Chapter Two - Hidden Books, Cinnamon Ponds, and Dark Heart's Cellphone
Driving to this school was a pain, not that Pitch would ever admit it. Most everything he was very blasé about, and he wasn't too keen on losing his facade to mere strangers so easily. He would just have to invest in a cellphone, if merely for navigational purposes.
The roads that lead to the university were all fairly beautiful. Wildflowers fringed what he could see of the roadside while behind the wheel, and went well into the forest where they peppered themselves around the trees. This was one of the reasons he had moved to this state. For the beauty. Though surprisingly under-appreciated, it had a magical air to it; a certain spice of, well, spice, if you will. Pitch loved the smell of cinnamon that permeated the air as he drove almost to the point of criminal speeding with all of his windows down. It was refreshing, and as much as he loved his black-ice air freshener, he was thinking maybe he would search for a cinnamon one next time to add to the rearview mirror, but for now, he really should focus on finding out where this bleeding school was.
"Mr. North, the new transfer student, Kozmotis Pitchiner, is here," the secretary stated through the phone matter of factly as Pitch walked through the door of her office and stood, questioning whether or not he should smile at the woman or wait avoiding it. He decided to wait.
A muffled man's voice was barely audible to Pitch from where he stood, but it sounded quite like the man he had talked to the week before about coming to attend this school.
"Yes, sir." She hung up the phone and smiled at him, more out of politeness than genuine sincerity.
He mirrored her look before she took him around the corner near her desk and down a short back hall to a grand door. She knocked once, quickly, and waited a moment before the door was pulled open from the opposite side and a tall, Santa-esque Russian stood with one of the biggest and goofiest smiles Pitch had ever seen on his face.
Pitch had no idea that this was what the dean really looked like. He had assumed some students had hacked the school's website and posted the photo he had seen of the "Head of Campus" on the faculty page and taken the correct one down, but no, this was the picture. This was the actual dean. Pitch smiled genuinely at the possibilities of some of the classes they teach here if their president was Santa. Reindeer Lassoing 101, How to Bake a Cookie: And Then Frost It (2 Credits), and lastly, they must have A Beginner's Course for Snowball Fights, one he was particularly interested in, seeing as how the cold was one of his favorite things.
North led him to a chair, telling and motioning him to sit, as the secretary left. He had to be reminded of what he preferred to be called, a slight annoyance for Pitch, but at least he'd remember next time.
North introduced him to some boy that was in the chair to his right, he glanced over, and then looked out the glass window that took up an entire wall behind North. The campus really was beautiful. I wonder if everything smells like cinnamon here, he thought to himself.
After quite a minute or so, the boy, Jack, as North had said, spoke up, "Hey, nice to meet you. Call me Jack, if you like."
Pitch shrugged, too focused on the outside's gardens than to really care at the moment about this Jack that hadn't moved his eyes from him since he sat down.
"I guess I'll be helping you find your way around for a little while, and let's hope we can find the hidden workshop I just know North has if we pull out the right book," he seemed to hush himself at the last part, and it was just low enough North didn't hear, though he seemed busy rifling some papers at the moment.
Pitch looked back over at the boy, immediately thinking maybe we would get along, when in the matter of a few seconds, he took in his entire visage. Jack was breathtaking; no wonder he had so many friends, as North had said over the phone. His hair was white and stood up in certain places, most likely due to bed-head, and was not entirely obviously dyed, which made Pitch wonder how it had gotten that way, or if it really was just dyed. His brows were white streaked with grey that blended perfectly like the trees and the wildflowers he had seen on his drive here. His lips were thin but full at the same time, his teeth perfectly straight and whiter than his hair. He was a bit overly pale, but with his hair color, it made him look fragile, though from his lean structure you could tell he wasn't. His eyes were round and the color was that of freshly fallen snow over cracked, blue ice, his pupils a startling contrast to his otherwise white features. He wore a thin blue hoodie that was sown with white thread, almost as a garnish, around the hem, cuffs, and neck-line. He wore a white T-shirt underneath, from what could be seen of it near the collar of the hoodie, and his pants were form-fitting, khaki cargo pants with zippers that went around the pant legs in such a way that they looked like dark brown chords, as did the suspenders that hung down and off the chair he was seated in. His sneakers were of the Converse variety, a blue that matched his eyes, and the laces and soles just as white as the rest of him. He didn't have any piercings like Pitch did, but that might've been a good thing, where-as things get tangled. And how the hell did his thoughts just move in that direction? Pitch looked back out the window, relishing those seconds he had just stolen, and tried not to smile as he remembered that they would need to find that hidden book before North caught onto them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Pitch saw Jack's smile broaden, as if he could tell he himself was trying not to. He found it quite amazing how Jack already knew what he was feeling.
