NoHoper Ch 6 - Punished (part 2)
Chapter VI
Punished
(Part 2)
Following Zoey to the Performing Arts Centre, I was thankfully on time for my next lesson, Drama. As the news of my detention had not yet reached the ears of the other professors, the greeting I received from Professor Erik Night, a black-haired vampyre with a Mark like a theatrical mask, was a fair one. Permitting me to sit wherever, I sat down at the empty seat beside Zoey. There were surprisingly few other boys in this class, I found, and so I found myself being stared at by the girls, when they weren’t mooning over the Professor. Ignoring their fervent gazes, I instead took to listening to the raven-haired professor, who was giving a lecture on the perfect delivery of a monologue.
As everyone got set onto practising their monologues (Zoey reciting Juliet’s ‘Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?’), Professor Night came over to my desk and directed me to a red bookshelf full of books on monologues, where he told me just to find one that took my fancy.
Taking out a book, I flipped through until I stopped at a monologue from Hamlet. I was soon practising it, reading it out as the others did theirs, and putting the feeling into it on the second read-out.
Whether or not Professor Night heard my reading or not, he was soon clapping his hands for everyone to cease about fifteen minutes into the lesson. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, projecting his voice, “I’ve been listening to you all, and while those were all very good tries, I think I need to give you an example of how to do it right. I’ll ask that one of the better readers I heard, and one of the worst readers come up to the front, and read this dialogue between Romeo and Juliet. Zoey? Light? Would you two like to volunteer?”
Sighing, I put the monologue book back down on the desk, memorising the page before walking up to the front, standing beside Zoey. It might have been because I was new to fledgling classes, or because they could sense my antipathy, but I seemed to be drawing attention like light to the flies.
Professor Night handed us each a script, Romeo’s lines highlighted on mine. Giving it a cautionary read, I found a small feeling of relief in me - it was just a tame scene, the famous one set at the Capulet mansion where the star-crossed lovers proclaimed love to each other. A simple thing to fake for the audience.
“Okay you two, let’s just start from ‘O Romeo, O Romeo’, and carry on from there.” He strode across to the back of the classroom, leaning against the wall as he counted us in. “And… action!”
“O Romeo, Romeo!” Zoey called, standing on her balcony, “wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”
That was my cue: My voice whispering, not meant for her ears, I said, “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”
Thankfully, Zoey took the hint, and carried on as though she’d never heard me, “’Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague.” She formed a quizzical expression on her face, an exaggerated look of perplexity, “What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.” Her tone changing to that of determination, she declared, “Romeo, doff thy name, and for thy name which is no part of thee take all myself.”
I stepped forward into her line of sight, allowing my presence to be known to her, “I take thee at thy word:” I said, letting myself ooze Romeo’s confidence, “Call me but love, and I’ll be newly baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”
She played the horrified virgin, shocked at a man who’d trespassed unannounced. “What man art thou that thus bescreen’d in night so stumblest on my counsel?”
“By a name,” I told her, “I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word.”
“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound,” Zoey then looked at me with a questioning gaze, more curious than afraid, “Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?”
“Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.” I told her, giving her a voice of worship wrapped in charm.
“H-how camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here!”
“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.”
She let peril fill her eyes, unaware of her exaggeration, “If they do see thee, they will murder thee!”
I sighed, and gave a warm smile, “Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords; Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity.”
“I would not for the world they saw thee here.”
“I have night’s cloak to hide me from their sight; and but thou love me, let them find me here:” I stepped closer to her, closing the gap, “My life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.”
Her next words were a whisper, “By whose direction found’st thou out this place?”
“By love” I answered, “who first did prompt me to inquire; he lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore wash’d with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.”
She took a decidedly deep breath, getting ready to begin her monologue, “Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak to-night fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny what I have spoke: But farewell compliment!” she looked away, looking back at me with a question. “Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ‘Ay’, and I will take thy word: Yet if thou swear’st, thou mayst prove false; at lovers’ perjuries then say, Jove laughs.
“O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won, I’ll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, so thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
She gave a staged sigh, “In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my ‘haviour light:” She stepped closer, speaking now with determination, “But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that thou overheard’st, ere I was ware, my true love’s passion: Therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discovered.”
“Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-”
“O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”
I gave a playful smirk at that, using flirtation, “What shall I swear by?”
Stubbornly, she replied, “Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.”
“If my heart’s dear love-”
She cut across me once again, “Well, do not swear: Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say ‘It lightens’.” She stepped back, keeping the distance respectful and polite, “Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast!”
I made my gestures almost desperate as she made to walk away, projecting it in my voice, “O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”
She turned back, seeming almost bothered by me, “What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?”
I stepped back to her, putting my arms around her waist gently but possessively, my face inches from her when I said, “The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.”
