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Astro’s taken a step away from the crew, but his quiet murmur on the phone in Greek indicates he’s probably talking to his mafia boss father. I’m not from London, but observing the way Eve and her meticulously snobbish three girlfriends, the notorious bitches of Hawthornes, were pointing fingers at him while waiting for the ferry the other day, my curiosity about Astro, my new roommate, was piqued.
So, I took a sneak peek at his file. Not his school file, but the impressive one Scotland Yard has on him and his family.
I tend to blend seamlessly into the shadows of real life, going unnoticed and undetected. However, in the realm of cyber technology, I am completely invisible. My presence is undetectable, my actions untraceable, and my identity concealed behind layers of digital camouflage.
Astro’s father is the leader of the Corinthian syndicate, a prominent crime firm based out of East London that primarily focuses on money laundering, prostitution, gambling, and drugs, among otheraward-winning business practices. Most likely, his father got someone of powerful importance who owed him a couple of favors to land his son a place here to peddle his business within Britain’s most prestigiously exclusive private colleges up in the Highlands.
Living within the shadows of society, I also hear stuff. Rumors are that he spent time in an American prison. After he left the room he shares with me, I casually snooped through his stuff, and if I were to judge by his age and the travel entry stamps on his passport and being a year older than me, I’d reckon he’d spent time doing something somewhere in America.
That shite he spewed to the dean about going to some midnight poetry group was somewhat true. The knobhead thought I was into that crap and mentioned meeting me there at midnight, but I was already onto him after spotting Greg, the caretaker’s assistant, running errands for him and collecting parcels from an undisclosed boat at the docking pier.
I don’t know why Astro would think I’d even be interested in attending midnight poetry readings; it’s hardly the thing I do. He’s funny thinking that would be my thing, but I reckon he thought my style might cause his party to crash.
This is my second year at Hawthornes, and I don’t do orientation week parties. What I do is sneaking off to the mainland to ride Bessie.
She’s a right temptress. Her sleek, curvaceous black body glistens under the moon's rays. Riding her is like an aura of power and freedom as she purrs beneath me. She loves to dance gracefully through the streets, kissing the pavement with a tantalizing whisper. But when she roars, it’s like a primal cry, commanding attention and respect from all who dare to gaze upon her beauty. She’s both wild and refined, a mistress of the road, beckoning adventurers to straddle her saddle and lose themselves in the thrill of the ride.
Thankfully, my beloved is parked safely in the garage I’m renting because the campus security is on a state of red alert to track down whoever’s smuggling the drugs onto this exclusive private island. So, sneaking off the island wasn’t possible last night.
The sudden loud remark from Astro has us all turning in his direction, and he looks up at us and quietly moves further away to continue his obviously irritating discussion on his mobile.
On my right, Byron has his phone in his hand and is scrolling through hundreds of contacts. Probably can’t make a decision on who to phone to let them know of our current status.
I, on the other hand, don’t bother with my phone and keep it in my bag. My contact list remains void of numbers. Not a single human would even notice I’m missing.
“Hi, Sebastian,” I hear Eve say. “Can you please phone my mom and forward the call to my phone?”
Who the fuck needs someone else to phone their parents for them?
Sounds like a lot of work to me.
I can hear her sigh deeply as she patiently waits to be connected.
“Mom?” I hear Eve finally say, and her mother’s voice is loud enough that I can listen to the entire conversation.
All five seconds of it. All the girl wanted was to inform her parents that she was flying to another continent and not to worry about it. But it’s crystal clear, Eve’s mother is a right bitch.
The old bag is actually angry that her daughter interrupted her life!
And, here, I thought I was the invisible one.
The room has gone quiet, and even Astro finishes his angry Greek murmuring into his phone. And just when silence calms everyone's current dilemmas, suddenly, everyone’s phone is buzzing with notifications. All except mine and Mr. Coldwell’s.
I lean into Byron’s shoulder and see that Hawthornes' resident gossip has struck again.
Eve gasps loudly as she reads the latest post that’s about her and Astro, claiming they were both caught by campus security doing drugs while in the private throes of passion in his bathroom.
She whips her head over to Astro, and if looks could kill, her narrowed eyes would disintegrate him into ashes.
He raises his palms up innocently, “I had nothing to do with that. I promise,” and he swears it on his mother’s grave.
Eve swiftly gets up and dashes to the door.
“Miss. Winters, where are you going?” Mr. Coldwell asks. I’m not sure if he’s seen the post, given Zane moved away from him as he opened his phone app.
“The bathroom,” she replies, clearly upset by this post and trying hard not to get angry or burst into tears.
“We’re only a few minutes from boarding,” he announces. “There’s a bathroom on the plane. I’d rather everyone remains here to avoid delays.”
