Chapter 5: Spark of my Heart by Star

Taz's POV

I link hands with Maya as we walk, counting my lucky stars that I'm a girl and people don't look twice at girls holding hands.

Some people do look twice at us, but it's not because we're holding hands. It's the hair. Mine's bright purple and hers is brown with orange streaks. We kinda stand out in a crowd of preppy swots and perky cheerleaders.

I like the way we look. I like the way she looks.

It's a good thing we don't have too many classes together, I get distracted so easily.

"You wanna get a movie out tonight?" I ask. I don't know why we get movies out. We don't agree. I want a nice stalk-and-slash type horror, but if we rent that Maya spends the whole ninety minutes with her hands over her eyes. If we get out one of her favorites—I've seen Back to the Future over a hundred times since we started dating—I'm apt to pull the special effects to pieces.

Either way, we start to fight. Then we start hurling pillows. Then, inevitably, the pillow hits something breakable, and even worse, expensive. Then we have to glue it back together, or hide it, or replace it or something.

And we never get to see the end of the movie.

She grins. "Sure. Isn't it my turn to pick?"

"I'm pretty sure you picked last time." I smile innocently.

"No. Last time you made me watch Halloween H20. Remember, we broke that vase that your Nan sent you."

"We hated that vase. And anyway isn't it a wonderful thing she's in Ireland and will never know?" I say, trying to lead her away from the subject.

"Well, it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't poked me in the ribs at a really scary bit," She responds.

"It's not like we ever had flowers to put in it. I was using it to hold my paintbrushes," I point out, yes, she's taking the bait.

"You're still evil."

"It was too hard to resist," I tell her, giving her my patented 'who me? I'm innocent' face. It could melt hearts of stone.

"Star Wars," she says, not swayed at all.

I sigh loudly. The things I do for love.

The tables outside are crowded as we look around for somewhere to eat our lunch.

I frown at her. "Did the school admit three hundred new students over night?"

"Everyone's trying to make the most of the sun before it gets cold."

"Why bother? Ninety per cent of the student body own sun beds."

Maya points, ignoring my last comment. "Don't you know those two guys over there?"

I follow her gaze and smile. "The Bash Brothers. Portman and Fulton. Yeah, I'm sure they'll let us sit with them."

"I can never remember which is which," She confides as we weave through the crowds.

"Fulton's the one with the bandana," I tell her.

"They both have bandanas, Taz."

I look, she's right. "Oh right. Fulton's the one with longer hair."

"Ok."

"Hi guys!" I say cheerfully. "Can we sit?"

I don't exactly get the reception I was hoping for… or any kind of reception at all. Ok, so I don't know Portman all that well, but Fulton and I keep each other sane during math.

"Don't fall over yourselves to welcome us," I say.

Fulton meets my eyes. "Sorry. Have a seat Taz and… uh…?" He looks at Maya with confusion.

"Maya," She supplies taking a seat. "I'm Taz's roommate."

"Actually, she's my keeper," I correct, trying to get a smile out of them. "She talked the men in white coats to let me out as long as she keeps an eye on me."

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

Maya and I exchange a look. It wasn't my best material, but I would have expected a cursory polite smile.

"You guys ok?" I ask. This is my last ditch attempt at being polite, then I'm going to just talk to Maya. Which is pretty much the only thing I like to do at lunch anyway.

"Fine," they respond simultaneously in the same dull tone.

"Ok." They've obviously got something on their minds. And it's not something they want to share. Fair enough.

I turn my attention back to Maya—actually to be fair, my attention very rarely wanders far from her—and we resume our fight about which movie to rent.

If she mentions a Meg Ryan film I will declare war.