Читать книгу Two for tragedy. Volume 1 - Анна Морион - Страница 6

I could not believe myself.

As I left the library and picked up my coat from the coat wardrobe, I couldn't help thinking how pleasant a conversation partner the hated Cedric Morgan had been. Yes, he was terribly late, but still… I realised that I had been wrong about him, and once and for all I decided not to form any opinion about him without even talking to him.

Henceforth, no prejudice! I had been mistaken, God knows what, about Cedric, though I had never spoken to him, and now I was ashamed of myself and of him. Of course he had made me lonely in the library, but when he came in, in spite of my annoyance at him, I noted that he was somewhat confused, but remained polite in response to my sarcastic remarks. When we were finally seated at the table, I looked more closely at Cedric Morgan. I had never seen him so close before, only from a distance, when he walked across the courtyard or up the stairs at the university, but I had never looked at him-it seemed indecent. Today, however, his face appeared before me in full light. And I was surprised to see that his skin was so white-so white, in fact, and not almost transparent, as it is in light-skinned people. And this white skin, as if on purpose, emphasised his dark, almost black as pitch black hair. Until this day, I had seriously thought that Cedric was selfish and that he didn't care about other people. But today Cedric had unwittingly, unknowingly, changed my opinion of himself. And this with a short conversation!

Our conversation was short, but I could hardly take my eyes off the guy's handsome face, as if he had hypnotised me with his cold blue eyes that looked like ice cubes. And yet, despite the coldness, Cedric's eyes radiated friendliness. I kept telling myself not to stare at him… I'd never liked guys with wavy hair, but Cedric's rather long and slightly dishevelled hair suited his cold, aloof appearance perfectly. I have to admit, I've never seen anyone as handsome as him. I hope he didn't notice me staring at him. I didn't mean to stare at him, it was more of an accident: when I'm talking, I always look at the person I'm talking to – it's a sign of attention.

Our next meeting was in two days' time, on Monday, and I hoped that over the weekend I would have prepared myself for the fact that Cedric Morgan's presence would not put me in a slight stupor, as it had done in our first session. I must remember that I was only meeting Cedric because of the programme and nothing more.

Now I understood why this aloof guy had so many admirers: it was like he was attracted to me, yet repulsive at the same time. No, I'm not one of these fools, but I'm just noting this fact – fairly and disinterestedly. Or maybe I'm being a bit sly to myself…

But no more dithyrambs! I'll just honestly admit to myself that, in fact, Cedric Morgan is a charming young man. I confess that I found it difficult to talk to him: I was afraid my voice would shake, so I tried to be brief and take care not to tell too much about myself. But that was at the beginning of our conversation: when it came to physics, I suddenly felt a surprising calmness, as if I had known Cedric all my life.

When I reached the stop to wait for my tram, I saw a black Toyota with tinted windows speeding past, and the people standing next to me grumbled disapprovingly. My first thought was that this daredevil was a real lunatic, but… Cedric Morgan has the exact same car. And he drives like that? Crazy. But maybe it wasn't Cedric, because his Toyota isn't the only one in Prague.

Soon my tram arrived. After travelling eight blocks, I found myself in a familiar neighbourhood where I had rented a flat. I loved the time I spent on the tram travelling to and from my studies. During these long minutes, I thought and dreamed. I didn't listen to music, but I was never bored: I enjoyed my reflections or a good book.

There was my house. I slowly climbed up to the fourth floor of the old building, which still shone with its old architecture, but was in need of restoration. There was no lift. It seemed to have stood untouched since it had been built a hundred or more years ago. Digging into my bag, I pulled out a key and unlocked the door of my small flat, which I was renting for the third year in a row, and which was costing me a lot of money. My parents sent me money, but it didn't do much for my needs, because almost all of it went to pay the rent. Sometimes I worked part-time at a café, but that money didn't help my situation. Fortunately, a rather high scholarship saved me: when I received it, I put aside money for food, tram, photocopier – that took up most of the money, but with the remaining money I bought myself books and all sorts of nice, necessary little things. I spent some money on clothes, but it was quite rare.

