Cookies n' Cream
Feyerah K. E.
Chapter 1: Meeting McHindon First Thing in the Morning is Hell
It had been half a year ago already.
Yes, amazing how time could fly fast without one noticing it. Amazing…and annoying at the very same time.
"Six months," he murmured again to nobody in particular but the shore he was wandering at, stopping on occasion to stare at the scenic view of the sunset where the sky was filled with outrageous hues and tints of orange. He was recalling what happened half a year ago where he was at the Matteson Summer Villa, squatting on the white sand, laying back his body. He remembered he was staring at the same view he was seeing now, admiring the sun's colors then suddenly….
He put his nervous hand inside his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper folded twice crosswise. It was creased everywhere, dirty lines tracing the folds. It almost tattered with his frequent folding and unfolding, reading it often as he tried to decipher the origin of the letter, and as he tried to authenticate it.
Authenticate it. Of course, he wasn't even sure she wrote it, he didn't even recognize the name that it indicated its writer. He had just been counting on the familiar penmanship and the weird hunch. This hunch was actually a guess based on weak grounds: the way the letter was delivered was, as he knew her, the very way she would've done.
This was the stupidest thing he had done in his whole life next to making that commitment.
He spent half a year of investigating and trying to tear himself between his studies and his search—one he wasn't even sure would grant him his expectations. Being the only one at home with one of the two butlers his deceased parents trusted so much, and a nanny he already had since birth, his life was boring until she intruded. He wasn't very much interested in her but he had made a commitment that he should do, whatever it might cost him. He had made the vow—and no gentleman breaks his word, no one especially those who own the Matteson name. They say that it would be more painful for one to fall from a high cliff than to fall from a short tree. So it won't do well to tarnish the good reputation the name had provided him….
Like what he did.
Carrick sighed. There wasn't any good one could get in dwelling in the past. Nostalgia is a sickness that a gentleman should also overcome to focus on the business at hand—and that was the search for her, just the search, not her.
He was blindly hoping that the search would end up with a good result so that his butler, Mr. Darrind Collins, who only wants what was good for his young master, would stop the indifference he managed to radiate in disagreement with his rash action.
"Ah, the energy possessed by your youth, master," Collins would always say with a conscious tinge of preaching authority brought about by the age difference between him and his young master. "Is, by far, very high. Yet it's always wasted on trivial and unimportant matters such as…let's say, just searching for a girl! Even if it was a search for treasure, I'd still definitely decline! I believe the best thing to do is stop this meaningless business of yours, young master, but if that's what your stubborn brain wishes…."
Carrick would always roll his eyes at Collins speech. Sometimes Collins acted like he isn't Carrick's servant but rather like the one concerned parent. Sometimes Carrick would wonder who was the real servant in the picture.
That didn't matter much to Carrick though. That was the one reason why both his parents trusted and favoured Collins, along with Kerredy the nanny and Marshal the other butler (whom Collins recommended to the Mattesons). They were all very caring, kind, and they all hold a dedication of the filial kind.
Collins always did what was best for his young charge. He watched Carrick grow up from a silent little boy into a promising gentleman. His affection for him was fatherly—the reason as to why Carrick considered him as family and elder friend. Whatever Carrick decided to do, Collins was always there, guiding him and supporting him. He indeed made a good picture of a father to Carrick.
Collins might not want his young master destroy the family's good name, but secretly, he was also desperately hoping that this would better be worth Carrick's efforts. After all, the plan had commenced, what more could one do to rid of it than finish it once and for all?
Fortunately, it wasn't wasted: He found her. Yet….
He sighed exhaustedly.
There was unfortunately a flaw, and he didn't expect it….
Uh-oh, viewing his progress in this plan from a distance, it looked like there was still lots of things he should do before he could even consider himself halfway through his mission.
Amazing…and annoying at the very same time….
In his mind flashed a scene of a tense and unexpected meeting with a very hateful person.
He sighed again, this time of hilarity. It was more than a coincidence.
Who would have thought?
Elicah literally jumped off her bed as the clock began to strike a pitch for alarm. She unfortunately fell hard to the floor with a thud. The alarm clock was its annoying buzz when Elicah realised she'd better start the day.
"Oww!" she hissed at her pained forehead as she reached for the noisy alarm clock. She was sure she couldn't be that late yet. She peeked at the clock with half-opened eyes, unwilling to erase the sleep.
Her eyes grew wider as the sleepy feeling was instantly gone and her mind's gears worked rapidly, taking in the bad news. It was indeed time to wake up.
"SHIT!" she cursed loudly that a short reprimand from Amanda echoed from the hall, reaching her room.
"Right, Amanda! Sorry!"
She stood up and righted herself, facing the mirror. She wasn't going to school with her messy mop of a hair—like no one would. She grabbed her uniform and began to dress.
Elicah was buttoning her shirt up when the alam clock stopped beeping. Then the door suddenly opened, revealing the tall, middle-aged, blonde English woman in a plain checkered dress.
"Amanda!" Elicah was furious. Perhaps Amanda, as a faithful guardian of hers, needed a brief acquaintance with 'Knocking'.
