Wonderland | A TWENTY TWO

I knew I was trying to distract myself from the emotional outburst I'd had when I'd finished four of the five erotic novels Ben sent over in the last few hours.

The wall clock read quarter to seven but I wasn't sleepy in the slightest. I dialled in mum's number.

Only after planning the perfect lines to supply a reason for a late night call that wouldn't arouse any suspicion.

I only wanted to chat for a bit, not trouble her about my miserable lack of talent in communication. I had nothing to justify it, even if I wasn't familiar with things you did with friends due to lack of experience, I should've handled the situation better.

Instead I was spiteful and used what I knew against them just to make them feel guilty. To shift attention from my own distrust. I still couldn't find courage to ring either of them up to apologise because truthfully, I didn't want to say it yet.

A part of me was hopeful they were at home, regretting their actions, being liars and hurting me. I wanted them to feel that way a little longer and it horrified me that I felt this way. I'd never been so selfish but I couldn't stop or reason with it. My thoughts were scaring me and I needed something homely to remind me of the girl I was.

The girl who didn't prioritise herself first, who wasn't underhanded and didn't want to be around people who were up to no good.

The girl I should be.

"Hello?"

I noted how thick and muffled her voice rang out. "Hi, mum. Were you sleeping?"

"No."

She was lying. It was weird, however. Mum never headed to bed early. She loved being up and about. She only stayed put if she was feeling sad or maybe had a fight with...

Dad. That must've been it. She probably found out about the debts in an unfavourable manner and confronted him fiercely. My plans for a calm resolve just went out the window.

"Why are you calling at this time? Is something wrong?"

I held in a sigh. "No, mum." I took extra care in keeping my voice even. "I um, called you by mistake. Sorry."

She chuckled. "That's okay."

"I'll talk to you later. Bye." I hastily hung up an exhaled.

The silence had returned to urge those thoughts to kindle in haste. Next thing I knew, my hands were rummaging through my sock drawers until they uncovered the old shoebox hidden beneath.

I gingerly held the Ace phone in my hands. It looked just as brand new as the day it was given. No sign that it had been stashed away for nearly a month.

The Aces' numbers were already stored, a discovery I made on the first time I switched it on. My thumb hovered on Will's line and Garren's, even Ben's. I just wanted someone to keep these confusing feeling away. At least for tonight.

After a maddening span in wavering, I dropped the mobile back in the box. I got changed into my swimsuit and grabbed a towel. If my brain refused to let me sleep, then I'd wear my body out until it was forced to submit.

There was hardly anyone present in the pool as the rules were regulated for it to be closed in the next twenty minutes. The time flew by as I repeated back strokes from one end to the other.

The night staff Jeffrey announced to the remaining two residents it was closing time and it only took one glance of recognition for him to know I wanted overtime. He subtly nodded and soon, I was the only person floating in the water. Jeffrey would leave the keys on the counter by the light switch controls for me to lock up on my own once I was done.

It was roughly after two hours that weariness settled in and I climbed out of the deep end, fingertips as pruned as a raisin.

On my trek back to my room, the corridors were dead silent. Like something out of a scary movie. It led me to the thought of bargaining with uncle Louie to rent me one later on— an actual one that didn't have Casper the ghost.

It was at that, something caught the corner of my eye. It glistened on the carpeted corridor floor. I crouched down to the object to find it was a lighter. The base a luminous emerald green and a four leaf clover crafted on it.

Many businessmen came in and out of the hotel, it was impossible to come across a smoking area without at least one grim suited man occupying it. However, I could gather this wasn't belonging to one in that mass.

I collected the lighter and steered to the suite three doors down from my own. I gently knocked twice, there was no response. The second time round I knocked harder and began pondering if she had maybe already checked out until the door edged forward, revealing the tall French woman stood in her lace nightgown.

Mademoiselle looked more jaded than the last time I saw her. Her finely matted eyebrows creased. "You're not room service." Her English surprisingly fluent.

"Uh, no. Sorry to wake you," I apologised merely out of politeness. I doubted she was sleeping from the crescent shadows under her eyes. "You dropped this."

Her gaze lowered to the lighter I extended to her. Her eyes grew wide with marvel and almost disbelief at the item before she immediately seized it and exuded a breath, sputtering her relief in French. "Thank you."

I nodded and was set to resume my original destination, when my feet rotated back and I hoped from the distanced I'd walked, she'd have closed the door. It could've been the sight needed to diminish this troublesome impulse bubbling in me.

Her flowery frame was still in view and my lips were parting without giving my logical sense room to prevent it. "Although, you really shouldn't be smoking."

