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CHAPTER FOUR
"FALENA"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ━ The end of the September exams meant only one thing: the biggest party before the New Year holidays was approaching, and practically every lady began planning what to dress. At the same time our school had a holiday called "Garden day" and the entire female population hoped to find roses in their lockers. Of course, it was not banned for girls to make romantic gestures and do comparable things for men; it just happened seldom. As usual, the hallways are chaotic right after breakfast. Some girls dashed to their lockers to see whether a hidden admirer had left a rose in their locker.

"I wonder if I'll get a rose this year..." Lucia said reflectively while teasing a lock of her recently dyed hair. My head rests on her shoulder as I grip her by the biceps. "Don't worry, you know you always get a rose from someone," I tell her in an attempt to lift her spirits.

"You're lovely Grace, but I think I only get the rose so I don't come off as a loser," she stated. "I even think that my parents are solving it just so I don't feel bad" In order to make sure it's not true, I halt her in the middle of the hallway, but Valeria and Damian quickly follow.

Valeria remarked, "You appear to have been struck by a train." Upon receiving no response from us, she repeated her announcement, "I know those sad faces, what happened?"

"Everything is fine," I say with a small smile. "What are you two up to?" I asked both of them.

Valeria casually states, "Oh, I'm just explaining to Damian this tradition of giving roses and dancing the party that follows," and Damian attests to her account.

Damian started talking "On Women's Day, girls were given roses exclusively in the schools where I was. This is totally new to me"

I give him a brief glance and grin a little before whispering to him, "Don't tell anyone, but this is no big deal, don't worry," even though I know my two friends would react negatively. Valeria mockingly attacked me, saying, "It's not true, Grace, you always got a rose too."

"From you for sure," i tell her.
Valeria stares at me angrily and says, "Every year there was a pink rose in the cabinet, and pink is your favorite color."

The two of them proceeded to stroll in front of Damian and me, saying, "I'll pretend I didn't hear this, let's change the subject, Lucia, did you order the dress you mentioned?" We are silent, and even though he has been at the boarding school for a month, he has managed to spend every bit of his free time with us rather than with another group of students from the same class.

He opened his mouth to say, "Lucia seemed quite upset a moment ago," ending the uneasy silence. "She'll be fine, she was just imagining it," To preserve her privacy, I concur with him.

"How are you doing here?" He hesitates to respond to my question, so I shift the topic. He looks at his schedule. "This is my classroom, I should have chemistry," he says.

"Yes, classroom number 23 is chemistry; we're in Italian and literature classes, so we're changing - there are too many of us in the class, so we're split into two," I say with an uneasy smile before allowing him to continue to his classroom.

"Why did you leave me with him?" I frowned as I asked my friends, who were standing by the locker immediately close to the door of the classroom where we were having the lesson.

"There's a theory that he likes you," Valeria informs me quietly, to which I simply chuckle.

"Does he know he likes me?" I asked bitterly.

"I thought he was like our gay friend, he's always with us," Lucia replies, surprised. Right now, it was a contest to see who had the worst theory.

"I bet he'll ask you to go to the party together," Valeria nudged me in the ribs.

"I'll bet I'll say yes - let's go all four," I tease.

"You're rude," she adds when she eventually quits up.
"But I can't deny that he's watching you non-stop" -

Lucia scowled. "It doesn't mean anything," she defended me. "I'm looking at her too, does that mean I want to kiss her?"

Her comment catches my attention, and I gaze at her with a grimace. "Will you? Just to sing 'I kissed a girl and I like it'," I keep joking with Lucia.

"Go into the classroom," Valeria says with despair.

A few people had already taken their seats, so I went to mine and took advantage of the opportunity to prepare everything for this session in order to improve my relationship with the professor. After submitting that awful homework, she wasn't particularly impressed with the topic I chose, so she was obliged to give me a regular mark against her will.
The classroom quickly filled up, leaving only a few empty seats. That explains why I haven't felt nervous so yet. Because he didn't sit beside me.

