6
“Maxwell Boleyn hung himself,”I told my mother on the phone, and she went deadly quiet before I heard a strange little gasp. “Did you hear me? Maxwell is dead.” More silence. “Ma, are you alright?” I shut the door behind me in my bedroom as the music was blaring downstairs, the lads were celebrating Maxwell’s demise, and perhaps the end of the war between the Boleyns and the Warwicks.
“That seems…out of character for him,” she finally said in a wispy voice.
“Yeah, that’s what we think, but what’s done is done. I thought you’d be happy about it.” There was a knock at my door, but Iignored it. It was a soft, cautious girl’s knock, so whoever it was won’t be worth bothering about.
“I am…I need some time to digest this, let it sink in. Your father will be pleased, but he would also be confused by the way Maxwell died.”
“He was our enemy, Mom,” I reminded her, because this was an odd reaction to a man that my family had despised for as long as I could remember. “I expected a happier reaction.”
“I’m relieved, but as I said, I need to let it sink in,” she sighed as if it was unreal, “the girl, the daughter…what’s her name?”
I took a deep breath before replying, “Adina. We’re keeping an eye on her.”
“She must be devastated.” I couldn't quite believe what my mother was saying. “Is she still there at Castlehill?”
“Yeah, we’ve got our eye on her,” I assured her, even though it’s more like we’ve imprisoned her, with the only exception being to allow her to go to class.
“Good.” She fell distant again, struggling to believe it, I suppose.
There was another knock at the door, and I decided to use that as an excuse to cut the call. “Someone is knocking at the door. I'd better fly. Talk to you later, Mom.”
“Good son,” she sounded vague, and I felt uneasy. She always had a vindictive side to her that spurred my father on, and the target of her vindictiveness was Maxwell Boleyn and her drive for more power, more land, more money. They were a formidable team like Bonny and Clyde, but now it must seem like the reason for getting out of bed in the morning had gone. She’d feel lost with both her beloved and equally malicious husband in prison and her enemy dead. But at least she has her sons and Lev to think about. Damn, I forgot to tell her that I was made captain.
I swiped for her number to message her the news, but the fire in my gut had dissipated, so I tossed my phone on my bed and stepped to the door and swung it open to discover the coach standing there holding an expensive bottle of whiskey. “Shot?” she said cocking an eyebrow and trying to look cute. It wasn’t working.
“Nah, I’m training,” I told her, frowning because I didn’t entirely trust her since I caught her in my bedroom.
Then I flicked my finger at her to leave, but she didn’t receive the message, or maybe she did understand what I was implying, but ignored it. She was blatantly confident as if she believed nothing could hurt her, and there was a vacantness behind her eyes that reminded me of my mother. The emptiness was where normal people have empathy, but with her and my mother, it’s missing most of the time, which was why it was a surprise for my mother to react as she did to the good news of Maxwell’s death.
“Do you wanna hang out?” she persisted, and I clenched my jaw in annoyance.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m in the middle of something, so…” I nodded down the hall for her to get the message that I wanted her to leave.
“Looking forward to the season, then?” Her feet weren’t moving, then she flicked me a sinister look. It was only for a split second, accompanied by a smirk that made me think she was implying something.
“Yeah,” I ignored all the signs she was sending me and started to close the door in her face, but she put her foot in the way, so I couldn’t close it.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at her. I didn't want to put my hands on her, but I will shove her out of the way if she pushes me too far. “Move.”
She hesitated before stepping away and flicked me another look filled with venom. Then I remembered the missinghandgun and her snooping about in my room without me being there.
“Hey,” I called after her, and she looked back, pleased with herself, assuming that I’d changed my mind. “When I caught you in the room that day, did you find something?”
“Like what?” she batted her eyelashes, and it made me cringe. “I didn’t spy. I was waiting for you to arrive, like, I thought we could hang out. You, being the newly crowned captain of the team, thanks to your coach, my father.”
It was unwise to ask her about the handgun in case she didn’t see it, as it would expose us for breaking the rules, and harboring a firearm is illegal as well, so we’d be arrested. But we wouldn’t be the first students to bring weapons on campus, and we wouldn’t be the last.
“Okay,” although I wasn’t satisfied, my finger flicked at her to leave again, “I’m done.”
I stood at the window and gazed out at the impressive view of the forest-covered hills as the music pumped below, vibrating through the old floorboards. One day, the house will collapse after decades of abuse that frat boys had inflicted on the foundations.
After several moments, I left my room, locked my door, and then went down to the ground floor to where the party was. It was split between two groups: the actual partygoers gathered in the kitchen, hallway, and living room, and then gamers in the games room with the door shut to keep the noise out.
Cole was face fucking that blond chick, I’ve forgotten her name, but it’s the one associated with the Boleyn girl. She’s nuts, apparently, but Cole still likes fucking her. Conrad was in the games room in the throes of playing Black Myth with one of our roommates, and staying out of trouble, loyal to a fault to his girlfriend back in Hartford.
Robbie was probably stuffing his face with chips and beer in the kitchen, and I couldn’t see Ez anywhere. Lev wouldn’t be here, not just because he didn’t like socializing, but because we needed someone to watch over the Boleyn girl.
