Hexus

*2* Ambush

[7:43 AM, December 4, UTC +01:00]

“Henri, call Portia down. Her food is getting cold and the bus should be here soon.”

“You could have just called her yourself,” Henri grunted. "We're sitting on the same table."

“Don’t talk back to your mother, young man. Finish your breakfast quickly or you’ll be late.”

Henri shouted for his sister and tried not to roll his eyes as she asked for another five minutes. He turned back  concentrated on finishing his waffles and eggs while his parents continued talking about the weather or economy or whatever. He never understood why she was always late – perhaps he did but chose to ignore it. She spent an unhealthy amount of time on curling her hair and picking clothes to “flatter” her skinny figure and trying to use make-up but still maintain the au naturel look.

Pointless.

“I hope you’ve been studying,” Papa said to him suddenly. Henri nodded. Their conversations were few and far-between and always revolved around work and studies. Henri could understand their situation though; Papa was rarely social and had no recognizable hobbies, and it wasn’t like he knew much about chartered accounting to hold a conversation on the subject. His end-of-semester assessments were coming, and he had been doing nothing but studying for the past three weeks. He had to maintain his average and show his willingness to learn, after all. But quite frankly, it bored him.

Everything bored him.

There were very few things that made him excited, he noticed. The guys in school thought he was just ‘out of it’ or ‘stuck up’. Whatever, he thought; they’re just as boring as everything else. All their conversations revolved around some new action flick or some girl that they were trying to form a relationship with or some online video game that they were getting better at and ‘leveling up’.

Très blasé.

The only thing he ever considered interesting was the sea. Or, more specifically, the English Channel, which spanned most of the coast of Le Havre. On a clear night and from a good height, it was a wonder for him to behold. The constant unpredictable sloshing of the waves fascinated him for some strange reason and he strangely enjoyed trying to predict how the waves would appear along the coast. Sometimes, on a clear night, he could actually see the coasts of England to the north. He wondered what the people there did – not that he cared, but day-dreaming gave him something to do. Whenever he saved enough money, he liked to frequent Musée des Beaux-Arts Andre Malraux, because the art gave him some distraction and was occasionally interesting. But on the whole, he found most things to be dull and dreary.

Maybe the problem is me, he thought.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” Portia apologized repeatedly as she rushed into the kitchen and quickly grabbed a waffle. She was going to be late if she actually sat for breakfast, so she rushed to pack up the contents of her plate, kissed Mama on the cheek and ran out, stopping only momentarily to pick up her coat. It was cold outside, and a bit of snow had fallen a few days ago. But today the skies were just dull grey and saturated with clouds, which could release their precipitation at any moment. She exclaimed in joy as she got out just in time to meet the bus to take her to school.

Henri had no idea where that was.

To be honest, he knew very little about his sister's life, other than the fact that they were born within fifteen minutes of each other – he was the older twin – and they had spent a good amount of their existence bickering until their parents decided that it would be best if they were given their own rooms. Most of his memories from their childhood were either vague or irretrievable. Puberty hit soon enough, Portia’s figure changed a little and she became more aloof. She had different friends, different interests, different everything. The only time he could remember them being together and having any semblance of fun was one summer when they were at the beach and they got into a splash fight. They were about eight years old at the time. They rarely met or spoke after he got into Saint Joseph, except at meal times and the rare occasion that she needed his assistance with something and her friends were not of help or their parents were not around. They were siblings, but they were essentially strangers living under the same roof.