But then again, Pitch thought, Jack is just a boy, he has enough friends as it is, and my life is a tad too busy at the moment to have to deal with children.
Any feeling of wanting to smile before had left him.
Eventually they managed to iron out the details of what Jack had to really do for Pitch. It mainly consisted of, technically speaking, showing him around the campus and where his classes were. An added bonus that wasn't said, though Pitch could feel it hanging in the air, was that Jack could help him make friends.
He didn't need friends before he came to this place, and he'd be damned if he needed them now.
By the time the meeting was actually adjourned, it was too late to be led around the inside of the campus. All the teachers headed home. Pitch had to suffice with being led around the outside as Jack pointed out the different buildings and wings of where he would really be attending his classes, but there were only so many buildings, and it wasn't long before they came across the pond that was the center of the semi-circle of a campus. Benches and a gazebo surrounded it, the tall lamps along the walkway turning on as the sun had finally set.
Now this is a beautiful place... And the cinnamon is here too.
Pitch smiled and breathed in deeply at his thought before he realized he let something slip.
"What is it?" Jack asked, a light smile playing across his own lips.
Pitch didn't meet his eyes but rather looked out over the water, wishing he could enjoy it in peace.
"Oh, I get it, it really is, isn't it?" Jack stated.
Pitch glanced back at him, a trace of confusion, before he looked back out.
Jack tried to muffle a laugh. "It's beautiful out here. It's why I chose to go here and not a college out of state. Not because I grew up here," he hesitated and Pitch looked back to see his smile having faltered out before it picked back up, "but because of the pond. I sometimes come out here in the middle of the night and just sit, reading by the street lamps or watching the wind ruffle through the trees, almost as if it just wants the leaves to play." Jack trailed off, real happiness creeping into his voice, making it seem like he wanted to play with the wind. "You'll have to come out here sometime."
Pitch wondered what it would be like to do that, to just sit without a worry. He was never able to before he had moved here. His life was far too busy for him to enjoy the little luxuries peace had to offer. And another part of him wondered why Jack had hesitated, and then he stopped that thought in its imposing tracks. It really was none of his business, and he didn't need another thing added to his load. He dropped it, only saying, "I think I will," before walking to the water's edge.
Jack followed, staying a few steps back and away, as he watched the side of Pitch's face slip back into a relaxed smile, thinking that Jack couldn't see it.
Pitch bent down and put his fingertips to the water, feeling the slightly above-freezing water send shivers up his spine. I wonder what this place will be like in winter, he thought uncharacteristically, before he berated himself and stood up. He should stop thinking ahead of the present. If he could just make it day by day here, he should be fine this time.
"Once the pond freezes over most of the shee- uh, students come down here for ice-skating, and sometimes snowball fights get started by yours truly." Jack grinned one of the cockiest grins he thinks he had ever managed to pull off.
"Were you about to say sheep?" Pitch asked, turning to look at him.
"Uh, no, well... Maybe," Jack sighed, embarrassed, losing the grin he was so proud of.
"Jack?"
"Yes, Pitch?"
"I have this dreadfully terrible feeling we're going to be friends."
"Me too, Pitch. Me too."
This time, Pitch didn't mind Jack seeing him smile.
Pitch had just taken his keys out of the back pocket on his jeans when he noticed Jack walking towards the main road, his backpack slung over his left shoulder. Pitch thought it odd that Jack seemed to be alone, after all, wouldn't one of his friends wait for him? A nervous girl, at the very least. As he kept walking, it occurred to Pitch that he was walking home, and while Pennsylvania may seem safe, there were still many possibilities of injury on a freshly-graduated boy.
Pitch pressed the button on his keychain and watched his headlights flicker signaling that his car was unlocked. He slid inside with only a minor hesitation, closing the door behind him. He sat for a few moments, before he looked over at Jack who was still walking down the road. Surelysomeone would pick him up. If he doesn't have a car then his family must just be running late. Pitch tried to push it out of his mind, but realized he couldn't. No matter how much he hated the majority of social interaction, he wasn't going to let a mere boy dangerously walk home alone.
He cursed under his breath, thrust the key in the ignition, and threw the car in reverse before peeling out and down the road Jack was on.
