Disclaimer: I do not own Special A or The 39 Clues. Two fandoms? Yes. Crossover? No. Then what is it? Answer—I've finally decided that this particular t39c fic would be an adaptation of the high-school-themed anime Special A, more commonly known as S.A Class. What? It's fanfiction. :)
Today is September 10. Guess what? Two years ago, Rival Argentica was born this very day! Waaah I can't believe I'm still here in FFN after all that time! Happy 2nd Anniversary to me! So to celebrate this very special day, here I am, presenting you a nice, long chapter, and I could just hope that you'd enjoy reading it just as I have writing it. :)
Another reason I made this extra long is because I might not be able to update for another long time, and that might become a nasty habit. So I've decided that, to neutralize my incredible updating speed, from now on, this being the length for each and every following chappie would be the norm.
Also, if you spot an error, or a wrong detail, correct me! Please know that English is not my mother tongue, and I still haven't read ALL the books!
One last thing...I don't know Irish Gaelic, so if what you see below is wrong, then there's my excuse.
CAHILL UNIVERSITY
since 1739
"Scoil amháin, teaghlach amháin."
"One school, one family."
The entrance exam you took for the [_] years as a requirement to enrol in Cahill University had been excellent. Your given grade was _ . As a result, [insert name] , (Course: [insert Cahill branch] ), you are chosen to be one of the Elite Seven and have the chance to graduate as an immediate [insert Cahill branch] agent, obtaining of the many opportunities and privileges that the university will grant you along with this.
We expect your presence at the Cahill Manor tomorrow, Monday, at precisely 7:00 am. I myself will be there to greet the new ES batch with my personal congratulations.
Signed,
Grace Cahill
University President
II. Monday, Before 7:00 AM
He was used to wearing cheap, cotton t-shirts bought from a humble nearby garage sale or even donning wickedly awesome ninja attires while wielding an equally wickedly awesome samurai sword.
But he was definitely not used to the boring, scratchy, and boring formal attire his older nerdy sister Amy the Bookworm Dork had just forced him to wear.
"Ugh." Dan Cahill disgustedly pulled at his shirt collar, hoping to relieve himself of the itchiness that it so inconveniently provided on the skin of his neck, which grew moister and moister by the minute with bothersome perspiration. He wore a pristine white polo shirt made of silk, he practically shone with said clothing's whiteness, (at least that was what he thought), and patterns of small, barely visible letters were imprinted on the delicate fabric—ES, which stood for Elite Seven. He wore a tie (it was what annoyed him the most, seriously, he felt like he was being practically strangled) and it was just as ebony black as his trousers, which smoothly flowed down his legs. Wearing these made him feel hot, and sticky. Amy could say it a million times, but he didn't care about how expensive these uniforms were. He could never understand it why rich people liked to throw all their precious money away for these incredibly impractical and uncomfortable clothes.
Because what if they suddenly got attacked by a fleet of evil ninjas? Somebody's gotta be seriously prepared to kick those villains' butts—someone with complete actual ninja gear! Yes, of course, he had the skillz, but still, he had to be equipped. Shurikens, sais, throwing knives, samurai swords, shurikens, rope darts, war fans, combat lassos, hand blades, shurikens—sheer awesomeness, now we're talking.
He felt pathetic wearing a stupid, itchy, annoying necktie. (Well, come to think of it, why do people wear neckties in the first place? Huh? Huh?)
But apparently his sister didn't catch the awesomeness of his practicality. Both Amy and Nellie had gushed endlessly back at their apartment when he threw these uncomfortable doodads on, the girls telling him that he was 'so elegant' or 'had matured' or that 'he looked like a grown kiddo'. Honestly, he didn't care how 'elegant' he might have looked like; he just wanted these extremely uncomfortable clothes off.
"I just haaate our uniforms," he slowly whined aloud, like a labouring mother about to give birth to a child. "Because we look like we're going to a funeral! And look at me! I look less awesome than normal!" He irritably pulled at his tie. "I'm seriously going to take these off n—ow!" His hand immediately flew over to his head as he whirled around to face his annoyed-looking sister, who had just hit him with a book. "What?!"
Lines of irritation were apparent on Amy's petite face. Her hand still held the book with which she had just hit him with, and, for a second, Dan wondered if time had just stopped. But then, before he knew it, Amy sighed a sigh of surrender, throwing her hands up in the air exasperatedly.
"Nellie!" Amy called out to the person on the front who drove their humble little car. "Would you please tell Dan the importance of wearing uniforms for the millionth time?"
Their beloved au pair, hired by their grandmother Grace a year ago, turned her mascara-rimmed eyes to the rear-view mirror to stare at the Cahill siblings. Her bangs, coloured a flashy orange, clashed with her blue false eyelashes that were practically a mile long. It appeared as if she was chewing something, and Dan observed a shrimp's orange tail sticking out her mouth like a lollipop stick.
The sight made Dan blink.
Wait a minute.
She was having breakfast in the car?
Nellie gulped down what she was eating first before she spoke like a preaching priest. "Dan, I know you're awesome, and awesome people don't wear unawesome clothes, but as the babysitter of awesomeness—"
"Au pair," Amy interjected.
"—it is my obligation to constantly remind you that those uniforms are mandatory as a member of that über elite class of yours. Therefore—"
"Hey!" Dan cried, pointing a finger of accusation at his au pair. He had just gathered the required brainpower to comprehend the fact that Nellie was just eating something, and in the car, no less, which was initially forbidden by sisterus dorkus and seconded by the punk-haired au pair. He lunged himself at the front seat, reaching for whatever Nellie had been eating. "I thought there's a rule! 'No eating in the car'!"
"What th—Dan! Get off!" The punk-haired Gomez girl tried to protect the little lunch box she'd been hiding under her arms, whose existence was now just discovered by Dan; therefore commencing a battle for sautéed butter shrimps.
Dan had left the house without even having breakfast because he had refused Amy's calls of waking up early, as was the consequence of his sleeping late playing videogames at night—but still. He thought it unfair that Nellie, even if she woke up late, was allowed to eat breakfast, while he wasn't.
