by CJ Adler
Bells yells out in panic, “Max, no!”
Of course, my struggle and Bell's shouts are all in vain as I'm forced to watch Max take a lick of my beloved ice cream.
There's no saving him.
I let out a shout of agony as my wrath builds up. I shove my elbow into Mason's windpipe. He lets go of me and drops to the floor in pain, trying to get his breath back. I run to Max and jump on his back, wrapping my hand around his throat. He chokes on my ice cream as a result.
Bell gets down to the floor to help Mason up. Blubber begins to argue with the worker about the lighting of his picture and the angles etcetera, adding to the commotion, while hot, sexy manager dude tries to pull me off a dying Max. Among it all, Simo stands laughing, tears flowing from his eyes.
I'm beginning to think that Jay hating bubblegum ice cream is a good thing. No good seems to come from it.
Now imagine this scene in your head:
You walk into an ice cream shop, expecting nothing but ice cream. You're definitely not expecting some riot. You go in to find your somewhat of a buddy laughing his belly off, your enemy on the floor grumbling in pain while his girl tries to help him up, one random worker and fat kid arguing nonstop over a photo, and then there's me, strangling a choking Max while the manager tries to pull me off of him in order to spare Max's life.
Can you really blame Jay when he walks straight in, only to do a 180 and head straight back out? This is the second time that he's walked into a full-blown eruption in the ice cream shop—the place where things happen.
“Come again soon!” Simo calls after Jay all too joyfully.
Unfortunately for Jay, Simo's not the only one who has spotted him. I let go of Max in a hurry, much to his relief. As I turn to run after Jay, I end up accidentally smashing hot, manager dude in the face with my elbow. He groans out in pain and grabs his bleeding nose while I run after Jay.
I grab hold of his leather jacket and pull him to a stop. He arches an eyebrow at me, not too impressed that I touched his jacket. Considering what I did with his other jackets, it is somewhat understandable.
“What is it?” he asks in a clipped tone. “It better be good.”
I flinch at his tone. “What is your problem? Why are you so mad at me?” “Because you annoy me,” he states casually and then turns to leave.
I quickly move so that I'm standing in front of him. “I'm sorry, okay? Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry.”
I open my mouth to say more, but he interrupts, “We done here or should
I stay and wait until the end of whatever this is?” he asks, impatient.
Without thinking, on impulse, I stand on my tippy-toes to be somewhat near his height. I reach forward and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him in for an embrace. I feel him stiffen beneath me, but I go along with it anyway. “I really am sorry.”
He stares down at me contemplatively before sighing in defeat. “Alright, alright.” He forces me away from him. “We're good. Now enough of that.”
“Enough of what?”
“That what you just did,” he answers carefully.
“You mean hugging, you Martian?” I chuckle at how awkward he is. “Yeah, that.” He nods, taking another step back from me.
“It's a good thing you don't want to be human because you sure don't act like one,” I tease.
“You caught me off guard,” he defends himself. “Oh, did I now?” I taunt him.
“Yeah.” He owns up to it. “You did.”
“How could I forget? You have boundaries,” I joke. “Well, put your mind to ease, I won't do it again, at least not without warning.” I wink at him playfully.
“Wouldn't want to catch you off guard.”
Chapter 11
Open your Eyes
Back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth, and forth and back—
“Scram, dearest, your grandfather needs me time,” Gramps scolds me, impatiently waiting for me to move. “You steal my rocking chair every opportunity you get.”
I grin up at him and bat my eyelashes innocently. “I'll move, on one condition,” I pause, building up suspense, “convince Grams to let me off the hook.” He taps his chin in thought, taking forever to come up with a response. It's like old people constantly live in slow motion while the rest of us run around anxiously trying to meet their every need.
“Please!” I blurt out in desperation, interrupting his slow thought process.
“Convince her not to tell Yolanda about the incident.”
