Chapter Thre- One Heck of a Swing
I should have been wondering a) how I could convince Kyle, b) if he told everybody that I was a perverted stalker in his bathroom, thus ruining my whole life and possibly getting me expelled to live a life of shame, and c) how I could get another chance for my career as a fairy godmother.
But by the next morning, the only thing I was worried about was how I could walk up to Kyle, magazine in hand, and how I could give it back to him. Hi, Kyle! Thanks for letting me disappear with your magazine! Okay, buh-bye!
Yeah. That would totally work.
I rested my head on the table. I was at the library, trying to catch up on some reading and trying to write two out of the seven papers I had to write for different subjects. This was why I hated leaving in the middle of a semester. I always ended up in the library on Sundays. To make my mood worse, it was a really good Sunday. Like those Sundays with the chirping birds, clear weather, great atmosphere for a walk or a stroll or anything.
And here I was, unfortunately.
Yawning, I forced myself to straighten and took a book from the pile I was supposed to read. With the less-than-normal circumstances that happened to me last night, I was sleep-deprived, and was therefore at the risk of entering dreamland any second. I opened the book on a page, deciding to finally read.
I did not understand anything, much less keep my eyes open for most of the time.
This was what sleep-deprived me did.
And if my mood wasn’t already bad, I still had to think of Kyle’s magazine.
“Hey, Remy.”
I looked up, just to see Wes taking the seat across mine. “Uhh, hi,” I replied while innocently looking over his shoulder to check whether or not he brought one of the many things that could make my mood even fouler. “Where’s Jesse?”
He shrugged. “It’s a Sunday, why would she be in a library?”
I didn’t think that she would be in the library on Mondays, either. Or on any other day of the week, as a matter of fact. She really wasn’t the type. But sometimes, when your male best friend was dating that kind of vapid girl, you just had to learn when to shut your mouth, even when you so wanted to talk.
“Why are you?” I mentioned.
“Well...” He sat back on his chair, clearly relaxed. “I heard you were going to catch up on some schoolwork. You might need help.” He winked.
I found myself rolling my eyes at him. “Really,” I said, my voice flat.
“Kidding,” he said. “But I maybe I just missed you.”
I looked at him blankly. To me, it was a statement that could send my heart skyrocketing its way to the moon.
“Well, you know. You weren’t here for two weeks,” he hurriedly added.
“Of course.” I forced a smile out. Okay. So much for my heart on its vacation to the moon.
“Hey. Are you okay?” He was peering at me, his dark brown hair falling across his forehead and making his green eyes seem even more mesmerizing. “You look a little out of it.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, as if that could totally shake off my problems as well. “I—I’m still having some jetlag.”
“How ‘bout I treat you some coffee then?” The accent was there again.
I bit my lower lip and said, “Uhh, I’d love—”
His phone rang (that was strictly prohibited in the library, by the way) and he answered it, “Hey, Jesse.”
“—to,” I finished, but I doubted he could hear me, nor could he remember that I was sitting across him.
When he finished the phone call, he looked back at me. “So, what do you say? Coffee?”
I stood up and grabbed all the books after slinging my bag on my shoulder. “Actually, no.”
He looked surprised. “What?” He straightened himself up. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Never better,” I replied, and even to me, I sounded bitter. And I ended up storming out of the library, seven hardbound books in hand. Sleep-deprived, best friend-snatched, wand-less pathetic me. Just something to make my mood even worse.
And, well, maybe it was just my unlucky day, because I somehow found myself bumping into somebody. Any theories as to who my lucky somebody is? Surprise, surprise. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the books stashed in my hands were suddenly teaming up with gravity to fall on my toes.
“Ow!” I exclaimed as I jumped up and down on one leg, my two hands clutching my other foot. I didn’t even want to know what happened to my toes with three books falling on them.
Were French people and heavy, hardbound books collaborating for a world-breaking plan to have my toes amputated?
“Sorry,” Kyle apologized, picking up my books.
“No, no! Don’t,” I said. “I can pick those up. Leave!”
Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, PLEASE.
It was ironic how I spent two years at Mackenzie wishing he would recognize me, and here I was, wishing the exact opposite.
Despite my pleas for him to leave, he still picked all the seven books up as I uselessly jumped in pain. But when he finally looked up and realized who I was, he looked really surprised. “Hey, aren’t you—”
“Oh, God,” I muttered to myself.
“Ahhhh. So this is another of your plan?” He arched an eyebrow. It was really unfair how some people can look so arrogant yet perfectly gorgeous at the same time. If I was made president, I would definitely pass a law to make that illegal. No one should be allowed to say something rude while rendering somebody speechless with his gorgeousness.