She had to look up at me now, her hands pressed against my chest, eyes unable to meet mine, “I gave thee mine before thou did’st request it: And yet I would it were to give it again.”
“Wouldst thou withdraw it?” I asked, “For what purpose, love?”
“But to be frank,” her eyes returned to meet my gaze, “and give it thee again. And yet I wish for the one thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”
Taking her hints, I slowly closed the gap between us and she reciprocated, moving our lips closer, closer-
She turned her head suddenly, as though hearing a twig snap somewhere. “I hear some noise within,” she whispered, moving out of my arms, “dear love, adieu!” she turned the other way, shouting “Anon, good nurse!” she turned back to me, “Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again.” Zoey ran to the other end, as far away as she could from me.
I turned to my audience, “O blessed, blessed night!” I declared, “I am afeared. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial.”
Zoey came back, returning to the original distance, “Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, by one that I’ll procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; and all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the world.”
Suddenly, Professor Night yelled for us, “Madam!”
“I come, anon.” Zoey yelled back, returning her attention back to me, “But if thou mean’st not well, I do beseech thee-”
“Madam!” Professor Night yelled again.
“By and by I come,” Zoey continued, “To cease thy suit, and give me to my grief: To-morrow I will send.”
“So thrive my soul-”
“A thousand times good night!” she yelled, smiling like a girl in love. With that, she returned to her off-stage side, leaving me to my lonesome.
“A thousand times the worse,” I sighed, “to want thy light. Love goes towards love, as schoolboys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”
“And scene!” Professor Night yelled, clapping his hands and striding to the front, motioning for us to bow to the rest of the class. “Not too bad, Romeo and Juliet - a nice attempt from Third Formers! Light, you’re a natural! If this is what you can do without tuition, then with it, you could be better than me!”
The bell rang the end of class, and still gushing their approval of the performance, the rest of the students, a red-faced Zoey included, left the classroom, leaving the professor and I alone.
“You know, Light,” he said, no longer projecting his voice, “if you want any extra tuition, I’ll be happy to provide you with some. It’s great to see a student with natural talent, rather than those who chose Drama because they couldn’t do anything else.” The look in his eye almost reflected that he was thinking of Zoey as he said it. “If you show more progress, I could enter you in for the House of Night’s International Monologue Competition, if you wish.”
So, there’s a competition that encourages you to practise the conman’s art of fakery?
“Yeah,” I said, “I’d like that.”
“Good. If your mentor agrees, I’ll begin extra tuition in about a week, once you’ve settled in.”
Nodding and picking up my bag, I turned to leave, “Thank you, Professor. I’ll be going to my next class now.”
“Alright,” he answered, giving a knowing smile as I turned back to face him. “Just promise to stop acting and be your real self when you enter class tomorrow.”
I froze in place, horrified at the comment, too taken aback to hide it.
How… how did that vampyre know? Is he talking from his own experience, or is he actually psychic? No… he’s only said that he knows, not that he knows who my real self is, but… but-
Not daring to look at his face again, I fled out of the room before my fear could stop me, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t stop until I reached classroom 214, until I was far away from Professor Night. Whatever he knew about me, whatever he claimed to know, he wasn’t going to use it against me, not while I still had the ability to fight back against the species.
---
Although I entered the class late, Professor Penthesilea - or Professor P, as she likes to be called - didn’t mind at all. In fact, she gave me a smile, and a typical vampyre handshake as she asked me to empty the contents of my bag onto her desk. Seeing my perplexed look, she laughed, “Don’t worry yourself, Light - I merely wish to make an example of you, nothing more.”
Confused, I put my rucksack on her empty desk, opened it, and began taking out one item at a time, placing them beside the bag in a neat pile. A notebook, a few pens, my copy of Vampyre Sociology 101, the monologue book… I stopped there, waiting for her reaction. When she raised her eyebrows at me, I realised that she knew there was more in the bag. Sighing, I reached in again, and pulled out the other books. Suzuki’s Ring (in Japanese), Camus’ The Outsider, Orwell’s Nineteen-Eighty-Four, King’s Carrie-
Professor P, satisfied with the full unloading, stopped me there, picking up Carrie off the top. “Here,” she said, “I’m glad to see that someone here knows what we’re doing! Congratulations for coming prepared, Light,” she said to me, smiling wide. To the rest of the class, she continued, “The next book on our syllabus, now that we’ve finished A Night to Remember, is the vampyre author Stephen King’s first work, Carrie. While Stephen King can himself teach us that we can only say we succeeded with our Goddess-given talents and gifts when we can sufficiently live off these alone and pay the electric bill with our earnings, Carrie, as you’ll soon find out, warns us of the danger of underestimation, of messing with the wrong person and not treating everyone with the respect they fully deserve. While this may be tempting for some, it will be an insult to the one you abuse, and may end in your untimely death.