I regarded myself to be a smart person, within typical bounds - nothing out of the ordinary - but I knew everything about the topics I was interested in. What I didn't grasp as well was the psychology of the human brain and why certain things (good and negative) have similar results. For example, is the absence of touch following that night in Rigel's room a positive or negative thing? I have a sense the impatience is evident.

The professor's booming entrance drew me back to reality; I looked around, and the seat in front of me was still empty. The professor connected her laptop to the projector and showed the presentation she had created, which was very boring and did not pique my interest.

"Before I start the lesson, did Rigel Wilde announce that he won't be coming for health reasons or am I writing an absence?" The entire class asked, but no one seemed to have an answer.

"Theodore? Is your roommate sick?" Theodore looks at her for a few moments before responding. "We are no longer roommates, so I cannot know that information" .

This was news. This is the rumor that none of them told me.

"Then I will write..." At that point, Rigel enters the classroom as the star of the show.

"I had to go to the infirmary to disinfect the wounds on my fingers," he said, gesturing to the plasters. He doesn't linger at the entrance for long before turning to face his seat.

The girls in the front row are shouting and giggling, which further interrupts this lesson, as does a set of eyes that are boring further and deeper into me with each passing instant. I attempt to ignore his existence, but it's difficult when I notice the bandage on his fingers and the black paint stain on his skin.

As much as I enjoy the Italian language sessions and the projects we have to complete this year, I did not appreciate how she explained the information to us. Without much work, across from a presentation that was most likely copied from someone else in the method of all the effects.

"She stole the presentation," Rigel murmured into my ear.

I glance at him in awe. "What are you talking about?" I asked him, afraid, and it came out like if he read my mind.

"In the lower right corner is the name Charles," he said, pointing to the white canvas, which I hadn't glanced at in a long time because I was so focused on the text in front of me.

"She hates her job so much," he says.

"I don't want any more homework because of you, so shut up and participate in class," I tilt my head to stare at him. "Or keep drawing whatever"

"Someone's mad," he replies, sneering.

"Someone took their medication," I respond immediately.

"Low and rude," he says again, leaning in so close that I can feel his breath. I go to the opposite side and continue reading the material while counting to three.

One, two, three.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The class never lasted long since, in addition to the worst presentation on the subject of baroque, there was also a major distraction. I hurriedly gathered my belongings and left the classroom.

"Grace, wait for us," Lucia yells, but I ignore her and walk all the way outside among the crowd, waiting until I see them.

"What's wrong with you, girl?" she questioned, breathlessly. "Why are you running away from us?" I stare at her, dissatisfied.

"Try sitting with him in class and having him constantly tell you something," she starts laughing as if she didn't need to grasp what was going on.

"We'll talk about biology," I tell her before Valeria joins us. I've never segregated what I tell my friends, but Lucia made certain that no one knew about some instances. I would like not to do it behind another friend's back, but that is not possible.

"Can you tell me since when Theodor isn't in room number three?" I change the subject without hesitation.

"It came out a few days ago, and they say he asked to be moved to another room," Lucia told me, and Valeria was ready to join the conversation.

"And no one wants to room with Rigel because they think he's too violent, so he has the whole room to himself for now," I grin at the note of jealousy in her voice.

"What's the point... wait are you jealous of it?" I questioned, insulted. "Lucia and I aren't such bad roommates..."

"You broke my heart, Valeria," Lu joined me. To back up her claim, she addresses the subject from a unique perspective.

"How many girls can he bring without forcing his roommates out of the room, think about it," she says with a silly smile.

"I don't want to think about it, ugh," I say. Fortunately, this topic concludes when the school bell rings and we all proceed to the front door for the remainder of our lessons.

The last lesson was biology; today's session was particularly short due to the younger students who prepare a play for the entire boarding school every year around this time. I sat close to Lucia even before class began.

"Is Rigel hitting on you?" she said, brazenly.

