Ace of Minds

The Talk of Z

Irene successfully avoided Harkin for almost two days. The day before, she woke up in the infirmary bed and excused herself out, took a bath, and went straight to the eatery. The day went smoothly without having to face Harkin. She had told Denzel, Brian, and Fleur about ditching Harkin. Fleur made it pretty clear that Harkin wouldn't let her off so easily.

Hooray for having such a positive friend.

Irene would go to bed earlier so she didn’t have to deal with her key keeper, after having a tutor session with Liana Baker. Baker's tutoring session had been rather sleepy. Baker didn't know how to tutor someone and her talent was less than interesting. Irene was sure at one point she must have passed out on her.

On Wednesday, she still didn't see Harkin. The day had gone just fine, ending with her tutor session with Brian. They spent most of the time joking around because Irene said she was not good at running. Brian made her run for one lap, but realized she wasn’t lying. She really sucked at running.

To her joy, she didn't have History on her timetable again the following day. As far as she knew, it was the only class she was sharing with Harkin.

But boy, how wrong was she?

Everything went downhill as soon as her last period started. She didn’t know the occasion, but her and Harkin’s classes were sharing the field for Combat. Not just that, Logan was also in Harkin's class. Just the two people she didn't look forward to seeing.

She had to hide behind a big, bulky guy, Wright Egor. He was at least a foot taller than her, and he was even taller than Logan (who was already tall compared to her 5'4” height). His body could hide two Irenes just by standing still. If he shaved his head, he definitely would fit for the sumo competition, but even with Egor covering her, Harkin's ’Elswood Radar’ worked flawlessly that she spotted Irene by the time their Combat teacher, Sir Fred announced sparring between classes.

Sir Fred was a guy in his early forties, a little slimmer than Egor, but still big. He was bald and he had a mysterious, thick mustache.

“I want to go against Elswood,” she told Sir Fred right away.

Dead, Irene was dead for sure. First, she didn't get a single thing Sir Fred had been fretting all over the lesson about basic hand combat. Second, she didn't have the shape of a fighter; living in Beverly Hills with Hollywood actress as her mother didn't really remind her to get built. Third, she was the least athletic human being ever.

They were all wearing the school's combat uniform. It looked like normal maroon school gym uniform. It was not sleeveless, but Harkin rolled it up to show off her muscles. It looked so tight and fitting on Harkin while Irene’s uniform was too big for her.

Her classmates began shoving her forwards. Egor was no longer covering her.

Sir Fred raised a brow, looking back and forth between Irene and Harkin. “You're new, right?” asked Sir Fred.

Irene gave a small nod. Two meters away from her stood Harkin; all muscles and looking ready to smash her into pulp. And just a few students behind, leaving some space between him and the other students was Logan. He was looking around the field with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked handsome in the maroon shirt and knee-length shorts. He was tall and built, but not bulky like Egor. He would cut for Calvin Klein ads. He was smirking. Wait, why was he smirking?

Their eyes met. She was stunned at first, before she realized that he had been looking at her and that smirk was for her. She quickly diverted her attention.

Snap out of it, you're about to die, she scolded herself. Turning to Sir Fred, she gave him her best puppy eyes.

“I don't think she's ready …” Sir Fred trailed off.

“She's Sir Elswood's daughter. She has to be good,” taunted Harkin.

Just when would she drop with the Elswood thing? Irene couldn't help but scowl.

“Well, if you say so,” Sir Fred still didn't sound sure. “Remember the rule, okay? No talent using! All power comes from your muscles. You can go now.” He moved away, giving a way for Irene to come forward and face Harkin.

Scared would be an understatement. Irene was sweating buckets. She drew sharp breaths and constantly calming herself down, to no avail. She balled her fist, but it felt like it wasn't hard enough.

She couldn't come up with any best scenario case. It was either worst or even worse. She was sure Harkin would finish her in a sec. Or worse, Harkin would make it hell for her as long as she could.

