by CJ Adler
I step back just in time before he can get his hands on it. He gives me a narrowed glare and steps forward just as I step back.
I grin when he frowns in irritation. “Finders keepers.”
“Yeah, exactly. Not finders stealers. Give,” he orders, but before he can say anything more, I'm already running across the bustling street yet again, making my grand escape. “Keepers will be weepers!”
I'm not the least bit surprised when he doesn't even try to follow me. I'm just happy that I can give him back his pink leather jacket that Bells and I decorated with glitzy, girly stuff.
He was a step ahead of me, but I'm ten ahead of him now.
* **
“So you're really doing this then? Nothing can persuade you into doing otherwise?” Bells asks, hesitant, as we raid the school hallways with Mason in tow.
I nod. “It's going down like Donkey Kong. It's what was originally planned until he decided to screw up our original plans. This is his punishment for messing with me,” I say adamantly, holding up the bright pink jacket in my hands.
“But it won't work because this time he didn't even ask for his jacket back,” Bell reminds me.
I ignore her, even though she is probably right.
I stop short when I see 'dark hair and bubblegum eyes' himself wandering out the school entrance. He is skipping again, just as I had expected.
I salute Bells, my way of telling her not to wait up. I'm tempted to flip Mason off but decide against it as I start pushing my way through the crowds of people in the busy hallways to reach Jay.
“Jay!” I call out to him in the hopes of stopping him, or, at least, slowing him down.
Not surprisingly, he turns around to see who it is that's calling him. When he sees that it's me, he picks up his speed and paces faster as if to avoid me.
I will not allow him to get away. Not today. Today, I am determined, today I get my glorious and well-deserved victory.
Persistent, I sprint toward him, hurriedly closing off all distance. Upon finally reaching him, I grab his arm and force him to stop.
He's about to speak, but I take it as my opportunity to get even as I throw the pink jacket over his face. “Cleaned your jacket for you!” I chirp excitedly after having won this battle for sure.
He lifts the tiny pink jacket off of his face. “Thanks. It looks—” he pauses dramatically as if to deliberately keep me in suspense, a smirk sliding onto his lips, “—spectacular.”
I glance up at him, puzzled. He should be yelling right about now. It's only then that I see why he isn't bothered or concerned like I had expected him to be. “How many leather jackets do you freakin own?!” I ask incredulously as I notice his arms and shoulders covered by yet another black leather jacket.
I could just see him with a closet full. He probably picks a new one out each day.
“Enough for you to ruin. That guy, Simo, saw how you stuffed up my jacket and so he went on about how 'Sprinkle' has no manners. I couldn't agree with him any more than I already do.” He grins in a carefree manner. “Pretty cool guy that.”
“Why do you say this?” I quiz.
“He gave me some cash out of the profit without your boy toy manager seeing. Bought myself a new jacket, one that won't get ruined by the likes of you. So thanks for the jacket cleaning,” he smirks down at me, “but you keep it. Clearly, it was made for you.” He winks, knocking shoulders with me as he passes me by, leaving me bewildered and perplexed by how unpredictable he is.
It seems I've managed to lose the plot yet again
Chapter 5
Challenge Accepted
“Singing in the rain! I'm singing in the rain!” I hum at the top of my lungs and purposefully spin in circles in front of our school building. The heavens open up and the water pours down, soaking me from head to toe.
I glance at Bells who is ducking her face as if embarrassed by me. She hides behind her hair when some of my fellow students laugh. I don't pay any attention to it. I grab Bells by the hand and pull her into the rain with me as I encourage her to live in the moment.
“Aqueela, people are staring,” she points out and ends up walking back to shelter, under the protection of the school's roof.
“We are the people!” I call back and continue living spontaneously. “Singing in the rain!” I chime again, unashamed. “Oh, I'm singing in the rain!”
“You're going to be crying in the rain too if you don't shut it,” Mason mutters from beside Bells. She rises to my defense and shoots him a dirty look. He catches it. “What?” He throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Just look at her.” He defends himself as he points to me with certainty. “She's not normal. She's...weird.”