Perhaps due to saying it in a haste was why it resulted in only a blink for response. "I know, that's not my business and silly to speak about after just handing that lighter to you but that was more of a matter of morals— returning what was lost sort of thing. Maybe it was just to reassure myself I wasn't a completely horrible person. Then again, doesn't that mean my intentions were ulterior? I guess. It's open to argument.

A-Anyway, my point being... where was I going with this? Oh right, you shouldn't. It's bad on its own with the use being for a substitute makes it even worse."

My lungs finally had a moment to draw breath as silence fell, my spontaneous rambling only receiving more blinking.

After a couple of seconds passed and enough to recoil, I expected a look of offense from prying. Instead, Mademoiselle darted her eyes about the quiet space, a hand tugging her silk robe to lap over her exposed chest. "I'm, I'm very sorry," she stammered. "Did you just say substitute?"

Did I? I hadn't even comprehended it. Although, with the sharp stare I was getting, there was no room to dodge my slip.

"...A substitute for the drinking," I clarified.

Again, I got blinking.

I wired on a nervous smile. "Well, goodnight."

This time, there was no indecisiveness in my steps but before I could hide back in the comfort of my room, slender fingers pinned to the door frame. Mademoiselle's stern expression certainly looked more along the lines of offended now.

"Who are you working for?"

"W-What?" I stuttered.

"Is it Daytime Scope? Channel Y? Barry Steinsburg? I don't care about your bloody journalists' code of conduct or freedom of the press— what you do is stalking. And I have a right to my privacy. There is no warrant to put that on your stupid papers!"

"No! I'm not a journalist!" I quickly shook my head. "I haven't been stalking you."

"Oh, then how did you know this lighter was mine? Or my room number?"

"Because, it could've only been you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I swallowed. "You're a superstitious person so of course you'd only be satisfied with a room door that was lucky. That being room 107. So, a lighter with a four leaf clover, it had to be yours."

I refrained from mentioning the other verification like knowing she had a psychic named Clementine due to overhearing her conversations, against my best efforts. I happened to ace my language courses so translating franscais came automatically. Letting her know about that wouldn't do anything to help strengthening my evidence that I wasn't a snoop.

I timidly stood under her surveying eyes, worried even a hitch in my breath would have her calling the police. Granted, being arrested would've been an entertaining event to spice up the dull day but I didn't want to trouble my folks or uncle Louie.

My statement seemed to have succeeded as there was a shift in her glower, replaced by a spark. Her posture remained rigid and ever intimidating though. "I find the term superstitious discriminant." She said. "I'm not one of those kookoo birds that carry animal parts and I'm very comfortable opening my umbrella indoors. You refer to me as open-minded, okay?"

I nodded.

"So you're not a journalist or an obsessive fan stalking me?"

"No."

Her lips pursed and the only noise audible was the droplets of water running from my soaking tips down to the floor.

"Your hair is wet." She stated like it was only now she'd noticed that fact.

"Yeah."

"Come, I have a hair dryer."

"That's okay, I came with my own."

"Mine is better."

I didn't argue with her on it and followed her to her suite. The binders I'd seen her haul around were sprawled on a desk. A pile of empty coffee cups filled the small bin and suitcases lay on the floor looking like there had been a break in. I didn't want to imagine how scarcely she must've searched for the lighter.

I wondered why she hadn't asked to borrow from someone if she was so needy on it but learning that she seemed to be quite famous, she probably wanted to keep a low profile.

"Sit." She pulled out a chair by a dresser where a vanity mirror identical to my own stood.

I did as instructed and that was how I found myself having my hair tended to by a chic stranger with her platinum plated hair dryer at a quarter to ten.

I didn't say a word and watched from the reflection at her skillful manoeuvering with the device, alongside combing out my locks in slick strokes. I ignored the few tremors. Regardless, she was still graceful.

Soon, the whirring of the dryer ceased and my raven mane was back to its moderately soft and dry form. Before I could utter a "thank you" her figure slipped away and returned behind me in a flash, bearing two tortoise shelled clasps alongside bobby pins in hand.

"Oh, you don't need to tie it up. I'm fine."

She leant in, her face close enough for her high cheekbones to brush against my own. My nostrils were flooded with the aroma of whatever luxury lotion she applied. "Darling, you might be but I am not."

Discarding my decline, she effortlessly swept my bangs back and caged my locks into an artful bunch. The tips blossoming from the crown of my head like a lotus.

"It should be a crime for a young lady such as yourself to have bangs like that." She declared.