“You punched a person on the nose, Aqueela,” Gramps reminds me. “How am I supposed to convince that old batty hag not to tell your stepmother? She's legally responsible for you.”
Actually, she isn't. My father is the one who has sole custody of me. When he left, Yolanda took up the role as my guardian without the authorities knowing.
“I punched her for good reasons. C'mon, Gramps! Doesn't that count for anything? Be a sport and do this itsy-bitsy favor for your favorite granddaughter of all time,” I plead, trying to sway him to see it my way.
If Yolanda finds out, I'm going to suffer when I get home. “You're my only granddaughter,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “Exactly. Makes your job even easier,” I say with a grin.
“Well, how do you suppose I convince your wench of a grandmother not to tell her? The school phoned in. Lillian was furious. Oh, and thanks for putting her in a bad mood because that day I didn't get a good night kiss,” he tells me, managing to disgust me in the process. As if I need that picture in my head...
“That's only because the school and the principal himself are threatened by my all powerful demeanor. They totally twisted the story. They're trying to block themselves from great talent. Besides, you never get any love out of her anyway,” I tell my old gramps, his resemblance bearing similar characteristics to that of my father's.
“Just tell me, kiddo, how do I do get your gran to listen to me? She hates my guts,” he reminds me.
“Hey, you're the one who married her. Flirt or something. Win her over like the way you did in high school.” I smirk up at him with a mischievous spark in my eyes.
“That was all a bottle of wine and a good build but, now, here I stand, wrenching my back in for you because you won't give me my chair back,” he complains.
He's still on about that then.
“That's how you going to treat your old man, huh? You want me to die? Because I guarantee my death will happen if you let me go through with the seduction of that old bat,” he morbidly adds.
I shrug. “Ah well, you win some, you lose some.”
His eyes widen in what I first think to be offense, and then I realize that he's looking past me. I close my eyes in dread and slowly turn around to face the demon.
“Open your eyes, Aqueela! You're in such big trouble. Just wait until Yolanda hears of this.”
I shake my head, stubbornly keeping my eyes closed. “Nah, I'm good with my eyes closed. Tends to soften the blow.”
“Open your eyes, child,” she demands, irritable.
“No.” I hypnotize myself, “I'm dreaming and you both are nothing but figments of my imagination,” I say aloud, trying to convince myself that I'm asleep in bed. “Or you're both dead and I'm now being haunted by your ghosts for having a party on your graves.”
I'm no longer convinced that I'm dreaming when a pinching pain sears through my left ear. I'm quick to open my eyes and swat Gram's hand off of my ear.
“Bless my own soul, we're not dead for goodness sake!” she hisses at me with a pointed finger.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter, and thankfully, she doesn't hear. I played with her hearing aid once, when I was bored...long story short, that hearing aid has been broken for the past two years and she has yet to notice.
I pick up on Gramps trying to escape the situation. The traitor!
I purposely cast the attention onto him. “Hey, Grams, don't you think Gramp's haircut makes him look younger and sort of handsome?”
&
nbsp; Grams immediately glances at Gramps to carefully inspect his hair. The sight is anything but admirable.
Gramps ruins it by opening his big mouth, clueless. “But I never got my hair cu—”
“Oh, my, my,” Grams cuts him off with a flirtatious smile. “It does make him look younger and a tad bit more dashing. How did I not notice it before? I hated his old haircut. It made a cleaning mop seem more attractive.”
I stifle my laughter as she insults Gramp's current hairstyle seeing as he actually never had anything done nothing to his hair in the slightest.
Gramps narrows his eyes at his wife for her comment and then at me for snickering.
“I agree, Grams,” I say and then give my gramps a look, a look that means 'flirt, or else'.
He doesn't budge and so I elbow him discreetly in the back. He grunts and opens his mouth to say something, but it turns out that my force is too powerful. Instead of words coming out of his mouth, his dentures do.
Gram's eyes widen in repulsion. “Howard! You sickening mutant spawned of an abomination!” she yells before storming off.