“Aqueela isn't weird, she's just different. She loves life and appreciates the small things,” Bells retorts in irritation
Unfortunately, I don't help justify her statement as something suddenly dawns on me. I run out of the rain and place a hand on Bell's shoulder to support myself. “Oh, no! Now I need to pee. Need to pee! Need to pee! Need to pee!” I say and jump up and down while doing so. “Come with me, Bells?” I pout, pleading.
Bells and I always go to the bathroom together. It infuriates Mason to no end because I have a weak bladder and always drag his precious girlfriend away from him. Then again, he should know that he can't spend every waking moment of the day with Bells. He's a Bell hog. We're in competition for her attention.
Mason gives Bells a deadpanned stare, referencing back to the fact that her defense for me isn't holding up. “Yeah, and that's not weird at all,” he says sarcastically as his eyes briefly stray from Bells to me. “You sing in the rain, why don't you just pee in the rain too?”
I ignore his presence (having been doing so for a while now) and his incessant cursing as I grab hold of Bell's hand and forcefully drag her down the school hallways with me. All Mason's football friends pitch up just in time to keep him company.
“You know, I was trying to set you up with one of my mates, and when he asked where we got you from, I couldn't answer because I forgot the planet's name!” Mason calls after me as if desperate for a reaction, but I decide that he doesn't deserve one for such a lousy insult—even he can do better.
I scoff aloud when we are out of the maggot's hearing. “I know I've said it a million times before, but I really hate your boyfriend,” I tell Bells, annoyed.
Bell throws her head back and laughs. “I think that's the fourth time you've told me that, and that's just today. Enough about Mason, what's happening in your life? Why haven't you called sexy, hot manager dude?”
I shrug and seek out an excuse. “Been too preoccupied,” I take the liberty to remind her. “And I don't have his number.” I send her a sheepish grin. “Remember? I ripped it.”
Bells rolls her eyes. “I forgot.” She changes the subject. “What have you been preoccupied with anyway? Stalking Taylor again?” She grins deviously, sending me a knowing wink.
“He played me twice and now I can't shake him,” I admit my defeat. “Doesn't matter, he's been avoiding me for two weeks straight.”
“Yeah, and you've been ignoring Mason for two weeks straight too,” she points out the stupid facts that no one wants to hear.
I huff and fold my arms over my chest. “But that's different,” I argue.
“How so?” she quizzes, an eyebrow raised.
“It's Mason. He's a demon,” I explain as I open the restroom stall's door, hearing Bell sigh loudly from behind me as if the world is weighing heavily on her shoulders.
“You know what I think?” Bell surprises me with her voice as soon as I step out the stall to wash my hands. She doesn't wait for me to answer as she babbles on. “I think that you're too scared to face sexy, hot manager dude because you feel intimidated by him. He is older than you, after all.” She takes the opportunity to continue her rant. “Gosh, Aqueela, he's hot and he's into you, just call him…or ask him for his number again.”
“I doubt anyone will ever be into Aque
ela Lawson,” I hear a high-pitched, nasal sound from directly behind me. I look up into the mirror to see 'Demon 2.0'.
“Melinda.” Bells smiles warmly and hugs her fellow cheerleader, her cocaptain to be exact.
“Hey, Bella,” Melinda greets. “Party at my house. You're so invited. Bring Mase too.” Her brown eyes flicker over to me for a split second before she turns back to Bells. “Oh, and if you really have to, you can bring your…” She trails off in a pause as she takes me in, attempting to find a suitable word. “Your…that…with too.”
“Party at my house,” I mimic her childishly despite her being right in front of me. It earns me a glower that I pay no heed to. “Like honestly, what is up with your voice?” I query mockingly. “Besides me always dreading it and besides it always being annoying, it also sounds nasal. In actual fact, it sounds like your nose has been blocked for a lifetime.” I give her solid advice. “Damn girl, blow your nose.”