“Please note, while this novel is not for the faint-hearted or for those with weak stomachs, it is a work of fiction, of course, and so you must treat it as such.” She turned back to me, “You can sit down now, and do take your possessions with you.” Tipping everything back into my bag, and taking my copy of Carrie from her, I sat at a vacant desk beside Zoey. “For the rest of you who didn’t come prepared,” she continued, “you’ll find copies on the third shelf, enough for one each.”
Everyone got out of their seats in a pleasant manner, whispering something about pig’s blood and the like. As Zoey got back to her seat, she leaned forward, her long hair practically falling across my desk. “How did you do that? You know, predict the next book on the syllabus like that? Bibliomancy?”
I gave a small chuckle. “What I did wasn’t even Bibliomancy, and why would I even use such an unscientific method? No, it’s a coincidence, really - I just put a few books in my bag this morning because I didn’t reckon the lessons would be that interesting, and what do you know, Professor P and I have similar tastes in literature.”
“You’ve gotta be crazy. The lessons here are interesting, awesome even, and don’t you forget it!”
Well, I don’t know about awesome, but ‘interesting’ certainly covers it.
As the class settled down, and Professor P began reading the first chapter to us, I let myself relax, somewhat. While the coincidence may have taken some students aback, and probably made them even more suspicious of me, it was nothing to worry about - at least, not right now.
---
After the pleasant literature lesson came fencing with Professor Lankford, known more commonly as ‘Dragon’. He came up to me as I entered the field house, smiling warmly. For a fencing instructor, he didn’t look at all intimidating. He was shorter than me, with long blond hair tied up into a ponytail. He would be an ordinary-looking man, were it not for his Tattoos of two dragons breathing fire on the filled-in crescent moon, with their bodies wrapping down to their jawline.
Shaking my arm, he gave me a warmer greeting than the rest, “Merry meet,” he’d said, “you must be Light Asahi, the new student I’ve heard so much about.”
I gave him the shy act, as I had with all the others, “And you must be Professor Lankford, my mentor.” He laughed at that, showing all the ferocity of a fat house cat.
“Yes.” He continued, “But while I’m only your temporary mentor until we find someone who can better nurture your talents, I still expect you to do very well for me here. Are you at all familiar with this sport?” he asked, passing me the foil he was holding.
Taking the weapon, I held it comfortably in my hand, feeling the balance. “Yes,” I answered, turning up the corners of my mouth, “I was instructed in the sport for a good while.”
“Excellent! I like it when fledglings already have some ability - it makes their induction into the class so much easier. Now, if you could just get kitted up, you can pair up with Drew Partain for some practice lunges.”
Depositing my blazer with the others, and putting on the fencing jacket, plastron, and glove, I soon found Drew talking to Damien, both already kitted up. “Come on, Captain Cotton-Brain,” I said, tapping Drew on the shoulder. “We’re paired up.”
Scowling at the nickname, he gave a nod to Damien, before finding a space for us to warm up. “Go on, Asahi, lunge for me!”
At least one hundred lunges later, and I was starting to ache. No doubt sore from the yelling earlier, he’d pushed me a lot harder than the others had been willing to push each other, eager to take out his anger on me through pure sweat, having me bent over, hands on knees and gasping.
“Ah, Light! I’m glad to see someone’s working hard!” I looked up to Dragon, seeing a look of pride (was it?) on his face.
“Yes,” I answered, straightening up, “but the credit goes to Drew here.”
He laughed and winked, “Of course it does.” Clapping his hands for attention, he began addressing the rest of the class. “Now that we’re officially warmed up, I’d like us all to try for a practice match. Light, Damien, would you two like to give a demonstration?”
Both of us nodded and stepped forward, each of us receiving a mask from him. Everyone gave us space, moving well out of the way of the reach of our foils. Standing opposite Damien, a mask covering our faces, I centred myself, got into the stance, and began turning the blade around in preparation, ready to start on the offensive.
Finally, a chance to show this bloodsucker whose boss.
Facing each other, foils touching, Dragon blew his whistle. Begin!
---
Damien fell heavily to the floor, and I stood over him, my foil held firm, pointing into his face. His own weapon lay forgotten not two feet from his hand as he stared straight into my eyes, gasping for breath, his chest heaving from over-exertion. While I too was tired, I didn’t show it, the point held barely inches from his face, as clear as my intention to keep him in his rightful place.
My eyes locked on his, communicating easily the hatred and antipathy I felt for him. It wasn’t, then, until Dragon tapped me on the shoulder that I backed off, lowering the foil and holding a hand out to help him up.
“Well done, you.” he whispered, almost growling as he took my hand and got back to his feet again. Quickly withdrawing my hand, I took off my mask, showing my face, not even caring that the look of bloodlust was still there, that the desire to all-out destroy him lingered on the outside as well as on the in.