"No! I mean, he's acting strangely and always chatting in Ella's class, and I have a feeling he's doing it on purpose," I explain as she simply laughs.

"Girl, you like him," she adds with a half-scream. "No," I tell her, looking serious.

"I'm telling you how annoying he is with his manic behavior changes, Lu, I love you, but you can't be a hopeless romantic for the rest of your life," I say, biting my tongue.

"You're correct. Maybe you don't like him, but something in him compels him to make touch with you; you haven't spoken in years, and now you're suddenly interacting," she observed. Sometimes I dislike her for making such an insightful observation.

"Classes are cancelled," Victor ran into the classroom, eliciting a raucous applause in our classroom.

"Come on, let's go," Lucia pulled my hand, eager to get away of the group. As we walk to our lockers, we talk about trivial topics. The other group appears to have been kept in class, which means Valeria and Damian will join us later.

"Look, they got a lot of roses," Lucia said, pointing at the three popular girls who were picking roses from their lockers with no expressions on their faces.

"Open yours," I urge her to do. "You never know what's inside"

"Haha," she said, pretending to laugh as she entered her locker code. "There is one rose," she replies, but does not appear enthusiastic. I questioned her, "What's wrong now?"

"I know it wasn't given by the person I wanted it to be," she says, dejected, and I hug her immediately. "You can't force people to do things like that, it just comes naturally Lu"

"I love you, Grace," she says, embracing me even tighter before breaking the hug. Come on, Now you"

Without hesitation, I opened my locker, which was underneath hers. My heart skips a beat as I see a black painted rose instead of a pink rose in the cabinet. A chill rushes through my body, and everything feels like a paradox.

"Mysterious," she remarked. "Who do you think it's from?" is a question I can't answer. (I don't have the courage to state what I think).

"I'll be right back; see you in our room," I say as I leave the books in the locker, along with everything else but the rose. Lucia stares at me, shocked but does not react excessively.

Black roses originate in Turkey, and it is noteworthy that they are naturally black. Rare to breed, although this has changed dramatically as a result of its popularity.

The meaning is the rough path of ardent love. This black rose was spray painted black and covered in thorns.

While striding determinedly towards a destination, I unintentionally squeezed a rose stem, pricking myself with sharp and small thorns. I opened the door to the room and entered; first, the room appeared to be empty. My instinct was correct, Rigel was behind the door.

"Has it been so long that you've forgotten it's forbidden to be here?" His stare never leaves mine. I disregard his question and raise my hand, clutching the rose.

"What's this?" I inquired, attempting to remain cool.

"And rose?" Sassy responded to me.

"I know it's the damn rose, but why did you give it to me?" I cut to the chase when I know he only wants to play with me.

"Why do you think I gave it to you?" he chuckles, removing the rose from my grasp. I reach my hand to him to return it, but he raises his hand in the air.

"You really think I'd give you a rose? What kind of love story are you in, you silly Grace," he took a step towards me, a step that knocked me onto the bed trapped beneath him.

I try to spread my breath as much as I can without giving away the cards I have. We look into each other's eyes, hardly any gaze moves elsewhere and heavy breathing comes from both sides.

"Are you afraid to talk?", the smile on his face is constantly present, he removes a lock from my face with his free hand, I follow his fingers with my eyes and then find traces of dry paint.

"The traces of black paint on your fingerprints gave you away, like a band-aid on your fingers - from the thorns, you didn't want to take the thorns off the rose," I triumphantly smile in his face, his attention gradually falling to my lips.

"So smart but so reckless, who will believe you?" I laugh louder.

"Do you think I will tell anyone that you gave me a rose? In what world do you think you matter so much to me?" This time, I'm the one who changes the game. We're stopped by a tap on the door, and I feel sweat pouring off my brow.

"Don't move, it'll be gone in a few seconds," he whispered to me before rising from the bed and leaving the rose next to my body. He takes a piece of fabric and wraps it around the rose.

"You've already wounded yourself," stated the obvious.

"The black rose will poison you, falena"