"Um, right. Well thanks anyways." I began rising from the chair, a little saddened that the peculiar night was at its end.

"How did you know about the drinking?"

I stopped. There was curiosity shimmering in her ocean eyes with a casting of sullenness clouding them also. She cleared her throat, tugging her robe closer again like a chill had entered.

"Even my husband— well, ex husband didn't know about it. So how?"

There was no mistaking it. This wasn't a query, but a demand. I was treading on delicate waters, very delicate that the teeniest waved could unravel a tidal wave in the distressed madam before me. Yet somehow that fact excited me to face it head on.

"Your hand," I started. "Particularly, your right one. You're left handed— you use it to push the buttons on the lift but you wear a wristwatch on your right. I'm guessing because of how it starts shaking its even more difficult to put on, like it did once or twice when you dried my hair which also explains the pattern of sugar grain spills from when you get coffee.

It doesn't seem to be violent enough to be hypertensive though so I took it as a sign of alcohol withdrawal symptoms. Billy, a guy I know back home had it when he quit."

At the mention, my mind reeled back to the bakery. I wondered if dad had told everyone about it. Possibly not. They'd definitely be filled with grief, it was like a second home to them all. Especially Edna. Most establishments wrote her off as too past her prime for work but my dad knew better. Where would Edna go now?

"I see." Mademoiselle's voice drew me out of my mulling and reminded me of where I was.

Telling my guesses and from the slightly spooked reaction, I had been right on the mark. She leant against the wall with eyes rested on me. "Well, I'd definitely be done if you were a paparazzi. You're one very smart girl. I'm sure you hear that a lot though, right?"

"No, not really. At my school, it's a common aspect so..."

She chuckled deeply. "You're far better at hiding your smugness than the stuck up models I work with."

"Models?" I parroted, purposely disregarding the other spiking word in her remark.

"Oui." She nodded. "I am a fashion designer. Apologies for not introducing myself. My name is Madeleine Dion. You?"

"Stevie Powell," I replied. "What are you doing here in England?"

"To expand. I'm aspiring to open up a whole new line overseas with a person of interest who runs a magazine company,” she explained. "It ended up detouring thanks to having to clean up after one big idiot in my team. Then my account manager had a breakdown the next day too so there was some difficulties in getting a replacement on shorthand notice. I've been running up and down this town and just the other day, three seagulls flew past my head."

She heaved a haggard breath, anguish expressed in her native tongue but it was muddled from dragging her hands down her face. "I didn't doubt Clementine would be right about this trip being a hazardous one but I couldn't back down when there's a golden opportunity at stake."

"Clementine?" I feigned ignorance on the name.

"My friend. He's got a sort of sixth sense, comes in handy when my luck is too risky." She patted the pocket harbouring her lighter in an absentminded gesture. "So, Stevie Powell what are you doing here?"

My brows knitted. "You invited me in to dry my hair. Remember?"

"Yes and you came in with no hesitation. Like you expected the invite." She proclaimed. "I don't know if things have changed in my days but young girls don't usually wander about the halls of a hotel late at night and have no problems being alone in a room with a woman she knows is recently recovering from a drinking problem— that's quite strange, no?"

Her verdict had me speechless while her piercing gaze held me in arrest.

"So which one is it?" She crossed her arms. "You're either crazy or... an Alice."

"Alice?"

"Alice, you know. From Alice in Wonderland. Adolescent girl having troubles and follows a rabbit down a hole that was really an imaginary world where she thought she could escape but it was unknown and out of her control like the real world she was hiding from. She came to only be frustrated, running from what she thought she didn't desire when she didn't even know her desires. A road that a child walks when not so much a child anymore. That Alice."

"You seem to be a big fan of that story," I commented. "You make it sound so philosophical but my dad says it's just about a girl taking some trippy meds."

"Well, maybe. Though I stand by my point; am I wrong?"

I frowned. Frankly, I didn't like the fairytale but the portrayal was horrendously too close to accurate, as much as I wanted to deny it. If I was in my right, normal state I would've thought twice about what I was doing.

"Yeah," I said in a whisper. "And it's definitely past my bedtime. Goodnight."

I stalked to the door and grasped the knob to turn it when the next words had me halting.

"You know, my favourite part in the story is when she has tea with that Mad Hatter gentleman. And if I'm not mistaken, room service is open til midnight."

I glanced at her prompting notion where I found a small smile on her lips. "Fancy a cup?"

My hand dropped to my side and I nodded.

**

The next morning, uncle Louie was set to visit the bakery. Although he fed me some claim about popping out of town to catch up with an old friend, I knew where he was truly going from one look at his tie. It was loose.