Taking his own mask off, Damien took a moment to inspect the mesh, horrified to see the tear that had been wrought at level with his left eye. Looking at me, and then at the mesh again, he put a hand up to his face, and pulled it away to stare at the red stain now on his fingers. He looked back at me, then.
Dragon came to stand at Damien’s side, snatching the mask from him and lifting it up to let light pour in through the mesh. He turned it over in his hand. Seconds later, he gave me nothing but a side-ways glance before turning back to the rest of the class.
“Did you see the thrust Light executed at Damien’s head?” He asked, holding it out for everyone to see. “Thanks to the power behind it, it not only landed, but tore through the mesh. Had Damien complained about having to wear his mask, as you all do, and not worn it during the bout, he would’ve been stabbed through the eye, and killed.” Suddenly, he threw the mask to the ground, the thud echoing around the room, driving home his point.
“If any of you complain about wearing your safety gear again,” he continued, “you will be forced to do without it for the rest of the term, and you’ll spend every lesson of mine in the Infirmary, if you’re lucky.” Turning on his heel and walking towards the store room, he ordered, “Practise your lunges until the bell, and may Nyx help you all!”
---
DAMIEN
Back practising lunges with Zoey, I couldn’t keep my mind off the bout earlier. When Light had said he’d been tutored before, he certainly wasn’t lying. That, I was sure of: Dragon had always told me that you could learn the most about someone by the way they fought, and Light was no exception. He had the technique, and a style of fighting that was strong and purposeful, yet graceful as well. What was more, he was focused, and unnervingly so - while it was clear that he wanted me defeated, that he was practically obsessed with this goal, it didn’t affect his fighting. Rather, it seemed to strengthen it, to draw in his focus and give him the drive to win.
From behind the mask, with no distraction, with triumph as his goal, he seemed to become someone else entirely. While he was still the same person on the outside, still the same handsome Japanese guy, it was like another side of him had been revealed. A side that wasn’t shy, wasn’t refined, wasn’t quietly intelligent, and didn’t keep himself restricted as he always seemed to.
No, this side was unwound and free, coldly calculating my every move and not afraid to show it. It was as though… he hated me, as though his entire being was functioning on that feeling alone. With it, his blade work was precise, he could find openings that even I didn’t know existed, and he had the strength and force to even stab through mesh. Even in this House of Night’s controlled and safe environment (as far as classes are concerned) he’d made me bleed, and in a lesson where no one else had bled before.
He was two-faced, dangerous, and that was the scary thing.
Why was he like that? Why did he seem to hate me so much? Or… was it just me? No, it couldn’t be. He had no reason to hate me (or at least, no reason that I knew of. He wasn’t homophobic, as far as I knew).
But… that moment at breakfast, when Light yelled at everyone for Drew’s usual hazing speech. True enough, that speech was rancorous and bloody by itself, but most fledglings manage to laugh it off, even ignore it. But Light… it seemed to hit him hard, and before any of us knew it, he’d snapped for a moment and unleashed all Hell on us. Of course, it must’ve been a glimpse of what I saw of him during the fight, a confirmation that he was hiding something, that there’s more going on with him than what meets the eye.
No, I don’t think I’m the only one he hates. No, for some reason, he hasn’t been here 24 hours and already he has a reason to hate every one of us. Of all of us, he probably hates Zoey the least, but why I’ll never know. That’s something I may find out later, but right now, what really matters is that I find out what’s up with him now, why it is he hates us all collectively and equally, and is so determined to hide it.
“Shut up!” he’d said to us all, “Just shut up you cotton-brained, foul-mouthed, blood-sucking FOOLS!”
Blood-sucking? Whatever did he mean by that insult? We’re all fledglings or vamps here, and blood is as much a part of our nature as it is for the humble vampyre bat.
How come? What does that mean for him, for us? And why-?
The bell rang, disturbing my train of thought for the moment. Yes, while there’s certainly something going on with our newcomer, all I can do is observe him just a little more, perhaps play more bouts against him and wait for him to show that other side of himself once more - that violent, controlled, uncontrollable side.
Light Asahi… what was wrong with him?
---
And here is a very, very long chapter of NoHoper from me - so long, I had to cut this into two parts. Now, I don’t really have much to say here, except that we’re nearly halfway through this baby, and I’ve got some more awesomeness in store from here on out. While I think I was probably wasting time with the Romeo and Juliet scene, I do apologise that I couldn’t properly write a good fencing scene. When I first thought to do it, I thought ‘man, this is gonna be sweet’, but when I got to it, I realised that, not only was I not very suited to action writing right now, but that I know nearly Jack-poopy about fencing. I did have one session of fencing when I was young enough to look too cute for that sort of thing, but that was it.
For the biggie: I’m thinking of doing art for my fanfiction pieces, and if anyone else wants to do that too, then go ahead!
Until next time,
Thank you, and please R&R
Ruin Takada XXX
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