May returned to school once the spring arrived. Ferry met her in the corridor during the big recreation. When she saw him, the girl warmly smiled at him the way she always did. Her smile swept Ferry off his feet.

"How are you, May?" he asked.

"Much better," she simply said.

"I'm glad," he said, then went quiet. He didn't know what to say. He joined her, and walked across the corridor together, smiling at one another. Other students were passing by, but to Ferry it seemed they were the only ones in the world, at that moment. Just because she was smiling at him.

"I think we have the same class," he finally said.

"Yes, literature," she replied. "The team reading project is next. I'm curious who I'm going tobe paired with, this time."

Ferry remembered. The team project in the literature class meant that those who had the highest grade at the latest essay could choose a partner to read a book together and then present it together in front of the class.

Ferry was not among the best in that particular subject. For some reason, he found books boring. Not stories, but rather reading. He liked it more when someone was reading to him. It felt like the stories came to life; the characters became real people when their names were read out loud. He could spend hours in a row to hear someone telling stories. His mother had done this for years. Even now, he loved to listen to Lavender's stories about fairies as if he wasn't one of them but a mere spectator.

But this time he wished he would have a good grade so he could choose May.

"Can I carry your schoolbag?" he asked her, not knowing what else to say.

May smiled and handed the schoolbag to him which Ferry took with a clumsy gesture, not knowing how a girl bag should be carried. Finally, he held it in his arms as the most precious thing. May looked at him with her big eyes as if she had read the puzzlement in his head, but said nothing. This was always the case when they were not seeing each other for a while. The words somehow disappeared. But maybe there was no need for them at all.

They arrived at the literature class faster than Ferry would have wanted. She reached for her bag, and their hands touched. May smiled again, then entered the classroom, and headed to the empty seat next to her friend, Rebecca. The two girls began to whisper, casting their gaze towards Ferry meaningfully. Ferry headed to the last desk where Matilda was waiting for him.

"I hate this class," she muttered as soon as she saw him. "I bet I have a bad grade again and I'll have to team up with a nerd. At least I hope it's Ben. But he always chooses Steph. And those with lower grades don't even have the right to choose their partner. I hate this dictatorship," she snorted.

Ferry only heard fragments of her monologue. He continued to watch May as she carefully took out her notebooks and placed them on the desk.

Matilda's sharp elbow in his ribs woke him from the daydream. "Andrew is here," she whispered.Ferry discovered Andrew sitting in the last desk by the window. He looked better than the last time he saw him. Billy was with a few desks in front of him, and he was laughing with the boys in the football team. Andrew didn't lose him out of his sight. Just as Ferry did with May a few moments earlier.

The literature teacher entered, and the class turned quiet. Miss Wood was tall and lean, an old maid who lived only for her job. He began to distribute her students' essays. The best one was Ben's, who sat at the front desk.

"Congratulations, Mr. Knight," the teacher told him. "Your essay has made me think. The best in class, as usual."

Finally, the teacher came to their desk. She handed them their paperwork without saying a word. Both he and Matilda had made just over half the score. Matilda's essay was short and to the point. Unfortunately, that didn't guarantee her a high grade. Now, they had to wait for the best students to choose their partners.

"I hate this class," she sniffed again.

Ben was invited in front of the class to read his essay. He always hated being in the spotlight. He cleared his throat, blushed, then read his paperwork in a low voice. The theme of the essay was traveling. Ben hadn't traveled, but his work on the topic of life's journey made everyone think. After he finished reading, almost the entire class applauded. Except for the football team, whose members had been yawning the whole time Ben read his paper.

"Now you can choose your partner, Ben," the teacher encouraged him, winking at Steph who blushed, all smiles.

But Ben seemed to hesitate. He raised his eyes from the ground, but his gaze did not stop on Steph but searched further. And when he met Celia's eyes, his look lit up. The girl looked surprised at first, but then she smiled. The whispers started around them, but they didn't seem to care.

"Benji?"

Steph's high-pitched voice broke the murmur of the class. Ben woke up and saw his girlfriend's with arrows in her eyes.

"Mr. Knight, you have to choose your partner," said Miss Wood. "We don't have all day."

"Stephanie," Ben finally said with a sigh.

Steph, who seemed puzzled for a moment, was now smiling, self-assured. Ben instead, went back to his desk with his head bowed.

The next essay was Celia's.

"Congratulations, Miss Haughty," the teacher said. "You have a way with words," she smiled. "You could become a very good writer."

"I'm sorry," Celia said, looking indifferent, "but I'm not going to become a starving writer. This is usually the case with writers."

Miss Wood seemed disarmed by her answer. "That's a shame. But it's your choice. Finally, who do you read as a reading partner?