"Dan!" shrieked Nellie, all the while trying to drive the car and protect her lunch box from said dangerously unstable carnivore. "Seriously! This is Sammy's food!"
"But you were eating it!" the aggressive, hungry Cahill countered.
"No!" she snapped. "I have a separate lunch box for—"
"You were EATING Sammy's lunch!" he fired back.
"I was not!"
"You were too!"
"Was NOT!"
"Were TOO!"
"WAS NOT!"
"Okay, okay, from now on eating is allowed—just—just no shrimp wars in the car! Effective immediately—" Amy, though, had to duck if she didn't want to get hit in the face by a hurled butter shrimp. When none of them refused to listen to her unheard demands, the girl only slapped her face with her book, the two battling parties battling against each other. "Oh, Dan, you dweeb, please, we're running late, so if you just behave for two minutes more—"
"Wait a sec, did someone just say late?" Nellie called out, with a sudden enthusiasm that suddenly struck fear in Amy's eyes—a scary enthusiasm that made even Dan pause. Amy and Dan observed with widening eyes as Nellie tightened her grasp on the steering wheel, a frightening iron grip that made the two of them suddenly nervous.
Nellie only grinned. "Well, since I can't have my kiddos getting late on the first day of school, get ready to fly."
The Cahill siblings exchanged fearful glances. And, only through looking at each other, they perfectly understood what the horror etched on each other's eyes meant.
Fly?
"Wait a sec—"
"Nellie—"
But, just before they could stop the legendary Nellie Gomez, the engine revved up, and off they went—extracting from Dan a rather feminine scream, and from Amy a cry of overthrown panic—sautéed butter shrimps long forgotten.
And fly they did.
"Ah, nothing like a good drive!" Nellie all too happily stretched her arms in the air like she hadn't just almost gotten themselves mauled over by a gigantic truck one and a half kilometres back. "We're here!"
Dan held his throat and put a hand over his mouth, his head spinning with absolute nausea. "Remind me to—" he burped, the pale colour of his face morphing into a sickly green— "bring some barf bags tomorrow." Then, suddenly, his pupils dilated, and for a second there he seriously looked like he was going to hurl—
"Not in the car, you dweeb!" his older sister scolded. She quickly opened the door on her side of the car and pulled Dan out, who still had his throat grasped by his fingers, probably one of his futile attempts of trying to push down the rising puke. Amy was suffering under the same curse of carsickness herself, but they had to pull themselves together if they didn't want the inconvenience of having the car smelling like puke for a several days.
"Awesome…ninja…needs…" Dan's eyes suddenly bulged out, looking like he was going to officially throw up at that moment, but, thankfully, he managed to gulp down that bout of vomit. "Needs…toilet…" Burp. "…bowl…"
"That's what you get for waking up late!" Amy fought the desperate urge to smack the back of her brother's head with a book for good measure. "Tomorrow, you're waking up at four am in peace. Either that, or it's the bucket of ice."
"Four am?!" he hollered. "Does that even exist?"
"Kyaa!" someone suddenly shouted from the grand gates of the prestigious Cahill University, and both Amy and Dan, who had just gotten out of their humble little car, averted their gazes to a number of regular students who had suddenly gathered and formed a crowd to surround them in a semi-circle.
"Good morning!"
"We've been waiting for you to arrive!"
"Can we take a picture with you?"
"Oh. Em. Gee. Look at their uniforms! They're sooo cool!"
"Aw, I wish my grades could be like theirs!"
"How do they even get to maintain grades so high?"
Dan and Amy awkwardly took a step backwards from the advancing crowd, who shrieked their names like they were celebrities.
Here they go again.
Just like last year, when they had first managed to enter the Elite Seven and represent their respective Cahill branch, all the other regular Madrigal students had been so tremendously happy for them that they would greet the siblings of honour like they were royals whenever they took a step in the renowned university. Amy understood the unspoken fact that the Madrigal branch was considered inferior to all the cunning Lucians, the artistic Januses, the inventive Ekaterinas, and the athletic Tomases, because the Madrigals had no representatives to offer to the elegant Elite Seven for a vast number years, so she knew that she and Dan were the Madrigals' pride once they managed to get grades high enough that put them in their respective ranks in the Elite Seven. Amy and Dan were the ones who proved to everyone else that the Madrigals can, after all, be members of the prestigious Elite Seven. They were practically the reasons why the Madrigals scored statistically higher in the quarterly exams for the last two years ever since, because they stopped pitying themselves and started to build self-confidence, believing that they can actually be at par with the other branches all along.
But what Amy didn't understand was why her fellow Madrigals had to greet them like this every morning. It was as if they were world-class Hollywood stars even deserving of their attention, when what Amy believed was actually quite the opposite—she knew she was an Elite, but so what? The answer, she didn't know. Each student practically had their eyes shining with admiration, looking up at both of the Cahill siblings like they were stars in the sky—it was apparent that they admired them so much, with all the looks of amazement they were giving them. The sight could only make Amy sweat-drop.
"G-guys…" Amy was obviously getting a bit uncomfortable at a scene like this. "I thought I told you, you d-don't need to! Just—greet us normally in the morning—"
"Madrigals! Order!" someone with a militaristic voice suddenly announced from the back of the crowd to interrupt her, and, not three seconds after, the gathered Madrigal students ran to their respective places as they assembled in two, neat, army-worthy vertical lines to make way for their VIPs. Then, bowing their heads in frightening synchronization, they all said, with a voice one and proud, "Good morning, Amy and Dan!"
It was a sight that made Amy feel awfully awkward.
