by CJ Adler
“MMA competition,” Max says proudly, answering on my behalf.
“Mixed Martial Arts,” I clarify to Bells. She's slow. “I expect you to show some support and wear a T-shirt with my face on. Make Mason do it too. Max is my manager and we're going for the big win.”
“You. Are. Both. Insane,” Bells says slowly, scrutinizing each word as if to get it through our skulls.
I shrug. “Heard that one before.” I turn to Max. “Am I right or am I right?”
I laugh.
Max joins in and gives me a high-five in agreement, setting Bells straight. “We're—” he points to himself and then to me, “—going to be billionaires.”
“Right,” Bells drawls out, not believing it.
“Now drop and give me fifty!” Max orders, turning to me with high expectations in mind. “Break a sweat!”
I didn't think this through. I shouldn't have agreed to him training and managing me.
Without question, I drop to the floor and begin to do push-ups...well, I attempt in doing push-ups. I do three and then fall flat on my stomach, panting and unable to breathe.
“Why do I always come when weird crap is happening? I leave for a few minutes and come back to this.” I notice Mason's presence as he gestures down to me with a shake of his head.
Bell gives him a tight-lipped smile in response. “Apparently Max signed Aqueela up for the MMA World Competition this year and apparently we have to support them because they're apparently getting us shirts made with Aqueela's face on,” she explains, fake enthusiasm dripping in her tone as she tries to convey a secret message to her boyfriend.
Mason scoffs, seemingly not surprised in the least. “Of course they did.”
“Hey, Mason, you can be our number one fan!” I say, knowing perfectly well that I'm getting under his skin.
He rolls his eyes, an indication that he spends way too much time with Bells.
“I'll even choke you so you'll have my imprint in place of my autograph, just like Max. Worth millions one day, I tell you,” I tease him and then take on a stern expression. “But, seriously, I'll choke you happily. It would be a blessing in disguise, or a blessing in no disguise, either way it would be my honor. No, wait, it will be your honor,” I say with a final nod of conclusion.
I walk away. Unfortunately, Mason follows after me, leaving Bells and Max to laugh at a picture that Max took of me while I was doing push-ups.
I stop and turn once we're far enough from Bells and Max because I already know what Mason wants to ask. Nevertheless, I keep up the cocky charade. “Forget something?”
He shakes his head. “Aqueela...” he starts firmly, “we need to talk.”
I feign a tremble to lighten the mood. “Are you breaking up with me?” “Aqueela,” he drags out, “I'm serious.”
“You were never supposed to see.” I make reference to my scars. “So just forget about it.”
Mason stares down at me with earnest, his brown eyes glistening beneath the sun's rays. “I can't,” he whispers. He steps forward and lifts the sleeve of my shirt up, only to expose scars. “I can't just forget about this,” he says softly and gently, taking me by surprise. He almost never uses that tone on me. It's reserved for Bells.
I sigh and avert my eyes. “Mason…don't.”
He runs his thumb over my recent wound. “I won't just sit back and let you get hurt.”
“Yes, you will. You're not supposed to care. We're not even friends,” I remind him, frustrated.
Mason frowns and opens his mouth to reply just as my phone begins to ring. I see the caller ID and sigh at the lousy timing. I glance back up at Mason but he's already seen the name flashing across my screen. If anything, he seems even more worried than a second ago.
I roll my eyes at him and turn my back on him to answer my phone.
“Aqueela, you better have a damn good reason as to why you hit that girl and landed up in detention…again!” I hear her voice and it sends shivers of fear down my spine.
I stand my ground. I don't want Mason to see me afraid because it will only confirm his suspicions.
I scoff, already knowing that I'll regret my next words by the time I get home. “Because I learn best from my witch of a mother.”
She hangs up the phone with no reply.
I probably shouldn't have done that.
Fortunately, it all suddenly becomes clear to me now. My stepmother found out, which can only mean one thing—Gramps really does suck at flirting!
