Willow
Sitting on Hunter's motorcycle, pressed up against his back, my hands trapped between his school backpack and his stomach, I wonder if I'll ever get used to how strange this feels. The first money I get my hands on, I'm going to buy myself a bicycle... and re-learn how to ride it. My father taught me when I was about four, but I haven't ridden a bicycle for many years. Grandmother didn't think it was dignified.
The intimacy is disconcerting; I can feel his muscles move every time he moves. My discomfort increases with every stop, every turn, and every action that causes me to have to tighten my grip. I'm blushing redder than a tomato by the time Hunter brings the motorcycle to a stop in front of their gate. I almost trip over myself in my haste to get off the motorcycle and away from the boy and his enticing fragrance.
"Thanks," I say, stuffing the helmet into his hands when he'd parked the bike in the garage and I'd closed the gate again. I turn away from his questioning eyes and run for the patio, my backpack uncomfortably slapping against my back. I honestly cannot understand how people are able to tolerate carrying their schoolbags on their backs. I hate doing it; it makes me feel like a heavy-duty labourer. Backpacks were also against the rules at Mount Sovereign Academy for Girls, which might be why I'm having a hard time getting used to it. Right now, though, I don't want to pause to slip it off. I need to get as far away from Hunter as possible, as fast as I can.
"Oh! By the way! Flush twice if there are solids; that toilet is a bit dicky!" Hunter is shouting after me.
What is he talking about?!
Does he think I'm having a bathroom emergency? Honestly, I have no privacy anymore, none, zip, nada! Why is he even thinking about my bodily functions?!
"Oh, do be quiet!" I shout back and hear him chuckle while I unlock the front door and storm into the house. He is such a Pest!
In my bedroom, I tear off my school uniform as fast as humanly possible. It is quite an achievement, with Little-Piddle excitedly milling around my ankles. For once, I leave my clothes draped semi-neatly over my bed instead of hanging them in my closet. Hastily dressed in a fluffy pink and white tracksuit and sneakers, I grab the dog and run from my room.
♫
Hunter
I guess Willow is really mad at me. I don't blame her. I'd be pissed too, if some strangers caused me to get detention on my first day at a new school. No, actually, I would probably get the detention all by myself on my first day at a new school. That kind of thing seems to really matter to Willow, though. I'm not sure how I'm going to make it up to her.
Teasing her is probably not helping, but honestly, I just love the way she gets all snippy when I mess with her. I put away the helmets and make a quick check-in round in the small room at the back of the garage.
Willow is storming down the patio stairs when I'm done and finally head towards the front door. The way she looks inspires visions of candyfloss and snow bunnies. Seriously, she should not be let out in public by herself. She's a hazard to the mental health of every male in the neighbourhood. I move to intercept her but then rethink my actions. What am I doing? What was I going to say?
Don't go out looking all fluffy, cute, and vulnerable.
Why? Because other guys might want to... What exactly? Feed her? Adopt her? Protect her? Get to know her? Ask her out? Seriously, so what?!
Anyway, I need to at least apologise for my part in ruining her first day at Briar High. I start to do so, but she simply ignores me, deterring Piddles' attempts to greet me. She is definitely determined to reach the freedom offered by the gate just a few steps away. Okay, I can understand her wanting some space right now. No problem.
I watch her go. I really feel rather bad about how her day turned out. I don't know much about what happened to her and her mother before they came to Briar Cove. Ma just said that Willow and Aunt B have been to hell and back quite a few times recently and that we should all do our best to help them heal.
Teasing her to help her lighten up is one thing, but getting her detention is definitely not on the right track. My parents are going to give me an earful and then some when Willow tells them about her first day. Ah, well, I've earned it. But I hate disappointing them.
I know a little bit about the type of environment Willow grew up in. I'm completely caught off guard by the increasing proof that she's not the snobbish, entitled brat, demanding, opinionated, and filled with self-importance I'd expected her to be. I've had to deal with my share of the type on various occasions and was braced and ready to tolerate her as much as possible for Ma's sake. I'm completely unprepared for the obviously vulnerable, rather shy girl she's turning out to be in reality. Is there a manual somewhere for this kind of situation? I should try googling it.
The first clues that I might be wrong about her were the sweet, patient way in which she treated Frankie yesterday and how helpful and polite she was towards Ma. Today I saw her being rather nice to Paisley as well, even under circumstances that were clearly upsetting her. Girls are never nice to Paisley, which is why bitchiness is her go-to attitude when dealing with them. Things are becoming a lot more complicated than I imagined. I'm really not enjoying the overwhelming protective instincts that keep on taking over, messing with my head. Well, I've always had a thing for wounded animals. I guess, in her own way, Willow is one too.