Melinda rolls her eyes at me and turns to Bells in question. “I really don't have a clue how you put up with her.”
Bell huffs in irritation and sides with me in spite of Melinda's shock. “Quite easily actually.” She then adds, “I'll be at the party and I will bring…” she places an arm around me as she pulls me to her side like the loyal friend she is, “Aqueela,” she emphasizes my name, “with.”
Melinda and Bells go way back, except Melinda has always hated me. She adores Bells because let's face it, Bells is just a likable person. Apparently, I'm not, at least, that's what Mason always says. Then again, I'd rather be unlikable than be the spawn of Satan.
Melinda nods despite her discontent with the idea of me tagging along. Then again, she won't dare cross Bells. “See you then, Bella.” She smiles sweetly at her and then glances at me pointedly. She acknowledges me and bids me farewell ever so politely. “Drowned rat,” she concludes, referring to the fact that I'm soaked and most likely resemble someone that has just been pulled out from beneath a bridge or sewer.
If I look anything like Master Splinter, then who cares?
“Malibu Barbie,” I retort back coolly. I've learned, from experience, that calling her Barbie tends to work her up into an outrage. It's really her own fault for acting like some prima donna. Whenever she's around, I feel like I'm on a witch hunt.
She scoffs at me bitterly. “You are so immature,” with that said, she walks off, satisfied with having the last say.
I wave off the matter and look to Bells who happens to be shaking her head at me. “Why do you hate all my friends?” She quips.
“Why do you always make friends with everyone that I hate?” I ask wryly, turning the question back on her.
She stops to think about it before nodding. “Touché.”
“I thought so,” I answer just as Bell grabs her bag to leave.
I, oblivious to my surroundings as always, bang open the bathroom door, just about knocking a random person off of his feet as he passes by. He makes sure to flash me a scowl in the process.
I stop just outside and glance back at Bells to see if she's coming, failing to watch where I step. “I don't get why you're even friends with—”
“Aqueela, watch out!” Bell cuts me off.
It's too late. I walk back into a strong torso. Two hands move to my waist to steady me. I turn in the arms to face the person I'm now indebted to. My eyes widen in excitement when I see that it's the one I always seem to be indebted to.
“Jay!” I greet in enthusiasm. “It's been too long.” I decide then and there.
It must register in his head as to who I am because he quickly releases me and sighs. “No, it hasn't,” he murmurs as he takes a step back. “Why do you always insist on bumping into me, Klutz?”
“It's been two weeks since we last spoke. I feel like you've been avoiding me,” I state leisurely and bluntly, brushing his insult aside forever.
“Maybe that's because I have been,” he mutters quietly.
“There you guys are. Jeez, you girls take long,” Mason exclaims as he walks over to us casually, failing to notice Jay. He proudly places an arm around Bells and turns to scowl at me. “I can't wait for the day when Bells finally realizes what a screw up you are and ditches you.” He tries to stir up more trouble, looking for a way to get me to talk to him.
Jay misreads my silence as fear. He takes a protective step in front of me and shoots Mason a steely glare, his jaw clenched tightly, his piercing blue gaze flickering from me to Mason as if to send Mason a clear message.
Mason, only noticing Jay now, retracts a step as if threatened. I can almost feel the terror radiating off of him. They must have some kind of history with each other, that, or Jay's just extremely intimidating—it almost seems laughable to me now.
I smirk in satisfaction when Mason backs down.
“I'll catch up with you later, yeah?” he says to Bell in a low voice. Before she can even answer, he is already rounding the corner, leaving her behind.
I have to stifle my laughter at the sight of him fleeing. I glance back at Jay to see that he is still focused intently on Mason's retreating figure. I notice that his hands are curled up into fists. He looks anything but happy.
I wave my hand in front of his face to get his attention. When he still doesn't come out of it, I snap my fingers repeatedly. He eventually breaks from his vindictive trance and shoves my hand out of his face. He takes one last look at me before waltzing off, having come back from his thoughts.
