* So I'm back from work! Please enjoy this chapter and excuse the horrible time gap.
Alright, so I realize the spelling and grammar in the last chapter were absolutely disgusting, I guess that's what I get for typing at midnight, half asleep, and rushing to boot.
For this chapter I'll definitely take my time.
Thank you to my lovely reviewers' rouge-scholar07 and makokashi22.
The Wall
Chapter 2: Another's Belongings
Sibella had entered her room in the premature hours of the morning as quietly as possible. Although it was still more than dark out, she knew Winnie would be able to see her if the werewolf opened her eyes. Benefits to being nocturnal, Sibella supposed, but of course, Winnie would do much more than see her if she were to wake. Winnie was protective, and although Sibella was the older of the two, Winnie had proved to be the wiser.
Winnie used to confront Sibella openly about her nightly escapades through the grounds, but later found that the message was much stronger written, where the words could not just float into one ear and out the other, where the scolding stayed forever. So it was no surprise when Sibella had found a note placed on her pillow. The young vampire sighed, picking up the note with her thumb and index finger the same way someone would hold someone else's wet tissue and stared at it. She'd read enough of Winnie's notes to last a lifetime and they all contained the same thing – anger, scolding, and some stupid guess as to why Sibella enjoyed breaking curfew every single night. There was really no point in reading it. Only if Winnie were to find out she didn't read the notes, then she may go back to screaming her point at her instead of writing it – something which Sibella's eardrums wouldn't be able to take.
She sighed and opened the note cautiously, merely from curiosity. She read it over a few time and found she had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing. She had really come up with a ridiculous theory now; it was almost adorable how bad it was.
Sibella,
What is with you lately? Seriously, if Ms. Grimwood finds out you've been breaking curfew every night she may actually be forced to kick you out. You don't get sent to Grimwood because you're every ghouls dream daughter! Could you just follow one rule, ONCE!
I swear if it's a fucking boy you're seeing every night... well, don't expect me to bail you out. I've warned you enough times.
Winnie
Sibella crumpled the note in her hands and threw it in the trash can with ease. A boy? Really? Is that was what Winnie had come to believe? That she's going off every night to meet up with her sweetie... her boyfriend... her lover? Ha! That's a riot. The only person she'd ever run into was Turk that same night, and that ended with him getting verbally battered and pushed off a wall. Real romantic...
She walked over to the desk beside her coffin with a graceful stride that rivalled a figure skater mid routine. She opened a drawer as silently as she could and tore the top sticky note off a pad. Taking a pen she wrote in big bold letter's the word "NO" and closed the drawer.
She suddenly found herself wanting the morning to hurry and arrive. Because, for the first time since this game between the vampire and the werewolf had started; Sibella had felt the overwhelming urge to answer Winnie. She practically pranced over to Winnie's bed and with a frightfully giddy look and softly stuck the note to the forehead of her roommate and best companion. She smiled at her work for a moment and then found it best to get ready for bed. Winnie always got up early and Sibella knew that this morning she would have to as well - repercussions for her actions and all that jazz, but it would all be worth it in the end just to see the look on her face.
/
"Psst... guys!"
Silence.
"Guys!"
More silence.
"Shit," Tug cursed as he stood looking up into the dark window that led to the bunk room.
He knew he was stuck, locked outside, no way into his own bed. He slapped his face in frustration. If only he hadn't gotten mad. Then he would be in a nice warm bed instead of having to consider the fact he may be sleeping on mud and leaves tonight. He groaned and kicked the wall of his school repeatedly, hoping to vent out his anger. It didn't work.
He walked away from the school, knowing full well that everyone was fast asleep and wouldn't hear him. He sat himself down ageist the stone wall he'd recently sat upon until a rude young woman had to come and push him off of it. Of course, he'd never be able to sleep on top of the wall anyways. Like many people, Tug had a tendency to move in his sleep and to sleep atop a four foot wall would only end in more bruises on his body and a vulgar awakening sometime soon.
He silently thanked the heavens that it wasn't winter. At least it wasn't cold enough that he would freeze or get sick or wake up in the hospital with a severe case of hypothermia which would later result in his leg being amputated. He winced at the thought. Tug was never one to have an over active imagination, but like anyone when they're alone and bored stiff, he was prone to scenario's playing out.
He closed his eyes and leaned back into the cold stone behind him. It wasn't very comfortable, actually it was downright horrible, but he was attempting to sleep against stone so he guessed it was to be expected. But man, was he going to hurt tomorrow. He crossed his arms over his chest and attempted to persuade his brain to turn off. It didn't work; his mind still insisted on thoughts buzzing inside his skull.
He huffed, looking down at his used-to-be pristinely white shirt. Even through the shadows of the night, the green from the grass stains on his shirt stung his eyes. He was already going to get a mouthful from the Colonel for staying out all night and sleeping in the courtyard, the grass stains on his uniform were going to get him in even more trouble. Cleanliness of the body led to cleanliness of the mind, at least according to the Colonel and the Calloway code which could sometimes be more of a pest than helpful.