Maybe she'll snap at Frankie tonight, snub Ma, snipe at Dad and kick my cat. Any of those will really piss me off, but it will also put everything in its expected place. Then I can go back to plan A: Tolerate and Torture.
When school let out today, I went to find Willow to tell her that I'd arranged a ride home for her with Asher since I was being detained against my will. That was already not part of my plan. I planned to ditch rugby practice and take Willow home as soon as school let out. It was her first day, after all, and she'd been extremely nervous. Unfortunately, my loose mouth landed me in detention... again...
Or was it the fact that Robin has a badly sprained finger after yesterday's park game and might not be ready when our rugby matches start again after the holidays? It's probably that, but it's not like I sprained his finger on purpose! I just didn't dodge his punch effectively enough, and he connected a bit awkwardly. Seriously, he has the whole exam time and school holiday to heal!
It could also be because Galen's shiner is being attributed to me. I hope that's true. It's a definite improvement to his smug face. Besides, he bit me! If I'm standing in the right kind of light, you can see a faint bruise with light teeth marks on my shoulder. Nobody wants to come into the friggin' light with me! All Coach Sanders is interested in seeing is bloody Galen's black eye. And these people call themselves my friends!
Damn, I hope it was me!
At least the fact that practice got cancelled saved me from having to make up some excuse for missing it.
I was surprised to see Willow walking along a corridor with Paisley, and judging by the look on her face, I could tell that something was very wrong. My head nearly exploded when I saw the two of them go into the detention classroom. I sent Asher a message to cancel the ride and felt rotten when I entered the room and saw how frightened and out of place Willow appeared. She seemed to be on the verge of tears.
She was clearly terrified to be trapped in a room full of boys. Willow might actually have some kind of male phobia. I'm going to have to speak to Ma about our travel arrangements to and from school. It's clearly more than she can handle. Though, to be honest, I don't mind it at all. She was rather soft and supple against my back, like a kitten. I like cats.
Speaking of...
"Rover!" I yell, almost immediately receiving a muffled meow in response from somewhere above my head. "The noisy runt has gone! Come down from the roof, will you?!"
♫
Willow
I'm happy to have the study all to myself for now. I have no idea where Hunter disappeared to. I haven't seen him since I returned home after a very refreshing walk. I'm sure it's relief I'm feeling. Yes, definitely relief. In fact, I'll be quite happy if I never have to see him again... I'm sure...
I love the study. It is huge, and it has books! I love books.
One wall is covered in bookshelves containing books of various genres, including, among others, science textbooks, horror fiction, soppy romance, and toddler books with pop-ups and sound devices. They're all mixed together at random. One day, when I'm not swamped with schoolwork, I'm going to become intimately acquainted with these seductive bookshelves. For now, I'm going to pretend that they are not here, calling to me rather loudly. I'll avoid eye contact as much as possible.
No looking at the bookshelves!
Aunt Beth told me that I can study wherever I feel comfortable but that they'd made room for me in the study since it would probably be the place with the least distractions. Again, there are books in this study, many, many books... Aunt Beth clearly has no knowledge of the extent of my passion for printed and bound literature.
She also doesn't realise just how distracting her son is. I don't know how I'm going to be able to study if Hunter joined me here.
Two-thirds of the study belong to Uncle Ryan. His desk takes up most of his space, along with another table covered in scientific equipment straight from a sci-fi thriller. It's rather fascinating. I have no idea what they're used for.
The rest of the study used to belong to Hunter, but he had to give up some of his space for an extra desk next to his in front of the large protruding windows facing the front yard. I'm not sure that I like the arrangement. It's way too intimate.
Besides, I'm starting to feel increasingly guilty about taking up so much of his space in life. I wouldn't be surprised if he started to resent me. He used to have a bathroom, a section in the study and a motorcycle all to himself. Now he has to share almost everything he has with me... even detention... It cannot be easy. Perhaps his pranks and teasing are passive-aggressive in nature.
With a sinking heart, I look at the pile of schoolbooks on my desk. Apparently, my passion for the written word has some limits. These books definitely do not inspire any excitement in me. Where should I even begin? The easy things like language and biology? Or should I dive straight into the monsters: chemistry, mathematics, and physics? I really just want to crawl under my desk and have a good cry.
Movement at the window draws my attention. There are feet dangling from somewhere above the window. Someone is sitting on the roof, covering this alcove that protrudes out from the rest of the house. Thanks to where I'd been living for the last couple of months, my mind involuntarily makes the obvious leap to home invaders. My pulse quickens, and my mouth goes dry.
