by Kent, Rina
Bring it. I’m ready for a fight to the death with her right now.
Victoria pulls her daughter back by the collar of her dress.
“Oh, Henry. I don’t know what’s wrong with Astrid.” She caresses Nicole’s hair. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”
My muscles lock at the mention of Dad’s name. Measured footsteps come from behind me before he stands by his wife and stepdaughter’s side. His face is so closed, it’s impossible to read his mood.
“She called my mother a whore, Uncle,” Nicole sobs, showing him the reddening circle around her left eye. “When I told her to stop, she punched me.”
“That’s not true!” I yell.
“Oh, Henry,” Victoria cries. “I think Nicole needs to see a doctor.”
“Oh, come on.” I stare at her with stupefaction. It wasn’t that strong, although I wish it were.
“I know you don’t like us, Astrid.” Victoria looks at me with pity-filled eyes. “But I thought we were a family.”
“Stop being a hypocrite! You called my mother —
“Enough.” Dad’s voice booms in the dining room.
“But, Dad, she —
“It’s Father, not Dad,” he grits out.
I fight the sob trying to be set free. “She said my mum — ”
“Your mother is dead.” He deadpans as if I don’t know that piece of information. “She’s been dead for three years. I’ve been trying to give you leeway, but it’s not working. When will you learn that your mother is in the past?”
“Never!” My vision blurs with tears. “Just because you forgot about her doesn’t mean I will.”
“Astrid Elizabeth Clifford. You’ll stop this instant and apologise to Victoria and Nicole.”
Both mother and daughter smile discreetly.
I lift my chin up even as a tear slides down my cheek. “I’ll never apologise.”
“Then you’ll forget about attending next week’s exhibition.”
No. I’ve been looking forward to it since my accident. He can’t take that away from me. “But you promised.”
“And you promised to try and get along with Victoria and Nicole. If you don’t keep your promises, why should I?”
“I won’t apologise for something they started.”
“No apology. No exhibition.”
“Fine!” I snatch my backpack and throw it over my shoulder. “But for the record, you stopped keeping your promises since I was seven, Father.”
I wait until I’m out of the house before letting the tears loose.
Chapter Twenty-One
Astrid
If you’re the devil, why am I not running? Why am I barging into your hell instead?
* * *
The energy in the stadium is beyond infectious. It seeps under my skin and awakens a part of me I never thought existed.
The crowd’s chants, the girls’ screaming at players, the parents’ cheering from their conservative place down below, Something Like This by Coldplay blasting from the speakers.
It’s all such a huge chaos — aside from Coldplay.
I’ve never been to a football game before, not only because sports aren’t my thing, but also because I never understood the fanatic mindset of most Premier League’s fans.
Today seems like a fraction of the Premier League — a younger brother of sorts. A few thousand spectators fill the school’s stadium, chanting and carrying the royal blue sticks matching the team’s colours.
I’m going to watch till half-time for Dan’s sake and then I’m out of here.
“Ugh, some parasites decided to show up.”
My head lifts up at Nicole’s malicious voice. I can’t help smiling at the slight bruise on her left eye from this morning. She did her best to hide it with makeup, but it’s visible.
Nicole is wearing the team’s jersey and jeans. King’s number 10. Of course. Her friend Chloe is wearing Number 13, Astor.
“If we lose, you’re dead,” Chloe says with a twist in her dramatically red lips.
I roll my eyes and decide to ignore them. The best method to conquer any bullies is to not give them what they seek — a reaction.
After some glaring, they huff and puff then head up to the ‘best’ seats.
I retrieve my sketchpad from my bag and snuggle it in my lap. Here’s to hoping the other spectators are too busy with the before-game glow to notice me sketching in the middle of their beloved game.
I focus on a small boy, probably one of the players’ brothers. He’s wearing a blue jersey and screaming ‘An!’ over and over. I smile and attempt to capture that spark in his eyes and the carefree flinging of his arms as his mother holds him.
Just as I’m about to get lost in the zone, the music comes to an abrupt halt. The entire crowd stands up, cheering and roaring at the top of their lungs. Since my vision is entirely blocked by everyone in front of me, I have no choice but to stand up, too.
The reason for the crowd’s transformation must be because of the players filtering into the stadium. I’m going to bet that the players with the white and black jerseys don’t elicit this madness. It’s the blue ones. The Elites.
I grin as my best friend walks in with his teammates, looking ready to kick some butts.
“Go get them, Danny!” I scream at the top of my lungs while everyone else chants the King name. Either Levi or Aiden — or both. Xander, Cole, and Ronan get a lot of cheering, too.
Levi leads the team with sure, confident strides. He still has the bruise around his lip from yesterday, but he looks as god-like as ever in his ‘fuck the world’ posture.
It’s not his confidence or even his last name that makes him untouchable, it’s his attitude. I’ve yet to discover anything that affects him — really affects him. And maybe I’m jealous of that. Maybe I wish I had his attitude about life.
He lost both his parents, but unlike me, he doesn’t act like it’s the end of the world.
