|Chapter 7|
≡ Mackenzie Ryder ≡
I breathe in the crisp autumn air as I make my way home, slinging my messenger bag higher on my shoulder. A quick look over my shoulder tells me that I’m still alone out here. Thank God I managed to get to my locker quickly and slip out; it’s so goddamned loud in the hallways that you can’t even hear yourself think. I feel that this quiet solitude suits me better and I deliberately slow my pace, wanting to enjoy this walk—cutting through the field—more. After all, once I get back home there’s gonna be Quentin and Mom all in my face. Not that they annoy me, but some peace and quiet would be wonderful right now. This is the first time in all of today that I’ve actually been alone. As in, with no people within a ten-feet radius of me.
Feet slowly move across the grass, shoes sinking a bit into the mushy soil with each step. For a second day, I think I did all right. Today’s been extremely uneventful, but still, I feel a bit good about myself. I mean, it’s already pretty goddamned hard to make friends transferring here in grade eleven and then there’s the ugly fact that even if I do end up having some friends I probably won’t recognize them the next day.
More steps. I can see the main road, the sidewalk, more clearly now.
Maybe I have made a friend already, if I can call him that. Cam certainly seems like he wants to get to know me, and he’s said so himself. Even though I’ve barely seen him all day, just said hi in the halls. Unless he was just playing around with me. But I can’t help but think of that nametag, the sticky note. It was such a small detail, a small act, but it just somehow goddamn sticks in my brain. Cam Fairchild.
Beyond the OxfordAcademy football field, there’s a clump of grassy area. I have no idea if it belongs to the school or not. I step onto it, looking back to see the first of the students slowly making their way outside in all their groups and cliques, and I feel even worse, walking home all by myself. I don’t even have my own goddamned car to drive back home in.
The land slopes upwards, almost seamlessly merging with the sidewalk amid dying grass and clusters of ugly dirt, like bald spots on the field. My first step onto the sidewalk leaves a clear brown size six footprint onto the asphalt, and so does my second as my other foot gets on as well. I ignore the filth, continuing to walk down Stonewall Avenue, my walking now accompanied by the wind whooshing past me as cars speed down the road.
I haven’t even been on the main road for a minute when a voice calls me.
“Aye!”
Whirling around, I find no one coming up to me from the field, and I frown, confused. I don’t recognize the voice—but why would anyone be looking for me? Turning again, I find a girl in the Oxford uniform jogging up to me, bag bulging with the weight of what appears to be books, and three others the size of dictionaries in her arms. Her long hair flies back like a honey-colored ribbon, cheeks red with exertion. Surprised at the sight of her, I stop walking and just wait, watching her. She stops when she’s within three feet of me.
“Hey,” she says breathlessly, panting a little. “You’re…Mackenzie, right? Ryder?”
“Um, yeah, that’s me.”
“Great!” she transfers all the weight of her books onto one arm to hold out one and shake my hand. “I’m Tara-Lee Blake. I saw you in music class, but I never got to introduce myself. Anyway, if you’re wondering why the hell I’m randomly coming up to you and everything…I’m a friend of Cam’s.”
Cam. Oh. Tara-Lee gives me what feels like my fortieth once-over today, large brown eyes quickly moving from my hair, lingering on my face, down my uniform and to my simple black Vans, which are now caked with mud around the bottoms. Then she comes back to my face with a smile.
“Oh, he told you about me?” I ask, a bit surprised.
“Yeah. I’ll walk with you,” she suggests, stepping up so she’s right next to me and we begin down the street again. I have to slow my pace down as she seems hell-bent on walking at a snail’s pace, “Thank God you walk home too! Like, no one else bothers to, even though they certainly can! I mean, I live way down there at Stateland Drive, but I still go home by foot.” She rolls her eyes. “How about you? Where do you live?”
For a split second, I’m a bit hesitant to give her my address, but then again, she’d given me her goddamned street name. And anyway, if you think about it, it doesn’t sound that great that the first and only person I had latched onto on my first day of school was a guy. “Ashleigh Crescent.”
Tara-Lee grins. “That’s not so bad in terms of distance,” she says, “And Cam lives there, too.” She winks, as if I had known Cam lived at Ashleigh before and had moved here just for the purposes of … Never mind. I feel a blush start to creep into my face at the thought of it. Seeing my expression, she laughs it off a little. “Just joking. I don’t mean it that way. Cam’s a pretty sweet guy though.”
“He is,” I agree, thinking of the post-it note thing he’s doing just for me. I’m about to tell her, but hold my tongue, remembering that I don’t want people to know about my face-blindness. Hopefully Cam hasn’t told her. Because people will start asking questions, people will say things. And then they’ll all find out about the…accident. And there will have been no point in running away from that mess at AdaCity, no point in starting over. And I trust him.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, stopping at an intersection and waiting for the light ahead to turn green so I can cross. Tara-Lee waits with me, so she must be going in the same direction as I am. The awkwardness hanging in the atmosphere is so thick. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not the terrific conversationalist I thought I was, or maybe the accident made me socially awkward all of a sudden.
The cars, which had been roaring past us in a whirl of wind and the smell of burning gas, suddenly slow to a halt next to us as the red light comes on. A white-blond girl in a red convertible, the vehicle nearest to us, waves in our direction, though I have a feeling it’s meant for Tara-Lee, who waves back with a grin. Seconds later, the flashing hand across from us disappears and the walk sign replaces it. We begin to make our way across the street.
“That was my friend Yelena,” Tara-Lee explains, “Everyone thinks she’s that crazy theater student, but I think she’s a great friend. Talking to her and hanging out with her is quite the experience as well. She…sees things differently.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, but she’s so into drama. She’s an amazing actress. The best in the grade. Legendary.”
