Chapter 13: Naive Or Stupid?

            There used to be a time when people used to think Tyler and I were connected at the head. He was the quiet one, the level-headed and the reasonable one, and I was the bossy one, the fearless, uncontrollable one – the one who always tried to get him into trouble. I don’t know how it worked, but it just did, and there were rarely any days you would find one of us without the other.

            Things were a lot easier back then and everyone you played with on the playground for more than a second was your friend, but even then, when friends were so replaceable and easy to come by, Tyler and I knew how important we were to each other. We planned everything together, from the jobs we’d have – I was going to become a famous Broadway actress and Tyler was going to become a famous ice cream truck driver – to the type of houses we’d live in, but thinking back, not once did we say we’ll always stay in each other’s life. Back then, it must have been unsaid – something that was so obvious that we didn’t need to plan it – but sometimes, I wonder if it was because of our lack of arrangement that made everything fall apart in the end.

            It’s been years since then and I’m sure Tyler has gotten used to the empty space beside him where I should be, the way I’ve gotten used to his, but it amused me to see that after all this time some things never seem to change. Back then, Tyler used to follow me around everywhere I went, telling me everything was a bad idea, begging me not to do things that the adults would get mad at us for, and me, still doing them.

            Almost as soon as I stepped out of Wal-Mart, that pestering, annoying side of him came out in the form of a text message.

            Tyler: Don’t do anything stupid Mila!

          Tyler: He doesn’t even have protection now!

            And whose fault is that I wonder? I let my eyebrows crease sullenly on my face before letting my gaze rest on Marshall pushing the grocery cart down the parking lot toward my car, and for the first time, I pitied him. Poor Marshall. He was going to get some poor unsuspecting drunk girl pregnant this weekend all because Tyler refused to sell him a box of condoms.

            “Hm?” He turned around and looked at me just as the thought crossed my mind. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

            “Just wondering what you’re going to do now that you don’t have your jumbo pack.”

            He laughed and slowed down so that I could catch up to him. “That’s odd – for someone like you to worry about my sexual needs.”

            “Not worry. Just curious.”

            “Well it’s nothing to fuss over. I mean, if I really, really, really wanted to get it on, nothing is going to stop me.” He smirked at me and then slipped some car keys into the trunk of my car when we stopped in front of it before lifting the cover up. My heart instantly missed a couple of beats and my hands darted to the pocket of my pants, but they were gone – my car keys were gone. But how did he... When did he... “You should hold tightly onto the things you don’t want to lose,” he said. “I’m a natural born thief you know. If you let me get close enough to you, I’ll end up stealing everything.”

            He laughed after, showing me a toothy grin to let me know he was only kidding. “Nah, I’m just pulling your leg. I’m totally harmless.”

            But it was already too late. By then, my brain had already sent numerous brain impulses down my nerves and before it could send another set of instructions to intercept them, my arm already threw a punch at his face.

            We had a rather quiet moment after mainly because the outcome had turned out a bit differently than what we had expected – Marshall bracing himself for the pain to follow, and me, half expecting my fist to be jabbed up somewhere between his eye socket and his brain.

            Marshall’s gaze and mine were locked on tight, his eyes jittery and shifting to and fro as if he was a mental patient on a series of hallucinogenic drugs. “Di- di- did you see that?” His eyes went bigger. “You missed.”

            I frowned and then withdrew my fist. It wasn’t like I meant to punch him anyway – more like a reckless, barbaric reflex I had whenever I heard a guy sprouting a cocky line – but nonetheless, Marshall’s exaggeration on how I missed made me wished I had landed a hard one on him. “Whatever. You got lucky.”

            “Yeah right. I don’t think so.” He gave me a challenging gaze. “Anyone else you ever tried to hit get lucky?”

            Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever missed. “No.” I crossed my arms in front of me and grinded my heel into the pavement. “What are you trying to say?”

            “I’m saying that wasn’t luck. That was skill.” He pointed a finger at his chest. “I’m an athlete Camila. Do you know what basketball players do on court?”

            “They play with their balls.”

            “No,” he snapped. “They dodge things. Well I guess they do a lot of other things to, but the point is they also dodge a lot of players trying to sneak the ball out of their hands. To play well on court, we need quick reflexes.” He smirked. “Just like how I dodged your punch right now. I bet you anything you can’t hit me again.”

            I sighed and then swiped my keys from out of his hands. “Don’t provoke me. Just believe whatever you want to believe.” I was only a second away from getting inside my car when I felt his hands on my waist, pulling me back out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

            “I just want you to punch me in the face,” he screamed.

            “You’re a freaking idiot!”

            “I just want to prove my point!”

            “You don’t have a point! All that’s going to happen is me punching you in the face and you crying right after!”

            “Then all you have to do is punch me,” he retorted, “since you’re so full of yourself.”

            I placed one hand on the side of my head and started rubbing my temple. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually being swept up by this useless idiot’s pointless argument. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it. Prepare yourself.”

