Chapter 15:
Flan
THE CAPITAL WAS FINALLY settling down after the Offreys’ hearings, and the long-awaited school trip was almost upon us. All students were invited to join the trip, which was conducted yearly to “help students expand their horizons.”
The trip was always the source of great anticipation, and Marie and I were no exceptions to that feeling. We were sitting across from each other at a table in the academy cafeteria. Marie leaned forward in her seat, eager to discuss the trip.
“Nothing beats going on a vacation billed to the government,” she declared.
I shook my head. “I already gave you money for daily expenses and told you I’d cover trips and stuff.”
“I know that, but it’s the principle! Anyhow, we’ll need to pay for things out of pocket when we reach our destination, right? So we’ll save the travel expenses and use that for sightseeing and souvenirs. I’m so happy we can enjoy this trip without going bankrupt!”
She couldn’t shake her cheap instincts, which made my heart ache. We never had to worry about our finances; we had Luxion. But although Marie knew that, her eyes still lit up at the words “free” and “cheap,” just as they had before. That was probably because she’d led miserable lives—yes, plural. Her last life and this one had been equally horrible, albeit in different ways.
Sometimes Marie shared details about her life. Anytime she did, I found myself devastated on her behalf. Even Luxion would respond with something like “It sounds like you went through great hardship,” although he almost never expressed empathy. For him to show pity, Marie’s life had to be really tragic.
Cloaking device engaged, Luxion floated beside me, inserting himself into our conversation. “If you are that anxious to embark on trips, I can take you on one at any time.”
Despite the favoritism he showed Marie, he was completely incapable of understanding her feelings. Her expression soured. As much as she appreciated the sentiment, that wasn’t what she wanted.
“It has to be a school trip,” she explained with pointed emphasis. “The fun part is sightseeing in a big group and enjoying the experience together. Oh, man. It brings back memories of my high school trip in Japan.” She let out a strangled laugh. “I think I’m gonna cry.”
I grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket and held it out. “I hope you won’t turn on the waterworks here. It’s only going to cause trouble.”
She snatched the handkerchief from me, too swept up in nostalgia to listen. “We had to be careful not to let teachers catch us during nightly patrols, but we swapped stories and talked about our love lives. There was gossip, too—like who was dating who, and who would admit their feelings to their crush during the trip.”
Her mention of “admitting feelings” made me quickly avert my eyes. I focused on the tray of food in front of me. “Going for the meat option today was a good call,” I said. “It’s nice and tender. And flavorful. Just the way I like it.”
The change of subject was painfully obvious.
There was a smile on Marie’s face as she peered at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey,” she said.
“Y-yeah?” I responded, refusing to meet her gaze.
She mimicked my voice. “‘I have feelings for you. Let’s pair up,’” she repeated, her glare cold and unforgiving. “You really think you should use wooden lines like that on someone you want to get engaged to?”
I’d admitted my feelings to Marie earlier, as she wanted. But it had been so embarrassing, I wasn’t able to even begin making it sound properly romantic. I just kind of threw out whatever words popped into my head.
That had been a huge mistake.
Marie was anxiously anticipating what I would come up with. When she heard me rattle off those boring lines, she exploded with anger and immediately charged toward me, looking like a woman possessed. I instinctively ran for my life with no regard for pride or propriety.
“I-I figured, if I tried to be serious about it, you’d only cackle,” I protested with a burst of awkward laughter, hoping it might diffuse the tension.
It didn’t.
Marie brought her fists down on the table; the bang echoed through the cafeteria.
My back instantly straightened. “I’m sorry!” I blurted, fearful of the repercussions if I didn’t apologize.