Chapter 3:
Coach was in the front of class, blabbering on about something I was not paying attention to. I was doing something more important. Trying to get ideas on why the ding-dong shouldn't be my new partner. I listed them on my hand. After class, I would go over to him and talk to Coach.
But I also kept thinking about Fang's birthmark. Its location is eerie. And again, the incident by my window at night…I don't think Fang was spying on me…right? But it also wasn't a coincidence for someone to be spying on me after I met him.
At the thought of Fang spying on me, I opened my backpack compartment and got two pills from a bottle and swallowed them whole. They got caught in my throat for a moment but after I coughed they went down.
I noticed Fang had his eyebrows raised, out of the corner of my eye. I considered explaining that I was anemic and had to take iron a few times a day, especially when I was under stress, but I thought better. The anemia wasn't life threatening…as long as I took regular doses of iron. I wasn't paranoid to the point that I thought Fang meant me harm, but somehow, my medical condition was a vulnerability that felt better kept secret.
"Ride?" asked Coach. I raised my eyebrows in question. What now?
"What qualities are you attracted to in a potential mate?" Oh god…
I laughed in response and snorted. Coach frowned. I looked over at Fang, who was eased back in his seat, one notch above a slouch, studying me with satisfaction. He flashed his pirate smile and mouthed, We're waiting. I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled.
"I don't attract myself to any qualities in a potential mate. Let's just say…I hate guys," I said, with a shrug. I heard Nudge laugh behind me. Every guy groaned. Coach rolled his eyes and moved onto Fang.
"Your turn, Fang" said Coach with a sigh. Fang had himself positioned so his body was angled slightly toward mine, our knees mere inches apart.
"Intelligent. Attractive. Strong."
Coach raised his eyebrows in question. "Strong? That's a first…how?"
"Sir? This isn't even in the text. I didn't know this has anything to do with the unit," said Nudge.
Coach sighed again. "Since the dawn of time, women have been attracted to mates with strong survival skills—like intelligence and physical prowess—because men with these qualities are more likely to bring home dinner at the end of the day." He stuck his thumbs in the air and grinned. "Dinner equals survival, team."
Ha ha. Not funny. No one laughed.
"Likewise," he continued, "men are attracted to beauty because it indicates health and youth—no point mating with a sickly woman who won't be around to raise the children." Coach pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and chuckled.
"That is so sexist," Nudge hissed. "Tell me something that relates to a woman in the twenty first century."
"If you approach reproduction with an eye to science, Miss Monique, you'll see that children are the key to the survival of our species. And the more children you have, the greater your contribution to the gene pool."
I practically heard Nudge's eyes rolling. That's my girl. "I think we're finally getting close to today's topic. Sex."
"Almost," said Coach, holding up a finger. "Before sex comes attraction, but after attraction comes body language. You have to communicate 'I'm interested' to a potential mate, only not in so many words."
"Alright Fang. You're at a party. Imagine you see girls of different shapes and sizes. There's brunettes, redheads, a few with black hair and blondes. Some are talkative but others aren't. You found a girl that suits you-attractive, intelligent and strong. How do you let her know you're interested?" said Coach, scratching his cheek.
"Single her out and talk to her."
"Great! Now for the important question-how do you know if she's game or wants to move on?" Oh boy…
"I study her," Fang said. "I figure out what she's thinking and feeling. She's not going to come right out and tell me, which is why I have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold my eyes, and then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Max is doing right now?"
Laughter rang behind me. And my hands curled into fists.
"She's game," said Fang, bumping my leg. I blushed and kept my anger in check.
"Very good! Very good!" Coach said, his voice charged, smiling broadly at our attentiveness.
"The blood vessels in Max's face are widening and her skin is warming," Fang said. "She knows she's being evaluated. She likes the attention, but she's not sure how to handle it."
"I am not blushing," I hissed at him.
"She's nervous," Fang said. "She's stroking her arm to draw attention away from her face and down to her figure, or maybe her skin. Both are strong selling points."
I nearly choked. He's joking, I told myself. No, he's insane. I had no experience dealing with lunatics, and it showed. I felt like I spent most of our time together staring at Fang, mouth agape. If I had any illusions about keeping up with him, I was going to have to figure out a new approach. Ten…nine…
I placed my hands flat against the table, held my chin high, and tried to look as if I still possessed some dignity. "This is ridiculous." Seven…six…five
Stretching his arm out to his side with exaggerated slyness, Fang hung it on the back of my chair. I had the strange feeling that this was a threat aimed entirely at me, and that he was unaware and uncaring of how the class received it. They laughed, but he didn't seem to hear it, holding my eyes so singly with his own that I almost believed he'd carved a small, private world for us that no one else could reach. I shot up from my chair, hands in fists.
"Sit down, Maximum!" sighed Coach. I sat down at the use of my full name.
Strong, he mouthed. I gritted my teeth and slapped him on the right cheek. Everyone in the class laughed at Fang. I smiled and looked forward ignoring the coach's urge to laugh.
"And there you have it!" Coach said. "Biology in motion," he said, sarcastically.
"Can we please talk about sex now?" whined Nudge. Jeez, in a hurry much? I mouthed at her. She smiled at me.
"Tomorrow. Read chapter seven and be ready for a discussion first thing."
"That's fun. We should do it again another time," said Fang. With coach erasing the whiteboard behind him, I punched Fang in the stomach for what, the third time? I left him there, on the floor, catching his breath.
