Chapter 8: Coincidence Or Fate?

            “I don’t want people to say that I’m stealing the lead role just because I’m more popular than you.” Brooklynn pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear before staring at me with all the seriousness and grace that comes with the prestige her family brought her up in. “So to make things fair, let’s have a little talent contest to see who really deserves the role of being Prince Charming.”

            I forced a smile at her, but politely declined. “I don’t want to be in your stupid talent show,” I said. “It’s pathetic and I have better things to do with my time. Besides, I already told you I don’t want the role so just drop it.”

            The bell rang, and I quickly grabbed my books before Brooklynn laughed. “What? You scared? You don’t want the role, or you’re scared you won’t get it?”   

            Marriah, being the only one in class who didn’t stay for the drama, passed me on her way out, but still managed to give my hand a quick squeeze before vanishing off. It’s a trap, she was trying to tell me, but her warning barely laid a hand on my competitiveness.  

            “You think I’m scared of some side-street talent like yours?” I snorted. “Fine. Bring it.”

            Brooklynn beamed at me, her smile both venomous and beautiful. “Great! How about today after school then? Three-thirty? At the back of the school near the tennis courts? We’ll each go with a song from a musical of our choice. Majority votes win.”

            I flicked my hair over my shoulder before walking out of class. “Deal.”

            Just like I figured, it didn’t take long before the entire school caught drift of the showdown taking place after school. As far as the teachers and staff were concerned, it was going to be a friendly little contest between two rivalling talents. As far as the rest of the student body were concerned, there was bound to be a catfight.

            They weren’t wrong. Indeed it was going to be a contest between two rivals, and if Brooklynn did have a trick up her sleeve, I had every intention of attacking her on stage – in the friendliest way possible of course.

            Todd didn’t necessarily agree. “You’re going to get creamed.” He fixed his glasses before staring at me as if to see if I had completely lost my mind. “Brooklynn always has something up her sleeve and she’s not stupid enough to give you an opening. Chances are she’s going to position herself as far away from you as possible so you won’t even touch her if something happens.”

            I didn’t say anything since I hate being wrong and Todd couldn’t be more correct in the matter he just pointed out. “I’m heading off to History,” I said instead. “Don’t look for me at lunch because I’m going to look for Marshall. He hasn’t been replying to my text messages at–”

            Todd grabbed my elbow and stood on his tippy toes so he could look at me better. “Promise me you won’t go after school,” he interrupted, and I’m instantly stricken with the fact that he looks like a puppy – one that was sent to the animal shelter after it got beaten up by its previous owners. “I don’t want anything to happen to you Camila.”

            “Maybe,” I said, and then ran off before he could stop me.

            The thing with running away though, was that you can never run very far. If it wasn’t Todd, it was Tyler, and I couldn’t believe my luck that out of all the days he wanted to be early for History, he chose this one. Worse – and call it a really bad coincidence – but every class that I had with Tyler with the exception of homeroom, the seats were assigned alphabetically according to last name, and for whatever the screwed up reason, his seat was always attached to mine.

            “I didn’t... I didn’t follow you.”

            “I didn’t say you did.”

            He nodded and I turned away to face the window as he sat down beside me in the otherwise empty classroom. It was so awkward – with the clock ticking in the background – but knowing that it would be even more awkward if we tried to have a conversation about the weather, we both remained silent.

            “It’s sunny today.”

            Or at least I did. Apparently Tyler felt like talking.

            “I don’t care.”

            “Right. I forgot you like the rain.”

            “I mean it. I really don’t care.”

            Two things happened next, one good, one bad. First, the bell rang and therefore ended my unwanted conversation with Tyler. The second was that our regular History teacher was sick so in his place was an English teacher who had no idea what he was doing. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said bluntly and then handed out a series of worksheets. “But your teacher left these for me and said you can find all the answers inside your textbook. I guess you can work on it during class and whatever you don’t finish here you can finish at home.”