I glance at my gramps with a sheepish grin intact. “So, that didn't exactly go as planned?”
“You think?” he asks, sarcastic, before changing the subject at hand. “I just have one question, did you get her good?” he asks with a mischievous smirk, referring to the knockout I gave Melinda.
I laugh and hold up my bruised hand. “You know me,” I shake out my hand, “when I do something, I go all out.”
“Attagirl. You make me proud.” He nods.
Unfortunately, he doesn't see that Grams has returned and is currently standing behind him with a horrified look on her face upon overhearing him congratulating me for punching a girl in the face.
Whack! Thud!
I burst out laughing when I realize that Grams just hit Gramps upside the head.
“No wonder this child is so rebellious, Howard!” Grams lectures, shooting me a glare for laughing.
I quickly fall silent under her unwavering gaze.
“Oh, shut it, you old bag,” he murmurs, in turn, rubbing his head where she whacked him with the back of her hand.
“What was that?” she questions, cupping a hand to her ear, having genuinely not heard what he said.
I watch in amusement as Gramps saves himself. “Oh, nothing, my sweet, sweet love.”
Grams merely shakes her head at him before waltzing out the room yet again.
I turn to Gramps and pat him on the back. “I have to go, but you work on those flirting tactics. Clearly, you need the practice.”
***
“Well, what did you expect, Aqueels? You did punch her in the face,” Bell reminds me. “Plus, you got arrested the other day. Oh, and you told me of how you, in your paranoia, punched Jay. You also elbowed Mason in the solar plexus, choked Max and gave manager dude a bloody nose. You're acting out of character and I see a common factor in every equation: Jay Taylor. He's a bad influence on you.”
I twirl a lock of my hair innocently at the mention of yesterday's incident.
I could care less about manager dude because he replaced my picture with Blubber's. However, I do feel bad for choking Max. He hasn't spoken to me since.
Mason, on the other hand, has made his obvious distaste for me even clearer than crystal—I got a forty-five-minute lecture, no joke. To say he isn't too impressed with me would be the understatement of the century.
And then there's Jay.
Every time I talk to him, he refuses to acknowledge my presence. I thought we'd be over this, but every time I think we're moving up from the acquaintance zone to the friendship zone, he shuts me out. It's like he is adamant on being alone for the rest of his life.
“In my defense—”
“No, Aqueela! You cannot possibly have a defense for any of this. May I remind you that you punched my boyfriend in the solar plexus?” she points out, clearly not siding with me this time—it's her loss in my true opinion.
“That is correct.” I nod in agreement. “But may I be the one to remind you that your boyfriend is a barbaric animal who most likely deserved it?”
Mason glowers at me in response upon hearing my comment. “You have no shame. You talk about me as if I'm not even here.”
“Then take the hint, buddy.” I wink at him and pat him on the back.
“Screw you, leech. I'm dating Bells, so excuse me for not leaving,” he retorts, slightly irritated yet suppressing a small smile.
I glance down at my nails, purposely portraying myself as a snob as I brush him off. “You're not excused, however, I shall take your apology into consideration and weigh out the options for your highly unlikely forgiveness.”
His eyes widen as he takes a step toward me. “As I remember, according to the Bequeela Book, or whatever garbage you two came up with, you have to forgive me if I apologize.”
As he says the words aloud, it clicks in his head.
“Wait a sec! Why the hell am I apologizing?” he asks before clicking again. “Wait, I didn't even apologize! You're the one who elbowed me in the windpipe. You should be apologizing!” He raises his voice in anger upon realizing that I duped him.
I wave a finger before him in a reprimanding manner. “Tu-tut. Lower your tone and speak to me with respect or Bells will ban you from all that couple stuff.”
His mouth falls agape at my threat; I take delight in seeing him lose.
“It's called kissing, Aqueela.” Bells rolls her eyes at me, hiding her face behind her hair as if embarrassed.