But again, something is wired wrong about Levi.
It feels strange to see him in his lion’s den — the stadium — looking all ready to tear someone to pieces. It’s like getting another insight into who he truly is.
The two teams stay behind as Levi and another player from the other team advance to the middle. Unlike the other players, they both have a neon yellow armband. Pretty sure that means they’re the captains.
An older man wearing a black jersey and shorts stands in the middle. I assume that’s the referee. He says something and both Levi and the other player nod.
The crowd grows silent as anticipation fills the air until I can taste it on my tongue. I’m standing here like an idiot, having no idea what the hell is going on.
The referee throws a coin in the air and then nods towards Levi. The crowd cheers as the two players shake hands then shake the referee’s hand and each run back to their team.
I’m captured by the way Levi runs. It’s agile and effortless and so damn beautiful.
Everything about him is thick and hard and mesmerising.
His T-shirt sticks to his back muscles, rippling with every step he takes. His biceps bulge against the T-shirt’s short sleeves. I can’t see the throbbing veins of his arms, but I can almost feel them all pumped for the game.
His thighs and legs are a sight to behold. All muscular and toned like he’s human aesthetics.
Or more like a Greek statue.
Stunning, but cold.
All players take their positions on the pitch. The kickstart is between Levi and his cousin. The cheering from earlier must’ve been because Levi won the first ball.
The crowd sits back down, and I do too.
Although I don’t understand much of the game, I can tell Elites are doing better. They approach the goal more and the ball is almost always with them.
Every time Levi or Aiden touches the ball, the girls erupt in uncontrollable screaming. I can’t help the rush of adrenaline at seeing Levi commanding his team and giving instructions left and right.
I came here
to watch Dan, but I barely gave him any attention. Every time I do, I find myself searching for Levi all over again.
Guess who the worst best friend award goes to?
With my sketchpad on my lap, I keep doing lines and trying to capture the moment Levi throws the ball. He has such a magnificent posture. One of his arms flings back, the other forward. One foot on the grass and the other is suspended in the air.
It’s like he’s about to fly.
The first half ends with a draw.
As the players start filtering back inside, I rush down the stairs and catch the Elites on their way to the locker room. The crowd are throwing encouraging remarks their way. Once again, the kings and the other three star players get most of the cheering.
Dan has his head tucked down. He must be feeling so down on his first game as a starter.
“You can do it, Danny!” I scream so he can hear me. “You’re the best of the freaking best!”
Two heads snap in my direction. The first is Dan. He grins from ear to ear and taps his chest then points at me.
The second is Levi and his expression is the complete opposite of Dan’s. The pale blue of his eyes darkens and he stares between me and Dan then stops. He stops walking inside, stops listening to a player who was talking to him.
He just… stops.
Everyone ceases to exist as his gaze focuses on me and me alone.
A strange awareness grips me by the gut at the strange, destabilising look in his eyes and his stiff posture. My air turns suffocating as if he were able to suck it all away from this distance.
The moment ends when another player slams his shoulder into Levi’s. Number Nineteen, Knight. Levi winces, breaking eye contact, and lets his teammate lead him inside.
I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and trudge back to my place on the benches.
My fingers tremble as I gather my sketchpad and stare at Levi’s silhouette. My cheeks heat and my insides feel like a jumbled mess.
What in the ever living hell was that all about?
He didn’t touch me, but I can still feel his fingertips all over my skin and somewhere deep inside me.
I continue sketching as rock music fills the stadium.
I tell myself that I’m finishing the game only because Dan needs moral support.
That’s all.
A chubby girl with cute braids sits beside me before the second half starts. Her eyes spark with something similar to both excitement and fear.
“Oh, sorry,” she says as if only just noticing me. “Is this seat taken?”
I smile. “No, help yourself.”
“Thanks!” She retrieves a bar of chocolate and offers me some. “I’m supposed to not eat these at night. Don’t tell my mum or my nutritionist — or anyone for that matter.”
I laugh, accepting a small bar. “My lips are sealed.”
“I’m Kimberly. Second-year.” She offers. “You’re Clifford, right?”
“Just Astrid is fine.”
“So, Astrid, I’m not used to seeing you at the school games. Do you come often?”
“This is my first game.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “Oooh. You have to know what you’re missing out on.”
Kimberly spends the next ten minutes trying to shove as many football terms into my head as possible.
“I’m not a big fan either, but I like to come to watch sometimes.” There’s a dreamy tone in her voice. “My best friend is a fanatic fan of the Premier League, but she never comes to the school’s games.”
“Why not?”
She lifts a shoulder. “She hates them, I guess.”
“Here they come!!” Someone screams from behind us. “Go, Elites!”
Like in the first half, the music comes to a halt and everyone stands up. Kimberly and I follow.
As the second half begins, I can’t help noticing that there’s something different about Levi. While Aiden and the others play relaxed, he’s tense. His shoulders are tight and his instructions are more curt than in the first half.
“I wonder what’s the captain’s beef,” Kimberly says.