Harkin made her first step. Irene jumped back, gasping. It was embarrassing. Everyone was looking at her, including Logan.

“Ditching tutor class, huh? You think you can avoid me, girly?” sneered Harkin.

Irene didn't say anything. She didn’t want to and she didn’t have a better comeback. And retorting at Harkin would only worsen the situation.

She balled her fist again but Harkin already attacked her nose. She flew back. Her body sprawled on the ground. If she were to explain how it felt to be punched square on the nose: it. hurt. like. hell. Blood oozed from her nose. Great, she had a broken and bleeding nose from one punch. What a good start.

The students cheered for Harkin as they saw who was the potential winner.

“Get up, pathetic,” hissed Harking. She walked closer and closer. Irene had to drag herself away.

For the second time, Harkin threw another punch on the same spot.

Irene groaned in pain. Couldn't Sir Fred see already that she was bleeding and losing the battle? Was she suppose to die before he stops the sparring? Some teacher he was.

She held her hand up, gesturing her to stop. But of course, why would Harkin listened to her? Instead, Harkin slapped her hand away and got ready for another punch.

Just when Harkin grabbed her by the collar, someone stopped the combat.

“I think she needs a hand. She's one weak newbie. She doesn't even know how to ball her fist right.” It was Logan, talking smoothly next to Sir Fred. His voice silenced everyone. “It's starting to look rather personal too. I don't think we're supposed to take personal matters to the field, right?”

Irene had no idea if she should be grateful or insulted for being called weak. Thinking about it again, she let the latter go. She was weak. She, who was still on the ground looked over at Logan, frowned. He was helping her again. The question was simple: why? Was it the debt again? What, Elswood saved his ass twice or something?

Logan finally realized that Irene was looking at him. He raised a brow. She mouthed a 'thank you'. Her eyes shifted to Harkin, who stood not very far from her, frozen.

“B-but …” She tried to say something, but her voice failed her. Nobody dared to oppose or agree. It was just dead silent.

“I'm okay with giving her a helping hand since this one thinks she's pretty tough,” Logan shrugged, pointing at Harkin.

Harkin backed away from Irene. Her eyes showed the look of terror. “N-n-no! I'll … I'll call off the combat.” She sounded defeated. After giving a quick glare to Irene, she went back to her classmates with a scowl on her face. Surely, she would have a way to get it back to Irene.

“I'll take her to the infirmary if you'll excuse me, Sir Fred.”

Sir Fred himself looked baffled. His mustache was twitching. The lines on his temple deepened. “Ah … yes, yes, please take her to the infirmary,” he excused Logan.

With all eyes focused on him, Logan marched forward. He was coming nearer and nearer toward Irene, she felt nervous. Students would talk about them for sure. She had seen things like that happen at Hawthorne tons of time. She could only hope gossips don't work the same way at Z. “Thank you,” she muttered as Logan helped her to get on her feet. Her nose was still bleeding. She had to use her hand to stop it from coming.

Logan swiftly put his one arm around her waist and another on the crook of her legs. Just like that, he swept her off the ground, carrying her in bridal style. Just another action to make the whole classes went nuts. Irene could already see some girls were whispering to one another. She sighed. “You don't have to do it, though,” she muttered again.

The guy beside her chuckled, which gathered more attention, “And what, let you die? That girl would not stop even if your eyes fall from its sockets.”

“Not that,” said Irene, “I mean the whole taking-to-infirmary thing.”

Logan raised his brow, “You're afraid of some gossips, Elswood?”

They were already out of the field, heading into Z main building.

Irene didn't answer.

“The whole school are going to talk about this, alright. It's bound to happen,” he stopped for a second, “I've never been this nice to anyone before. I usually just stay and passive.”

As much as she didn't want to go overboard herself, Irene felt special. Who wouldn't? Logan had basically said he had never saved damsels in distress but her. Wasn’t that basically every girl’s dream? Especially the ones who watch chick flicks and read romance novels. Irene was both.

“Does it have anything to do with my father?”