"Elf," Celia said without even breathing. "I choose Ferry Donovan," she added with confidence.

Ferry thought he hadn't heard well. But Celia had spoken loud and clear so the whole class could hear. The girl went to her place without even looking at him. Even Matilda's jaw dropped, even though she always had something to comment on. Then there was the turn of the other students whose essays had the highest grades. Andrew and May were among them. Andrew chose Billy. May chose Matilda.

*

"Don't flatter yourself," Celia spat the words when the break came. "My chauffeur will pick you up every day after work; I'm not going to waste my time at the library like all the other nerds," she said loud enough for Ben and Steph to hear. Then, she passed by Ferry with a stiff upper nose.

Ferry didn't know what to believe anymore. Matilda looked just as confused. "Ferry, you have to be careful," she said. "I think she's up to something."

"Don't worry," he told her. "It's only for a week."

But the truth was that he was also confused by the situation. He had to be careful.

The next day, Ferry discovered Mr. Haughty's car on the main driveway of Pride Mansion. The days began to get brighter as spring was getting closer, a sign the entire town was awakening after the cold, long winter's sleep.

From the car, Ferry could watch the town like a spectator. On the smooth road to the residence of the Haughty family, which was at the other edge of the town, Ferry could see the town preparing for the night— the people coming from the factory, heading to their homes or making a small stop at the grocery store for a last-minute purchase; the mothers calling for their children to come for dinner.

Still in the car, he saw his father. He was heading, as usual, to the tavern just like after every working day. He looked worse than the last time he had seen him—his body had become thinner, his face withered, and his eyes were clogged in the eye sockets. For a moment, he had the feeling his father saw him, behind the car's window. But his gaze was lost, and any glimmer of life had disappeared. With his sloping shoulders, Peter continued his way as if he was sleepwalking.

His father's image troubled him so much, he gave up looking through the window and remained silent and lost in his thoughts the whole way. He didn't even realize when they arrived.

He got out of the car and explored the surroundings. He had only seen the Haughty residence in flight. For some reason, it had never drawn him. Located on the southern side of the town, the Haughty Mansion was built after the model of villas by the sea even in the absence of the sea. 

The entrance announced by the lavish porch, the facades of a bright white, the tiled red roof, the wooden shutters that decorated the facades, the terraces that delimited the back of the house and the natural stone applied for the contrast on the facades, all these elements were meant to show the luxury and the wealth of the Haughty family. If the Pride Mansion was majestic, dark and mysterious, Haughty's residence was the exact opposite. White, bright and lush, it looked like a destination for an exotic vacation. Even the trees around the domain were brought from far warm countries: palm trees, olive trees or cypress trees.

Ferry followed the driver down the alley of white river stones, carefully polished that shone even now when the night was falling. He entered the main entrance where he was met by a butler with a streak in his hair that kept it separated in two halves. He was wearing white satin gloves. He took Ferry's coat with stiff movements as if he was playing a role.

He led Ferry into the large drawing-room of the house, stopping at the entrance and announcing ceremoniously, "You can wait here. Miss Haughty will be down in a minute."

Ferry entered the room, and his footsteps resonated as if he were in an empty museum. Next to the ivory marble fireplace which covered almost the entire wall where a big fire was burning, was a round table on which several papers were scattered on which elegant and tidy handwriting danced in front of his eyes. Celia's handwriting. A big sofa, covered with green silk fabric and bordered by two massive brown armchairs made of natural leather, was laying by the high windows with white translucent curtains like butterfly wings. In one corner, a black piano lay on which several scores were scattered.

Ferry picked up a sheet of paper from the table and read it randomly. It looked like Celia had already started reading the book they were supposed to do read together. The book was about the wrong choices the heroine had made, and which had led her to death. The lines written by Celia were so true and profound as if she were the heroine of the novel. Ferry was lost among the words that flowed smoothly in front of his eyes. Miss Wood was right—Celia was a talented writer. He didn't even hear her when she came in.

"Did you find anything interesting? Have you always been that curious?" she asked in the superior tone that Ferry knew so well. He flinched, then carefully placed the sheets on the table. Celia wore a grey sweater made of the finest cashmere and flannel trousers in blue and white plaid. On her feet, she had the finest lace-up shoes made of deer leather. Her blond hair was flowing on her back, soft and shiny. Her dark-blue eyes were studying him.

"You can sit wherever you want," she said and crouched on the sofa by the window. "I have already read half the book. If you want, I can tell you what's about."

Ferry shook his head no. He didn't need any favor from Celia. With the book in his hand, he sat on the edge of one of the soft armchairs.

A maid wearing a black-and-white uniform which looked like coming from an old era, entered the room pushing a trolley on which there were several trays with cakes and tea. With precise movements, she poured the tea into the finest porcelain cups, adorned with pink roses. The cups clinked melodiously at the delicate touch of the silver teaspoons. Ferry took a mouthful of exotic fruit tea, pleasantly surprised by the unique, aromatic taste.

