The Compass by C. T. Lang (novels in english TXT) đ
- Author: C. T. Lang
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The Compass
Prologue: Double-Sided Mirror
Mother had rung the dinner bell on the porch only five minutes ago, but already Jef deAiken was nervous for his sister. It wasnât like Alex to be late. What would Papa say if she came in wearing grass-stained, faded blue jeans and a ripped, collarless shirt again? Mother would send her straight upstairs to change, and Jef would feel as if their army had lost a battle.
It wasnât a war, he reminded himself, looking at his own face (immaculately clean) in his silver spoon. It was more like a contingent of secret agents who had to deceive the other side to survive behind enemy lines. For years they had played this game, which matured as they themselves grew older. It was their struggle for independence; they put on masks in their parentsâ presence so that in private they could afford to be themselves. It was, of course, Alexâs idea. She began by wearing dresses at home and ripping holes in Jefâs pants for him (so that Papa could see what a fine athlete his son was becoming) and progressed to buying makeup that Jef alone was allowed to apply to her face. Every morning Mother would see Alexâs long, dark hair in elaborate buns and braids, and on the way home from school, Jef would brush that selfsame hair back into the acceptable style, taking care to remove each blade of grass or chip of wood.
The Deception, as Jef called it in his mind, extended into the jungle of their public high school, when the DeAiken children could be found most mornings studying in the library. And wasnât it sweet how Alex wrote all those adorable little love stories? Wasnât it chivalrous of Jef, her brother, to tutor his older sister in maths and science? Let the clucking, middle-aged gossips turn away, and Jef would slip a page of his romantic saga to Alex, who would in turn grab her brotherâs eraser and fix his ridiculous attempts at geometry. Of course, nobody took notice in their grades. Who would have thought to ask, in those days, how Jef ranked top of his English Literature class, while Alex soared through physics and calculus?
The Coreman Scholarship had been Jefâs baby. After reading an advertisement for young engineers who wished to apply to the prestigious Axes University, in Washington, D.C., Jefâs romantic young mind envisioned his sisterâs name printed on the Coreman âInnovating Scholarsâ list. The plan was very simple: Alex would leave home after lunchtime, to spend time with girlfriends who didnât exist, and Jef would leave about ten minutes later, with a sports duffle-bag that was the perfect size to hold Alexâs diagrams, notebooks, pencils, protractor, and compass. The DeAiken children whiled away the summer days in the woods behind the old Sorsey farm, scribbling and erasing as they raced toward the Coreman entry deadline.
Jef never tried to understand the mechanics of Alexâs project, but he did understand the exultant look on his sisterâs face when she came flying through the front door, six minutes late for dinner, with an envelope in her hand and her hair spilling out of the braids Jef had carefully secured this morning. In a moment, identical grins met in victory from across the kitchen, as Jef jumped to his feet and Alex stopped him, saying softly,
âPapa? Mother? I have something to discuss with you, if you would.â Jef knew when to make himself scarce, so he scampered upstairs to carry out Part Two of his war strategy. A bedroom door was pushed shut, a closet door was thrown open, and a motivated teenage boy rushed to fulfill his sisterâs dreams.
The Compass
Chapter One: Pride and Prejudice
Alexia DeAiken was dead, but the boy who sat on the train to the nationâs capitalâthe boy with his shoulders relaxed and his face a silent maskâwas very much alive. It was Alexia who left her brother as planned, an hour before dawn, but it was Alexander DeAiken who boarded the 5:35 train. When the energetic young man approached the ticket booth, the salesclerk couldnât help but smile at the confident pose, the voice that was masculine not in pitch, but in pride, and the laughing, hope-filled eyes that brought back memories of his own adolescence. If this young man were to open his wallet at the next station and find an extra dollar (or five) behind his ticket stub, well, these things are bound to happen every once and again.
When young Alex ventured the streets of Washington, D.C., he did not fear robbery, nor assault, nor even losing himself in the bustle of the city. He feared being examined too closely. He feared that a haircut and new clothes wouldnât be enough to hide his femininity. Most horrendously, he feared going before a University board member and having to profess his identity as Alexia DeAiken. He had become too accustomed to his new alias, and she liked being a boy. Alex DeAiken saw it as a sign from God that the student pass-card she received from the University registrar said âDeAiken, Aâ and contained no physical description except âLight brown hair, brown eyes, 5 ft 3 in.â
Alex sat in the office, waiting for her turn to speak with the director of the Coreman Innovative Scholars Program, when she noticed a colorful poster pinned to the wall opposite her chair. âRUSH THE AXESâ it proclaimed, followed by a list of sororities and fraternities. To Alex, the thought of joining a fraternity seemed ludicrous. She could never keep up her new alias in a house full of real boys! Surely the Coreman Program would allow for a single room, without a same-sex room-mate⊠Right??