"Umm…I said normally, but…" Amy's tongue felt tied. She may be one of the reasons that the Madrigals had their self-confidence boosted, but she unfortunately she didn't have that herself. After all this time, she may have been popular and often stood out, but she was still as socially awkward as the socially awkward bookworm that she normally was all the way back. "Yeah…hello guys…good morning…"
"Morning, everyone!" Dan, though, unlike his sister, apparently liked all the attention he was getting. He seemed to have already recovered from his severe case of carsickness and was taking the time to enjoy the moment. He returned his fellow Madrigals' love and appreciation by shaking hands, clapping shoulders, and acting familiarly with all his fellow students. "Hey, how you doing? Nice cap you have there. Everyone having a good time? I'm a fan of ninjas too! Haha YES, the star player had just arrived."
Amy could just roll her eyes at this. They haven't even yet entered the school grounds itself, but all this ridiculous hullaballoo was already happening. She whirled her head around to face Nellie, who was still in her car.
"I never thought that the Madrigals would prepare a spectacle like this," she whispered at her, leaning her head into the car through the open window. "And for us, no less! Two years ago, we barely even attracted the attention of a fly. Dan, yes, maybe, because he didn't like hygiene, but you know what I mean."
"Well, what can you say?" The au pair only shrugged her slim shoulders as she casually rested an arm on the steering wheel. "You two're the first Elite Madrigals the university's ever seen in twenty years. Of course you'd be popular."
"I know…but still." Being the humble girl Amy was, she didn't really particularly like all the extra, unnecessary attention they were getting. She could already see it—everyday, for the rest of the school year, whenever she and Dan arrived at the gates in Nellie's car, the Madrigals would all be lined up for them like palace court guards. They may be Elites, but she didn't like all the overdone recognition. "Because we're all just the same students."
"Yes, but the Elite Seven is separated from the regular students for a reason—you'll always stand out, like it or not." Nellie pointed with her chin at Dan and the regular Madrigal students that surrounded him, who endlessly fussed over him like he was their prince. "For an apparent example, your uniforms," Nellie provided. "See any difference?"
Amy looked, even if she knew what she'd already see. Of course Nellie's right, they'd always stand out, even their bare uniforms screamed out that much. That was the very reason why her eyes had immediately landed on Dan when she turned her head to look at the crowd—her brother was the only one of the boys who wore an immaculate white top and jet black trousers, because the rest of them wore their plain brown uniforms, both top and pants, with their black neckties hanging from their necks, the colour being the one indicator that they were Madrigal students indeed. It was the same situation with the girls: while Amy wore a pure, white silken blouse, a black tie, and a flowing black pleated skirt that reached down several inches below her knees, the other female students only wore a plain attire that lacked the elegance of the Elites'. Their uniforms' colour scheme was only an ordinary brown, as was the custom for the regular, ordinary students.
As she was thinking these thoughts, a small group of girls—there were three of them, who, looking at their young features and their petite heights, appeared like they were still in their first years—came before her shyly, twiddling and fidgeting. This made Amy blink down at them, more than once in astonishment. Usually it was her who did the role of being the shy girl; that was probably why it felt a little unusual, like she was looking at the younger clones of her own self as she looked at the girls.
"Good morning…?" Amy started, curious of their purpose.
"Um…excuse me…can we take a picture of us with you?" one of them modestly asked, her youthful eyes shining brightly with innocent hope. She held a phone in her one hand, and she was holding it out expectantly towards Amy. "Because, um, you see, there's a new fad spreading around the school, and they say that if you take a picture of an Elite with you, your grades will immediately go up!"
"What?" Amy said, blinking. School barely even started, but a rumour like this was already becoming some sort of a popular business? She looked back at Nellie for help, but the girl in the car only shrugged. Amy turned her attention back to the little girls. "No, no, I really shouldn't, I—"
"Aw, pretty please?" another one of the girl's friends squealed. "Because you're our role model, Miss Amy!"
"Th-That's right!" responded the one in the middle, who spoke for the first time. "Y-You're really my inspiration, Miss Amy Cahill! Um…it's because I…I never imagined that a Madrigal could ever be part of the Elite Seven, b-b-but ever since you and your brother did, I…I started hoping that m-maybe I have a…a chance, maybe?"
"As if!" her friend said, nudging her jokingly. "You can barely even get into our class' top ten students! What more can you do in the Elite Seven!"
"Aw, but s-still…"
All too suddenly, Nellie laughed from the background. All four girls veered their heads around to look at the source of interruption. "Well," she started, looking at Amy, "since I see you don't need your good ol' babysitter now—"
"AU PAIR!" screamed an apparently embarrassed Dan from the background, earning him a cacophonous chorus of 'You have a babysitter?!' from his shocked fans.
"—I guess this is where I should leave you, Amy, ma' kiddo." Nellie could only roll her eyes at Dan's sudden overreaction. "I'm gonna be late in my culinary class if I don't get there in five. Ireland's Le Roux has pretty strict chefs, I hear," she said, grasping on the steering wheel, getting ready for one mighty hurricane of a ride. Amy could only shudder as she thought of this, almost as if she heard hers and Dan's screams just from this morning all over again, like an overplayed cassette.
"Try not to s…somersault your car into the air this time, okay, Nellie?"
Nellie pulled off a wicked grin, which Amy decided that she should be scared of. Despite the unpromising gesture, though, the au pair gave her a reassuring thumbs-up, stepped on the gas pedal, and stormed off while leaving clouds of dust in her wake. And as she did, Amy could hear her saying, as a last minute reminder: "And don't forget to bring Sammy the lunch I made him!"
His lunch box was already inside Amy's backpack, actually. Amy smiled. "Okay, I won't!"
Nellie suddenly stuck out her head from the window to look back at her. "And get it away from Dan!"
Amy frowned. "Get your head inside the car!"
Nellie did, and officially zoomed off with a laugh. "'Kay, alright, boss, geez! Later!"
Now that her little conversation with Nellie was done, she turned her attention back to the first-year girls, who were still staring up at her with eyes shining like stars.
Amy kneeled down in front of them and patted her head, that one particular girl who said that she was 'her inspiration'. It made Amy feel a little more worthy—it was a fulfilling sensation that fuzzed in her a warmth that spread throughout her entire body and practically made her glow.
"Um, what's your name again?"
