Even a Scream Has A Musical Scale - Chapter 6

They locked eyes for a moment. It was no illusion. His gaze, void of any warmth, pierced right through her—nothing like the way he looked at the audience. Even though it was just a fleeting second, she caught a glimpse of something unsettling in Remington’s eyes. A subtle animosity. A strange wariness. But then, as if realizing he had let his guard down, he turned his head away, and she followed suit, breaking their eye contact.

“But for someone so indifferent, Remington sure does look at you a lot,” her friend had remarked earlier, noting the odd behavior.

As she slipped out through the back door of the chapel, she glanced back at the stage. There he was, smiling at the crowd as if nothing had happened. A polished smile. It made her feel sick.

*****

Back in her dorm room, she collapsed onto the bed, trying to catch her breath. It came out in ragged gasps.

“I don’t have to be nice to everyone, do I?” she murmured to herself, recalling those dark blue eyes that had annoyed her so much.

“Even if that someone is you.”

Eyes that masked disdain under the guise of indifference, slathering it over her like a thick, unwanted coat…

Didn’t you notice? Even when he’s with others, he only looks at you, her friend’s words echoed in her mind.

Those eyes that observed and scrutinized her.

She lay down, staring at the crucifix hanging from the ceiling. In that moment, the blue wallpaper of the room seemed to close in on her, as if it were made of Remington’s eyes. She felt like she was sinking, her feet swallowed by an endless, deep blue abyss…

Her head was spinning.

Attention is sweet. But she didn’t like sweet things. It was precisely because she liked them that she avoided them. To fall for something sweet and become addicted was too painful.

One person—her father—had already caused her enough pain. She didn’t want more. So why did Remington’s indifference bother her so much?

She thought she was handling it well, but like any high school student, a scene unfolded in the cafeteria.

Hi, Remi. Can I sit next to you for lunch?”

“Why bother asking?”

Remington smiled kindly at Eleanor. She glanced at her before answering.

“Just curious. There’ve been strange rumors lately. I wanted to make sure my seat next to you was still mine.”

“Strange rumors?”

Remington’s question was met with a playful smile from Eleanor.

“Oh, you know.”

She blinked her doll-like eyelashes, her expression knowingly playful. Unlike Remington’s indifferent facade, Eleanor seemed well aware of the swirling gossip and enjoyed playing along with it.

Roderson would have preferred to eat lunch anywhere but in the cafeteria. However, Erratum’s rules were strict, and eating off-campus without prior approval was not an option. Her B-type schedule had lunch starting at 12:30, a time when fewer students ate, resulting in only half the cafeteria being open.

This meant there was no avoiding Remington. No matter where she sat, he was always in view. She considered moving to a table as far away from them as possible, but that would have drawn even more attention.

“By the way, you look especially handsome today.”

“Thanks. I wanted to be humble, but I thought the same thing this morning while showering.”

Remington’s cheeky response elicited laughter from everyone around him. To show complete disinterest, Roderson kept her eyes fixed on the book she was reading while eating. Meanwhile, a dozen or so people gathered around Remington, making the area increasingly noisy. She felt like she might choke. Just as she rummaged through her bag for her earphones, she heard her name.

“Isn’t that the girl, Roderson?”

She turned towards the voice and met Eleanor’s green eyes. She was sitting at a table one away from hers, her gaze locked onto Roderson as if she had been watching all along.

“She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?”

Her voice was loud enough for Roderson to hear clearly.

“Of course, she is. Senator Roderson, with his ‘exquisite taste,’ wouldn’t settle for anything less for his youngest daughter.”

Eleanor emphasized “exquisite taste,” and laughter erupted around them. Everyone was watching Roderson, trying to suppress their amusement.

Exquisite taste.

It was a phrase that mocked her father over a scandal years ago. Before the final vote in Sinope County’s midterm elections, her father was accused of sexually harassing an underage Asian waitress. Despite his vehement denials, the controversy wouldn’t die down. In a fit of anger, he had blurted out to the press:

“Don’t insult my exquisite taste.”

Naturally, this only fanned the flames. The scandal eventually subsided when it was revealed that the waitress had been paid off by the opposition. However, the phrase “exquisite taste” stuck with her father, a constant reminder of that incident, along with the rumor that he preferred young Asian girls.

“Right, of course. Senator Roderson wouldn’t waste his ‘noble seed’ on an unattractive woman.”

“Oh, Terry, don’t be crude.”

“But it’s true. People say she’s like a stand-in wife, you know? It’s a well-known story.”

Terry chimed in, snickering. He was in Roderson’s chemistry class. Once, he had tried to press his elbow against her chest, and she had shoved him away. Was this his revenge? She chewed slowly on her pickled cabbage.

“Still, going from the daughter of a poor chauffeur to the youngest daughter of the Roderson family—what a life change. Impressive.”

“Are you envious, Terry? If it were me, I’d be embarrassed. A fake lacks dignity.”

Eleanor’s words cut through Roderson like a knife.

“No matter what name she’s given, she can’t change her baseborn blood. Lineage is inherited, not granted. She probably has the habits of a servant ingrained in her bones.”

They continued to chatter about her for what felt like an eternity. She forced herself to eat silently. Showing them that their words had wounded her would be the ultimate humiliation. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of them. She regretted leaving her earphones in her locker.

Amid all this, she wondered about Remington. What was he thinking as he listened to these insults? Was he entertained? Or was he smirking, as if to say, “I knew it”? Maybe he was just bored with the whole topic. When she finally looked up at him, their eyes met. His gaze was indifferent as he rested his chin on his hand and slowly mashed his potatoes with a knife.

“I just don’t care about you.”

Her chest burned with sudden anger, and she stood up abruptly. As she gathered her tray, Terry, sensing her retreat, raised his voice triumphantly.

“Even if I could become a billionaire, I wouldn’t be Roderson’s blowjob doll. I bet his dick hair smells like Chanel. Ugh…”

Her hands slowed as she cleared her tray. Her nerves were raw, and she felt her blood turn cold.

“Oh, Terry, how would you know? Have you tried it?”

“Dani wears Chanel. A real man wears the perfume his girl likes to smell while she’s going down on him. Maybe I should switch to Chanel.”

“Do you think Roderson would suck you off? Even she has standards.”

“Girls like her spread their legs if you treat them nicely for just a little while.”

Before he could finish his sentence, she marched over to him, her tray in hand. Terry, noticing her approach, whistled mockingly.

“See! She’s already coming over!”

Without hesitation, she dumped the tray over his head. It clattered to the floor, sending mashed potatoes and orange juice everywhere.

“Terry, my father doesn’t wear perfume.”

Juice dripped pathetically down his face, and fries scattered across his shoulders and lap.

“You, you bitch, you…!”

Terry, his face flushed with rage, pointed at her. She stood motionless, staring back at him coldly.

“If you’re so curious about what he wears, come over to my house sometime. Maybe you’ll get the chance to find out firsthand. Who knows? It might even cover your college scholarship instead of just getting you into Erratum.”

“You, you, how…?”

His finger trembled as he pointed at her. She let a small smirk creep onto her face.

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t know who my family gives scholarships to?”