So I’m not the only one who notices it.
“He doesn’t usually play like that, right?”
She shakes her head. “He’s always cool and confident. He’s the captain after all.”
“So he’s like a good player?”
“Good?” She laughs. “Try perfect. He’s the best player we have and the top centre midfielder in the schools’ championship. We’re talking Premier League level here.”
We’re interrupted by the crowd’s cheers because of a triple play from Cole to Xander and then back to Cole and straight to Aiden. He scores.
A roar grips the crowd and everyone screams — Kimberly included. All the other players attack Aiden, tackling him to the ground and ruffling his hair.
All except for Levi.
He only high-fives his cousin and returns to the starting point at the middle of the pitch.
It’s then I notice the defect in his posture. His left shoulder is slightly drooping downwards.
My eyes widen. It’s the same shoulder he slammed into Jerry last night.
For the remainder of the game, the four ‘horsemen’ take possession of the field. Aiden, Xander, Cole, and Ronan seem comfortable in their own skin and the crowd goes rampant whenever they touch the ball.
Levi returns to the backlines a lot. According to Kimberly, it’s for defence purposes since they’re only one score ahead.
“Does Levi play like this sometimes?” I ask Kimberly.
“Captain? Never.” Although Kimberly is talking about King, her eyes never leave number nineteen, Xander Knight. “He’ll be scouted by the Premier League. This is his worst performance in years.”
“Wait. He wants to play professionally?”
She lifts a shoulder. “That’s what I heard. They scouted him since the second year but I guess he wants to finish school first... oh my gosh, yes! Do it!”
My muscles lock when Levi runs towards the goal with Aiden to his right. The latter raises his hand, but the captain doesn’t pay him attention and forges through.
With every metre he cuts, my heart beats so loud as if I’m the one running and panting.
Steady there, heart. We don’t even do running.
When Levi approaches the danger zone, someone from the other team tackles him. Levi falls to the ground with a thud.
“Oooh,” the crowd voice their group disappointment.
My hands turn sweaty as Levi remains on the ground, unmoving.
My breathing comes out choppy and stuttering as Levi’s teammates gather around him.
A second passes…
Two…
Three…
Four —
He stands up, leaning on Aiden, and everyone releases a collected breath.
I stare with stupefaction as he dusts off his jersey as if nothing happened.
Besides relief, something morbid and nasty takes refuge inside me. I stand up, grab my backpack and storm out of the stadium. Kimberly waves back when I mumble a ‘bye’.
My heart thumps so loud as I stomp out and straight into the hallway, heading to the art studio.
I slam the door shut and lean against it. What the hell was that all about?
And why am I so bothered about it?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Levi
I haven’t decided whether you're my damnation or my salvation.
* * *
“This isn’t my captain, King. Get your head out of your arsehole,” Coach whisper-yells so only I can hear on his way out of the locker room.
The guys cheer as they carry Aiden on their shoulders. They drop him, slapping his back, and ruffling his hair.
He grins, but it’s fake. He doesn’t really enjoy any of this. He just makes it for appearances’ sake. A defence mechanism of sorts.
I button my shirt in silence. The familiar, gloomy energy surrounds me like a four-walled prison.
It’s not because of the game or even the bitching pain in my shoulder. It’s because those fucking green eyes that didn’t leave me since last night.
I might have spent a sleepless night, punching the bag in the gym.
I might have stopped myself a thousand times from barging into her house in the middle of the night and screw it if her father murders me.
This obsession is becoming dangerous and fucked up. I’m not the type of person who lets anyone else take over my thoughts, my mind and even my fucking dreams.
And yet, everything has been revolving around Astrid Clifford.
As if that wasn’t enough, she had to show up at the game and screw up everything.
I don’t know what pissed me off more. The fact that she wasn’t there for me or the fact that she was cheering another guy’s name right in front of me.
Whatever it was, it fucked up my entire game in the second half. And now, unreleased energy keeps buzzing in my veins demanding to be set free.
I might have to fight tonight. Or drink. Or both.
A finger taps my shoulder. I’m too caught up in my thoughts that the mere gesture takes me by surprise, and I clench my fists.
Aiden’s face appears to my right, wearing a frown. "You’re turning speedy, aren’t you?"
"Piss. Off," I snarl in his face.
He doesn’t even flinch at my open show of hostility. “This isn’t even about the game, isn’t it?”
“No, Cousin, it’s not about the game. It’s never about the game. It’s all about my screwed up genes, remember?"
He’s silent for a few seconds. That’s Aiden. Everything needs to be plotted to a T — including his damn thoughts. “If the chessboard doesn’t look in your favour, you’re the only one who can change its direction."
"Yo, me Kings!" Ronan interrupts us in a mock accent, flinging an arm around Aiden’s shoulder and the other around mine. “Party at my place. No objections. Deal? Deal.”
He drags us both to the centre and announces. “Victory party at the one and only Number thirteen’s! Captain approved!”
The guys hoot and carry Ronan on their shoulders.