            I clenched my pencil so hard that I felt it crack inside my palm. Great. That’s just wonderful. The one day that I bring the wrong textbook to school, we have to use it in great detail. God was obviously trying to pick a fight with–

            A textbook quietly slide on top of my desk, and stopped my train of thought. A moment after, I heard Tyler’s voice across the room in a small whisper, “Hey Jake, I forgot my textbook. Let me look over yours.”

            “Yeah, sure man. Grab a seat.”

            I stayed still for a really long time after that, but when I finally had the courage to open up the front cover, it wasn’t the messy name of the textbook’s most recent owner, Tyler Lavenchy, that surprised me. Instead, it was the note he slipped inside.

            Today after school, don’t go to Brooklynn’s competition thing. I’m begging you Camila. Just don’t go. They’re planning to throw tomatoes.

            At lunch, I snuck carrot sticks inside the gym and sat in a corner while Marshall practiced with his teammates. It was the first time I saw him play and it honestly wasn’t that impressive. He made a couple of perfect 3-point shots, and his fangirls screamed from the bleachers until my ears bled, but I didn’t see the excitement in it. Exactly 12 minutes before lunch was over, they left for the change room, and I waited patiently outside until the coast was clear. Then I burst inside the change room again.

            This time, there were only a few surprised squeals before they all greeted me like I was one of their own. “Hey. Hey. Hey. If it isn’t Jones!”

            “What up girly? You looking for Marshall? You guys have got to find a better place to meet.”

            I smiled at their friendliness, but hesitantly, since I had no idea why they were being so nice to me all of a sudden. “Uh... Yeah. Where is he?”

            “In the shower again. You always catch him once he’s naked.” A few of them snickered and I raised an eyebrow at them before walking ahead.

            Marshall freaked out the moment he saw me. “Why the hell are you in here again?! I thought we were passed this stage!”

            “You kept ignoring my texts.”

            “Well, I wonder why!” He glared at his friends who carried on with their showers while they smiled at us like we were an old married couple having a fight. “Get out. Come on.” Hastily, he grabbed a towel to the side and wrapped it around his waist before ushering me out the door.

            His teammates on the other side started whistling and cheering the moment they saw us, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at them. “Why are they acting like that?”

            Marshall fingered them, but didn’t answer me until he pushed me out of the change room and into the equipment room to the side. “They think I’m banging you.”

            “Oh really? Well, if it’s anyone doing the banging, it’s me, not you.”

            “What?!”

            I put a hand on my hip. “Well, I’m obviously the one that’s banging you and not the other way around.”

            Marshall cupped his head like he was frustrated before letting out a snicker. “I mean banging as in sleeping around Camila!”

            “Oh... right. I forgot there was that kind of bang.” Marshall’s laugh grew louder until I forced him to shut up with my glare. “Don’t laugh like I’m stupid! I’m just not used to talking like that because... Todd never talks about banging anything and Marriah... The point is! I know what ‘banging’ is, it’s just the first thing that came to mind was–”

            “Violence?”

            “Yeah. Like bang – the sound you get after you hit someone with a frying pan.”

            “Right,” he laughed. “That kind of banging. I’m sure that’s the first thing people think about.”

            I kicked him in the shin before pushing him into a cart of hockey sticks, and it wasn’t until I walked all the way out of the gym before I realized I needed him, and walked all the way back to tug him out of the cart. “See?! This is why I’m not texting you back,” he screamed. “All you ever do is hit me when we’re together!”

            “I can’t help it if you act like a natural punch-bag!”

            Marshall shook his head and tightened the towel around his waist. “Camila, I just... I can’t do this anymore. I’m trying here, but you’re just so hard to deal with. Like, are you seriously going to look for me in the change room every time I don’t text you back?”

            “Yes!”

            “No! You’re not supposed to do that! Guys don’t like pushy girls like that!”