Before I can react, however, the feet sprout legs above them, which in turn become Hunter. He is doing some kind of graceful leap-roll, landing on his feet on the lawn outside the window. Having executed a successful landing, he wipes his hands on his jeans. He really doesn't care about covering his clothes with grime. I know that I should look away and not spy on him, but there's something rather pleasant about watching him move. He reminds me of a big cat. A panther. All supple and muscled, filled with lurking energy.
He's gazing beseechingly up to where he'd come from, and I can hear him speak, but I cannot make out what he's saying.
He is probably trying to locate his spaceship.
About to turn away, he becomes aware of me watching him from the study window. He seems a bit startled at first, then he smiles, giving me a wave. Embarrassed at being caught spying, I wave back and pick up the first textbook my fingers land on. I open it and pretend to read, lifting it to hide my face. I can feel myself blushing a hot red again.
For what feels like ages, I aimlessly pick up, open and close my textbooks one after another. I really don't know what to do. I finally decide to tackle the horror story called Mathematics, and not long after, I am already stuck. My mother has arranged with the school to help me out. Their idea of helping consists of a stack of assignments and a schedule of chapters to plough through each day. They plan to organize some extra classes too, if I'm struggling too much.
To be honest, as overwhelming as they seem, the schedule and assignments are actually helpful; it gives me goals for each day. It would be even more helpful if I could open up my brain and use one of Uncle Ryan's weird scientific devices to just pour the knowledge straight into... wherever knowledge gets stored in the brain. I clearly need to spend some time on Biology too.
I nearly swallow the pen I've pensively been tapping against my lips when Hunter suddenly, unceremoniously, dumps a sketchpad and a box of art pencils on his desk and plunks himself down on the chair next to mine. I didn't hear him come in at all. Maybe he really has panther blood. I've suddenly lost the ability to breathe.
He yanks some books from his schoolbag and scatters them all over his desk as well. Pretending to be concentrating fully on my own work, I'm painfully aware of Hunter being so close to me. He goes through a similar routine of aimlessly opening and closing his books as I'd been doing earlier, then he just shoves them all aside and grabs a laptop from one of his desk's drawers.
He picks up the sketchpad and flips through it until he finds an empty page. Stopping, he glances at the notepad where I've tried and retried to solve the math problem I'm stuck on. The current page, like many before it, is covered with crossed-out scribbles.
Hunter turns away and begins to rummage through all three of his desk drawers, and soon a new pile of books is steadily growing on his desk as his search progresses. Satisfied that he'd taken everything from his drawers that he wanted to, he sifts through the stack. After dumping the unwanted items back into the drawers, he places an assortment of textbooks and notepads on the edge of my desk. The textbooks look like mangled versions of my own.
He picks up the one for maths and uses the colourful tags sticking out of its pages to locate the correct chapter. Opening the book, he offers it to me, and I reflexively take it from him, glancing at the pages. It's the chapter I'm currently struggling with. There are notes scribbled on every empty space. Helpful notes.
At the end of last year, shortly before her death, my grandmother bought all the textbooks I'd be needing this year. I've been trying to work through them by myself for the past three months, but without guidance, the scientific subjects were becoming too much of a challenge for me. Seeing all these notes made in the same textbook is causing hope to course through my veins.
Next, Hunter browses through one of the notebooks and sets it down open in front of me. The math problem I've been wrestling with is solved in handwriting that can almost pass as readable. Each step is carefully annotated, with clear explanations. The spelling is a bit... well... he hadn't been trying to write essays.
I turn my head to truly look at him and give him a brilliant smile when he looks at me. "Thank you, these are tremendous."
He suddenly seems uncomfortable again; his answering smile is a little shy. "No problem. I'll ask Jakes to give you some help this weekend." With that, he turns away to attend to his own affairs, shoving wireless earbuds into his ears. That's probably his way of putting up a wall around him.
The notebooks and overly used textbooks are a treasure trove of information. I'm not sure what Paisley meant about Hunter having given up on studying. According to these notes, he'd worked quite hard at it just last year.
After about an hour, I'm happy to realise that I'm making some progress with the galaxy of mathematical problems I have to catch up on. It's still hard work and difficult, but at least I'm no longer completely lost. Hunter can really be unexpectedly kind and helpful.
Taking a break from looking at numbers and symbols, my eyes do what has become their new favourite hobby. They turn on their own to see what my deskmate is up to. He's drawing a portrait from an image of a good-looking young man on his laptop screen. The caption on the screen states that the face belongs to Zhao Yi Qin. I've never heard of him before.
