by Kailin Gow
of an audience than he already has right now.”
But as we turned to leave, the loud, rumbling voice
of the gym coach echoed once again through the room. “Ah,
is this Miss Evers?”
I stopped short in my tracks, causing Varun to bump
straight into me. At the proximity of his touch, I felt once
again the same feeling that had overtaken me in the
principal's office. I felt cool and fresh, as if waterfalls were
rushing over me. Safe – enveloped in water. The feeling left
me breathless and I quickly stepped away from Varun's
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touch, looking down.
“Uh, sorry,” he muttered quickly, turning bright pink,
his eyes squinting for a brief moment to look at me. It was a
serious look, different than the cheerful friendly ones he had
been throwing me all morning long. He licked his lips.
“Sorry,” I muttered straight back, unable to hide my
attraction to him as much as I could fight it.
“I can only assume that you are Miss Mackenzy
Evers,” said the coach again, striding towards us. “Or else
you're a random trespasser. We only have one new girl due
in the class this year.”
“Yes, I am,” I began, stumbling over my words in my
nervousness. “I mean – yes, sir. Uh – yes, Mister...”
“Matthews,” he said. “Mr. Matthews outside the
gym, Coach Matthews inside. You're late, Miss Evers.”
“Late?” I looked down at my schedule, confused.
“I'll cut you some slack this time,” said Coach
Matthews. “You're new and easily confused.” The other
students tittered. “But normally I'd expect you to be warmed
up and changed by now.”
“But my first class,” I stuttered, looking at Varun
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with confusion. “It was Aeros History, wasn't it? I mean...”
Varun's ears were turning pink.
I grabbed hold of my schedule, which Varun was
holding limply in his hands. There it was written, in clear
typewritten letters, A-Format 8:00 am. Introductory
Physical Fitness. Cutter Gymnasium.
“I guess my first class was gym,” I said, feeling
stupid. “I'm sorry – I got confused...”
“You mean, you were misled.” Coach Matthews
fixed a great, beady eye on Varun. “I don't blame you, Miss
Evers. You couldn't have known.”
“Known what?”
“Nice try, Mr. Cutter. But just because you want to
have the first crack at the pretty new girl doesn't mean you
get to make her miss her first class.”
“It wasn't that, Coach Matthews,” Varun's ears were
now a bright scarlet. “Our tour just took a while, that's all.”
Besides Varun, I giggled, thinking about how
Varun’s tour also meant him giving me a full imitation
impression of each of the teachers.
“M hm.” Coach Matthews raised a pair of bushy gray
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eyebrows. “If you don't know it yet, you should, Miss Evers.
Young Mr. Cutter here is a good soul – but he does have a
way with the ladies. I was the school lothario when I was his
age – but he puts me to shame, don't you, Mr. Cutter? Ah
well. Those that have the gift of charm must flaunt it.” The
other students – nearly all males – laughed, excepting
Chance, who stared down Varun with pure hatred in his eyes.
“I'm sorry I'm late, Coach Matthews,” I said. “It
won't happen again.”
“Mr. Cutter?” Coach Matthews turned to Varun.
“Won't happen again!” Varun grinned at me. “Right,
sir. Promise. My word!” He patted me on the shoulder, and I
could feel the ocean-cool blue of his gaze pouring into my
soul, comforting me. Everything's going to be fine, he
seemed to be saying. Just stay cool. “Find me at lunch,
Mackenzy. Sorry I got you in trouble.”
“Make sure it's the last time!” Coach Matthews
called after Varun as he strode out the door, but there was no
anger in his voice. It was clear that Coach Matthews, like the
rest of the school, genuinely liked Varun and enjoyed giving
him a good tease once in a while. If Varun was the school
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lothario, as Coach Matthews had joked, he certainly wasn't
a cocky playboy like Chance, who seemed more annoyed by
the second at the prospect of Varun's having already claimed
the title
“Now, I know wrestling isn't the most popular sport
with the ladies,” said Coach Matthews, “but signups for fall
sports were last spring – this is the only class that had any
slots left by the time you enrolled. So I hope you'll learn
quickly to play with the boys.”
I scanned the class quickly, hoping nobody would
have already judged me for my tardiness. But luckily, most
of the boys in the class seemed to be more amused by Varun's
half-hearted attempt at spending time with me than they
were at my confusion. And they were almost all boys. Only
two girls were sitting beside the wrestling mat. One was a
slight, elfin figure with pixie-cropped hair and a pair of
glasses sitting atop a tiny button nose. She couldn't have
been more than fourteen or fifteen, I thought with surprise –
and certainly she didn't look like she was capable of pinning
a gnat to the mat, let alone a burly eighteen-year-old boy.