Chapter 12
Wildfire
I'm dreading going to school today because I know who will be waiting just around the corner to interrogate me. Mason keeps tailing me, wanting to know more about the situation with my stepmother. It's tiring.
“Why don't you just quit walking away? I'm not leaving until you talk to me.” I hear his voice echo from behind me as I keep forcing myself to move ahead, trying to put up a mental block against him.
I round the school corner into the school garden, hoping to lose him, but he's persistent. I continue on with willpower, my camera in hand, and stop alongside the flower beds where the new flowers have just been planted. I ignore Mason's pointless presence and snap a few shots.
“You know, winter will come to an end soon. Eventually, those long sleeve shirts will go and you'll be left exposed. Then what?” he asks harshly.
My fuse is short and I end up losing it. “What the hell is your problem? Just leave me alone!” I spit, furious, now only capable of seeing the red flowers.
“You,” he snaps back. “You are my problem!”
I take a step back, my lips parting, his tone catching me off guard. “H- how?” I stutter, confusion etched into my features.
Mason takes a step forward and grabs hold of my left hand and lifts up the sleeve. “This—” he glances down at my bruised wrist, “—is the problem.” He sighs, averting his eyes. “Believe it or not, Aqueela, but I do somewhat care about what happens to you. I'm not completely heartless.”
I beg to differ.
“I'm worried,” he admits softly.
I stand still, taken aback by his sudden closeness.
“Aqueela, I...”
I zone out of whatever it that he's saying when Jay brushes past us, hoping to go by unnoticed. He lifts his head and meets my gaze for a second before he heads for his usual place by the oak tree.
My senses come back to me as I quickly snatch my hand out of Mason's. I narrow my eyes up at him in warning. “Stay out of my business.”
Mason reaches out to me but I pull back and leave instead.
“There you are!” Max shouts upon seeing me as I walk on by. Unfortunately , he easily catches up with my fast-paced strides . “I've been looking everywhere for you. You haven't pitched to any of our set training times,” he scolds me from within his sports attire.
I stop to scan his appearance, only now noticing his baggy basketball shorts, running shoes and the red whistle hanging from his neck. He has to dress the part to play the part—hence dressed as my coach. He is all or nothing, he can never just be. He always has to go all out in everything he does. He puts cheerleaders to shame.
I roll my eyes in response. “Well, excuse me for not being able to make it during school hours!” Who makes training times during Math class? I'm barely passing as it is.
“You're excused but you need to get your priorities straight. You need to get your head screwed on right. This MMA competition is the big break that we've been waiting for, for all our lives and since the very beginning of time,” he reprimands me as if I'm the delusional one with my head stuck in the clouds.
“Max, you've only been my personal trainer and manager since four days ago. Just what big break, exactly, have we been waiting for since the beginning of time?” I ask. “Oh, and by the way, that diet you gave me pretty much bans me from all types of food. Did you even research it? Because quite frankly, I'm sure that no carbs, no proteins, no fruit and veggies, no fats and no dairy products, practically ban
s me from eating at all.”
Max clicks his tongue twice and winks at me, holding his hands out to me as if holding a gun. “Exactly, babe.”
I shake my head. “Are you serious?!” When he doesn't reply, the answer becomes obvious. “If I don't eat then I will die, you genius!”
He grins and winks again. “Exactly, babe.”
I narrow my eyes at him, unimpressed.
He gives in and laughs. “Okay, okay, relax. I'm kidding…about the whole
'you dying thing', only because how else will I make the moolah? You're my way to ka-ching!” He holds his hands in front of him as if holding paper money, rubbing his fingers back and forth while blowing down on his hands.
I scoff. He wishes he had actual cash to do that with.
“I'm dead serious about the diet, though. You will follow it.”
I take the paper out of my pocket. I skim over the diet again. “No water?” I ask softly in disbelief before raising my tone. “No water?!” I shout. “What is the matter with you?!”