“What?” I asked him, recovering from my momentary trance.
“Bump into Kyle Hughes, make it seem like an accident.” He gave me a duh look. Seriously, what was this guy thinking? I was starting to consider the theory that he might have watched more chick flicks than I had. “What? You think those moves, including that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, would actually give you a happily ever after with me?”
“Excuse me?” Appalled, I took a really deep breath and tried not to scream my lungs out. “I’m afraid you are very wrong. It was more like dash out of the freaking library with seven freaking books to go get some coffee, bump into Kyle Hughes, and try to escape before he recognizes me sort of move,” I told him, “and for your information, I think I know more about happily ever afters than you do.”
He fake-slapped his hand on his forehead, as if remembering something. “Oh, right. That fairy godmother thing.”
I inhaled sharply. “If you just listen to me, you’d understand.”
I didn’t expect his face to go slack. Almost tired. “Understand what, really?”
I looked around the empty hallway. It was still a hallway, and anyone could walk in on us, so I said, “Can we talk elsewhere?” I looked around even more, to check if there were other students, but then my eyes caught something dark for a split-second. I squinted to find the shadow-like thing again, but then decided it was my sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on me. “I think I really ought to get some coffee.”
“Oh. I get it,” he said. “You just want to have some time with me, so you’re dragging me to have some coffee?”
“You’re impossible,” I said. “What are you saying? Do I really strike you as the type?”
Contemplating this for a moment, I almost squirmed away, seeing as by doing so, he had to stare intently at me.
“Considering that you were in my bathroom while I was taking a shower, yes, you do strike me as the type.”
I rubbed my hands on my face. “You know what? I’ll just get some sleep.” I shook my head, took my books from him, and started to go. “Oh, and will you please think about it? How did I disappear last night? Into thin air?” I asked him.
He looked serious. “Well...”
I turned away and started to walk, but then I felt something grab my ankle. Off-balance, I was pretty sure my head would hit the floor any second then. But by some miracle, Kyle Hughes caught me by the waist.
“Why in the world do you always fall?” he asked me, his lips dangerously close to my ears. “Or is it just when you’re with me?”
My eyes wide, I kept my eyes trained on the wall, where I was pretty sure I saw the shadow-like thing earlier.
And I was also pretty sure that whatever grabbed me was somehow connected to that shadow.
He let go of my waist. “Look. Okay. That was some weird stuff you pulled off last night. How did you... vanish?”
“Really, I prefer the term poof,” I told him.
He sighed. “Ha. Funny. I really don’t have time for you, so, yeah, I’m leaving. And please, try not to fall. Again.”
“Listen.” I stepped in front of him. “I really am your fairy godmother.”
“Again with this stuff,” he said. “For all I know, you’re just this perverted little stalker who insists on saying that you’re my fairy godmother. Perhaps I should call Headmaster Mackenzie and tell him you should be staying in a mental hospital, not here?”
“But—”
“This is not the place for mentally-deranged girls, or perverted stalkers,” he said. “I suggest you stop bugging me.”
“Really? Well, what if I tell Headmaster Mackenzie about that magazine? You see, I heard that was strictly prohibited. And, well, let’s just say that I know where you and your roommate hide the rest of the stash,” I lied for good measure, and it turned out that I wasn’t pretty far off the truth.
He flushed. “Oh, really? Then should I tell him that you happen to be in the male’s dormitory? Late at night? In the bathroom?”
I refused to look away from his gaze, knowing that would mean I pretty much lost. So I held his blue eyes.
“Fine. We’ll both be expelled, then,” I said.
Now it looked like I struck a nerve.
“You don’t want that,” I told him.
His jaw stiffened.
“So, just please,” I said. “In two weeks time, I’ll prove it to you. But for the meantime, I would probably be following you anywhere you go until you’re completely convinced.”
“Two weeks,” he repeated. “That’s incredulous.”
“Two weeks.” I looked at him. “That’s all I'm asking for.”
He shook his head, sighed, as if he had no choice. As a matter of fact, that was exactly the point. “Okay.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll go along with your stupid stalker-like ways and traps to get me to like you, but get this: I still hate girls like you.”
He walked out.
Thirty seconds later, I found myself still standing there, biting my lower lip, and trying not to let that little heartbreak make me cry. I was a fairy godmother, yes. But I was a girl too, and of course, hearing my crush say he hates me was still one heck of a swing.