Even a Scream Has A Musical Scale - Chapter 4

“…What?” She stared blankly at Remington. The wind rustled through the barren branches behind him, emitting a dry, rattling sound. A chill wind seeped through her coat.

His ashy beige hair shimmered in the sunlight, and beneath it, eyes cold enough to send shivers down her spine. Reflected in his blue irises, she felt like an unwelcome guest.

“Um, well, you see…” 

“It’s okay. No need to explain. It doesn’t matter.”

Remington’s reply was firm. She felt her cheeks flush scarlet. How could this be happening? She was too flustered to muster an apology or an excuse.

She just stared at him, her breath forming white puffs in the air between them.

Right. First, apologize. But how…

Suddenly, a black leather glove extended in front of her. She blinked, staring at it dumbly.

“This is…” 

“This isn’t some Southern girls’ school. You’ll freeze to death dressed like that in ten days.”

Remington cut her off icily, gesturing at her freezing hand. Only then did she awkwardly take the glove.

“…Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me. No need to return it either.”

His tone was cold. Remington turned away with an expression that seemed annoyed despite his gesture of kindness. She hadn’t even managed to apologize yet. Desperate, she reached out to grab his arm, but a blonde girl approached Remington.

“Again with her?” Her voice cut through sharply. Remington remained silent.

As the girl with green eyes shot her several glances, Remington never once looked back at her. She stood alone in the white expanse, clutching the glove tightly in her hand.

****

How had Remington found out she’d given someone else her number? Did he never trust her from the start? Or had he accidentally stumbled upon it in the student directory?

She verified with Anna again to ensure there hadn’t been any unfamiliar contacts, but Anna dismissed it, claiming she hadn’t received a single spam message.

When Anna asked if something was going on between her and Remington, she simply lied, assuring everything was fine. She couldn’t risk her father hearing about any potential issues.

“I’m sorry for giving you the wrong number. It wasn’t intentional,” she practiced in front of the mirror. In her bag, she carried the gloves Remington had lent her and the luxury chocolates from Anna.

She believed a genuine apology would quickly resolve things, despite her uncertainty about Remington’s true feelings.

****

“F*ck! Dirty slu+!” The vulgar words were scrawled across the flyers outside the dormitory. “Reinstating the abortion law. Who benefits from it?” The girl calmly peeled off the offensive flyers, revealing disturbing photoshopped images that combined her father’s and her own face with explicit scenes. These images made her stomach churn, but this was only the beginning of the torment.

“It’s Roderson.” “Is that really ‘that’ Roderson?” The whispers followed her into the classroom, through the hallways, and even during lunch.

“But St. Mary’s is a good school. Why did she have to transfer here?” “I guess those rumors about her mental illness were true. They erased all the videos of her seizure in the auditorium at Roderson.” “You know, right? Why she was adopted…?”

The cruel murmurs caused her hand to hesitate momentarily as she took notes, but she quickly resumed writing, pretending not to hear. Her father had always been clear that he wouldn’t respond to baseless rumors, leaving her to endure the venomous gossip alone.

“They say that seizure was from the surgery.” “What surgery?” “She had her whole body done to impress Senator Roderick. She even got rid of her yellow skin to look white.” “No way!” “It’s true! I read it online. Senator Roderick has a thing for Asian women. It’s kind of funny how she acts like she’s noble by birth after all that.” “But what can you do? Once a Roderick, always a Roderick.”

People always approached her as if they liked her, only to mock and tear her down behind her back. She was someone they could praise and toy with at the same time. She was used to it. Dani bowed her head, pretending she didn’t hear them. If their eyes met, they’d be all sweet again as if nothing had happened. Hypocrites.

As soon as class ended, she quickly left the lecture hall. The hallway, buzzing with students heading to their club activities, felt chaotic. Dani wove through the crowd, searching for Remington. Spotting him wasn’t hard; his tall frame stood out among the sea of heads. Remington stood by his locker, arranging his books. It was the perfect moment to apologize. Dani walked straight up to him.

“Hi, Remington.”

He froze for a second when she spoke, his eyes briefly flashing with caution, but then he smiled faintly. “Oh, hey.” After the obligatory greeting, he turned back to his locker, clearly uninterested in a conversation. Undeterred, she tried again.

“Thanks for lending me your gloves the other day.”

Remington reluctantly turned to face her. “Gloves? Oh, those.” He spoke as if he barely remembered lending them to her. “It was nothing.”

“Still, I appreciate it. I brought them back. They’re in my bag.”

“No need.”