"Let me guess," Amanda declared in her strong English accent while she rested her chin on the knuckles of her right hand in a sophisticated way. Her eyes sought for the alarm clock and when she did find it lying down on the table, one corner of lip tilted up. "You're utterly late, young miss."
Still having panic-difficulty with buttoning her blouse—oh, the buttons are at the back, by the way—Elicah glared at her, "I know that!"
"Surely you do. You're not elementary level now, my dear, you're high school! Must you know that your class starts at seven!"
"Amanda, you're just making me panic, will you just help me?"
Amanda's left brow inched from the normal level, "Magic word?"
Elicah rolled her eyes. Right…manners…even though Amanda could've knocked before entering, too. "Please?"
The older woman sighed; for her the girl still tended to forget those manners, how could she be a perfect lady? She prodded into the room to help Elicah out with her blouse and found that it was too tight already.
"How long had this blouse served its purpose?" Elicah queried, also noticing the tightness.
"Just one year," she laughed. Her charge had been overfed, and she couldn't actually imagine that. "You must be growing—horizontally, that is. Ah, must watch on your diet, I guess."
Amanda continued to laugh. Elicah just rolled her eyes, "Amanda, it's already six-thirty."
"I know, dear, I know…. Nice Moday, eh?"
Elicah sighed. Even though Amanda seemed to be annoying at times, she just coldn't imagine life without the motherly maid. She had watched her grew up, helped her whenever she was down, gave her practical advice, and taught her manners fit for a lady…which reminded her….
"Yes, quite a nice Monday. Good morning, by the way."
The school bell rang just a split-second right after her car entered the big gates. There should still be ten minutes before time.
Elicah managed to exit from her car and panted in disbelief, "Wow, I can't believe I made it!"
"And fortunately for you though," an irritating familiar voice behind her. "I guess you'd have to talk with me first thing in the morning."
She knew that voice, she hated its annoying owner, and as much as she wanted to hold herself from turning to face him, she did an automatic three-sixty whithin a split second whirl and directly greeted him with a punch square on the face.
He was slightly taken aback.
"Ow, what was that for?" Drake moaned as he massaged his nose. "A new type of modus operandi for hitting on me?"
She scoffed, and replied sourly with fake sweetness, "That's a new gesture of greeting, Matteson; be used to it whenever you go near me—!"
Drake managed to touch a lock of her hair which made her shriek like a foul, dirty man had just touched her. Without second thoughts she kicked his leg out of reflex so hard that Drake had to hop on one foot to keep the balance.
"And that was?" he asked her in an obviously pained voice (no matter how much he tried to conceal it).
"A way of saying 'Thank you' for touching me or my hair or my dress or anything that belongs to me!"
She turned away from him and headed for the front doors of the lobby then she stopped halfway through the path, whirled around like what she did awhile ago and marched back to her car. She whispered a hurried order to her chauffer then she glared at Drake when he leaned to her car for support due to his injured leg.
"What now?" he asked as his eyes met hers.
"You want me to express 'Thank you' again for leaning on my car?"
"Hey, look at me, you just bruised my leg!" he gestured with his free hand (the other stretched to her car for support). "Can't you see, I can't walk properly; a little bit more and I'd head to the nurse's clinic!"
She appeared to be thinking for a while and after a few moments, a grin cut through her face.
"Want me to send you there now?" she called out in a normal voice.
"Where else? To the nurse's office. I suppose you need a few medical—er—treatments for your injuries. Would you like me to bring you there?"
Drake looked genuinely surprised but then he managed to recover.
"Of course, I'd be grateful, McHindon. Thank you." he replied.
"So then, a little bit more it is."
"What? What does 'a little bit more' mean?"
Her grin grew wider and she nodded to her chauffer. With that, the car instantly sped from his leaning figure. Drake had a fatal fell and his thin, fair skin collided with the rough granite that was the roadway around the campus.
"Aw," Elicah exclaimed with feigned concern. "You're hurt badly enough, Matteson. I reckon you needed a little bit more then you're good enough to be sent to the nurse's office and you wanted to go to the nurse's office right? You're going there then."
She peeked at her wristwatch from under her green long sleeves that was her uniform.
"Six fifty-four," Elicah murmured audibly enough for Drake to hear. "Six minutes 'til you're late, Matteson. You'd better sprint with your awful leg to the nurse now or you'll be…late."
"What? I need to go there now? By myself?" Drake exclaimed.
"Of course," she replied with a 'duh' expressin on her face. "You think I can carry you, someone heavier than I am?"
"Argh! You told me you'd send me there!"
"Yes did. I said I'd send you there, not carry you there. You better keep praying somebody else bumps into you soon—somebody that could carry you to the nurse's office."
He made an angry expression and cursed to himself. This was all too overwhelming for her.
"Your fault, loser-maniac," she mumbled to him.
She turned away from him the second time that morning and headed to the lobby gates in her ignorant walk, not ever caring to turn back and help Pistoff Drake Matteson.
God, how she hated him.
Truly, meeting McHindon first thing in the morning is hell.
A/N: So this is Chapter 1. I can't imagine I'm beginning to write this story again.... Anyways thanks for the...er review. I hope this one would actually be finished before school here starts again. Please let me know what you think. Fire/flames are welcome. Corrections and suggestions are also helpful. Thanks again!