He shrugs. “Never trust organic stuff. Water is from nature, and let's face it, 'Mother Nature' is the cruelest of all.”
“Not quite the cruelest, you take the cake,” I mutter, just loud enough for him to catch it.
He glares at me, rising to his own defense. He motions to Melinda and her cheerleading buddies in the distance. “I may be cruel but doll…” he starts in a high-pitched, girly voice, “Melinda, that nasal-bred freak, can eat my chocolate oats for breakfast.”
I scrunch up my face at his choice of words. Nonetheless, he's right. “True that, my friend.”
His strict demeanor comes flying back as he brings the whistle to his mouth and blows right in my ear. Literally, he blows it right by my ear! “We're not friends as of now! I'm your coach and manager and nothing else. Now drop and give me one million! Go! Go! Go!” he orders, his mood changing entirely.
I don't move, completely peeved by the earache he just caused, and challenge him with a daring stare. I have yet to drop to the floor and fall to his every command and I daren't start now. My defiance leads to him taking the liberty of kicking me in the shin.
“Why?!” I wince, stupidly hopping up and down in pain, which only adds to it. “Why?!”
He's insane and I look like I'm doing the hokey-pokey.
***
“Psst, Aqueels! Can I borrow a pen?” Bell whispers from beside me.
“Why can't you bring your own damn pen to school?!” I snap, on edge after my encounters with Mason and Max.
Her eyes widen in surprise. “What's your deal?”
I shake my head and throw my spare pen at her. “Everything.”
She glances down and notices the blue bruises on my legs. “What happened?”
“Max happened.”
Bell gives me a curious glance and then shakes her head. “I'm not going to even ask.” She leans over and hands me her phone. “Check this out.”
I take it out of her hand and my eyes widen at the sight. In shock, I clumsily drop her phone and watch it crash to the floor.
Max uploaded a video of me yelling at him on our supposed MMAs page. I'm jumping up and down after he kicked me in the shin. “The little devil!” I shout, not really caring that we're in class. The teacher is out anyway, not that it would make much of a difference.
A couple of jocks walk past my desk, pointing at me in recognition before bursting out into laughter as they replay the video Max uploaded.
I glance at Bells in defeat. She's offering me a sympathetic stare, sensing my mood.
I turn back to the jocks who are still mocking me and throw my fist to the air. “Yeah, just keep walking! Thank your lucky stars that I'm a peaceful person!” I yell after them, only for Mason to laugh aloud as he leaves his group to sit down beside me.
“You? Peaceful? I don't think so,” he says teasingly.
I avert eye contact. I don't want to be near him after our confrontation. Bell notices my discomfort, her rare perceptive side on display, as she raises a brow at me, skeptical. I brush her off as Mason speaks up again, “As funny as the vid was, you shouldn't let Max hurt you like that.”
Yeah, because you are so much better...
“Well, maybe I wanted Max to hurt me! Back off, Maggot!” I yell out, irrational, quickly getting up to walk away from him, leaving a shocked Bells behind.
I end up bumping into Jay on the way out. He and half the class have apparently witnessed that whole exchange. He glances down at me, refusing to acknowledge me. He turns to leave but I can't help but stop him. I grab hold of his arm, immediately regretting it when I see the icy glare in his cold eyes.
“This morning with Maggot was not what you think. I mean, it was—wait, what were you thinking?” I falter.
He folds his arms across his chest, cocking his head to the side, impatiently waiting for me to elaborate.
“If you were thinking that it was nothing, well, then it was exactly what you were thinking, but if you were thinking that I was seeing my best friend's boyfriend behind her back, then you, sir —” I get carried away and poke his chest in accusation, “—are sorely mistaken. I'm innocent!”
I gaze back up at Jay who is staring down at me with amusement written all over his stupid face. “Innocent, huh?” he asks. “I somehow doubt that.”
He's onto me.
