[h3][color=f28500]Jamie Drummond[/color][/h3]
	Jamie rocketed down the winding road to Northwood Academy like a bat out of hell, hands gripping the steering wheel and holding on for dear life. Okay, so, he wasn't the [i]safest[/i] driver of all time, but who was? He firmly believed, as did his father and older brother, was that the only way to learn how to drive properly was to go at (or over) the speed limit in a brand spankin' new 1972 Lancia Stratos. The little amber girl went from nought to sixty in a time frame so short that Jamie couldn't even be bothered to count. Her windows were down, letting in the brisk air to slap his face and keep him alert as he drifted around the corners.

	Goddamn she was a nippy little thing.

	If Jamie had almost failed his driving test back in Scotland, he certainly didn't drive like it. Well, there was no 'almost' about it – he [i]did[/i] fail, though admittedly not by a large enough margin so his bribe didn't stick. His examiner had been a friend of a friend of his father's and Jamie was sure he was going to fail him either way, just to try and leech a bit more dosh out of him. Yeah, that was it. The lily fear he'd felt from the man was related to some sort of impoverished background, yeah. It wasn't to do with Jamie's driving.

	Jamie let him go... this time.

	Naturally he slowed down as he approached the school gates, just so he didn't wrap the lustrous bonnet of his car around the wrought-iron fences. He wouldn't be driving it again for a while, at least until the next break, and he worried about what the sap from the trees and precipitation would do to it while it was parked up, unused. Would it rust? Would his father kill him? Probably not. He walked up the dirt pedestrian path and waved at the Headmistress standing outside. She always made him feel... uneasy, like there was something else, some other emotion lurking beneath the surface facade.

	There was the girl in the year below just ahead of him. Natasha? Natalie? That was it, minus the 'e' of course. Jamie always hesitated to call her Russian because some of his father's 'business partners' were Russian and she didn't remind him of them. Then again, he was just about sure those men had been criminals of some kind, white-collar, so he didn't suppose there was any comparison to a teenage girl. He filed her under Eastern European, just to be careful, since Jamie knew how it felt to be called 'English' when he was actually 'Scottish'.

	Jamie had never actually been close enough to her to sense anything with his empathy before – unusual, definitely, but not unseen. Now he was following her into the building from a few paces away he could taste wistfulness ([i]muted lilac, like fabric softener or soap[/i]) in his mouth. Not much to go on, that's for damn sure, and while emotions were his forte, the thoughts and intentions behind them were certainly not. So, he walked on.

	And when he stepped into the hall for the annual assembly that would be his last one [i]ever[/i], Jamie was hit by a shiver of cloying anxiety – the crowd mentality infecting him with a palpable unease. It was to do with Coleman's death, that was for sure. Nobody who'd been best friends with her was in the room (since she was a senior, and her year had graduated) but at the same time the fear that someone could be – [i]murdered[/i] – in a sacred space such as their school was almost unimaginable. Jamie had to force himself to stay seated and stop fidgeting, throwing all of his focus onto ensuring he was unaffected by the blanket of emotions.

	He wanted to be cool ice-blue, indifferent. Steely neutrality.

	It worked, at least, up until the Headmistress started speaking and informed all of the seniors, juniors and sophomores that the lake was off-limits. Indignation what hard to ignore, especially when it was amplified by his own feelings. [i]He[/i] loved the lake! No wait, [i]Ash[/i] loved the lake, and so for obvious reasons such as eternal friendship and loyalty, he [i]had [/i]to be mad about it! Thus, Jamie couldn't help himself from being a little insensitive and exclaimed, "What? Why? It's not like someone else is gonna die there!"

	He rightfully silenced himself at the few glares from the student body who'd known Coleman, even when the new curfews were announced, and remained so until he joined the first rush of students to get their packs. There was only a hundred of them – naturally it didn't take long. Jamie thought himself lucky – they'd approved his request (no doubt aided by his dad's school visits) to split his 'Sports' time between Track and Football. Even if he still had to take Science, which he was flunking, it wasn't [i]bad[/i]:

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	Room Assignment – Floor 2, Room 4? Not the worst part of the dorm. It was one with a half-decent view of the school grounds. His partner for the rest of the year was Benedict Caleb, another senior (obviously) who if Jamie recalled correctly wasn't on any of the sports teams. He'd need to see the face to remember... but as it was he was looking for a more vital one. Where was [i]Mareino[/i]?

	After a few seconds of searching, he slunk back in the direction of the dorm hall. He'd see her eventually, either way.