The girl was surprised to have just been asked of her name by an Elite member, from the campus-wide famous Amy Hope Cahill herself. She blinked for several moments, her tongue having suddenly malfunctioned, refusing to form the words she wanted to say. But, Amy only patiently waited, looking at her encouragingly, because she knew exactly how it felt like to be nervous. She had, after all, gone through that very same difficulty in childhood, and is still actually going through in adolescence.
Eventually, the girl managed to utter a sound.
"Um…m-my name's…N-Niña. Niña Montel."
"Well then, Niña Montel," Amy said, smiling. "You should know that becoming an Elite doesn't depend on the fact whether you have a picture of me or Dan or not. So I'm not going to give you a picture of myself." At this statement, the girls' faces dropped in disappointment. Amy, though, with a determined smile on her face, landed a firm hand onto Niña's shoulder. "It's not the picture. It's the time that you put in improving yourself."
Amy's determination seemed to have been infectious. The girls' faces immediately brightened at those words, most especially Niña.
"Th-Thanks so much for the advice, Miss Amy!"
The female Madrigal pulled herself up from her kneeling position and stood up straight. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go to your classrooms now!" She clapped them on their backs with a heartening enthusiasm. "Study hard!"
"We will!" the girls shouted after her, who immediately took off upon Amy's encouragement. Amy stood where she was, watching as the three first year students cheerily squealed to themselves, especially at Niña, who they profusely gushed over for having been given an advice from Amy Cahill herself.
"Girls, seriously!" Amy heard Niña hiss to her friends, though with a hidden laugh in her tone. "She's watching us!"
Amy could only shake her head at this, a smile playing on her face as she watched them off, the happy sight of them running and laughing together causing a wisp of nostalgia stir up from within her. Well. Friends would be friends.
Amy's eyes suddenly darkened as she thought of that. Her mind tuned out of the real world as the sound of laughing reached her ears, echoing like a faded picture coming back into life—a distant memory clouding her green eyes.
Friends…
"Wow! That's seriously amazing!" Amy clapped her hands as her best friend finished filling up the entire blackboard with mathematical equations about the existence of dark matter in space. Her best friend was a year older than her, but she was barely fourteen, and it was an overwhelming fact that someone as young could know about such complicated things. Amy herself didn't understand most of what she'd just said, and she knew that it might all be just gibberish, but the way she had so excitedly explained to her every little convoluted detail made it impossible that her friend was just making all those science-y facts up.
Well. Amy guessed that it was what someone should expect from the intelligent daughter of NASA's top aerospace engineers, David and Melinda Starling, themselves.
"I know, right?" said Sinead, who grabbed an eraser and started to wipe off the chalk of all her hard work from the blackboard. "I'll teach you how to do the same thing!"
"What?" Amy's instincts were immediately protesting. Nononononono. She was terrible at math. She couldn't possibly match Sinead's skills! She'd just embarrass herself if she even attempted to touch that piece of chalk that Sinead was offering her right now; it's better not to try at all! "But, Sinead, you know I can't—"
"Yes, you can." The older girl smiled at her younger friend. Having the mind of a scientist taught the young Starling one thing, and Sinead intended on sharing that same little wisdom with Amy as her best friend.
"You'd only achieve something great if you work hard for it."
Amy blinked at the memory. She shook her head, trying to get rid of it—what was that all about, all of a sudden? Oh, come on, Amy, pull yourself together. This is not the place to be thinking about that…this is not the place. She heaved a shaky breath, let it out to calm herself, closing her eyes to block out the negative sensations. Renewed, Amy opened her eyes again. Now. Returning to the real world. Where was she, again? Ah, yes.
"Dan!" she hollered, and she suddenly transformed from a girl lost in nostalgia to a bouncing ball of rage as she stomped towards her brother, who was posing in front of the camera with several girls making wacky faces for the sake of something to post in Facebook. Amy yanked her brother's arm from the girls' grip, and Dan was like 'Hey, Amy, what are you—?!' as the girls whined their squeals of protest. But Amy could only announce to the crowd for all of them to disperse already; because the university bell is sure to ring any time now. Some people persisted that they wanted to get a photo with Dan, and since Amy could not control such a vast amount of people rallying against her, she could only surrender to what they wanted, telling them that they could take pictures of Dan later. Several of the girls dropped their heads in disappointment at this; because, apparently, Dan had made them all line up for this taking-a-picture-with-an-Elite fad, only to have their hopes crushed in the end.
"You shouldn't be encouraging them, Dan," Amy hissed to her brother's ear as she walked past the grandeur of the enormous iron wrought gates of Cahill University, which were opened wide to accept its continuously approaching students, who couldn't help but stare in amazement at the two, who stood out because of their Elite status. Amy barely took notice of the gigantic statues that stood in line in all their splendour, as if they were palace court guards themselves, all built in honour of Gideon, Olivia, and their children, Luke, Jane, Tomas, Katherine, and Madeleine. All of the statues seemed to particularly follow their direct descendants, Amy and Dan, as they walked past them obliviously, at least while Amy scolded Dan about the taking of pictures.
"And, seriously, next time, refuse them, Dan. Yes, no matter how persistent they are. Encourage them in actually doing something useful, not taking pictures of a dweeb like you—and, no, don't tell me you're an awesome ninja. Do you want that head of yours to grow big like a balloon and eventually explode?"
Dan made a face. "Ack, that's like the grossest imagery I've ever heard my entire life. It's cool."
He's not getting the point.
"Dan," Amy breathed out in exasperation, through the gaps made by her fingers after having slapped her face with a hand, "we're all the same students. We don't need that special treatment, okay? We're getting enough privileges with our Elite status. We don't need any more fame than that. Now, come on, we should go to the Cahill Manor now. Grace is probably already waiting for us there."
"No, wait, don't you want to see our class ranks first?" Dan suggested, enthusiasm refreshed. "Because they just posted the lists over there!"