            “I don’t care if you like me or not!” I snapped and then crossed my arms. “All I need is for me to like you, and right now, you’re doing a crap job of it.”

            “I don’t know what to say to you.” He heaved a sigh before changing the topic. “I heard you’re having some singing contest with Brookie after school? Is it true?”

            “What of it? Are you going?”

            “Of course! The whole reason I’m in this violent relationship with you is because you want to be on Broadway right? Well, I should at least be able to see you perform at least once since you’re so snobby about everything.” He backhand waved to me as he left the room. “Your skills better not disappoint.”

            I thought about the note Tyler slipped me in History, and then hurried off to my last class without another thought.

            When the end of the day came, I dropped everything off in my locker before making my way to the back of the building where half the school were already waiting. Brooklynn had already gotten technicians to set up a mic on top of a mini wooden stage she had – who knows how – set up and all she was really waiting for was me. “I’m glad you actually came.”

            I snorted. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

            I quickly glanced around as Brooklynn hopped on stage as the MC and started the show. I couldn’t see Marshall in the crowd, but with the intensity of angry burning in Tyler’s eyes, I could feel him anywhere. I only lifted my head higher when I saw him. He was pissed, I knew that much. He had warned me – begged me – not to come, and I hadn’t listened to a single word on his note.

             I didn’t understand why I should! I had nothing to be ashamed of. So people were planning to launch tomatoes at my face, I wasn’t going to hide in fear because of it. I wasn’t going to run away. I’m my father’s baby, and my mother’s daughter, and I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I’m amazing and no amount of tomatoes thrown at my face was going to convince me I was any less.  

             Up on stage, Brooklynn told me she wanted to start first, and she quickly decided on a piece from Wicked, “As Long As You Are Mine” as a girl from band class played the tune from her keyboard. It was a love song, and more specifically a duet, but Brooklynn doesn’t seem to have a problem with this. If she didn’t have a guy singing Fiyero’s part, then she’ll just sing it herself!

            When it was my turn, Brooklynn and the pianist left the stage, and since I didn’t prepare anything beforehand, it was just me and the mic. I didn’t even have a song prepared, but the moment my eyes met Tyler’s again, the song just came out, and every passing second, it’s like another part of him dies. His face is filled with so much torture that I decided to be honest with myself for once.

            The real reason I wanted to get hit by the tomatoes was because I knew it would hurt Tyler more than it would hurt me. To me, it was just tomatoes. To Tyler, it was like breaking his own fingers – another promise, broken.

            “But every day, I’m learning. All my life, I’ve only been pretending. Without me, his world would go on turning. A world that’s full of happiness that I’ve never known.”

            The tomatoes hit me before I even finish. “Boo!!!!!!! Get off the stage!!!” The boxes some of the students were using as chairs before were now opened and everyone was helping themselves to the overly ripe fruit inside. I felt a couple of eggs hit me too, but I can’t see too well with the chaos flying around, and when I felt something harder hit my head and brushed off what was obviously blood and not tomato juice, I forced myself to finish singing the song. “I love him. I love him. I love him. But only on my own.”

            And when a soft blazer drapes over the back of my head, I looked up to find the most cheerful pair of eyes looking back at me. I didn’t have time to look at the rest of his body, but his left cheek was covered in tomato juice, and an egg had cracked on top of his head, letting the gooey liquid dribble down the front of his blonde hair.

            “You really didn’t disappoint me,” he said, and then gently touched his forehead to mine, standing directly in front of me so that his body shield me from the front and his jacket protected me from the back. “You were amazing on stage today.” And then he smiled this gigantic, cocky grin that couldn’t have been more out of place than a penguin in the Sahara desert.

            “Shut up Marshall,” I murmured, and then closed my eyes so he wouldn’t see the shallow pool of tears inside them. “You’re getting egg yolk all over my hair.”

            “That’s good,” he said. “It’s supposed to make your hair soft.”