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Chapter 5: Fragile Or No Princess?
I clenched my teeth and slid them against each other like nails down a chalkboard. “Ten,” I growled, glaring at Marshall who stood in front of me looking just a little too cocky for my taste. If I didn’t need him, his nose would be half way mashed inside his brain right now, but reality had a weird way of screwing around with me.
He shook his head, casually letting the corner of his lips reveal that he was enjoying this newfound power over me. “Twenty. I won’t do it for any less.”
“Fine, fifteen then!”
“Twenty-five.”
“You’re just going up!”
He shrugged. “That’s why you should have just said yes to twenty.”
I scoffed before crossing my arms and trying to look down at him even though he was at least a head taller than me. I hated that he was an idiot, but even more, an idiot who knew how to count his money. “This is highway robbery,” I grumbled. “How much do you expect me to pay you to seduce me? You’re asking to be paid by the hour here!”
“I want it in cash too,” he added. “So I don’t have to report it in my taxes.”
“I don’t care about your goddamn taxes!”
Marshall’s broad shoulders raised and fell in a nonchalant motion. “Whatever. It’s not like this was my idea. Twenty bucks an hour – that’s the minimal I’ll do it for. The rest is your choice.”
The school bell echoed in the background ushering me to make up my mind before it made the decision for me. “Fine,” I said. “Twenty bucks an hour, but keep in mind that if I’m going to be paying that much, you’re going to be at my beck and call. You’ll show up whenever I want you to show up.”
“Deal. Also, there’s a onetime payment of fifty bucks.” He smirked. “Start up fee.”
I glared at him and he quickly shifted on his legs nervously.
“Um... Administration fee?” He gave me a killer smile.
I raised my fist.
“Um... how about a safety deposit then?” He must have sensed my killing intent then, because his eyes widened suddenly and he waved his palms around as if he hadn’t meant anything he said just now. “Kidding,” he laughed. “Just kidding.” But something tells me five years from now, this guy would be married to a cougar with a ton of money in her bank account. “Here, give me your phone.”
Sighing, I slipped my hand into the pocket of my shorts and pulled out my phone before passing it to him. He quickly typed in a few things before lifting it in the air and making a toothy grin while holding up a victory sign with his free hand. A flash went off and he typed in a couple more things before passing the device back to me. “Text me later so I get your number too.”
I nodded and finally gave him back his pants seeing that we were going to be late for last period if we didn’t hurry. I wanted to throw them up a tree instead, but I bit my lip and held back. He did agree to help me in the end after all, even though he’s been nothing but a douche about it. “We need to meet this weekend,” I added. “You only have about a month to seduce me and I think you’ll need all the time you can get.”
“Sure. Today’s Friday anyway, wanna meet tomorrow then?” He waited for me to give him a nod before adding, “Oh yeah. Let’s make it clear that this is all business okay? When we’re in public at school–”
“Pretend you don’t know me.” I quickly cut him off before meeting his gaze. “No offense Marshall, but I don’t want people to see me walking around with you.” I gave him another look from head to toe before flipping my hair over my shoulder and tilting my chin in the air. “It’s embarrassing.”
Then I left him standing there. In shock. In anguish. Whatever.
Back inside the school, I found Todd being cornered by a couple of wannabe jocks. He was being stuffed into a locker as always, and as cliché as that sounds, it’s because the act of being stuffed in a locker hardly ever happens in real life. Those narrow, cramped metal cages have barely enough space for a few textbooks and a backpack – not mentioning a teenage boy – but Todd, with his small, underdeveloped frame happened to be the only one in school that could fit snugly inside. The jocks know this of course, which is why they always get a kick out of living the media portrayed reality; somewhat like a little girl would to a Disney fairytale.
I just tapped one big guy on the shoulder – one that I could easily toss onto the ground within 2 seconds – and nodded my chin towards him, and then his buddies. “I’m in a good mood today,” I said in monotone. “Scatter. Like the wind. Before it turns into a hurricane.”
Three sets of beady eyes looked me over awkwardly before shifting away, and one even tugged Todd, who was only halfway inside the locker despite his weak defence, so that his feet made it back onto the linoleum flooring before leaving us.
I let out a long huff once they left. “Can’t I leave you alone for one second? How do you handle yourself when we’re not together?”
Todd padded his upper arms with the palm of his hands. “Usually I have a can of hairspray with me, but I ran out today. Didn’t think they’d make an advance the second you turned around.” His eyes dragged to the floor and led mine to where a Ziploc bag of what looked like once my lunch was lying – flattened, with a nice, little Adidas logo over the bread. “Sorry. Looks like your sandwich didn’t quite make it.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Todd clenched his fist and grinded his teeth. I knew he was angry – not at the people who picked on him, but more at himself, for being so helpless like a canary with its wings plucked. “One day,” he said, to no one in particular, “one day, I’ll be stronger and then they won’t touch me.”