My wardrobe was rather modest: my upper autumn and winter clothes consisted of a long woollen jumper and a black coat, in which I often walked in the evening. Although I was a student at the University of Prague, which implied a delicate taste in the choice of clothes, my wardrobe was not diverse, as I had an unimaginable love for dark colours. But my clothes suited my mood: I was often in a serious reverie or simply in a flat mood. Cosmetics didn't appeal to me, and of all their variety I used only black mascara and pale bronze shadow, even though my classmates said I should hide my pale lips under a layer of bright lipstick, that I should get a perm because my naturally straight hair didn't suit me at all… And a thousand other little things I didn't pay attention to.

Entering the tiny hallway, I took off my coat, carefully hung it on the hangers in the wardrobe and, throwing my bag on the old cloth sofa, gladly took off my autumn boots, and then went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on the fire: I was terribly thirsty for coffee.

After evening coffee I started my daily student routine: preparation of seminars, essays, reports, independent study of topics… And, although this evening I could do everything at once, but I decided not to burden my tired mind, and to do the tasks step by step. Study is study, but no one cancelled rest. And how could my brain, saturated with information and excitement, fix anything sensible? But I suddenly remembered that Monday was coming soon, and the knowledge of this inevitable event made me worry that when I met Cedric, my voice would rise to a second soprano.

No, enough of thinking about it! It's only Cedric Morgan. And it's a two-day weekend. But those two days flew by, and instead of building up my willpower, my mind went back to my conversation with Cedric.

Monday flew by like a second. I was inattentive in lectures, unable to concentrate on the lecturer's story, and I was even asked a couple of times if I was feeling well. The breaks were even worse: my classmates, who knew I was studying with Cedric and that we'd already had a class, were besieging me and terrorising me with questions, demanding to know how it went, what we'd talked about, how Cedric looked at me, and even what tone of voice he used. It was a mess! I didn't remember such little things, either, for all my thoughts and efforts were focused on trying to keep myself from looking at him.

For fear of being noticed by the gossipers again, as soon as the last class (an extra physics class for those who didn't understand the previous lecture well) was over, I literally flew out of the classroom and headed for the library. It was three minutes to five, and this time I could be late, and I didn't want to be late. I almost ran into the library, and as I looked around the room, I saw Cedric sitting at our table, reading a book.

I quickly walked over to the table.

– Hi," I said to Cedric, breathing hard after walking down the long corridors and stairs of the university.

– Hi. You shouldn't have been in such a hurry," Cedric said with a slight chuckle, pulling away from his book and glancing at me.

– I've had a crazy day," I explained, pulling out the physics textbook I needed. – I had an extra class, but I didn't want to be late. I'm punctual as Hell.

– I can see that," Cedric grinned again.

Today he was dressed extremely simply and did not look as dapper as when we first talked.

– What are you reading? – I asked: I was really curious about the book he was reading so avidly.

Cedric closed the book and showed me the front cover.

– Baudelaire? – I was genuinely surprised. – It was the first time I'd ever seen a guy who liked Baudelaire's poetry.

I thought guys like Cedric Morgan weren't interested in literature or poetry at all. And he's read Charles Baudelaire's Flowers of Evil. In the original.

Cedric squinted his eyes and put the book down on the table.

– Does that surprise you? – He asked in a mocking tone. His eyes lit up with an icy glow.

– To be honest, it does," I replied, feeling a chill run down my spine from his icy stare.

– Why not?

– Men rarely read poetry, because most of them consider it "unmasculine". And those men who like poetry rarely prefer Baudelaire and find his poems incomprehensible and too dark.

– That's how it is," he said mockingly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at me contemptuously. His biting gaze made my soul shudder. – You're trying to be clever, aren't you? But instead of cleverness, you showed only that you know nothing about men and think like a naive fool.

I couldn't believe my ears. I was amazed. So astonished that I couldn't immediately find the words to respond to his open rudeness. To his insult. My hands trembled. And Cedric continued to sit there, killing me with his venomous stare.