One edge of his lips was tugged. “Perhaps.”

“You're my tutor for today,” Irene didn't know why she just stated that.

“I doubt that.” They went up to the second floor and straight to the infirmary. Logan opened the door, immediately seeing Madam Jan cleaning the infirmary beds. She was a young lady in her early 30s, dressed in a nurse outfit. She had a big, wide smile that at times it got creepy. Nonetheless, she was really nice. She didn't possess any healing talent, but she knew stuff about drugs and other medical things. She also had mastered herbs from the greenhouse. Actually, seeing her smile again, Irene started to think that her talent was kindness or motherly-affection. Although it was still creepy at times.

“Madam Jan,” greeted Logan. “She broke her nose,” he settled Irene on one of the beds.

Madam Jan hurriedly went to the two. “Oh, dear,” she clasped her hands together, “Elswood, right?”

Irene nodded.

“I'll get some herbs and be back here soon. In the meantime, can you give her that tissue to stop the bleeding?” she asked Logan, gesturing at the tissue on the table beside Irene's bed. She went out to another room inside the large, circular infirmary. The place smelled like medicine and blood. Everything inside the room was either white or maroon. Irene's bed sheet was maroon, just like the other ten (or more) bed sheets. It took her long enough to figured out that it was the school's color.

Logan grabbed the tissue, rolled it, and shoved it into Irene's bleeding nose.

“Ouch!” she yelped.

“You don't want to spill your blood on the sheet,” stated Logan.

Irene didn't say anything. She just watched as Logan settled on the bed, not looking at her. And she waited. Not exactly just waiting because she started wondering about the debt again. Logan Kassel had saved her twice for all she knew. Curiosity was killing her.

Logan's lips twitched.

“What?” she asked, noticing the smirk.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Logan shook his head, “You are regretting-” He was cut off by the appearance of Madam Jan. She was back with a long, light green leaf and a first aid box.

“Ooof, ooof, I'm coming!” squealed Madam Jan. She rested her stuff on the side table, then told Logan to move away so she could sit in his place before. Madam Jan slowly removed the tissue and picked the leaf. “Here, eat this,” she gave it to Irene.

“Eat … this?” The leaf looked too shiny and very poisonous, but seeing Madam Jan's and Logan's face, Irene took the leaf. “Uh, well … guess this wouldn't hurt, huh?” She started from the tip. Her face lit up.

Strangely, the once suspicious leaf tasted like a freshly baked croissant.

She eyed both Madam Jan and Logan as she continued munching the leaf s***h croissant medicine. The surprise vanished fast. She had known a leaf that could make someone spill the truth. She had known a flower that could paralyze someone's body. A leaf that tasted like a croissant, she could take. But … how?

“Pharmaceum, it takes the taste of your last meal,” said Logan out of nowhere.

True, though. On lunch, she just had a very tasty croissant. But she couldn't finish it since she was not used to eating much for breakfast, and gave the leftover to Brian instead. “That's … cool, I guess,” she muttered. Not long after, she had eaten the whole leaf.

“Here, drink,” Madam Jan helped her to drink. “Now your bruises will heal faster. I think you can attend dinner if you want. Or you can stay here. Up to you.” She smiled, and then she stood up. “I'll be down in the greenhouse for now. If there are still some bruise, there are bandages in that box.” She pointed at the first aid box.

“Thank you, Madam Jan,” thanked Irene. Madam Jan spared her another smile before going to the greenhouse. Irene turned to Logan, “Why don't you go back to class?”

Logan shook his head, “Class would be over by the time I got there. You're not going to your bunk?” he asked back. He opened the first aid box and took one strip of bandage. He opened it and without warning put it on Irene's nose.

Irene slapped his hand away, “Hey! What on earth are you doing?”

“There's a scratch there,” stated Logan.

Irene took the bandage from his hand, “I can do it on my own.” And she did.

Logan shrugged, “Okay, then. I'm going to my bunk now. How about you?”