I didn’t say anything, but felt a trail of insects crawling down my spine. Todd didn’t know of course, but his words eerily reminded me of someone else.
Saturday came at 6 in the morning for me. It was a personal rule. I never sleep in on the weekends, but rather, wake up earlier. I spend the first hour on daily hygiene and breakfast, and then stretching. Sometimes, I fit in a bit of meditation, add in a bit of yoga, but today I spend extra time on it. If Marshall was going to come around noon, I was going to need the inner peace of Buddha if I didn’t want my dad to find me at the city jail when he comes home after work.
After an hour on the treadmill, an hour on morning vocal rehearsal, an hour of ballet, and a short lecture from my dad to take things one at a time as he left for work, I settled down to read over my newest script for my upcoming performance at the community theatre as I waited for Marshall’s arranged arrival.
Five minute passed 12, and I was pissed. Tempted to call him, I dug my nails into my leather couch to stop myself. It was only five minutes – not mentioning he’s never been to my house so he probably had a bit of trouble finding it – but at the same time I was anxious beyond imagination. I had reserved one hour for him – exactly one hour. I even told him not to be late. If he took any longer he was going to mess up my schedule for the rest of the day, and I had lots to do – so much that 24 hours a day was not enough.
As if Marshall could feel my telepathic killing intentions, the doorbell rang less than 20 seconds later and I rushed to the door, wanting to feel the flesh of his neck locked inside both my hands.
Surprise. Then gut-wrenching ache. Not blonde hair, but black – like all the stars in the sky were shot down by the devil – and eyes that cut, like shattered green-stained glass. Beautiful. But look, only look, don’t touch.
“Mila.”
I slammed the door shut, but to my dismay, it didn’t completely close, leaving a 3 centimetre crack between the door and the frame. I forced more strength into it, but the door refused to budge. It didn’t give into either direction and stayed in the same spot, our bodies pressed up against either side of the door. My strength against his.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said.
“I only came to do the Psychology project. Nothing more.”
“And I told you, you didn’t need to. I’ll just–”
“I said I’d come,” he interrupted. “So I came. Let me in.”
I felt a bit of weight lift from the door, not enough for me to close the door entirely still, but enough for me to slowly back off from the door without his strength toppling me.
I did just that, and when the door opened completely, raised my gaze to meet Tyler’s. “I’m expecting company,” I told him, and then simultaneously felt the vibration inside the pocket of my shorts.
His eyes regarded me with an emotionless gaze when I brought my phone out and opened up my new text. “Cancel it,” he murmured, and then shifted the strap of his backpack that he had hanging off one shoulder before trailing his gaze up the stairs. “I’ll meet you up in your room.”
I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his footsteps until it completely disappeared before reading Marshall’s new text message.
Marshall: Can’t make it. Call you later.
I stared at it, stunned. There was no apology. No explanation. Not even a freaking excuse. Taking a deep breath, I cursed him. And then his kids. And then his kid’s kids. And then his kid’s kid’s kid’s kids. Why did he have the ability to make me regret every single thing that I do?
Now I was stuck with Tyler – all because I thought it had been Marshall.
If Marshall hadn’t been planning to come by today, I’d be downstairs in the basement, locked up in my practice room, dancing hip hop with the music pumped high, and Tyler would have never been able to set foot into my house.
This was why I hated guys. This was why I hated people in general.
I took a careful look around the house. Nothing. Silence. My dad wouldn’t return home from work for another few hours and both the houses beside mine were empty. The one on the left had just gone up for sale 2 weeks ago, and the family on the right had left yesterday afternoon for a weekend out of town. They had even taken their dog. I can’t even hear its annoying afternoon fits, and the thought of missing the barks and howls of that stupid mutt disturbed me.
It’s just Tyler and me inside this house now. It’s just Tyler and me for some radius around. For a moment, the thought of screaming came to me – not because of fear, but because of utter curiosity. If I screamed right now, would anyone hear me? Would anyone come for me? Maybe just to check if I’m okay?
I snorted – the sound of my bitter laughter quickly interrupted by my stomps up the stairs. Nobody would come. Even if I scream at the top of my lungs, even if Tyler was right here, even if I was standing right in front of him, he wouldn’t hear me. And even worse, I was scared that he would, that he would and pretend not to. Just like last time.