– You are a prude, though! – I said quietly, trying not to let my excitement show in my voice. – This isn't the first time you've insulted a woman, is it?

– I insult only when the other person deserves it," was his calm but stern reply.

I was completely speechless. I stared in amazement at the boor sitting in front of me, whom I had just recently justified in my own eyes, and could find neither strength nor dexterity for a decent reply. I had been right all along, but I had let my guard down because of his amazing acting skills. Fool! I let myself be fooled!

– So that's how it is. Well, fortunately, I was raised well, unlike you, so I won't respond to an insult with an insult and stoop to your level. You can revel in your pride: you managed to insult me with complete impunity," I said in the same icy tone.

My mood sank. All I could think about was how wrong I'd been to mistake Cedric Morgan for a decent, nice guy. But he'd shown his true colours. Suddenly I realised the horror of my predicament: I would have to study with this bastard until the winter session. Three months, almost every day, to see that cold, proud face, those ice-cold eyes, and to feel that contemptuous stare.

Cedric grinned a nasty grin.

– If your upbringing is so perfect, you should know that meddling in other people's affairs is digging your own grave," he replied to my tirade.

– If a single question about poetry seems to you to interfere in your affairs, don't worry: I'll never ask you anything," I promised grimly. – Now let's not waste time and get to physics.

With another chuckle, Cedric picked up my textbook.

– What part of this material don't you understand?

– Paragraph sixteen," I answered briefly. I didn't like the sound of his voice.

– What's so hard about it? It's second-year review material," he muttered under his breath, the corners of his lips lifting in a new mockery of me.

I gripped my fingers tightly into my notebook, my knuckles turning white, and tried to calm myself with the thought that this torture would soon be over. And that Morgan wasn't worthy of making me as boorish as he was. No way!

For the entire hour and a half of class, I felt awful. Terribly small and stupid. Cedric was patiently explaining the material to me, but I could feel his contempt in every word, look, and gesture, but I didn't show it. But my willpower wasn't as strong as I'd hoped, and I was suddenly pierced by the realisation that I couldn't hear or understand anything of Cedric's explanations, and I was just trying to keep my composure. But my nerves were beginning to give way. I took a deep breath and covered my face with my palms.

– I'm sorry, Cedric. You explain it well, but I don't understand it. Think what you like about me! – I let out a cry of despair.

When I opened my face, I saw that Cedric was looking at me intently. Something strange flashed in his gaze. Probably another taunt.

"Bloody rector! Bloody university! Bloody programme!" – I mentally shouted.

– I think our meeting has come to an end! – With those words, I got up from my chair and started throwing my things into my bag.

Cedric silently looked at me with a cold stare.

As soon as I left the library, I felt morally relieved and remembered that Morgan and I hadn't arranged our next meeting.

To hell with it! To hell with these classes and physics! To hell with that arsehole Cedric! To hell with it all!

Tears came to my eyes. I wanted to cry at the thought of how unfair life is. Why is it that when you try to be polite to everyone, all you get in return is rudeness? When you try to be helpful, but instead of gratitude or friendliness, you get insults? But no! I will not cry! I am not a weak-willed girl who cries because some scoundrel called her stupid and naive fool! Because if I cry, it'll be funny! After all, then I will be ashamed of my weakness …

These thoughts helped me drive away the tears, and I began to analyse my actions, looking for the reason for Cedric's rudeness: either rudeness was a characteristic of his character, or I'd done something to him. But with what? I was only surprised that Morgan read Baudelaire. Isn't that an insult to him?! That I dared to question his high literary taste?

"I will never meet him again. Never again. He is a rude and proud man! – I thought, walking briskly to the bus stop. – But it's my own fault! I let myself make the mistake of giving Cedric Morgan qualities that he doesn't have and never had. That's a lesson to you, Viper: don't open your mind to anyone and don't be seduced by a pretty face. Because there may be a monster hiding behind it. Like this Cedric."