“And I got you some chocolate to say sorry for—”

“I said, I don’t need it.”

His cold voice cut through her words. Dani slowly raised her head, meeting his icy gaze. His eyes were filled with annoyance and something more—a wall of rejection and mistrust. Remington’s frosty demeanor made it painfully clear to her: he didn’t just want distance; he wanted to erase any trace of her from his life, as if their interactions had never happened.

“Sorry. I haven’t slept because of exams, so I’m a bit on edge,” he said, sighing as he pushed his bangs back, his beige hair slipping through his straight fingers. “You don’t have to return the gloves. Don’t worry about it.”

The coldness he displayed a moment ago vanished, replaced by a more subdued expression. That’s when her faint suspicions solidified into a real possibility: maybe Remington didn’t like her. But why?

“Can we talk for a minute?” she asked.

Just as she spoke, a boy came running up and threw an arm around Remington’s shoulder. “Hey, Remington!” the boy exclaimed, only noticing her belatedly and giving an awkward smile. “Oh, were you talking?”

“Ah, Duncan,” Remington said, smiling at Duncan with the easy smile he often gave others. “Nothing much. How did your interview go?”

Remington turned away indifferently, intentionally ignoring her request to talk. She stood there, rooted to the spot, while Duncan kept glancing back at her, his arm still around Remington.

“Is she the Roderick girl?” Duncan asked.

“Yeah.”

“She’s pretty. I’d like to get to know her. Do you know her well?”

Even at that question, Remington replied firmly. “No.”

A surge of anger welled up in her chest. She marched toward Remington. “Remington Howard,” she called. Duncan reacted faster than Remington, turning to her with a surprised look. Remington stopped walking. “I asked to talk,” she said.

Remington turned to her a beat later, letting out a short breath that could’ve been a laugh or a scoff. “What do you want, Roderick?” he asked, looking annoyed. Though his mouth curled up, his brow was furrowed. The kids in the hallway sensed the tension and paused to watch.

“Let’s talk in private.”

“Wow…” That last exclamation came from Duncan. He released Remington’s shoulder, sensing the growing curiosity of the onlookers. Remington’s expression hardened gradually. He stared at her, then gave a crooked smile. She knew that look well. It was similar to the expression her father made when things didn’t go as planned when he felt she had messed up his schemes—holding back rage. Whenever she saw that look on her father, she felt a mix of sadness and a strange sense of satisfaction. Now, she felt the same—though not sad, but tense and oddly pleased.

“Fine, let’s talk,” Remington said, tilting his head to gesture for her to follow before turning away.

She followed Remington to the terrace on the outskirts of the lecture hall. The small garden, decorated like a cozy greenhouse, held a chill in the air. With Remington’s back to her as he surveyed the area, she spoke abruptly. “I’m sorry.”

Remington raised an eyebrow, looking back at her with a puzzled expression. She quickly added, “For giving you the wrong number.” She had nothing left to hide. “I won’t lie and say it wasn’t intentional. It was. I didn’t want to give you my number. I didn’t know who you were, and you made me uncomfortable. I should have corrected it later, but I missed the chance.”

“…”

“You said you didn’t need an apology, but I wanted to apologize anyway.” She almost spat out the apology, but she did it nonetheless. She had done her part. “And I’ll give you back your gloves too.” She pulled the gloves from her bag and held them out. She didn’t bother with the chocolates. He didn’t seem like someone who would touch sweets anyway.

As she rambled on, Remington remained motionless, his face still contorted with the same frown as when he first looked at her. He glanced at the gloves in her hand before slowly taking them. Whether his actions were genuinely slow or her nervousness made them seem that way, she couldn’t tell. He toyed with the gloves, then let out a bitter laugh.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because it seemed like you were angry about it.”

“Haha, angry?” She couldn’t understand what he found so amusing. Remington laughed loudly, staring at her, and she felt herself freeze up. Since she was young, she could easily tell who liked her and who didn’t. It wasn’t from expressions, but from ‘looks.’

The way people looked at her.

Those who liked her looked deeply into her eyes, but those who didn’t scanned her from head to toe. Their eyes were cold and restless like a snake’s. She could feel Remington’s deep blue eyes moving over her slowly, like a snake observing its prey. Her eyes, nose, lips, hands that clenched and unclenched, and the feet planted firmly on the ground… Wherever his gaze went, it felt as if thick, dark blue paint was being smeared on her. Barely suppressing his laughter, Remington asked, “Roderson, are you putting on a show, or are you really that dumb?”