Uncle Louie always wore a tie tautly secured to the crook of his collar. Unless he was under stress so he'd tug at it out of anxiousness. If there was one thing I was aware that could evoke it, it was grandma May. Apparently growing up, dad was the well behaved boy while his younger brother was the trouble maker who constantly got scolded and spanked. The relationship was still strained as nan strongly disapproved of my uncle's bachelor status and would bring it to mention every chance she got.

All that in mind, I waved my uncle goodbye with a smile and silently wished him the best. I'd slept for roughly five hours. I didn't look vibrantly well rested but it wasn't bad enough to get admitted to the nurse's office.

I had no real zeal for school where I'd inevitably run into Liam and Ashton. I was only going through the encouragement of the kind words of a stranger which was ludicrous on its own; the woman seriously believed a particular amount of seagulls flying over your head determined the outcome of your day.

Honestly, I wished it was so simple. I wished this friendship thing came as easy as formulas and equations were to me but maybe that was what God designed to have out for me. So life wouldn't be too easy or something. Then what exactly did a guy like Garren Adler have hard? I wondered.

I quickly banished the thought. Why were the wrong people constantly lingering at the back of my mind?

At the first sighting of my friends during my walk, a queasiness at my side stirred but I fought through it and greeted them with a smile. "Morning."

I mentally checked off achieving an even tone. However, I was met with looks of befuddlement and confusion.

"Uh, hi."

The corner of my lip twitched, threatening to tug downwards at Liam's half-assed reply. That was the best he could do? What happened to the diligent liar of seven bloody months?

"Morning." Ashton was at least decent enough to try to offer a hearty smile.

It made it easier to keep my eyes off the reddish mark she was aiming to cover with her turtleneck worn over the school vest.

"Liam stayed over last night huh?"

The two stiffened so severely that I would've sworn they had turned to solid stone. If it weren't for the raw shock in their blinking eyes. Liam gulped down hard. "U-Um..."

Dammit, had I hit them too hard? Should I have played dumb again?

I stifled a laugh to clear the awkward air trying to seep in. "Why are you two acting all embarrassed for? It's weird. I'm not some prudent old lady. I don't care if you guys wanna get up to that stuff. You are dating."

Sex.

They went and had sex after supposedly leaving to give me space and out of guilt over what they'd done. Incredible.

"Glad to know I didn't end up being a cockblock."

"No! It wasn't— it's not like that Stevie!" Ashton hastily cried. She looked so grimly remorseful and pitiful. The sight was shocking but in an odd way struck a cord of satisfaction in me. "L-Liam and I were just... we do feel bad about what we did. We were thinking about you the whole time, I swear."

"You were thinking about me while shagging? Um, a bit too much information Ash."

"N-No, I didn't mean—

"Oh my gosh. I'm just kidding. I know what you mean. Look, I thought we'd be putting that stuff behind us. Letting bygones by bygones, isn't that better than getting all awkward?"

As expected, I received uplifted and relieved expressions.

"You forgive us?" questioned Liam.

"Of course. You guys are my best friends."

That earned me the smiles I'd been worried I'd never see on their faces again all night. It was bliss. Throughout the morning, the couple would involuntarily tiptoe around me like they needed my permission to be openly affectionate. They'd wear sheepish smiles each time I assured them there was no need to hide and ultimately, it was funny and silly.

Although, I quite liked the influence I had over them. I was keen to savour it as it would eventually fade after a week or so and they'd be back to their dauntless, cheeky selves. Except, no more secrets to distance us. Things would be better.

So why did I feel like nothing had changed?

It was in the midst of my final period before lunch when I suddenly got summoned to the headmaster's office. "Yes, miss?" I said upon entering.

"I apologise for pulling you out in the middle of your lesson but reception just received a call, a lady requesting to speak with you."

"A lady?"

"Yes, she addressed herself as your aunt Dion."

If Ms. Shepherd picked up on my look of bemusement, she didn't make mention on it. "She says it's urgent. Shall I put her through?"

"Um, yes. "

Ms. Shepherd lifted her desk phone to her ear, steel eyes never shifting from me in the process. "Allison, put her through."

I did my best to remain nonchalant until the receptionist completed the transmission and the phone was extended to me. "I've also been wondering," Ms. Shepherd began, causing me to pause. “Did Garren happen to share with you his plans on straightening the ordeal with Esme Ivanov?"

My lips pursed under her drilling stare. "No,” I answered.

"I see..." She released a sigh. "Well, here you go then."

I collected the phone. "Is it alright if I take it outside? I'd feel more comfortable having a private discussion in... well, private."