Those words sound a bit familiar. We’re almost all the way across the street now. “Best actress, is she?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard the best actor was this guy. Alistair Beaufort I think…”
A dark look passes over Tara-Lee’s face for a moment when she suddenly a car, a sleek, snowy-white BMW, lurches forward just as we pass it. The vehicle, who is closer to Tara-Lee, bumps into her and she staggers to the side, toppling into me. We both fall onto the rough asphalt. There’s this sort of cold sharpness that scrapes against the back of my legs, burning moments after contact. There’s a loud crack and her bag splits open, and all her books fall onto the ground, joining the ones in her arms that she had already dropped.
“Are you okay, young ladies?” a thirty-year-old man asks, stepping out of a nearby Toyota, crouching onto the ground and beginning to take her books and pile them neatly before handing them to Tara-Lee, who’s scrambling to find some alternative to carrying all those volumes back home. After handing her three plastic bags to place her texts into, he glares into the tinted windows of the BMW. “That idiot almost ran you two over!”
Tara-Lee’s face is burning. “Yeah, we’re fine. He could have, but we’re still alive.”
“Seems so.” The red light across from the cars turns to green again, and the man moves to his car. “Have a safe journey home.” Then he returns to his vehicle and drives away along with the others. Seeing that we’re still in front of it, the BMW doesn’t budge.
Glaring into the front windows, I can’t see the face of our perpetrator clearly, since his head’s somewhat down. All I see is nightmare-black hair, some pale skin and the flash of teeth as his lips are curved into an amused grin. The goddamned prick’s laughing at our fall. My fists clench, and when I look over at the girl next to me, she looks even angrier than I am.
“Speak of the fucking devil,” she mutters under her breath, and before I can stop her she’s marching over to the driver’s side of the car, but as she is, the door opens and a tall young man fluidly slides out, that mocking sneer still on his face. He’s from OxfordAcademy as well, judging by the polo he’s wearing under his black leather bomber. Black hair falls into his electric-blue eyes, which study both of us coolly. Tara-Lee backs away, as if not wanting to be in close proximity of him, even if it’s to hit him or something. A cigarette dangles almost precariously from his lips.
“Hello, Tara-Lee,” he says casually, leaning against his car now, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry about that, my foot just happened to fall onto the gas…”
“Sure it was an accident,” she snaps back. Judging by her tone she must mean something more than this. “You were going to kill us.” She turns to me now, eyes swimming with hate for this guy, “This is Alistair Beaufort, by the way. The legendary actor.” Oh. Oh. She’s looking at me almost as if to dare me to say another good thing about him again.
Alistair seems to ignore her last sentence, instead regarding me now with an impassive expression. “We’ve met,” he says, eyes level with mine as he removes the cigarette from his lips to exhale smoke, “Still falling, aren’t you? What did I tell you?”
I blush at the memory of lunch yesterday. Falling backwards, much like how I had been just now, though he had caught me. Hands reaching out and swiftly grabbing me, setting me upright again. Watch yourself. That twisting in my stomach, the funny feeling as we had stared at each other, before he had whispered those words and gone on his way again as if nothing had happened. Still, that moment doesn’t erase the fact that he had purposely jerked the car forward and knocked us down.
“You know Alistair?” Tara-Lee sounds surprised now.
“I don’t!” I say, “We just happened to bump into each other yesterday!”
“A shame we couldn’t exchange names,” Alistair replies calmly, “Speaking of names, I didn’t quite catch yours just now…?”
“Mackenzie.”
“Mackenzie. Pretty name.”
“Okay, cut to the chase,” sighs Tara-Lee, arms crossed over her chest, “What do you want?”
Alistair’s face shifts to an offended one. “What do you mean, what do I want? You think I always have to do things for some fucking evil purpose or whatever?”
I can feel the beginnings of a huge blowout argument coming, and I have a feeling that this isn’t the first time these two have fought. I see Tara-Lee’s features settle into a huge scowl, arms tightening like she’s getting ready to punch him or something.
“Yeah,” she shoots back.
Alistair’s brow furrows into a V and he automatically opens his mouth, probably to deliver some smartass comeback. But a voice I do not recognize calls out from somewhere down the street and hearing it, he freezes in his track, eyes widening.
“ALISTAIR BEAUFORT!” a guy yells, jogging towards us.
“HEY! MIND IF WE TALK TO YOU FOR A SEC?” another guy who greatly resembles him calls out, trailing his partner.
Alistair turns pale, though he doesn’t turn towards the source of the noise, acting as if he hadn’t heard it. Instead he quickly covers the distance between him and I in three strides and grabs my hand roughly, then takes Tara-Lee’s, though she jerks hers out of his grip immediately, looking revolted. He tries dragging me towards his car, though I hold my ground.
“Guys, please,” he says, looking exasperated, “Please get in.”
“I don’t ride in strangers’ cars,” I say bluntly. Tara-Lee nods in approval at my response.
“Well, I’m Alistair Beaufort, nice to meet you. Now we’re not strangers. Get in.”
“Why?” interjects Tara-Lee, looking cross.
Alistair glances worriedly at the two guys who’re coming closer and closer towards us, waving their arms and yelling still. I wonder if they’re some crazy people he’s trying to evade or something like that. Still, I don’t move, looking at him for a response. He manages to tear his gaze away from those boys and give me that boyish I-don’t-give-a-shit smirk that he had given me just yesterday. I swallow.
He opens the back doors, giving Tara-Lee a look I can’t fathom. She looks at the guys, then at him, before sighing and reluctantly slipping into the backseat. He then quickly comes around and opens the passenger seat doors for me and I get in, because Tara-Lee had. When I look at him, I almost immediately look away, because that smile’s still on his face as he restarts his engine and finally replies to Tara-Lee’s question.
“’Cause I’m gonna take you two for a joyride.”