Dan was pointing a finger at the man who had just finished sticking up the last piece of paper on the official bulletin board of Cahill University, where a massive number of students had started to gather round, murmuring to themselves their enthusiasm or disappointment as they found their names on the lists and figured out what class they belonged to for this school year. Girls squealed when they found out that they were still going be the same classmates, boys fist-bumped or shuffled each other's hair in glee. The other students who were scattered around the campus started running past the Cahill siblings towards the bulletin board as well, also eager to find out how good they've done in the entrance exams themselves.
Amy practically shone, as she shared in all the other students' excitement. She grasped Dan's arm and said, "Then let's go over and see!"
"Amy, ew!" Dan tried to pull his arm away from his sister, but it can't be helped. "I'm not a baby anymore!"
"Oh, shut up, dweeb," Amy replied good-naturedly with a smile on her face as she led him towards the bulletin board. They had to run over the green grass before they reached it. It had massive dimensions, the bulleting board, perhaps it stretched for ten long metres, because posted on it were a series of papers where the list of all Cahill University's students were printed on them. As Amy neared, she walked past the section where the first years' grades and sections were posted, separated into Classes F to A, then to the second years, also subdivided into Classes F to A, then the third years, the fourth years, and finally—
The Elite Seven.
But Amy suddenly stopped moving when she saw that a lone girl was standing unaccompanied in front of the list of the Elite Seven, looking up at the list of names unblinkingly. She was a stark contrast to everyone else—besides wearing an Elite uniform exactly like the one Amy wore, she was the only student who didn't get affected by the spell of buzzing excitement stimulated by the first day of school. She was so still, and Amy felt as if her skin hair rose at the cold aura that she emitted, almost as if repelling everyone else from her sphere of influence. The girl had green eyes, just like Amy's, but this older girl's faded a little more into grey, as if worn by the test of life.
And Amy recognized those eyes.
As if suddenly breaking out of a trance, the girl suddenly turned her head to face Amy, her pleated lemon yellow skirt the sun moving like orchestrated piano keys over her legs as she did so—and that was when Amy's breath was suddenly caught in her throat, the silent girl's identity now officially confirmed.
Yellow meant Ekaterina.
"S-Sinead…?"
Sinead Starling pretended to look like she had just seen her there. "Oh, Amy, there you are," she greeted, the seemingly warm words betraying the coldness of her eyes. She smiled, but it seemed strained. "Hi."
"H-hi."
They stood in silence.
"S-so…how are you?" Amy felt like kicking herself for every pathetic syllable her stuttering mouth could offer her. But she had to keep on talking—she didn't know what the driving force was, but she felt pressured, unknowingly by her own social fear. "H-How's life?"
"Fine."
Amy waited, but was utterly disappointed that she didn't add anything more to that previous comment. That monosyllabic reply basically closed off everything that they could possibly talk about. So what else was there for Amy to say?
"Oh."
More silence.
Sinead, who thought that this conversation was heading nowhere, hooked up her shoulder bag higher onto her shoulders, the bored expression on her face showing her great disinterest in these kinds of things. "See you."
The Ekaterina turned around, ready to go. But then, Amy stepped forward, hand outstretched, "W-wait!"
Sinead stopped, then twisted her body to look at her, wordlessly waiting for what Amy had just been about to say. For that split second that their eyes met, the Madrigal felt a little grateful for having even been given even the tiniest bit of her attention—but that thankful sensation didn't last for any longer than a second. Almost immediately, she felt herself paralyzed once more under the Starling's overpowering gaze, and whatever she had been about to say earlier dried up from her mouth and rose to the air like evaporation. She was completely aware that Sinead was waiting an answer from her, but that was also the same pressure was what was making her incapable to do anything. She couldn't explain it.
She just felt pathetic standing there.
"What?" Sinead demanded, the littlest hint of annoyance apparent in her tone. "If you're going to say something, then say it."
"I—um…I just…I just wanted to congra—"
"Congratulate me?" Sinead snapped, eyes suddenly widening incredulously, her mood swing coming from seemingly out from the blue. Impassiveness now having turned into anger, she said, "Seriously? You're mocking me, aren't you?"
Amy blinked, trying to comprehend her words. But nevertheless, all attempts were useless, because she came up with no rational explanation as to why Sinead would come across to such conclusion. "Me? Mocking you?" she questioned, shocked. "Why would I—why would you—I'd never do such—!"
"Stop. Don't say any more."
"But—"
"I said, don't say any more." Sinead's expression didn't even change, even as bitterness flared out from her words like fire. Her incredibly effective façade looked so bright and honeyed, that, in fact, she even smiled just as sweetly at Amy, despite the apparent dark cold shoulder treatment she's already giving her as of the moment. Sinead continued, still with that pretend smile, "Because, I already know what you're going to say. You're going to pretend like you're happy for me, but inside you're happy for /you/. You're going to pretend like you're the goody-goody girl who impresses everybody who's watching, but I know who you really are."
Sinead paused, that smile on her face staying fixated at where it is. The way she pulled off that unchanging smile frightened Amy—in fact she probably preferred it more if Sinead just instead yelled or actually got visually mad at her, instead of this, this, when Amy knew well enough that it was apparent that the Starling inwardly wanted to burn her to ashes, but she still pretended like it's all candies and sprinkles.
"You're a traitor."
She said it simply, still smiling, all calm and cosy as if they were talking about the weather.
"What?" Amy took a step back. "But that doesn't even make any—"
"No, no, really. Don't sweat it." Sinead shook her palms at her, in a gesture that said that she, in fact, didn't really, actually mind at all. "It's fine. Totally fine. I understand. You scored higher than me. So what? You can brag about it all year if you want to—see if I care." Then, the smile turned a thousand hues darker, her voice toning down to a whisper. "But trust me when I tell you this. By the end of the school year, Amy Cahill, I swear I'm going to come out on top. For now, though," she said, that dark air suddenly dissipating, holding out a hand towards her, beckoning her to do the formalities. "I'll let you celebrate your victory. Congratulations, Amy."