Beside her was another girl with electric-blue hair in a messy
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fringe, who was glowering almost as much as Chance, albeit
far more indiscriminately. She looked as if she'd rather be
anywhere but in class – and preferably as far away from the
other students as possible. Her nose ring glinted in the pale
fluorescent light of the gym.
What Varun had said about me being fresh meat was
evidently true. Between the dearth of girls in the gym class
and the clearly exhausted dating scene at Aeros overall, the
boys evidently regarded me as hungry dogs might a new-
killed carcass. As they looked me up and down, evidently
sizing up my dating potential, I turned redder than Varun had
done earlier. I wanted to be popular in my new school, but
certainly not that popular.
“Well, Miss Evers,” Coach Matthews's voice burst
through my thoughts. “Are you going to join us or not?”
“I want to,” I said, fumbling for words, “but I haven't
got any clothes to change into. They weren't mentioned in
the orientation letter...”
“That's okay!” The tiny girl sprang to her feet.
“Coach Matthews, I've got my spare set in my locker. Can
she borrow those?”
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“Fine,” said Coach Matthews. “But be back quickly,
both of you! No socializing in the locker room.” He tossed
the girl the locker room key.
“I'm Alice,” the girl explained as we walked, her
voice as wispy and small as her frame. “I
know it's tough to
be new here. When I arrived freshman year, I'd skipped the
seventh and eighth grades, so I didn't know anyone either.”
She went over to her locker, expertly dialing the lock,
and removed a crisp white tank top and blue shorts, neatly
folded, from her locker. “I always keep a spare in case I don't
have time to do the ironing,” she said.
Certainly, I thought, Alice looked like the kind of girl
who would evidently iron all her clothes every night.
Unfortunately, she was also half my size, with bony
shoulders and a flat chest. I, on the other hand, had inherited
my curves from my Italian father, rather than my Chinese
and Irish mother, and there was no way I was going to fit into
anything Alice gave me to wear.
“It's stretch fabric,” Alice said in an attempt at
helpfulness as I wiggled my ample Italian inches into the
unforgiving Polyester. I blushed as I caught sight of myself
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in the mirror. The clothes weren't unflattering, thank
goodness, but if anything I had the opposite problem.
They were tight. Very, very tight.
I cursed my choice to wear a black bra that morning.
“I feel like I'm wearing a bikini,” I muttered to Alice
as I reluctantly allowed her to lead me back to the gym.
Raised by my mother to be a sensible girl and to use my
brains rather than my looks, I never dressed to make it a focal
point. As soon as I walked into the room, all eyes were upon
me, and I could hear some of the boys snicker to their friends
as they ogled every curve on my frame.
“Wow,” someone said in the back.
“So hot,” another male voice said.
“Prettiest girl on Aeros,” another said.
“What a goddess,” another said.
From the back of the room, someone said, “Damn,
she should be in that swimsuit magazine, Sports
something…”
At least you're getting positive attention, I thought,
looking intently down at the ground to avoid the stares.
Fresh meat, indeed.
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“Okay, Alice,” said Coach Matthews, pointing to the
mat, where an enormous boy with sideburns was sitting
cross-legged, waiting for the match to begin. “You're next.”
I gaped with surprise. Tiny, rabbit-like Alice
certainly was no match for this boy – ten of her wouldn't be
enough to so much as knock him over.
“But we have an odd number now,” said Alice.
“Tim's already gone once.”
“Right, then,” said Coach Matthews. “Mac, you go!”
“Me? No! I don't know how to...” I faltered. Alice
seemed so gentle, so nice. The last thing I wanted to do was
hurt this fragile, sweet girl.
“Just give it a grapple,” said Coach Matthews.
“Sweet!” One of the boys cried. “We get to see the
chicks fight!”
“Yeah!” his friend chimed in. “Shame we haven't got
any mud.”
“Pigs!” The harsh, clear voice of the blue-haired girl
rang through the gym. “How about you two get all hot and
sweaty together, and then I can pour a vat of dirt on you. Fun,
huh?”
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Embarrassed, the two boys fell silent, and the blue-
haired girl scowled as she hugged her knees to her chest.
Alice stared me down, her wide hazel eyes looking
ever more like a rabbit's.