The fresh air and the walking helped me: I no longer felt the burning in my chest that had come from Morgan's insult. I got on the tram and pondered, searching for a way I could refuse Cedric's "help" and never see him again. I was mentally going over ideas, analysing the possible consequences, when suddenly I saw a way out, not quite legal, but one that would allow me to keep the university administration out of it. Strange, why hadn't I thought of it sooner? And, for the first time in three days, I breathed a sigh of relief.

The very next day after the first class, I asked my friend Julia to switch places with me.

– Switch! – she replied with a joyful and surprised exclamation (although there was more joy than surprise). – I mean, I'll study with handsome Cedric, and you'll study with my nerd? You ask?!

Julia was glowing with happiness, and I guess I was, too, from the joy of getting rid of Morgan's boorish society and from the fact that my friend had expressed her full and enthusiastic consent.

– So, we have a deal? – I said.

– I'm in! Viper, you're wonderful!

I smiled, and my friend kissed me on both cheeks in gratitude.

It was as if a huge stone had fallen from my soul: I was relieved that I wouldn't be seeing Cedric Morgan again.

– Will you have to make arrangements with him? Does he know you're going to switch with me? – Julia frowned suddenly.

– Trust me, he'll be pleased! He doesn't want to study with me. So he'll be glad," I replied, quite sure of what I was saying.

– That's just great! – Julia was delighted, but suddenly added quietly: – But why doesn't he want to study with you? Did he tell you that?

– No, he didn't say it, but I know it. He can't stand me.

– Why not?

– We didn't get along.

– You say that… Is he so bad at helping you, or did he harass you? – my friend asked me.

I laughed merrily at the suggestion, and at the very thought that Cedric Morgan would ever condescend to pay attention to a girl like me, or even molest me.

– No, it was just to show me how much he disliked me and how stupid I was compared to him. And you know I never liked him," I replied cheerfully to my friend's silly question.

– And I'm sure Cedric's a sweetheart! He may have treated you like a pig, but it's not going to be the same with me! – Julia said firmly with a determined look.

– Maybe I'm just crazy," I suggested.

– No, you're just very strange. Not wanting to be with Cedric? And even when you have the opportunity? Are you sure you won't regret your decision?

– No, I'm not!

– And you won't ask to switch back?

– I swear!

– Well, then it's a deal. I'm so glad. But I have to run to a couple of… So, here's the deal: your meeting with my, I mean, now your nerd, is tonight at the library, five o'clock, table four.

– Great!

– When am I meeting Cedric?

– Oh, I think I forgot to make an appointment with him," I frowned. – But I'll find out where and when tonight and I'll let you know.

– Great! I'm waiting for your call! – Julia kissed me on the cheek and walked with a light, beautiful step into the classroom.

I was extremely satisfied. All that remained was to somehow arrange a meeting with Cedric. But even that matter resolved itself: Morgan himself had passed me a note through my classmate.

"Can't make it today. Tomorrow at five, same place," the note said, written in beautiful, firm handwriting. Brief and indifferent.

"Does he seriously think I want to meet him again? He's also overconfident as a donkey!" – I thought grudgingly, crumpling the note and smiling mockingly.

No, Cedric. We'll never see each other again. You will never hurt me again.

I texted Julia a message: tomorrow at five, desk number 8.

At five o'clock I was in the library. My new "friend" turned out to be a nice smart girl from the sixth year – Marit. She was a little surprised to see that I sat at her desk instead of Julia, but I convinced her that it was the will of the management. Marit gave me a friendly smile and we started the class.

How different the class with Marit was from yesterday's class with Cedric! This sweet and friendly girl tried to help me as much as she could. Also, unlike Morgan, she didn't push me or treat me like a silly little girl. With Morgan, all I felt was discomfort, anxiety and excitement. And that's not to mention the icy, contemptuous look he gave me! But with Marit, I was interested, comfortable and relaxed. I was extremely pleased that I was able to get through it all. I was not afraid for Julia, because she was so charming and beautiful that she could melt even Morgan's icy heart.

After class, I headed home. Strangely enough, I was very tired, but the joy of being rid of the bastard I hated lifted my spirits and warmed my soul, and I walked cheerfully to the bus stop.

Farewell forever, Cedric Morgan!