The Madrigal felt like wanting to disappear right then and there. Long ago, their meetings had been cheery and warm, but now, it was incredibly uncomfortable—that much had changed through the years as they grew up. Their friendship had been so easily erased by family expectations and school competition, like chalk wiped away from a blackboard, never to be written again.
Amy shook Sinead's hand.
With one last smile, Sinead started walking away, repelling the other students who wanted to take a picture with her with menacing glares as she did so. She walked straight ahead, and the stoic impassiveness sort of made Dan kind of frightened as he watched the Ekaterina walk off as he stood from behind Amy, who was the lone witness of the awkwardness of the entire exchange.
"Huh?" he started, scratching his neck. "What's the matter with Starbucks?"
Amy knew. But she faced away, refusing to meet Dan's questioning gaze—
"I'd…rather not talk about it."
"Why?" he prodded. "Just because she's got a lower class rank, she gets mad like that? I mean, not like mad mad, maybe a little like mad, since you saw that creepy smile, but still—"
Sigh. Her brother had an incredible photographic memory, but sometimes his brain just worked too slowly. "I said, I'd rather not—"
"HELLO, MY FELLOW ELITES!" a sonorous voice suddenly boomed like thunder from behind them, and it was followed by the clicking of cameras. "The star player had just arrived!"
It was Hamilton Holt, strutting towards the Cahill siblings like he owned the entire university.
Amy and Dan whirled around, and when they saw that it was him, they gaped at him in shock, their jaws dropping at the floor in bewildered astonishment.
Because, look at it this way.
What in the world was he doing wearing an Elite uniform?
"Oh, did I just scare you there? Sorry." Hamilton grinned, obviously pleased of himself for making them speechless. "But not really. I was just testing if my fellow Elites can take…" he paused, being one for theatrics. "…surprises." He then stretched his arms outward, as if letting the two siblings comprehend what they were just seeing in front of them.
Dan took his time observing Hamilton. His chest boasted the blue necktie that hung on his white uniform, the letters 'ES' embroidered on the silk material. As Dan registered Hamilton's uniform, he suddenly noticed that he was…
…an Elite?
"Why are you wearing that?" Dan demanded.
"Hamilton?" said Amy, who could not get over it. "You're—you're on ES too?"
"Well, duh." Hamilton didn't even seem to get offended of their shocked expressions, the utter disbelief written all over their faces—in fact, he felt even prouder than ever. "All of you thought that the Tomas aren't smart enough to get into the Elite Seven, but don't be surprised if you see me being crowned as valedictorian this year!" Hamilton turned his back to them with a satisfied grin, flinging his shoulder bag over his, well, shoulders, waving a hand at his fans who kept taking pictures of him as he did so. "See y'all at the finish line—that is, if you even manage to run fast enough to beat me! Like a Tomas! Booyah!"
Dan waited until the Holt was eventually out of earshot. Then he laughed, like he'd just heard the funniest joke ever made. And, really. It just might be. "You? Valedictorian? Ha! Fat chance of that!"
A handsome, British-accented voice as smooth as silk was suddenly heard from behind Amy and Dan.
"You can most definitely say that again."
Dan immediately knew who the owner of that voice was. The Madrigal smirked, and did exactly as the Cobra said, whirling around to point a finger at him, just for the sheer awesomeness of it.
"You? Valedictorian? Ha! Fat chance of th—"
"Oh, save your banal wit for the uncultured swine who'd appreciate it." Ian Kabra wore a bored expression on his face, the tone of his words coming out as mechanical and automatic, as if he even expected that kind of dull remark coming from Daniel Cahill. Well, that much is to be expected from someone as immature; because the Madrigal, in his opinion, was the most dull-witted and foolish among the prestigious class of the Elite Seven. Honestly, he didn't even know what made the university faculty put the young boy and his sister in Elites in the first place—they were Madrigals, and Madrigals were nothing more than weakest members of the Cahills, with their sanctimonious and goody two-shoes attitudes that would never be able to match the talents of the Tomas, the Janus, the Ekaterina, and, of course, the most brilliant of them all, the Lucians. It was an insult to him that someone like Dan Cahill was even allowed to enter the Elites. His petite little sister, Natalie, who was too busy trying to busy herself in examining her nails from beside him, probably thought of the same thing—maybe that was why she pretended she didn't care at all, when, actually, she did.
But just then, his foul mood suddenly warmed up when his eyes landed upon Amy, who stood behind Dan. Her green eyes met his, and—it took his breath every time. Now, she was a sight to behold, and even if she was a Madrigal, a rival and a threat for first honours, in fact he didn't even mind, which he didn't know was a good sign or not. Completely ignoring Dan's murderous glare, he let himself smirk, saying, "Ah, and there you are, love…" He walked forwards, intending to reach her, "The one I've been looking for all this time. I see you haven't changed one bit from last year—"
Dan stepped between them, before Ian could even reach her. "Not one more step towards my sister, Cobra."
Ian scowled down at him, utterly displeased. "You too. You've stayed just as annoying."
"A-and you s-s-s-still haven't stopped c-calling me that."
Ian turned to Amy, who had now finally managed a decent enough sentence. Hearing her adorable stuttering voice was enough to make his scowl turn into an arrogant smirk, all thoughts about murdering a certain Daniel Cahill suddenly evaporating into the air.
"Calling you what, my love?"
Amy's face practically morphed into a mortified red.
"C-Calling me that."
Ian merely chuckled, as if communicating through that gesture that he just couldn't help it. "Ah, well, love, that nickname suits you. Regardless, though, have you seen the class ranks yet? Because, even I must say, the results were quite…" His forehead wrinkled a bit as he searched for the right word, until he decided on the most appropriate option his mind could offer him.
"…surprising."
Amy paused. Did he just say…surprising?
Did that mean that the class ranking actually changed?