He began to read the book, accompanied by the ticking of the pendulum in the corner. It was hard for him to focus on that bright, yet cool house.

The silence was interrupted by the rhythmic noise of high-heeled shoes. A cool drift, bringing along the smell of lotus flowers, filled the room with the arrival of the lady of the house. Mrs. Claudia Haughty was neither too tall, nor too thin. But her clothing, more suited to Celia than to her, made her look shorter and fatter than she intended. The bright-red lipstick, the color of crushed cherries, the layers of powder that covered her complexion with moles and pimples, and the bubbled nose, the false and long eyelashes, which moved like spiders with each blinking actually looked like Mrs. Haughty was trying too hard. The little hair, dyed blond that she always wore in a fake bun, twisted around a sponge, at the top of the head. She wore a silk blouse with ruffles in a pale pink color that put her generous bust in plain sight. Her thick legs were visible through the white pants, too tight for her silhouette. She barely walked in the golden shoes, with the heels too high.

"Good evening, children," she said in a shrill voice, too loud for the refined air she wanted to display. "How's the reading going?"

"Okay, Mum," Celia said, rolling her eyes.

"And you must be the young Donovan," she said, stretching out her hand for Ferry to kiss. The boy quickly got up, but he couldn't kiss that hand with short fingers and long, red nails. Instead, he shook it, a gesture that didn't discourage Mrs. Haughty. "I heard you were very ... talented," she said, looking at him beneath the false eyelashes. "Julia Pride must be lucky to have you around almost every day," she added and took out a cigarette from a golden tobacco box, then handed Ferry a lighter. Ferry lit her cigarette with clumsy gestures, and Mrs. Haughty deeply inhaled from the cigarette, then blew the smoke in his face. Ferry felt the smoke invade his eyes and nose and began coughing with tears. Celia got up and handed him a glass of water that Ferry drank in one sip.

Her mother seemed disturbed by her daughter's intrusion, and she frowned.

"Did you use the sun cream, my dear?" she asked in a harsh tone.

"Mum, the sun has just come out," Celia protested, her voice low. "I'm sure my skin is more resistant than that ..."

"It doesn't matter! It's still the sun, and it still burns your skin. I wouldn't want it to become dark like that of the ordinary mortals around here. We are of noble birth," she said in an affected tone. "We have an image to keep," she added, stressing on the last words.

Then, she slowly headed towards the exit, waving her hips. Before leaving, she glanced over her shoulder and gave Ferry a glimpse of what she wanted to be seductive or irresistible.

"My mother thinks she is still a teenager," Celia said naturally after the footsteps were gone. "She doesn't realize how ridiculous and laughable she is. She reads only romantic novels about forbidden love. She flirts with all the young employees and even thinks that, in secret, they desire her and find her irresistible. It makes me sick," she said. "Please excuse her."

Ferry didn't know what to say in front of such a direct confession. He just nodded.

"Get the book and your coat. We're getting out of here," she told him, wrapping herself in a thick sweater-coat.

They went out the door of the terrace without telling anyone. Celia walked ahead, her arms wrapped around her body. Following her, Ferry noticed how tall and thin she was. The day mingled with the night, and the sky blackened as they walked across the lawn and the round gardens, bordered by white tidy stones, arranged in perfect shapes. In front of them, there was a living fence beyond which laid a crawl of short, twisted trees and tangled shrubs like broken shadows. The wilderness of the creek contrasted with the villa and the gardens surrounding it. It was cold, and the wind was blowing among the empty branches that touched each other, tangling like a sad song.

Celia seemed to know where she was going because she didn't even stop. There was now a narrow path snaking through the hedges. They stopped in front of a wooden chalet, with high windows. Inside, it was dark. Beyond the chalet, there laid the black lake. The few stars that glittered in the sky reflected perfectly on the shiny pitch-dark surface.

She searched the thick sweater's pocket and pulled out several keys. She fit one in the door lock and opened it. Ferry followed her after a moment of hesitation. Inside, it smelled like dust, mold, and cold. She pulled out a lighter and lit a few candles in the room.

"I'm sorry for how this place looks," she told him. "It was abandoned long ago. But it's my favorite place. This chalet and the dock are the only ones that bring me some peace of mind."In the dim light of the candles, Ferry observed the chalet. It had only one room, and a few pieces of furniture: a sofa, a wooden table, seated near the window, two chairs with rigid backs, and two red velvet stools. In front of the smoke-blackened fireplace, there was a thick, soft carpet, but Ferry couldn't say for sure whether it wasn't the dust that made him look that way. One of the walls was made entirely of glass and overlooked the lake. The heavy curtains, decorated with thick dust layers, had lost their color and now seemed like two dark and silent guards.