Ms. Shepherd forged a smile. "As you wish."

Access granted, I gladly pardoned myself from her unnerving surveillance. I raised the phone to my ear as I sauntered out, then oddly heard a buffer of static for a second. I shrugged it off and paced five feet from the office door. "Hello?"

"Stevie! Hi."

Her voice more cheery but still recognisable.

"Ms. Dion it really is you. How did you know what school directory to call?" I didn't recall informing her during our late night tea party.

"I'm no stranger to brand name blazers, darling and St. Sinclair being the only private school in a mile radius it wasn't too hard to guess."

"If you're calling about the clasps and pins, I can't return them to you until after three."

"No, no no. I need you, Stevie."

"What?"

"I didn't remember it until this morning but a week before I knew I'd be coming to England, Clementine warned me I'd go through some trouble. And if my odds were good, I'd encounter a spirit guide of some sort to assist me."

"Spirit guide?"

"Yes, Clementine said it would assist me and it would appear before me in a form I least expected it. And I realised it had to be you! A girl with terribly outdated hair was definitely the last thing I would expect—

"Whoa, whoa now hold on. Spirit guide? Form? Ms. Dion, no offense but I think your friend Clementine is either a scam or you're misinterpreting his words. I'm a normal human being."

"I know you're not a unicorn or something, Stevie. I'm saying I was fated to meet you. I'd been having so much stress lately and talking with you, it was the first time I'd gone to sleep without a cigarette since quitting."

"That's great, Ms. Dion but I'm not— "

"I have a very important appointment to make that could open doors depending on how I play my hand and I'm choosing to play you."

"What? Hold on, just wait a second— "

"I'm coming round in my car in five minutes so hurry to the entrance."

"Ms. Dion I said wait!" Finally, she had ceased from her bombardment of demands and there was silence on the other end, awaiting my follow up. I bit my lip. "Give me ten minutes."

**

"Here." I handed the jotter to a perplexed Liam.

He looked down at the book then back at me with furrowed brows. "What's this?"

"Notes for Mr. Perez's class."

"But we don't have his class until after lunch. How can you have notes?"

"Because like any lecturer, there's a pattern on how he'll go about his lessons. He'll probably speak on page eighteen and twenty three of the textbook. Do a little recap on last term's talk on covalent bonds and he definitely won't give us homework."

"Right, and how can you be so sure of that?"

"His daughter's recital is on soon."

"Daughter? Okay, you lost me at like, patterns. Could you please slow down and explain when the hell you knew all this about our chemistry teacher? It's freaking me out."

"Liam calm down. This is all from assumption and tells," I assured him. "Look, for the past week, Mr. Perez has been tapping his fingers on his desk or his thigh to the components of Beethoven Fur Elise. Classic piece but not challenging on an adult level for competing so definitely a youth. He's heard the piece a lot because he sits through her practices— I'm purely guessing it's a girl. He's been doing it even more frequently out of nervousness meaning it's gotten close to the date. Then there's a local performing arts taking place the end of the week, there's pamphlets on it around the block and even by the reception noticeboard.

Mr. Perez is a one track mind guy, he definitely won't give us homework because he won't be able to divide his attention from grading and the recital. So..." I prompt for him to finish my sentence.

"... So he won't be giving us any homework."

"Yes, exactly Liam." I nodded. God knows how long it would've taken with Ashton. "Oh and also, give these notes to Ash."

"But I don't understand."

"Liam we literally just went over this. Beethoven— "

"Yeah, yeah I got all that. I mean, it's... Wow but I mean why are you giving this to me ahead of time? Why couldn't you have given it to us like you normally do?"

"Oh, because I'm gonna be absent for those classes."

"What?"

"If anybody asks, tell them I had a family emergency to attend to."

"Do you?"

"No."

Liam blinked. "You're ditching class."

"Just three or two. I'll be back before the last period. Probably."

Liam stared at me with eyes like I'd grown a second head.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

"Stevie you could get in trouble."

"You and Ashton could've gotten in trouble for sneaking into the hotel pool. That didn't stop you guys."

"That's different."

"How?"

"It's... It just is. Skiving isn't like you, Stevie. Where are you even going?"

"It's not anywhere with The Aces. Don't worry."

"Stevie." A stern edge in his tone. "Tell me where the hell you're going."

I let out a sigh and shrugged my shoulders. "Dunno."

"Stevie what the heck."

"Okay fine. A rabbit hole. Satisfied?"

"A rabbit hole?"

"Yeah, see you in a bit." I patted his shoulder and dashed off before he could protest any further.