She excitedly went over to the bulletin board, right where the list for the Elite Seven, closed her eyes, and crossed her fingers. After the little arrow prayer was said and sent, she opened her eyes and started sweeping them up from down the rank seventh, slowly, slowly, towards the sixth, the fifth, the fourth, third, up to rank first, where she anticipated to see her name listed on the top of the list. Ian Kabra had been a life-long rival and she longed to defeat him, because he'd always, always come out on top, no matter how hard Amy tried—whether it be quarterly tests, aptitude exams, and mock missions, she'd always be second, second, second. She wanted to defeat him and become first for once, but she never actually managed to do 'such optimistically ambitious thing', as Ian liked to coin it—but she never gave up trying, anyway. She wasn't the competitive type of person, yes, everybody could see it that much, but the story becomes a little more different when Amy Cahill was a student. Because, no matter what he said, Amy believed that if she tried hard enough, she could achieve what she really wanted:
To make Grace proud by proving to everyone else that the Madrigals are not inferior.
But as her eyes slowly went up the list, and saw the results…
She could only blink.
CAHILL UNIVERSITY
since 1739
LIST OF ALL CU STUDENTS, THEIR CLASSES, AND ROOM NUMBERS
RANKING
~*~ Elite Seven ~*~
1. Ian Kabra, 3rd year, Lucian (Entrance exam grade: 97.457)
2. Amy Hope Cahill, 3rd year, Madrigal (96.454)
3. Sinead Starling, 4th year, Ekaterina (96.266)
4.5. Daniel Arthur Cahill, 2nd year, Madrigal (95.600)
4.5. Natalie Kabra, 2nd year, Lucian (95.600)
6. Jonah Wizard, 4th year, Janus (95.324)
7. Hamilton Holt, 4th year, Tomas (95.024)
- Regular Classes -
4th Years
-.- Class A. Napoleon Bonaparte Hall, room 201. -.-
1. Eriele Cienfuegos, 4th year, Lucian (94.426)
2. Cara Pierce, 4th year, Ekaterina (94.420)
3. ….
She had to blink a thousand times just to make sure she was seeing things correctly.
"I…an…Ka…Kabra…?" she said, reading each and every painful syllable of his name that was imprinted on the list, just placed right before the number 1. She couldn't believe it. She ranked second.
Again.
"So you see, I must say that I was surprised of the results because I thought you said you promised to defeat me." She heard his footsteps as Ian approached her from behind, and Amy could practically smell the smugness that was him. Or probably it was just his clove-scented cologne, but Amy wanted to think that it was his sickening arrogance. He chuckled. "A pity you haven't. But, I guess you're used to it already, aren't you, Miss Lovely Rank Two?"
Amy whirled around, getting absolutely red in the ears. "Don't. Call me. Rank Two!"
"Oh, so I shan't." Ian patted her head once, just to provoke her, but Amy vehemently swatted his hand away, as if she was even disgusted. This only gave him a laugh. "Well, if you don't want my appellations, then, what should I call you?"
"Wh-why don't you try my actual name?"
"Hmm. Amy, is that it?"
"Y-yes!"
"Ah, but love, you deserve something a little more breath-taking than that." Ian pretended to think for a second. "How about Miss Lovely Rank Two?"
How she hated him.
"Th-this year, Ian, y-you will eat all of those words, b-b-because I will defeat you! One day!" She pointed a competitive finger at him, and she could hear the 'Oooh' of the crowd that she didn't even realize had gathered around them to witness the argument. But, she hardly even cared about them. Right now, her one and only focus was to defeat this arrogant Ian Kabra, just so she could see the look on his face when he realizes that he was rank two, because she, proudly a Madrigal, had defeated him. She would stomp on his gigantic ego, and, oh, all those galling Lucians will see. "Just you wait!"
Ian maintained his calm, brushing off an imaginary speck of dust from his pristine white Elite polo shirt, not the tiniest bit intimidated by her supposed-to-be threatening words. "Thank you, but I'd rather not, honestly. I'd be bored waiting for that day, because…" He neared his face to hers, just to emphasize his point. "…it would never come."
The crowd went howling, even louder than before, even Dan, which made him a recipient of one of Amy Cahill's death glares.
"BUURRRN!"
Amy felt her insides twisting, her face reddening at their closeness, but she refused to give in to defeat and stared just as menacingly into those challenging amber eyes of his, even if she so desperately wanted to melt on the floor like butter and never come back again.
"What's wrong, Miss Lovely Rank Two?" Ian smirked that annoying smirk of his. "Can't you even say anything?"
The creep.
"Y-You," she stuttered, her face going even redder than before, "are such an arrogant, stuck-up—!"
"All of you are stuck-up."
Ian, Natalie, Dan, Amy, and everybody else all turned their heads to face four other girls standing across of them. Almost just as immediately, murmurs spread through every single one like a wave, but silence fell on every student once Ian's eyes landed onto the four fuming ladies.
"Pardon?"
One of them, their leader, an Asian looking girl, took hold of the conversation.
"I said," she emphasized irritably, "all of you are stuck-up."
Murmurs spread out.
"Why, you—"
"Daniel." Ian calmly kept his gaze straight ahead at the girls. "The one who loses his head would be the one to lose."
For a second, Dan looked puzzled, not comprehending. Natalie rolled her eyes at this and decided to translate it for him.
"You blockhead. That means: Be calm, don't fight them. They'd eventually give up, anyway. We're the Elites, and they—" she spared the four girls a superior smirk "—they're nothing more than regulars."
The murmurs intensified, some offended students finding their mouths wide open in shock.
"All of you…" the girl whispered, her voice full of hatred and bitterness, which once more silenced everybody. All eyes were on her, but she kept her gaze directly at Ian Kabra, first honours student of the Elite Seven. "All of you are…are so… so…arrogant, so full of yourselves, and you think you can look down at all of the regular students, just because you're part of that stupid little club?"
It was on Amy's instinct to protest. "L-Look down on you? I-I'd never—we'd never!"
"Hmm," Ian said, matter-of-factly, "I already am looking down upon you—since you, how do I say this, deserve it—but please presume that it's just me."
The girl practically burst in flames at the Lucian's offensive comment. "We deserve to be looked upon?!"
Amy glared back at Ian. Not really helping.