I panic. “Your face. What? Shut up!” I ramble on instinct. Needless to say, I have terrible natural instincts. I take the gap to flee before I shame myself further. I grin, a smile tugging at my lips when I hear him chuckle from behind me.
It's when I see Max that I turn on my heel in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, he spots me.
“Okay, come along, Young Padawan. You have much to learn. We have a training session scheduled...” he drawls out, checking his newly bought sports watch, “right about now.”
I groan in despair.
He grabs my arm and begins hauling me toward the school gym. I struggle against him and sink my heels into the ground as not to be taken captive, yet he keeps dragging me across the floor effortlessly. “This could be considered kidnapping,” I point out to him.
“And you could be considered as lazy. Sue me,” he retorts back, unfazed, as he practically shoves me through the gym doors.
Immediately, all the jocks' heads whip in our direction upon hearing the commotion, no thanks to Max friggin Mills. Once their gazes land on me, they burst into laughter at the reminder. I glare at each of them. If the school didn't know me before for my rebellious acts, they sure as hell know me now.
I narrow my eyes at Max as soon as he releases me. “I hate you for uploading that video to the internet!”
“I'm sure you'll get over it,” he replies calmly, not bothered in the least.
I'm never going to live that video down!
He pokes my forehead. “You.” Poke. “Need.” Poke. “To.” Poke. “Train!”
Poke.
The last one was just unnecessary. I grit my teeth in frustration when he tries again. I twist his finger before he can get the chance. “I liked you better when I didn't know you.”
“You can't like someone if you don't know them, Aqueela,” he argues.
“Well, I did!” I yell and then halt once I realize what I just said.
Max's eyes widen at my confession.
Here we go…
“You liked me?” he asks in surprise.
“Once upon a time,” I admit, shamelessly, ignoring the prying ears of morons. “You were my first crush. In kindergarten, you once saved me from Mason's bullying—that's when you first realized that I actually existed and that I wasn't invisible.”
Max scratches his neck, thinking back. “We were in kindergarten together? I don't remember that.” He shakes his head with a sheepish grin, baffled.
“Yeah, I know you don't remember, it's why I never brought it up until now.
You have no idea how difficult it was to get your attention. You were always stuck in your
own freaky world where only you existed,” I explain, remembering how odd he used to be as a child. I see nothing has changed.
“Well, you should have said something.” He pins the blame on me.
“Max, I gave you a valentine card that literally said 'I love you'. You looked me straight in the eyes and all you said was 'thank you', and then you continued on like I never existed. You even turned the card into a paper plane. I worked at least five minutes on that thing and you completely ruined it. Did you even see the two stick people holding hands? I even drew you with spiky hair,” I complain as I reminisce back on my skillful work of art.
Telling him would have made no difference. He was a dense child. Still is.
“You loved me?” he asks in awe, having only taken that bit from my rant.
Before I can answer, his lips are on mine. It takes me a while before I register what 's happening , that is, when my brain comes back for the occasional visit. Catching up, I realize the situation I'm currently caught up in. I shove him off of me before slapping him through the face.
“Oooh! Rejected!” Laiken snickers at Max's misfortune.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as the rest of the jocks erupt in laughter, holding up their phones and snapping pics of what just happened. This story is bound to spread across the entire school. You'd think the cheerleaders are big on gossip, but the jocks out-do them by a milestone.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” I finally shout at him, angered, as the red handprint takes a form of its own on his right cheek.
“You said you loved me,” Max points out, a lazy grin on his face.
The jocks clap as if audience to a stage production.
“Yo, Mills!” Laiken hollers. “You're a free man today. That took courage. Mase and I will go easy on you today.”
Max blatantly ignores Laiken. If I weren't so infuriated with him, I'd be proud.
“Yeah, loved as in past tense. I was six! I didn't know what love was. I still don't even know! We were in kindergarten!” I raise my voice, still unable to fathom the fact that he just went ahead and planted one on me.