“Bathroom,” she replied tersely, the door clicking loud behind her.
This was just going badly all around. I would at least finish the experiment.
I reached for another vial that Camille had prepared, but my eye caught on the list of instructions. Ammonia. It called for a cotton ball soaked in ammonia to turn the ink visible. I hadn’t smelled anything that strong when Kei had doused the journal. I picked up and sniffed the empty vial, and smelled nothing. I took another from the rack Camille had made - the bitter aroma was strong. Had Kei used the wrong vial?
I glanced at Rhys, but he was preoccupied reading a book. Well, what did I have to lose? I took a cotton ball and dipped it in the ammonia. I opened the journal to a page that was mostly dry, and swiped a corner. Blue-black ink bloomed to life, curling designs across the page. My heart beat fast, and I closed the journal quickly, before anyone else could see.
This was just for me.
Camille
Camille strode down the hallway. Sakamoto was standing in front of another lab door, inspecting the lock. He glanced at her approach and returned his attention to the windowless barrier. “It’s a perfect seal,” he said, running a finger along the door jamb. “Couldn’t squeeze a molecule in there without the ice queen’s permission. What do you think she’s got locked in there?”
She didn’t care about any of his momentary obsessions. “Leave Jul alone,” Camille said. “She hasn’t done anything.”
He whistled. “That was almost a speech, coming from you. Your angst is misplaced, though. I mean no harm, I come in peace,” he said, raising his hands innocently. A tiny smile played on his lips. “I like Jul, I really do. She blushes easily. I like everyone, really. Some people are just more interesting than others. You, for example. Why do you care? She’s a complete stranger to you.”
Because she looks sad, and lost, and alone, and I know what that’s like, Camille thought. But she wasn’t about to go spilling her guts to this idiot. She took a step closer, effortlessly falling into a relaxed stance, just in case.
He noticed, and took interest. “I saw what you did to Hyde the other day,” Sakamoto said.
“You weren’t there.”
“I saw. Poor bastard. Is that your idea of conflict resolution?”
“Yes,” she said simply. What did he mean, he saw? He hadn’t been in the dojo, she was certain of it.
“Dear me,” he said with perfect calm. “That’s too bad. I’m not allowed to fight, you know. I really, really wanted to, but Ikeda just won’t teach me. Said I’m all wrong,” he smiled. “Whatever that means.”
He was being vague on purpose. Camille frowned. “You’re warned,” she said, turning to walk back to the classroom.
“You may have to warn me again,” he called after her.
When she got back to the classroom, Jul was already finishing the experiment. The journal, she’d put away. That was disrespectful, what Sakamoto had done. She bent over her own worksheet and scrawled out a cartoon image of Sakamoto saying ‘I’m an ass,’ and passed it to Jul.
Jul covered a short laugh. “Thanks,” she said, and returned to finishing an equation with a smile.
Kei Sakamoto was the least of her problems. She had remedial English with Tailor at the public library later that day, after school. Gabriel dropped her off in the parking lot. She looked out of the windshield at the giant three-story building. It vaguely reminded her of a European-style castle.
“I’m going to get lost in there,” she complained.
“Oh, Tailor won’t let you get lost,” Gabriel said lightly, leaning over the steering wheel to look at the place as well.
“Why can’t we just do this at school like normal?” Camille asked, slumping back in her seat.
“You do what your teacher asks,” he said. “That’s how it works. However...”
“However what?”
“Well, I know I’m supposed to tell you to listen to everything he says, but...”
“But what?” she demanded, frustrated by his evasion.
“Don’t listen to everything he says,” he shrugged. “Especially not today.”
“More explanation, please.”
“Hmm.” He looked up at the building’s almost-turrets. “Because I can’t go in there.”
“You’re not allowed?” she said, thinking it was strange to be disallowed from a public building.
“No, I can’t. I’m not saying people will be angry if I go in - though they would - I’m saying that I literally can’t enter that building. It would be an embarrassing spectacle to attempt it.”
Camille wasn’t sure how to react. This was new.
“So,” Gabriel continued, “I have a feeling that Tailor will use the opportunity to try to, ah, make me look bad.”
“You always look bad,” Camille said, looking at him askance. “When are you getting a haircut?”
“Speak for yourself, tumbleweed,” he said, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Anyway, just...whatever he says...take it with a grain of salt, alright? He knows a lot of things, and people who know a lot tend to assume they know the things they don’t.”
The sentence twisted around in her head. She thought she knew what he meant. “Awkward phrasing.”
“And please remember to speak English,” Gabriel said.
“They’re English lessons,” she returned, “Of course I speak English.”
“Oh good,” he said. “At least the time’s not wasted. I’ll be back in an hour, kiddo.”
Camille entered the library with trepidation. It wasn’t just the thought of some kind of barrier - whatever kept Gabriel out - possibly blocking her as well. It was also the thought of so many books in English stacked to the ceiling for three stories. It made her think of scuba diving, for some reason. Getting thrown into the ocean, with nothing between you and certain death but some spandex and a tiny air tank, maybe. This was like that. Except instead of an air tank all she had was Tailor. Supposedly. She looked around cautiously. He was nowhere to be seen. He said he’d be here.
Somehow the main floor of the library reminded her a little of a space ship. It had this circular sort of kiosk that served as the main desk in the center, with three main areas branching off. Its roof supported the open curving stairwell up to the second floor. The desk would be the bridge of the ship, she decided, even though she doubted whoever ran the library would be sitting there giving directions to college students who couldn’t find a copy of Beowulf.
She was surprised by how attractive and...large...this library was. She hadn’t expected it from a city this size. Plants trailed down the sides of the stairs and it sounded like there was some kind of fountain on an upper floor. In the children’s section off to the right, two little boys played hide and seek between bookshelves until their mother caught them and scolded them in hushed tones. To the left, it was much quieter. ‘Reference Section’ was imprinted on an overhead sign in bold, blocky letters. That was definitely not where she wanted to be. Maybe Tailor was upstairs...?
An alarm went off, loud and whining. Camille winced, covering her ears, her sensitive ears ringing. She realized she’d just walked through the metal detectors. Of course. This again.
Everyone on the first floor was staring at her. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck. She hoped this wouldn’t be as bad as the airport had been. Explaining to an overzealous American security guard that you couldn’t take off the hunk of metal on your arm, with virtually no English to explain yourself - well, that had been difficult. It had taken all of Gabriel’s charm to get them through customs. But Gabriel couldn’t come in here.
“Excuse me?” said a wiry, elderly woman at the front desk. Her expression was pinched as the alarm ended.