Celia took out her coat, headed for the couch and looked for something underneath. She took out a bottle of alcohol and two glasses. She poured herself a glass, then turned to Ferry.

"Do you want some?" she asked.

Ferry shook his head no, "No. And neither should you."

Celia emptied the glass in one sip, her defiant smile in the corner of her mouth, "Don't lecture me, Ferry. You think you know me. You all think you know me. But you know nothing about me."Then, she took out a cigarette from a packaged container in a fireplace and lit it up. She crouched on the couch and blew the smoke into the ceiling, her eyes closed.

Ferry searched the room. He touched the rough surface of the wooden table with his fingers and studies the notches that decorated it. Two stylized, elegant letters stood out more than the others: A plus M, surrounded by a heart.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"It's a cabin that was used before for picnics by the lake. Then, it became a place for rendezvous."

"What's a Rendez-Vous?" he asked.

"A secret meeting between lovers," Celia said in a natural tone.

"Here?" Ferry wondered even more.

Celia laughed, "Oh, please. Do you really believe in the morality, decency, and virtue of this town? It is probably more rotten and decayed than the big cities. It's just a bunch of hypocrites, materialists who see their own interests and don't care about anything else. You should know," she spat the words. "Your father is a perfect example of how bad this town is."

Her words stroke him right in the heart. This girl, the best example of snobbery and falsehood, was talking about morality.

Celia noticed his sadness. She came closer and looked him dead in the eye, "I'm sorry," she said. "You're a good boy. You, Ben ... Even Matilda. You want to see only the good in people. You know I asked you a long time ago what brought you together. I think that's it - you always see the beauty around you even where it is long gone..." she added and put her hand on his arm, smiling. That moment, her sleeve went up and Ferry noticed several cuts on her white arm, some older, some newer, some already scarred. Celia quickly covered her arm and pulled back on the couch, away from his gaze. But Ferry sat next to her on the couch.

"What is it that makes you so bitter, Celia?" he asked. "You have everything you could ever wish for."

She looked at him in astonishment, then her eyes filled with tears, "That's right," she said. "I have everything I could possibly want. My future is bright and planned in the smallest detail: I finish high school, I go to the Faculty of Arts in the Big City, I marry Billy after I finish my studies, then live with him at the Pride Mansion. I'll become the perfect wife who will give birth to his perfect children and we'll live the perfect life together. I have every reason to be happy," she laughed bitterly.

Ferry said nothing more. He realized their lives were strangely similar. He also had a bright future ahead, planned by others in the smallest detail.

"I think we should go," he told her. "It's late and I don't want my mother to worry about me."

Celia put out her cigarette on the edge of the rear window. "Sure. Let me get my coat ..."

Ferry began to put off the candles in the cabin. The last one was the one on the table that perfectly illuminated the two letters carved in wood.

"Who do you think they are?" he asked Celia.

"I don't know. But I don't know why, every time I see them, I think of the Pride Mansion. There's a lot of weird things going on there ..."

Her answer surprised him, "What do you mean?"

Celia sighed, "That place gives me chills, even if the parties are great and the guests are among the most sophisticated. Everything about that place is not what it seems. The forbidden floor, the secret room, the Quest ..."

"What do you think happens at the Quest?"

Celia frowned and began to blink fast as if she wanted to take away an image from her mind, "I only know the stories a former gardener, told before he disappeared, long ago. All employees are free the day before. People talk, you know ... One night before the Quest, big trucks come, carrying iron cages. I think they keep them in those cages, then, on the night of the Quest, they let them into the maze, and hunt them down. They hunt them for fun," she adds and her voice broke.

Ferry felt his heart racing, "Whom are they hunting?" he asked.

"Animals, of course," Cecilia replied. "Poor creatures, they have no chance. I will never be part of something so ... terrible. They are monsters, all of them. Dad, Billy's father, their business partners ..."

"Ben will be happy to hear that you don't want to be part of it," Ferry said.

"Ben?" Celia asked and her voice turned warm when she spoke his name.

Ferry fussed. He didn't want to talk about his friends in front of Celia. He couldn't trust her.

"And this happens every seven years? The same people?" he changed the subject.

Celia shook her head, "No, not the same people. Every seven years, they are different. At least from what I heard. Dad is not the most discreet person."

Ferry's curiosity grew, "Who are those people?"

"I don't know," Celia shrugged. "They are weird. In fact, they are more than weird."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because they come for the Quest in wheelchairs or even on stretchers. And the next day, they all leave on their own feet."

Well, what do you think? A double chapter this time :) I hope you are not too bored. Let me know your thought.