Tug closed his eyes. The night around him was silent. Not even the crickets which usually sung their midnight melodies through the night were to be heard. There were no passing cars, or a storm in the distance. There wasn't a single dog barking in the background. It was merely silent. An eerie phenomenon at Calloway, even at two in the morning. The lack of sound was the last straw for Tug. He was not going to be able to sleep.
His head, eyes wide open and mind fully aware, lifted itself up from the wall with ease and were then followed by the rest of his body. Once up, Tug started a slow walk towards the opening gate of the military school. He paid attention to the way his shoes did not sink into the cold autumn ground, but not to the shimmering of the stars above him. He came from a rural town, so the sheer amount of light in the sky didn't faze him like it would a city boy. Neither did the crisp night air. He couldn't count how many times he'd run around at night back home. He frowned to himself at the thought of home. If only he didn't have a temper. Then he could be home, with his parents, and his siblings, all living in their little house at the end of a little dirt road. He'd be home, lying outside in the cool air, going to a school where he didn't have to worry about getting his uniform dirty, maybe even sneaking off to the beach up the road late at night with a pretty little thing he may have met the day before.
It wasn't like he hated Calloway, quite the opposite actually. He didn't mind having to work hard, or the boys who stayed in the school with him, and, although he may protest against it some, he didn't mind the Calloway Code. He just hated the circumstance which put him here. He hated the fact that people often thought he was troubled because his parents had sent him to military school instead of him opting to do so. It was embarrassing. He realized long ago that his temper wasn't a good thing, but had he known what Calloway was really like beyond the stereotype of a military school, he liked to think he would have chosen to go. He admitted that he probably wouldn't have chosen to if put in that position, but he liked to think he would have.
He reached the gate in a much worse mood than when he left for it. He leaned on the metal with all his weight. It didn't collapse and he knew it wouldn't. He really wasn't all that heavy, or strong for that matter. He was athletic, but not in the sense that his muscles budged out like he had melons under his skin. He was thin, stocky, and somewhat lanky when you got down to it. It wasn't like he didn't workout, in fact he had to – it was part of the curriculum at Calloway, but he found that unlike a majority of the others, he just didn't build muscle as easily.
Then something odd caught his eye. A mailman. He was obviously young, maybe only a little older than Tug himself, and had headphones over his ears blaring music. Tug relished in the slight musical sound emitting past the cushioned barrier of the earphones. He had almost sworn he gone deaf with the lack of sound until that moment. The mailman, not noticing the young blonde cadet, retrieved a package out from his bag and dropped to the ground in front of the gate.
"Finally," the boy laughed, "I'm done."
Tug watched him until he walked away, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. And, to his undoubted surprise, he truly wasn't. He actually did witness a mailman dropping off a package at nearly three am, at least according to his watch, and then walking away like nothing had happened. Tug shrugged, it wasn't like it was his problem anyway.
He dropped to his knees and pulled the package in under the gate. He couldn't make out anything on the label because of the dark, but found that the package was heavier than he expected. He shook it near his ear and the noise than came out was cushioned by something inside the box. Overcome by curiosity, he gently opened the box with surgeon-like meticulousness. What he found inside the box, however, was a bigger shock than a mailman working a night shift. Inside the package were books and thick frocks. He chuckled. The mailman had to have been given the wrong address. He doubted anyone from Calloway would have ordered dresses especially, from what he could feel, such decorative ones. The fabric also felt expensive. And he only knew of one person who would ever wear such extravagant clothes on a regular basis and she lived next door.
He froze and whispered the name in awe, "Sibella."
It had to be her package; it couldn't be anyone else's. He picked up a few of the books in interest. He had always loved reading, an obsession which at one point had been enough to curb his temper and control him. He hadn't the slightest idea what books he held, but he couldn't care less. He had forgotten to bring up the books he'd bought over the summer back to school and found himself utterly bored before bed most nights. Sibella surely wouldn't mind if he just borrowed one or two, especially if she didn't know it was him of all people. He just prayed they weren't going to be some silly chick lovey-dovey romance novels. If he ever got caught with those kinds of books in his drawers he'd never hear the end of if.
He repacked the box, leaving a few of the reading materials behind. Stealing was against the Calloway Code, so Tug insisted that he was only borrowing with permission. It was always better to ask for forgiveness than permission anyways, and he needed the reading material desperately. Of the few books in the library at Calloway that didn't involve the military or fighting or some sort of other "manly" activities, he had read them all… several times.
He pushed the box back outside the Calloway gate for someone else to find. He wasn't about to find the box he just borrowed books from without permission. It wouldn't immediately point him as the culprit if Sibella realized what books were missing that way. And let's face it; what Sibella doesn't know can't hurt him.