Jack almost fell over when he saw the sleek, black car with tinted windows pull up next to him, the passenger-side window rolling down.
Pitch didn't look out at him, merely saying, "Get in," before he reached over to open the door and then settle back in his seat.
Jack stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. He had only met this man today, and from what he could tell he was fairly rude and sarcastic, incredibly passive, and didn't like being around others, so why would he give me a ride? He thought.
"I'll leave if you stare at me any longer," Pitch said, putting the car back in drive as if to annunciate his point.
"R-right," Jack hopped in the car without another worry and shut the car door as gently as he could. It looked too expensive to not be incredibly fragile.
Pitch started down the road again, never looking over at Jack, who was unsure whether or not he should say anything or sit awkwardly until the tension was broken. While he pondered that, Pitch answered the question for him, in the nicest way he knew how.
"Where do you live so I can get you out of my car?" He asked.
Jack's mouth fell open. How could anyone with a seductive voice liquored with a slightly British accent ever sound so rude?
"Well?" He asked again, clearly impatient what with the tapping his fingers were doing on the steering wheel.
Jack regained his composure.
"I'm pretty sure not too long ago you said we'd end up being friends, now why do I get the feeling you've never had one before?" Jack questioned, amused.
Pitch didn't have to look over to know there was a bright smile plastered on Jack's face.
He sighed heavily, "Oh I'm so sorry, my dear friend. Let me rephrase that," he paused, out of dramatics, "Where the bleeding hell do you live or do you want me to leave you back on the side of the road for vultures to find you in the morning?" Another pause. "My closest acquaintance." This time it was his turn to flash a cocky smile at Jack.
"I find vultures to be very good at conversation," Jack said with an air of intelligence.
"Oh really? How so?" Pitch feigned surprise.
"I just had to compare them to how good you are at it, and then they kinda won the gold medal themselves."
This time it was hurt Pitch feigned obviously. "Jack, how could you? And I thought we had been getting along so well... I guess it was just my imagination that I decided to give you a ride out of the goodness of my heart."
Jack's composure broke again and he started laughing hard, leaning forward in his seat. "The goodness?" A laugh. "Are you sure you didn't mean to say the blackness? After all you did just pick up a teenage boy on the side of the road. Let's think about how that looks."
Pitch laughed alongside Jack at the last comment as they finally neared the end of the campus road. Noticing where they now were, he looked over at Jack with a look that seemed to say, "Now seriously, which way?"
Jack snorted, "Take a left and I'll guide you from there."
Pitch did as he was told and drove, following the directions Jack spouted out at every corner. It turned out he lived not too far from the school, maybe only a five or ten minute drive, which made him wonder if he had ever had a ride, or if he walked. A short drive by car but a surprisingly long walk by foot. That thought led to another, I could always just start giving him rides, after all, as North had pointed out, we do have quite a lot of our classes together, especially the morning ones. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch- Pitch stopped the car in front of Jack's house. What am I thinking? I need to get this kid out of my car.
"Well, this is my stop," Jack said, "Though let's hope you've figured that out by now," he followed his sentence with a suppressed smile.
"Really? I could've sworn it was a few streets over..." Pitch said with confusion.
"And how exactly would you know where I live? I guess that's the price of being popular: I always get a few stalkers in the bunch." Jack sighed heavily, the suppressed smile being less and less of the adjective that described it.
"My dear boy, if I was your stalker, you'd know it," Pitch flashed a quick, seemingly seductive smile that showed off his slightly-unnaturally sharp teeth.
Jack gulped before he opened the door and hopped out, turning back to lean in through the window. He pulled a sharpie out of one of his many zippered pockets. "Give me your hand."
Pitch hesitated, but did as he was told, holding his hand out towards Jack. Jack grasped it, opened the sharpie with his teeth, and scribbled a number onto the back of Pitch's exposed hand. "There," he said when he had finished, slowly letting go, and putting the capped sharpie back wherever he had pulled it out from.
Pitch looked down before he looked back at Jack with his eyebrows raised, "And what might this be?"
"Coordinates," Jack grinned at Pitch's eyebrows that quickly furrowed in annoyance. "It's my cell number, just in case you need anything while you're still moving in," or maybe even after. "You can reach me anytime."
Jack started walking up to the blue door of his surprisingly large, light grey house, the shutters matching the door and the trim matching Jack's hair.
Pitch's eyes never left him as he disappeared inside the house.
"Maybe I will invest in one of those cellphones," Pitch smiled to himself as he drove away. "If merely for navigational purposes."