“She wouldn't know,” Mason insults me.
I continue ranting nonetheless. “Windpipe…solar plexus…make up your minds. You both keep changing the story. If anything, it was more like a love tap to the solar plexus windpipe region.” I grin up at the both of them and bat my eyelashes as if I've done nothing wrong.
“If that was a love tap then I feel sorry for your future boyfriend,” Bell mutters, still unhappy about my previous statement.
“If she ever gets one,” Mason adds with a cool glare directed at me. “Doubt that indeed,” someone says from behind me.
I turn around and collide into familiar brown eyes. He has a bruised neck, my fingerprints imprinted into his flesh.
Wow, the power I summon when my bubblegum ice cream is threatened by the enemy…
“Hey, Maxipad!” I grin up at him, apologetic for leaving a bruise.
Max rolls his eyes at the nickname. “If that's an apology, then I really am worried about your future boyfriend. He is going to be living in hell.” He pauses dramatically. “I mean, just look at what you did to me!” He points a finger at his blue neck imprinted with my fingernails.
“Oh, stop whining! You'll be thanking me in the future when those fingerprints of mine become recognized and I become famous. You can get those fingerprints scanned and earn riches for my imprint. You'll be famous by association. You'll have something better than my autograph, you'll have my own flesh and blood imprint. People will pay billions to be strangled by me. I'm just going to go ahead and say that you're welcome. However, I'm expecting something in return for my good deeds,” I tell him, dead serious in my generosity.
“How does she always do that?” Max asks in awe of me.
Bell shrugs. “A gift.”
“Yeah…that's if you consider manipulating people a gift. She always makes herself look innocent and casts the debt she owes onto the one that she owes so the one that she owes will somehow have to owe her when that person doesn't really owe her anything at all,” Mason pipes up, confusing us all.
Max lays a hand on Mason's shoulder. “Dude, it's not cool to make up sentences to make yourself look smarter.”
I laugh at Mason's facial expression and high-five Max. “Nice one!”
Max takes a bow and pretends to tip his non-existent hat. “Yours truly.”
“I hate all of you,” Mason casually states, irritated.
“Now you sound like Jay,” I point out.
Bell chips in. “Speaking of which, Mr. Taylor hasn't been around much. Why is that?”
I shrug. “Dunno but I intend on finding out,” I say in determination as I begin to walk toward the place where I know that I'll find him.
“Hey, Aqueela?”
I turn around to hear what Max has to say.
“Let me know if you want to try out for MMAs this year. You can even try out in the male category. I guarantee you'll make the cut.” He smirks mockingly, referring to the way I'd beaten him, among others, up at the ice cream store.
“And I can guarantee that you'll make the cut for the women!” I call back over my shoulder.
I'm a legend on a mission.
***
I'm able to locate him with little to no effort. He's sitting against the oak tree with his eyes closed. I join him, silently sitting down beside, my back resting against the tree too.
He opens one eye as if sensing my presence.
“Hey,” I greet him softly.
He doesn't reply, both eyes closed again.
“Stop ignoring me,” I demand, nudging him with my elbow.
“Why do you insist on following me?” he asks lazily, finally opening his eyes as he turns to face me. “How did you even know that I'd be here?”
“Because this is where you were when you landed up in my picture.”
He realizes this and shifts in his seat to glance my way. “I don't even know your name.”
“So?” I shrug carelessly.
“So, you need to stop this. You need to stop following me around. I know you want to be friends but I can't do friends right now, maybe never.” He sighs, willing me to understand.
For once, I take his words to heart, trying to understand where he's coming from. “Did I do something wrong?” I ask cautiously, confused by his sudden change of mood.
“No. You never do anything wrong. Maybe that's the problem,” he murmurs before standing up and leaving.
***
“I'm sorry, you signed up for what now?” Bells repeats in pure shock as if she hasn't already heard me say it about a kazillion times.