Ian's eyes held laughter. Really, love?
Natalie sighed. Tired of this meaningless play of words, the brunette girl decided that it was high time that she stepped forward and started pointing out things here, which her older brother Ian had just so annoyingly failed to do. Just one of the perks of having a smitten brother. He should be thankful that he had a sister as fabulous as her.
"Lady," she confronted, "we are where we are right now because we worked hard to obtain it." Natalie made sure to make her voice as smooth and calm as possible, just so the other party would be aggravated even more. "So, if you want us to look up to you, then I suggest that you start doing the same thing."
The girl wanted to burst. But then, her three other friends started nudging at her, pulling at her arms to take her away. Everybody heard snippets of 'Come on, Eriele, it's still so early in the morning' and 'Please, girl. Pull yourself together' or even 'Calm down. Don't let them get to your head.'
The crowd silently watched them walk away, with the girl, now revealed as Eriele, being dragged dismally along with them, although she still refused to remove that scowl that she wore on her face. Once they were out of sight, everybody either started returning to their old business, or talking about the incident that had happened just now, the spirit of the morning chatter coming back to reign. Amy, Dan, Ian, and Natalie were not exceptions.
"What was that all about?" Dan mused aloud.
"There are people who appreciate the Elites," Natalie explained with a delicate yawn. She slowly walked towards the bulletin board herself to see the list of class ranks, adjusting the gigantic red Marcello sunhat that rested onto her head as she did so. "But even so, there would always be those who would hate us."
"Of course, you can't please everybody, as they say," Ian agreed, nodding. "Now, Natalie, shall we—"
But suddenly, a shrilly voice pierced through the air that Dan had to cover his ears to protect his eardrums from breaking. A certain red Marcello sunhat flew to the ground, now neglected of its owner's attention.
"Aaahhh! This is terrible!"
"What's the big idea?" Dan shrieked.
"Oh, I'll answer you what!" was the little British girl's startling response that the earth beneath probably shook. She pointed at the bulletin board with a perfectly French-manicured finger, its red tint highlighting Dan and Natalie's name. How come she'd only noticed this now? "This is what!"
4.5 Daniel Arthur Cahill, 2nd year, Madrigal (95.600)
4.5 Natalie Kabra, 2nd year, Lucian (95.600)
Dan was confused at what was probably wrong with their names and why Natalie was pointing at them.
"Eh?"
"This is the worst of the days I've ever had in my entire life! Ian! Look at this horrid ranking system! Horrid! Absolutely horrid! I shall sue whoever computed our grades—there must be some mistake! I can't be with the same rank as with that…that…" Natalie was breathing furiously now, having a difficult time to pick a word among thousands of others that could fit into Daniel's character very perfectly.
But eventually she found the perfect set of words, and pointed an accusing finger at Daniel.
"That stupid American git!"
It took Dan a second to take all Natalie's words in. I can't be with the same rank as with that awesome American ninja, she said. The same rank as with that awesome American ninja. The same rank as with that awesome American ninja. The same rank as with that awesome American—wait. What?
"Natalie Kabra and I are a tie?!" he asked, as horrified of the fact as Natalie was.
Ian frowned and came up to his sister's defence. "Do not call my sister a gnat, Cahillian peasant. If you think I haven't noticed that single extra emphasis you've put on her name's first syllable, then think again."
"Okay, then, I'll remove the G from the spelling, and see if the word even changes. Natalie Cobra—see, she sounds exactly like a gnat, so don't you complai—"
"That is beside the point!" Natalie sighed exasperatedly, fanning herself dramatically with her long, slender fingers. Whenever it came to arguments like this, Dan Cahill had always been tiring. And annoying. Giving up now would be the best option to save her face from having exhaustion wrinkles—he would never be able to understand how much trouble it meant to her just by sharing the same rank with him. She needed to study harder. Work harder. Elevate herself in the ranking, and beat Dan to it. In the world of the Cahill University, Madrigals were considered as the weaklings, the scrawniest, the talentless—and a Lucian, tied in a tie with someone like him?
Once Mum knew…
"The humidity here is horrid," she said, changing the topic, trying to draw herself away from the thought as far as she could possibly be. "We must go inside the manor now, Ian. And what has gotten into you? We enter the school, and instead of noticing the decent enough design of the university buildings, you suddenly suggest that we approach the fashion tragedy show, Amy and Dan—"
"My word, sister dear," said Ian, gracefully hooking his arm into Natalie's before she could blurt out something that he wouldn't like her to blurt out. Anyone who looked would be impressed at the brotherly gesture, but what they'd never know was that there was a hidden forcefulness behind the act. "We must, indeed, go inside the manor. The heat must be parching your brain cells."
He turned to Amy to give her a last minute reminder. "A pleasure, Miss Lovely Rank Two. Good luck surviving with your brother for the next five minutes." He smirked. "And the entire school year."
"How many times do I have to tell you—don't call me Rank Two!"
The Kabra siblings only walked away, laughing.
"Tsk." Dan scowled, now thankful of being alone with his sister to say the one thing he'd been itching to say ever since he stepped into this school. "They're despicable. All of them, against the two of us."
Amy agreed. "And the morning bell for the first day of school hadn't even been rung yet."
But then, as if on cue with her thoughts, a sound suddenly broke through the air, shattering the peaceful fragility and setting everyone to panicked and excited motion. It almost sounded as if it was signalling the start of a war in a battlefield—
Krrrriing!
Everyone, does the name Eriele Cienfuegos ring a bell? From Mission Hindenburg? Hmm? Hmm?
Oh, and, nope, I haven't forgotten Jonah Wizard. I originally wanted to give him a short glimpse for this chappie, but don't you think 10 000 words and 21 pages in MS Word is a tad too long? XD
Also, it would probably take me another long time until I post the next chapter. What to expect, you ask? Well, we'll get to meet the mysterious character, Marvin Speede, up close, just to finally get this story's foundation built. Does anybody know who he is? Does anybody? Anybody? Hmm?
Please please please review and tell me what you thought!