            He gave me a smug grin before gesturing with his hand for me to initiate attack. “Come then foxy lady. Give me all you’ve got.”

            All I knew was it must have been a weird display for the people around us since we were doing that in the middle of the parking lot, but the scene only lasted for a split second before it was all over. Marshall was squatted into a little ball after, his body shaking, making weird sounds as I threw the last two things from our shopping cart that he didn’t get a chance to inside my trunk. I couldn’t even tell if he was laughing or crying, but I was pretty sure that black eye he had wasn’t planning to fade any time soon.

            I didn’t even try to comfort him either. I mean, he was a big boy and I’m not his babysitter, but when I came back after I returned the shopping cart, Marshall still looked up at me with a hopeful puppy pout. “Well aren’t you going to apologize?” He murmured.

            I actually burst out laughing. “After you begged me to punch you in the face?” I asked. “I don’t think so.”

            Marshall made an angry face at me, but try as he might, the expression only lasted a second before his lips broke into a smile. “This sucks,” he grumbled, nursing his new wound with a gentle hand. “That was not supposed to happen. I only wanted you to miss and then think to yourself, wow, Marshall’s kinda pretty cool, and sorta really manly, and totally kind of hot.”  

            I laughed because I like how he tells me this, and then quickly stopped my laughter before he had a chance to give me a funny look. “I think Marshall’s kind of a dork,” I said. “And sort of a huge loser.”

            “Whatever,” he said. “I guess that’s a good start.”

            When Marshall and I got back to my house though, I was extremely peeved to find out today wasn’t going to work out like I had planned. Not only was the kitchen already occupied, but occupied by none other than Diana playing housewife in my sanctuary. Her eyes glittered when she saw me stomp in. “Oh Camila, you’re home,” she bubbled.

            “What are you doing here?!”

            “Well your dad’s so busy that he rarely eats a hearty meal at home so I thought–”

            “Well, whatever you thought, it’s unnecessary.” I crossed my arms in front of me. “So go home.”

            Diana frowned at me as she fixed one of her brown curls and slipped it behind her ear. “Camila,” she murmured softly. “I’m not going to come in here and try to be your mother, but you have to understand that your father and I are together now and...” Her gaze must have found Marshall behind me then because she suddenly stopped and narrowed her eyes intuitively. “What happened to your eye Marshall? It looks a lot worse than it did yesterday.”

            “Uh...” Marshall dumped the pack of flour and the shopping bag he carried in on one of the counters before he offered her a shrug. “I... uh... I fell... again.”

            Diana raised one knowing eyebrow at me and I responded by innocently looking away. “Come here,” she said to him. “Let me get you an ice pack for that before you go blind.”

            “You know what Ms. H? It’s totally fine. I’m actually going to peace out because I’m really busy and this is totally awkward and freaking me the hell out.”

            “I don’t care if you’re feeling awkward or not,” she said stubbornly, and then opened up the freezer and took out an ice pack before forcing him to sit down on one of the chairs around the dining table. “As your principal, I’m not sending you home looking like that. Your mother would freak. You know how she is. She must have been worried sick when you came home with a black eye the first time and now you’re going back like this again?”

            Marshall’s eyes widened in surprise before they softened and a fleeting smile brushed across his lips. “Well... she was a bit shocked I guess, but I told her it was nothing to worry about and she trusts me.”

            I watched Diana placed the ice pack gently on his head before Marshall assured her he could do it himself and took it from her. The whole scene was just so stunning to me that I couldn’t even say anything. It was so obvious this entire time, but it never even occurred to me. Not once did I think about it. Why wouldn’t he have a mother waiting for him at home? Just because my mom wasn’t with me anymore doesn’t mean his wasn’t either, and when the thought hit me, I suddenly felt really sick inside.

            All the times that I’ve punched him, kicked him, pushed him into things – his mom must hate me.

            “Just sit still,” Diana ordered him. “I’m going to go call Anthony and tell him to bring something back for your eye.”

            “Who?”

            “Anthony. That’s Camila’s dad. He left to pick something up at the post office just before you guys came back so he should still be in town. I’m just going to give him a ring.”  

            Diana excused herself after that and left us to the welcoming scent of whatever she was making in the oven. Marshall sat silently nursing his wound so I took it to my own to sit down beside him on one of the chairs. “You!” I shouted.

            “Yes ma’am!”

            I threw him a glare before turning away from him, my words a quiet whisper compared to my usual tone of voice. “Whether you deserved it or not... all those times that I’ve beaten you up...” I took a deep breath and focused my eyes on my knees, my voice barely audible. “Sorry.”

            There was a moment of silence after before Marshall responded to my apology with a soft chuckle. “Nah, it’s okay,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sure hitting me is just your special little way of showing me affection.”

            I had to turn and have a really good look at him then, but he was serious. Absolutely serious. “I wonder about you sometimes,” I told him. “I really do.”