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        It was the black girl from the hall. That'd been staring at his painting with a quizzical but quiet admiration. He'd found it curious, how her face twisted in misunderstanding, but still appreciated the art.

Ren took slow steps down the stairs into the aisle as the jewels backed away, except for Renee, in cognizance of him. And his commanding aura, while not conscious of it, seemed to be in blazes.

The girl's chest deflated imperceptibly.

"Leave her be," Renee ordered in a simple tone, keeping her cotton-soft eyes on her brother.

In seconds, the hall had emptied, the fanged sharks dispersed, and the frosty flecks of a chilling stare-down between Morgan and Ren lingered; the long look of Ivie on Ren unnoticed.

"What was that?"

"Nothing you want to know about, brother," Renee said. "Just some ... little introduction and orientation on how things are done here."

"You mean causing trouble?"

She scoffed inaudibly. "Are you going to do something about that?"

"Stop it, Renee. Don't go about harming the little innocent kids."

"Heyy, chilax. I'm not doing nothing to anybody." She flipped her sheeny hair behind, turned with it to face the large windows on the far left.

She turned to face him, gave him a full smile that had all the ice on her features chipping off.

A lucky bitch she was - getting away with so many things, doing bad stuff and not having anyone tell on her, taking advantage of her brother being the Head Student. He could be so oblivious sometimes, she mused, too benign—believing the best of people and in situations.

Ren stared back at her, his face without a crack and eyes darts-thin, not mellowing.

---

          Ruthanne was a winding maze of towering pillars and glasses enclosing spaces with more depth than an ocean, and vast clusters of structure, architectural design and greenery beautification, interconnected in a convoluting manner that was nothing less than submerging.

It seemed all the more cascading with Demi's torrential waves of emotion that was clogging her throat, filling up to burst through her head.

Every scene from earlier was a mash up: the words, actions and students—Diadem—or whatever they called themselves, a swirl she couldn't stop.

Confusion, blacking out, irritation, and vexation were everything she was feeling.

The door to the hall opened with a bang.

A golden-haired, faired as snow-white girl in 6-inches cream heels stood at the entrance, her pose ejecting menace.

Renee.

Changed of mind and there in the auditorium to take over their crazy little game. The meeting finished about seconds ago though but a quite scene was on.

She'd donned a thigh-length designer coat, her fists in its pockets.

...Demi's heart thudded within her ribcage, a thumping so loud she could hear it through her eardrums. And it was in reaction to the deathly blonde standing a few feet from her. Fear. Unalloyed fear that knew no bounds she felt – sitting on a leather chair – as she was being studied with a knifelike glaze.

The blonde advanced.

"Hello." Renee bared a thin smile, gone as soon as it'd appeared. "Excuse these little insolents. Skipping on pertinent formalities..." She grabbed Demi's chin with cold fingers, her nails a pellucid yellow color, and leaned over her. "You see, Ruthanne is a prestigious school, world-class, and one-of-a-kind. We take pride in the calibre of people that study here. Regals, Heirs, First Kids of dignitaries, and A-listers - whom we like to get to know. To the teeth." She eased back, and released Demi's chin. "In honour and welcoming of them: we have come up with a little ritual." A chortle escaped her throat. "Kind of like initiating them into our realmic world here. Isn't that awesome, huh? We call it the Test of Es. . .

. . . Eloquence is a test to show the way you express yourself. Verbally. Being able to communicate smoothly, finely, without blobing your words"—She made a crumpled face—"up is a prerequisite for a Ruthanne student. We have the whole world on our trail, assessing us. And anything less than exceptional will be questioned.

You are to get a complete data of your background. Write it out, or cram it—whateves. Just make sure to get every single detail about your family. The name, clan, business, and assets. Notable names or descendants, and net worth or likeliness to be worth, everything. You'll be coming here for telling us all about it, speaking it on a date we'll choose. It—"

The door flew opened again.

The boy from the painting hallways. Who looked like the willowy blonde in a male body.

The sharp contrast between them apparent to Demi right away. . . the boy, like a. . .

Crap. Just total crap, whatever their test is.

A thought struck her. Class, she hadn't even been to one. She swung off her backpack; a faded, brown polyester that'd seen better years and carefully pried open the zipper that had a tendency to get stuck at the slightest tug. She pulled out a shimmering foiled-wrap brochure with a blue gemstone incised on it.

The Scholar'stone. Ruthanne Georgeson's handy guidance for the students providing information on classes schedules, their locations, clubs, rules, the authorities hierarchy and so many more - an offshoot of the Ruth'Story: a much larger kind of encyclopedia found in the library.

Demi strolled over to a Tuscan column and leaned against its body, leafing through the small book in search of her timetable. A thinly sound whizzed above her head, cutting through the calm air and dispersing to all parts of the school carrying a message understood by all.

Break time.

Her inquisitive eyes zeroed in on the words slanting down the centre of her subjects arrangement. 12:05 P.M.

At a snap, the Ruthanners poured out of their classes and lecture rooms, jamming in the hall and walk ways in a coordinated but random way, and traipsing off to different places.

Demi lifted her head, felt weighed by their sheer. Everywhere was solemnly filled with patters.

She thumbed through the small book in her hand again, looking for the maps. Specifically, the cafeteria. Or cafeterias, she came to discover, spotting four dots with tiny buildings labelled 'cafeteria' next to them.

Four cafeterias?! -what the hell- ?

'This is Ruthanne,' the other half of her mind supplied.

She raised her head, looked long at the crowd before her and decided to go after them. The cafeteria wasn't too far off, a journey of about a short distance. She crossed the threshold after the last entrant, keeping the opened brass door in place before it shut back and entered what felt like a flipped universe.

-
*coined words—
    
     •The Scholar'stone (from the word "cornerstone.")
     •The Ruth'Story (merge of "Ruthanne" and "History.")

**
     next chapter will be up in a few days. already working on it.

     thanks for reading. don't forget to share your views and vote if enjoyed.

     x.