Not my type

Chapter Two: Hello Goodbye

The first time I laid eyes on Michelangelo Cosweld, I threw up.

 It was the first day of middle school and I had been anticipating that day all summer. Every day I would mark my calendar with the remaining stickers leftover from my old coloring books until I traded those for a furry purple ballpoint pen. I put my big girl panties on and took scissors to my hair. I was going for Alex Russo in Wizards of Waverly Place, a powerful strong woman I idolized. Needless to say,  I regretted it immediately. However, despite looking like Dora, I did look like a woman. My wardrobe ditched all my fun little text post-shirts and swapped in for a more mature look. Sure, I looked like it was Easter Sunday every day but that's beside the point. I spent my entire summer preparing to be seen as a woman, and I had the nausea capacity of a newborn.

When I entered my school, I didn't have to worry about any embarrassing send-off because my mother was whom I strived to be. Straight to business, no room for games. The ultimate It-girl. We really clicked once Mother Nature rudely showed up unannounced. It wasn't always like that. Before I reached adulthood at the age of twelve, I found my parents to be unnecessarily demanding and stern. Having two first-generation parents, One Asian and the other African left little to no room for play. You could say I hit the parent lottery by having the strictest parents on planet Earth. This was a testament that my parents have been preparing me for greatness since quite frankly birth.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I entered my hall.

Chatter ensued, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea when Malcolm was spotted. A circular space cleared, and the mob clamored to see what was going on. His face severe and focused. There was a new face I've never seen before. Dark messy hair that looks like he could've been the fifth Jonas brother, lightly colored eyes hidden by a layer of long lashes , and a nose scattered with a set of the cutest freckles. The crowd quieted. Malcolm strolled into the center of the circle as if he were showing up to another day at school. I didn't know what was going on and that bothered me. I should have been a lady and ignored the shenanigans, but something told me that something was about to happen and I needed to be there to see it.

"What the hell are you doing, Nami?" My best friend Tiffany said whenever she saw me move with the crowd.

"I can't see from back there!" I called to her.

I turned just in time to see Malcolm land a solid punch. The crowd gasped and I clutched my pearls. The new boy turned, and for a moment I thought he had dodged another blow, but he made a complete circle, crashing his elbow straight into the center of Malcolm's nose. Blood sprayed my face, and splattered down the front of my cardigan. Malcolm fell to the shiny school floors with a thud, and for a brief moment the hall was completely silent.

The boy looked at me with amusement. "Watch out, Lord Farquaad."

And that's when I emptied all the contents of my blackberry oatmeal breakfast on his shoes.

It took me all damn year to shake off the nickname Lord Barfquaad.

He didn't just barge into my life. He pushed and shoved too. Did I ask? No but that's exactly what he did.

My best friend Tiffany always tried to stop him. "Mikey leave her alone!"

He didn't care. He enjoyed my discomfort. His grandfather had conveniently moved in the house across the street. He would make a point to chase me with bugs at our bustop, and after school. He would trip me in the halls, not enough to make me fall but just enough for me to catch  myself. He would torment me everyday.  Until one day In biology class, he put a frog in my hair. After screaming and people laughing at me, I grabbed our thick textbook and hit him over the head. I was suspended for a few days and he had a concussion but he stopped tormenting me.

Problem solved? No, instead  it was something much worse. He gained some sort of respect. He saw me as an equal. We could never be equals. We'll never be on the same level, it's a disrespect to assume so. He didn't care. He enjoyed my discomfort and looked at me, adoringly? as if we're in some sort of secret club- like he knows all my secrets.

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This was too much

Mikey. His name rolls around my head like a pinball machine. The sharp agitation bubbles up from my toes to my fingertips, and when I realize my heart aches, it sends fury all throughout my body. I gather my guts, and decide to compose myself quickly.

"Oh, hello," Tiffany arrives at the scene.

"Hi." He grins. I'm still stuck. I notice a difference in his appearance. He doesn't seem to be as ugly as before.

Ew." I say grossed out, whether to him or myself I'm not sure.

He laughs, and the girl hanging off his arm gives me a look. The last time I saw Mikey was at winter formal. That was some time ago.  

He smiles, "Is this how you treat all your neighbors?"

"Neighbors?"

He continues talking. The girl put some space between him and her and sat on a nearby ratted chair. "I live here now. I'm house-sitting for Lucky while they're away." Lincoln's brother, Lucky. It never occurred to me that they had separate apartments in the same building. I didn't like the way Mikey was looking at me, I never have. It always made me mad because he looked at me like he knew something I didn't.

"Just keep it down." I glare at him. I spin on my heels to leave and he side steps to the front door before me, using his arm to keep the door shut. Someone plugs the speaker back in and the music begins again. He took a step toward me and I shrank back against the door, trying to press myself into the thin plywood. He was unbearably close. Placing both hands on either side of my head he was inches...inches from my face. I could feel his breath on my lips. He leans down, making himself closer than socially acceptable and whispers in my ear. "Why don't you hang out for a bit?"

Over my dead body. "You smell like cigarettes. If I hang out here a little longer. I'll either choke and die or catch lung cancer."

I feel his laugh in my chest through the music. I hate that he actually smells like Christmas. Whenever I open the door to leave, Tiffany is standing behind it. Her eyes glance between mine and Mikey's and she sends me a wide eyed look. " ....Hey Mikey." He stood up, and I took a step into the hall with Tiffany. He was so tall.

"I'm guessing we're both housesitting." He says, and she forces a smile. 

"Wow yeah..um..Lincoln did mention that you'll be watering Lucky's plants. I didn't know you were staying.." Tiffany's eyes dart to mine in apology.

"I figured I'd take it a step further and take real good care of the place." He crosses his arms.

"Right." I scrunch up my face. "I'm sure Lucky would really appreciate you throwing a party."

"Right." I could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice. "Well, if you guys need anything...And I mean anything," His eyes meet mine. "Just let me know."

"Don't hold your breath." I grab Tiffany's arm and drag her down the stairs.

"You know I can't live here now, right?"

"Stop being so dramatic. You always let him get you so worked up."

"I think I just threw up in my mouth." I say, and she laughs.

"Just try to keep it in your mouth this time."

smack

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-Sky