrate me. Now I’m forced to stare at my breasts, and I’m sure that looks weird, but I can’t maintain his invasive gaze. “That’s it? You really want to be friends?”

  Lucas spins on his heel, returning to the window nook. Inch by inch I straighten my neck and cautiously observe him as he plops onto the upholstered seat and says, “That’s it.”

  My heart sinks into my stomach even though his words are what I want to hear. How can I verify if they’re true?

  Naomi said Lucas is getting close to me because I’m a virgin and he wants to … She also said he isn’t the first boy to want this but that he’s unique because he’s willing to be patient.

  My neck flares as I adjust my collar. I feel sick to my stomach, but I also ache in a way I don’t understand. I want to believe him. And … why shouldn’t I? I’m not pretty like Naomi, but that’s not a bad thing. Monsters prey on beautiful women, but Lucas isn’t a monster and I’m not beautiful. Naomi must be wrong about his intentions toward me. He calls me lovely because he likes to tease. I can handle that. I’m used to teasing.

  Besides, Lucas doesn’t seem to like physical contact much.

  I accept the space he left for me on the seat and set my backpack at my feet. “What are you reading?”

  He flashes the cover. “Boy Be Mine.”

  “W-what’s it about?”

  Lucas raises his dark eyebrows and turns the cover so that it’s facing him. “Is the title and picture combination in any way unclear?”