“I think I'll stay,” she answered. “I'll see you in tutor lesson, then?” she asked.

“You will not be seeing me by that time,” Logan coolly replied. Then he walked out of the infirmary.

---

Truth be told, Irene and Logan's little incident became the talk of Z. Everyone stared at her when she made her way to the eatery for dinner. Some looked, then turned to whisper to their friends. She had to double check if there were anything wrong with her white, A-line skirt and her hair, which she tied in a messy bun after drying it with her towel. She could say that there was nothing wrong with her.

Maybe except that Logan Kassel had been giving more attention on her than possibly anyone they know.

But out of all students, the most enthusiastic was Fleur.

“Is it true? Kassel did that for you?” she was practically yelling the moment Irene settled down on the chair. “I know something’s up between you two!” It seemed like she was on the verge of losing her mind. Her face was red and she talked louder than the usual.

Which basically meant very loud.

Beside her Brian calmly picked his meals. He occasionally glanced at Fleur and Irene. Before the other three started eating, he already munched on his meals.

“Did you know him before going here?” asked Denzel, who from outside looked calmer, but his eyes told a different story. Irene could say his condition was just as bad as Fleur.

Irene shook her head. “No,” she groaned. When she looked behind, girls turned their heads as if they weren't just staring at her. On the middle of the table, Logan was not present. That made her think, she should have ditched dinner too! He must have known what would happen if he went down to the eatery.

“But … why? He's not even that nice to teachers, let alone students!” huffed Fleur, finally picking foods onto her plate.

Irene shrugged because, despite the debt he had to Elswood, she had no idea why Logan was remotely good to her. And she didn't want to tell anything about the debt to her friends yet. “I have a tutor lesson with him today. I'll ask him.”

Uh-oh, wrong move. She knew it the moment Fleur eyes got widened, Denzel snapped his head at her, and Brian stopped munching on his food.

“Oh, God.” Fleur acted … like how she always was. “Oh, God. Oh. My. God! You're like the luckiest girl alive. This is fate, people. This. Is. Fate. I'm sooo jealous.” She buried her face in her hands miserably.

“Uh, I guess?” suggested Irene, raising her brow. “Can we please don't talk about this anymore? It's already too much that everyone's staring at me as if I'm some exotic animal,” she pleaded in a whisper, seeing Fleur was just about to say another word.

The three continued eating except for Denzel. “He never tutors anyone, you know?” he asked.

Irene remembered Logan said a similar thing when they had a mini meeting in front of the infirmary when she was ditching Harkin's tutor. And just before he left to his bunk earlier, he said that he wouldn't be meeting her on tutor session. “I know,” she said, “he also told me the same thing twice,” she stopped a little, looking up. “I wonder who's going to be the substitute tutor? Is there even such thing?”

Brian swallowed before answering Irene. “When I was an unknown, the tutor who showed up was the one on the schedule. It never changed. But still we all know how special Kassel is, anything is possible.”

“I guess it is … it seems like he doesn't like doing tutoring,” said Irene.

“You'd just have to find out then,” suggested Denzel, throwing his boyish (yet supporting in some way) grin at her.

---

And later, she did find out.

When she opened the door to S3-54 (which was now clear to her that it meant the third floor of the south wing, room number fifty-four), she didn't see the familiar messy hair, nor was the signature thrown-onto-shoulder sweater. Instead, it was a tall girl, wearing a very … old-ish, flannel skirt, and sleek, black pantofel shoes. Her blond hair was tied very neatly as one. It seemed like she had been waiting for Irene for a while since she had her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ah! You finally come. It's such a pleasure to meet you, Irene Elswood. Since there has been a … mistake in your schedule, I'm appointed to be your tutor for today.”

Irene smiled half-heartedly.

“My name is Rhonda Fernandez and I'm sure you've seen me before … or maybe you haven't because of course, my talent is to be invisible and I prefer to be invisible all the time.” She inhaled sharply again. “Now, now, let's start with breath control. Repeat after me … inhale … exhale … inhale …”