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“I have nothing to hide,” she retorts defensively.
“You’re missing my point.”
“No,” she insists. “I understand what you’re insinuating, and it’s to stir up trouble. Do you have a problem with me and who I sleep with?”
“Why would I care?” I reply. “But there’s an ethical code that Mr. Coldwell swore to uphold when he took on the role of our teacher.”
“But you do care. Don’t you, Byron?” Astro interjects, crossing his legs casually. "Care to enlighten us all on why you're so fixated on Eve's relationship with Mr. Coldwell?"
Bastard’s mocking me.
The venom surges within me. I'd love nothing more than to ram Jack's knife straight into Astro's smug face.
“Cat got your tongue or something?” he taunts, that infuriating grin plastered on his face.
“Let me clarify this situation,” Mr. Coldwell interjects calmly. “I am not a professor at Hawthornes—at least not yet. I’m currently studying for my master’s degree. I took up this part-time position as an assistant professor in the sociology department because I was asked to, and the salary was pretty decent. However, my primary responsibility lies in instructing the new sports section, focusing on taekwondo and fencing.
“Dean Carmichael and the board are eager for the institution to gain recognition in sports, particularly the upcoming Olympics next year. They are keen for the college to excel in sports, aiming for their students to represent Great Britain. Martial arts, with its emphasis on discipline and prestige, has been chosen for this purpose,” he explains, shedding light on his position in the college.
“So, to answer your statement about student-teacher relationships, they’re frowned upon. In fact, they would violate the institute’s rules. But what Eve and I decide after we get off this island is a decision she and I make, one which you will have no privy to.”
I remain quiet, knowing he’s made it clear this topic is not up for further debate, and the last I want to do is look like a knobhead insisting that he faces a prima facie violation back home regardless of what he decides with Eve.
“In case you were wondering, Bessie’s my motorbike,” Jack suddenly blurts out, breaking the tension. Eve bursts into laughter, followed by Zane, and soon, we're all caught in a fit of hysterical chuckles.
“So you were referring to your motorcycle?” Zane manages to ask through his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes.
Jack’s eyes gleam with excitement.
“She’s much more than that,” the gothic weirdo licks his lips as he gazes at Eve. “She’s my mistress.” His tone is slightly suggestive, causing her to blush.
I wonder if something is going on with those two. I understand her shagging Zane —it's like a cliché. The popular American girl with the college jock. And Mr. Coldwell is probably just the British version of Zane.
But Jack? He’s an entirely different kind of species, and I can’t see her being attracted to him.
“So you jerk off to your bike?”
Zane's question hangs in the air as Jack considers his words carefully.
“That would be sacrilege to Bessie,” Jack responds, his tone half-joking, half-serious.
“I can see where Jack is coming from,” Eve interjects with a thoughtful voice, and I watch as Jack cocks his head sideways at her with curious interest.
“You can hold something in high esteem, even if it's just an object or a concept. For instance,” she glances around the group before fixing her gaze on Zane. “Your passion for taekwondo and fencing. You've got a sports scholarship for both, and you live and breathe those sports. I remember when you told me about winning national championships.”
“Actually, I’m curious about that,” I add. “Why wouldn’t you represent America in the Olympics and choose Britain instead?”
Zane's sudden discomfort catches me off guard as he tosses a stone into the fire. It's unusual to see him so unsettled; he usually exudes confidence and stands tall. But now, there's a profound sense of discontent, and I can't help but wonder if there's more to his personal circumstances than meets the eye.
Sensing his unease, Eve instinctively moves closer to him, her hand resting gently on his thigh, offering a silent reassurance. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about the bond between them.
“Martial arts was never my first choice,” he suddenly declares, sighing heavily as if he's been carrying a weight on his shoulders that he needs to unload. I’m not holding his relationship with Eve against him. In fact, I don't have anything against Zane at all. If anything, I'd consider him a friend if I had any.
“I played quarterback in high school,” Zane reveals, breaking the silence.
Jack and Astro exchange puzzled looks, clearly unfamiliar with the term.
“Sorry mate, dunno know what that is,” Astro says on behalf of all of us.