“Okay, girls,” Coach Matthews evidently was
choosing to ignore the interrupted. “Time to square away.
One, two...”
Before he could say three, Alice had sprung upon me,
knocking me flat on my back.
“What the...” I sat up, seeing stars. Alice had seemed
to come out of nowhere.
“Don't be too eager, Alice!” Coach Matthews chided
her. “Wait till I say three – how many times have I told you
that?”
“Sorry,” said Alice sheepishly. “I didn't mean to –
sorry, Mackenzy.”
“Another go,” insisted Coach Matthews. “One, two,
three!”
This time Alice waited for the “three,” but it didn't do
me much good. While I was able to grapple with Alice for
all of five seconds, she expertly managed to flip me over and
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pin me on the ground, her spindly arms evidently far more
muscular than she looked. I gasped. Alice wasn't only strong
for her size – she was super-strong, keeping me pinned to the
mat so heavily that I couldn't even squirm from her grasp. I
felt that Tim, for all his seeming strength, had probably been
relieved to cede his beating to me.
“We have a winner,” declared Coach Matthews, and
Alice sprang to her feet, letting me up. I clambered to my
feet, my muscles aching.
But Alice was evidently unaware of her strength. She
stuck out a friendly hand for me to shake. “That was really
good for a first try,” she said. “Especially if you've never
wrestled before.”
“Thanks for humoring me,” I gave her a smile. “But
you beat me fair and square.”
“You're new,” Alice said brightly. “You'll beat me
next time, once you learn some more technique.”
But as Alice darted off to speak to Coach Matthews,
who was beckoning her aside, I got the distinct impression
that I wouldn't be pinning Alice to the mat anytime soon.
Well, that was at least one potential friend, I thought,
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feeling vaguely better. But what about the blue-haired girl?
I felt some measure of gratitude for her for sticking up for
me against the boys, and wanted – if not to thank her – then
at least to meet her properly. But as I looked around the gym,
I found that she and her electric-blue tresses were nowhere
to be seen.
“Looking for Misty?” I whirled around to find
Chance standing before me. There was something in the soft,
proprietorial way he said the name that made me jealous, in
spite of myself. If I wasn't good enough for Chance to be
friends with, I felt reflexively, it wasn't fair that any girl
should be.
“What, did your father force you to dance with her,
too?” I asked, giving away a bit too much of my anger in my
sarcasm. Why was it when it came to Chance, he brought out
such uncontrollable emotions in me?
“He didn't force me, no,” said Chance lightly, with a
wry smile that made it clear he knew just how much his
words were getting to me. Despite his smile, his gaze fell on
my gym clothes still a few sizes too small for me. Under his
gaze, I became acutely aware of how little to the imagination
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and unforgiving my outfit was. I gritted my teeth and made
a mental note to get gym clothes that fit me comfortably,
soon.
“She’s probably just in the locker roo
m,” I said.
“Don't worry, Miss Evers,” he smirked. “You can
dance with me again too, if you want.” He came up close to
me as if he was about to dance with me. We were so close,
not touching, yet each aching to touch. I bit my lip, while he
watched me intently with those icy blue eyes that seemed to
cut straight through me to see me as I am. It was unnerving.
It was exhilarating. It was impossible.
“I'm fine,” I said. “I can manage without. And the
name's Mac.”
“Very well, Miss Evers,” he said so smoothly in that
gentle and subtle British accent of his that it was
infuriatingly arrogant, but sexy at the same time. His lips
curled into a smile as beautiful as it was maddening, and my
cheeks burned with rage mingled with desire. It wasn't fair,
I thought bitterly to myself. I’ve had boys come onto me
before back on Angel Island, but I have always handled them
well. Being with Chance was throwing me off my game.
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Why were all the good-looking ones such jerks?
“Mac,” I said again through gritted teeth.
“Oh, no, I wouldn't dare!” His voice was gently
sarcastic, almost like a caress. “It wouldn't be proper. I went
to Eton, you know. We never addressed one another by our
first names. It simply wasn't done. Nanny would have been
scandalized to think I would dare to do such a thing. Of
course, she had her heyday sometime around the coronation
of Queen Victoria, so perhaps her methods are a tad
outdated.”
Now I knew he was trying to get to me. He could be
telling me to go effing off, as the Brits would say, and it
would still sound like sweet whispers in my ear. Chance
Cutter was not only lethal in looks, but his soothe and sexy
low voice was like a sword slathered in honey. Damn he was