âNo, Mr. DeAiken,â Director Harwitz replied to her question. âCoreman Scholars are given⊠err, more modest accommodations, you might say, than the average student at the Axes.â (Those damn rich kids⊠Their parents probably furnish these fraternity houses with all the works, while the honors students live in laboratory tanks.) While the director was babbling about the Programâs economical boarding program, Alexia was mentally screaming in anguish for a private room of her own.
âHowever, should you choose to participate in Rush Week, as is highly recommended of our Scholars, you may find a fraternity who will waive your entrance fee, and take you on as⊠as an apprentice, of sorts.â
âExcuse me?â
âOf course, they are not affiliates of the Axes University, but they are funded by private sponsors, just as the Coreman Innovative Scholars are provided for by private organizations. You could approach this from a business-like viewpoint, and you may very well find a fraternity that will invest in you!â Director Harwitzâs jowls shook with laughter. Alex saw nothing humorous.
âAnd fraternities have what type of accommodations?â
âAlex, old boy, youâre thinking industrially already! All fraternities have private bedrooms and bathrooms, but some share hallways and kitchens and/or dining rooms. Considering your⊠uh, standing, as a new student, I mean! ⊠you might find it beneficial to make friends with the president of whichever fraternity you seek to join.â
âI see.â What Alex saw was his unspoken advice--to play âpresidentâs petâ in order to have her fee waived.
âWell, you have your map, your pass-card, and your class schedule. Are there any discrepancies? Anything you need my help with?â
âNo, sir. I can take it from here.â
Not even an hour later, Alex sank hopelessly into a bench under an ancient, sprawling tree and yearned for home. She couldnât hope to fit in among these snooty rich kids, even as a boy. And returning to femaleness was out of the question. She couldnât bring herself to talk to any of the made-up creatures that flitted from house to house almost as quickly as they flitted from boy to boy. No, she resolved, staring in wondrous desperation at the sky above.
âAww, you okay, honey?â Surely this little boy wasnât addressing her. She looked around for his parents, then returned his inquisitive look with a shrug.
âYou seem pretty sad. Anything we can do?â It was the plural pronoun that drew his invisible companion to Alexâs attention. Startled, she looked in confusion between the tall, muscle-man and the small child, both in Axes uniform. Seeing her bewilderment, the young one laughed.
âThis is Mark Antony. Heâs my best friend! Oh, and Iâm Ryan, Ryan Somers, âcept my fans call me Seaman Somers.â He waited expectantly.
âIâm Alex DeAiken.â Before she could even ask what the kid meant by âfans,â Ryanâs eyes lit up, and he began to chatter again.
âSo youâre the new Coreman Kid!â (Coreman Kid? What is this, some kind of joke?) âHey you have to come see our fraternity, weâre doing Rush Night tonight!â
âOnly one night?â Alex asked amazedly.
âUh- huh,â he affirmed with no change of pace. âWe get so many auditions that we canât keep it up for more than one night. But the Captain says heâs afraid weâll never get any real talent, so he wants us to go looking for new prospects, âcept itâs just me and Mark Antony this time, all other hands on deck, sometimes I think he just wants to shoo us away, you ever think so, Mark?â The strong, silent type just nodded, but Ryan seemed to get all he needed from that response.
âBut Iâm sure if you auditioned and did good enough, the Captain and First Mate would waive your fee. I mean, youâre a Coreman Kid!â He waited for a reaction; Alex smiled weakly.
âAudition?â
âYeah, I forgot to tell ya âbout the audition process, itâs really cool, the way Josh has it set up. Oops! I mean how the Captain has it set up, he says to think of it as a theatrical production, because weâre looking for fellow entertainers, just like if we were makinâ a film or producing a play.â (The kid is completely wired! Somebody needs to take him out in a field and make him run around the corn rows for hours until he gets too tired to yap.) While he was prattling, Ryan had taken hold of Alexâs and Mark Antonyâs hands, and he led the pair of them off down a winding path to a house unlike any Axes frat houses Alex had toured that day. As an amateur engineer, Alex couldnât help but admire the Southern plantation-style house, from the top of each white column to the steps of the porch that looked like a setting from Gone with the Wind and every window and facet in between. Glancing back at the landscaping, Alex rejoiced in the sight of the freshly planted pine trees that embellished the houseâstubborn young creatures that seemed to say, âWe may be rookies, but weâre here to stay!â
âItâs not a big mansion like the ones the footballers have on East End Campus or like the girls have on the North Circle,â Ryan continued to chatter, âBut itâs home.â Mark Antony nodded in firm agreement.
âNow come inside, Alex!â Ryan impatiently tugged her away from the antique brass fixture on the entrancewayâa brass antique dinner bell, on which was etched âThe Compassâ in titular lettering.
âTheyâll have finished the other auditions; itâs almost dinner time, so Iâll run up and tell Josh-I-mean-the-Captain that thereâs Coreman Kid is
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