I tell Bells, yet again, to not wait up as I eagerly follow after him, trying to match his long strides. I strike up a conversation while he merely quickens his pace, aware of me practically running beside him.
“So, does this make us friends now?” I ask. “'Cause I don't really have many friends to spare,” I admit, out of breath, a little defeated.
I really should have listened to my school coach when he told me to stop skipping out on the runs.
Jay doesn't even bother looking at me as he answers, “No. Friends are overrated.”
He rounds the next corner swiftly. I continue to follow after him anyway.
“So now that I am friends with our high school's notorious troublemaker, I'm feeling kind of rebellious. I feel like an outlaw when I'm with you,” I joke, judging him based on all the apparent fights he's been in.
Aqueela Out Lawson…I like it.
“You don't even know me,” he points out, on edge with my assumptions.
“No,” I agree with him before protesting, “but I know enough about you to know you.”
“Your misconceptions of me are based on lies, gossip, and rumors. The fact of the matter is that you don't know me, but keep this stalking up and you will,” he says in a threatening tone as he keeps his eyes trained ahead of him, not bothering to acknowledge me or meet my gaze.
I decide to take it a step further. “But we're still friends, right?” I ask, even though he made it very clear on where we stand—a girl can still hope.
“We're not friends nor will we ever be friends,” he says as he stops walking, turning around to face me. “I just wanted my jacket back, end of story.”
He begins walking again, clearly expecting me not to follow him again, but I do anyway, catching him off guard with my relentless pursuit. He should know that I don't quit.
He notices, from the corner of his eye, that I'm still trailing after him. He caves, doing exactly what I expect of him, snapping at me while I take the backlash. “What don't you understand ? I don't want you here with me so leave me the hell alone.” He raises his voice slightly, his blue eyes fueled with anger.
I grin up at him boldly. “No offense but I don't care. I think you could do with a friend. With an attitude like yours, I gather you don't have many.”
He maneuvers, cornering me so that my back is against a locker. “I only need me, myself, and I,” he says coldly. “You got that?”
Alright, now I'm a little scared.
He leans forward menacingly. “Now, to clarify what you keep misinterp
reting, you are loud, annoying, clumsy, and quite frankly, stupid.”
I'm too busy taking in his appearance to listen. “You're a looker, did you know that?” I ask on impulse.
Heart, be still.
He flinches upon hearing me but recovers from his surprise quickly, masking his initial shock. He scoffs at my audacity and shakes his head as he turns to leave. “I'm not even going to bother.”
But he called me stupid.
“Your face is stupid!” I call over my shoulder to him without first thinking it through.
Just as expected, he stops walking yet again, his back still turned to me. I grin to myself when I see that he's trying to keep his temper intact and maintain his so-called 'cool'.
His fists loosen before he spins around to face me with a determined look to his seething eyes. “Look, whatever your name is, go away. Leave me the hell alone. Get away from me. Go away,” he says, his tone venomous—still, it will take a lot more than that to get me hyped up and sprinting in the opposite direction.
“You said 'go away' twice.” I point out calmly and flutter my eyelashes at him innocently.
His electric blue eyes widen in disbelief as if what I just said was the last thing that he expected to hear come out of my mouth. He was expecting me to run for the hills.
“I said it twice to get it through your thick skull. Leave. Now,” he concludes, putting emphasis on the leave part.
I am not fazed at all by his little charade. “If you want me to cry then you're going to have to do a lot better than that,” I retort stubbornly. “That all you got?” I mock. “And you call yourself a bad boy, JT.” I huff overdramatically.
“Don't call me that!” he snaps at me. Obviously, I've just stumbled upon a touchy subject—I've hit gold!
“But you are a rebel,” I argue in reference to his famous label as the delinquent. It's so stupid. High school is pointless, but I'm gonna rock with the flow for now.
“Not that,” he clarifies angrily. “Don't call me 'JT'. You're crossing my boundaries,” he states, trying to remain calm, but I can tell that his blood is boiling in aggravation.