Ceri
Ceri had returned to the toilets with a pen she’d found and another candle. There were a few others awake in the dining hall, but as it was still the middle of the night, none of them bothered to check on the princess with apparently serious digestive troubles.
She couldn’t believe she had been so bold as to ask him outright if he’d meant what he’d written. It seemed there was little point in denying that she’d read it. From his own words, he could see that the pages had been removed. It seemed like the journal was in the same state between both worlds.
Perhaps she could have played dumb and avoided mentioning the issue altogether. Perhaps she should have.
It was too late now.
She waited on Leo’s reply with bated breath.
First of all, thank you for finding the journal and being so kind as to think of removing things of a more personal nature. I suspect that if you hadn’t, the entire thing would have been read in an effort to find me, and that would have been quite humiliating.
It seems as though I’m no longer in the same world that you’re in. If you’ve read this latest entry, you’ll know that there are things both familiar and unfamiliar about where I am. However, I don’t appear to be in any immediate danger, which I hope will be a relief to any of those looking for me or who are concerned with my welfare.
I believe you must let the others know about the journal. I will do what I can where I am to find a way to return to where you are, but I’m certain we’ll have more success if more people are able to assist in the research. From what I recall, some of the entrepreneurs have been through something of a similar experience. I had hoped to ask them about it in more detail, and perhaps I’ll still do so when we are reunited.
He was in good spirits, at least. Ceri couldn’t help but notice that he’d avoided her questions though.
There was a long pause before he began writing again.
As to whether I meant what I wrote: I am a researcher. I record in this journal observations, and I’m not in the habit of lying about what I’ve observed. There would be little point in doing so.
Another torturous pause. Ceri gripped the journal in her hands so hard her wrists began to hurt from the tension.
I don’t know how much you were able to read about LBB. I know I scratched out much of it. But what I wrote about LBB—what I wrote about you—I meant it. It was true.
Ceri’s chest was tight from holding her breath. She scratched her response in a single word:
Good.
And then she thought of one more thing she needed to know:
LBB?
Lovely beyond belief.
It had been the answer she was hoping for, and also the one she had dreaded. She had come here to start over after a disastrous summer that was truly just the cherry on top of several awful years. She had wanted to change for the better, to focus on her studies and on being a better person and friend. The year had only just begun, and already she was off course.
Wasn’t she?
Things had gone very well in her first week of classes. Her first assignments in Loegrian and Numbers had just come back with top marks, although they were more to see what everyone knew coming into the course than anything else. She had made at least one friend (if you didn’t count Leo). She hadn’t lied to Ana, not except by way of omission in order to spare her feelings, which felt like the right thing to do. And even if it wasn’t, she was trying to do the right thing, at least.
She had helped with the research. Leo wasn’t the only one who had been impressed with her ability to do so. She had cut back her time in the laboratory since classes began, but she’d gone there at least once a day and spent a couple of hours helping set up experiments or running numbers afterwards.
Isn’t that exactly what she hoped to achieve?
She hadn’t lied to Leo, either. Well, not after their first encounter, at least. She hadn’t tried to manipulate him or guilt him into spending time with her. In fact, it seemed as though his initial feelings for her may have exceeded her own. Or at least they’d exceeded the ones she had been willing to acknowledge.
The truth was, she was scared. It wasn’t something she would have confessed to Leo in person, but she doubted any of what they’d just shared would have been shared in person. Perhaps eventually, but likely not for a long time.
There was something freeing about the journal. There was something freeing about the college.
There was something freeing about Leo.
I wanted to say something to you, but I was afraid. I am still afraid. I have been hurt before. And I have done the hurting. And most of it—all of it—was my fault. I’m not a good person, Leo. I pretended to be selfish and cruel because those are the traits my father values. I pretended for so long I became them.
I am a liar. I am manipulative. I am vain. I am petty.