Drawing portraits is definitely one of Hunter's specialities. The one of me in the mural was the first indication I received of this fact. Watching his hand move over the paper as he draws is mesmerizing. The veins popping on his forearms and hands are truly beautiful, making him seem oddly fragile and strong at the same time. He's doing an even better job using a pencil than he'd done using paint.
Or rather, he was doing a better job, he is clearly straying from the path now, and a horn is gradually starting to protrude from Yi Qin's forehead.
I tap Hunter on his shoulder, and he jumps as if I've zapped him with a Taser. He turns his eyes towards me, followed by his head. He's blinking as if he doesn't have a clue who I am and why I'm sitting next to him in his space. Apparently, he's really good at losing himself in the zone when he's drawing. He pulls the left earbud from his ear and waits for me to explain the cause of the interruption. Loud rock music drones from the earpiece in his hand.
"Why?" I ask, indicating the horn.
"Why not? I thought girls liked horny guys."
He seems to be even more surprised by his words than I am and gasps along with me, not even trying to dodge when I slap his arm.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he laughs. "I open my mouth, and these things just fall out," he flips his hand towards me from his face while he speaks, drawing an arch between us.
"Keep it up, and it will be your brain that just falls out," I warn, mimicking his gesture.
Hunter gives a snort-laugh, leaning back to look me up and down. "Oh, yeah? You're going to make my brain fall out, little girl?"
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, shaking my head. "No, I'll just tell your mother, and she'll make your brain fall out."
He freezes, his face amusingly alarmed. "Have some mercy, Woman. It won't be just my brain that falls out."
I laugh, turning my attention back to the drawing. It's really exceptional, horn and all.
"Unicorns," Hunter says. "I meant to say unicorns. I've turned him into a unicorn." He holds the drawing up for me to see it more clearly. "Isn't he pretty?" he asks, giving me a disturbingly cutesy smile.
"Yes, very pretty." I agree, laughing at the weird way he'd said the word "pretty." I pull a sceptical face. "Paisley likes unicorns?"
Hunter considers the possibility and shakes his head. "No, but this is not a prize; it's her punishment. We had a deal."
He adds some finishing touches to the twirled horn and sets his pencil down, turning to me, suddenly serious. "I'm really sorry, Willow. I didn't mean for your first day to turn out like that. I thought it would be best to ask a girl to show you around because a girl can show you... girl stuff."
I smile at his earnest face. What exactly does he imagine those "girl stuff" to be? I appreciate the sentiment, though.
"Paisley has a mouth and an attitude, but she's harmless. She's a little impulsive," he reconsiders, wincing. "She's a lot impulsive. I'm sorry. She's the most awesome girl I know. Actually, that's the main problem; I mistook her for an actual girl. Won't do that again."
"It's quite easy to mistake people for girls, you know," I relent; I'm not enjoying the crestfallen look on his face. His sincerity is causing me to feel generous. "I mistook that boy next to you in detention for one for a few seconds," I blurt out, blushing.
Hunter startles me by giving a loud involuntary laugh. "Oh! Don't tell him that!" He tilts his head, rethinking his advice. "Actually, tell him that. It's always fun to watch when the veins in his neck bulge out and steam start to billow from his ears."
He becomes serious again; judging by the look on his face, he is obviously not enjoying fond memories. "It's actually quite a common mistake. Seriously, don't tell him." He chuckles softly, still finding it a little amusing.
"Actually, you should just keep on thinking of him as a girl; it's safer that way," he pauses, frowning as he processes the possible pitfalls of his suggested strategy. "No, scrap that. It will be much safer if you didn't think about him at all. Forget that he exists. At least until he starts to see you as a person."
That is not confusing at all...
Intrigued, I hope to hear more about the boy I'd thought was a friend of Hunter's and what he meant by that odd statement, but he turns his attention back to his sketch and reaches for an eraser. "I think I'm the one that should be punished. She was, after all, just being Paisley." He turns to me again, giving me an imploring look. "Please don't be mad at her. She's pretty amazing. Really." He clearly cares about the girl a lot.
"I'm not," I pick up my pen. Time to start with the next subject. "I actually found her enormously entertaining and... uhm... rather... f-fun... to be around."
Hunter laughs at that. "Fun?"
"Well... She shared some lovely food with me and told me all kinds of things that I didn't know that I didn't want to know, but now know for sure that I definitely did not want to know them."
Chuckling, Hunter drops the eraser without erasing the horn. "Don't hurt yourself."
He studies the drawing again, picks up his pencil, and scribbles his name, the date, and the words "Reinforcement Training" in the bottom right corner.
"It'll teach Paisley all about impulse control."
♪♫♪