"I'm thinking of starting a petition to have Coach fired," huffed Nudge. "What was wrong with the class today? Coach practically had you and Fang on your lab table, horizontal, minus your clothes, doing it-" I interrupted her with a death glare.
"Yeesh. Chillax," said Nudge.
"I'm gonna talk to Coach, I'll meet you at your locker in ten minutes."
"Okay."
I strode over to Coach's table, where he was making an outline for the basketball team's positions for the next game. Looks like a tic-tac-toe game.
"Max," said Coach. "What can I do for you?"
"Change the seating chart between me and the numskull," I said, calmly, referring to Fang.
"I would like to tell you, I like the seating chart, almost as much as the outline for the team's positions on Saturday," he said, crossing his arms.
"He's an idiot," I muttered.
"He's an idiot? That's why you want to change seats?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I growled in frustration. I figured I should come clean…
"I don't feel comfortable…" I murmured.
"Ah," he said.
"Look I have a proposition for you…I'll tutor anyone of your students, if you let me sit with Nudge again," I said. Seems fair enough.
"Fang could use a tutor," he said. His lips twitched.
"That defeats in he point," I hissed.
"You didn't notice he was involved in conversation? He's never said a word all year, and then he sits next to you-bam! He starts talking," banging his fist on the table for emphasis. I curled my hands into fists to keep from rolling my eyes.
"So you're going to let Nudge drop?"
"That happens when you don't pay attention," he said, shrugging.
"I'll tutor her instead," I said.
"Nope…and I'm going to be late, so if you can excuse me?" he said, already leaving to walk through the door. But he turned back.
"Let's try the seating chart a few weeks. Oh and I was serious of you tutoring Fang. I'll count you in," he said, with a tight smile. I growled and on my way out I slammed the door behind me. I went over to Nudge's locker, and punched the one next to hers. Surprisingly, my hand didn't hurt.
Later, we went to go see THE SACRIFICE and came out of the movie theater at seven o'clock. Since Nudge forced the two of us into the ezine, we need to watch movies at review them.
"Freakiest movie ever," said Nudge beside me. "I'm never seeing another horror movie again." I smiled at her in response. It was an okay movie if you ask me.
"Can you imagine?" Nudge said. "Living your whole life never having a clue that the only reason you're being kept alive is to be used as a sacrifice?"
We both shuddered.
"And what was up with that altar?" she continued, annoyingly unaware that I would have rather talked about the life cycle of fungi than about the movie. "Why did the bad guy light the stone on fire before tying her down? When I heard her flesh sizzle—"
"Okay!" I practically shouted. "Where to next?" Maybe more than okay…
"And can I just say if a guy ever kisses me like that, I will start dry heaving. Repulsive doesn't begin to describe what was going on with his mouth. That was makeup, right? I mean, nobody actually has a mouth like that in real life—"
"My review is due by midnight," I said, cutting across her. I did not want to hear this.
"Oh. Right. To the library, then?" Nudge unlocked the doors to her 1995 purple Dodge Neon. "You're being awfully touchy, you know."
I slid into the passenger seat. "Blame the movie." Blame the Peeping Tom at my window last night.
"I'm not talking about just tonight. I've noticed," she said with a mischievous curve of her mouth, "that you've been unusually crabby for a good half hour at the end of bio the past two days."
"Also easy. Blame Fang."
"I gotta admit it, Max. His mysterious ways are calling to me," she sighed. Oh god…
But Nudge wasn't the only one who felt that way. A confession? I feel that way too. I felt drawn to Fang in a way I'd never felt drawn to anyone. There was a dark magnetism between us. Around him, I felt lured to the edge of danger. At any moment, it felt like he could push me over the edge. That's why he's always getting beat up by me.
"Ugh! When you say that about him it makes me want to-" I paused, trying to think exactly what my attraction to Fang made me want to do. Something unpleasant, apart from beating his ass.
"Please say he's at least good looking," she begged. "And I'll never say his name again."
I turned up the volume of the radio, trying to ignore everything about Fang for just a moment.
"Well?" pressed Nudge.
"Hmm?" I asked.
"Heh. He could be good looking…if I actually liked boys," I said. Nudge huffed and I laughed, silently.
"He's…sexy," sighed nudge.
"Ohhh. Barf in my mouth," I gagged. Making gagging sounds. She hit my shoulder and I burst laughing. Yeah Fang was handsome but it's something I would never admit.
"You disagree? Or rough isn't your type?" she asked, sarcastically.
"I don't have a type Nudge. For the last time…I hate guys," I said.
"Someday you're going to fall in love and I'm going to say 'I told you so!'"
"Someday," I echoed and snorted. Love is a weakness. And it's not real.
"I'm serious!" said Nudge. I nodded.
"Besides. You should try to date a guy. You could get anyone you want! You're beautiful, smart, a badass, and you talk about sports! What type of guy wouldn't like that?" asked Nudge.
"Not right now Nudge," I sighed.
"Fine!" she gave up.
"But…have you ever imagined kissing him? Have you ever stolen a peek sideways and imagined flinging yourself at Patch and crushing your mouth to his?" asked Nudge.
"Have you?" I muttered. Nudge grinned evilly. More barfing noises.
"He's not good for you…he's a dick," I said.
"Careful, you're making me want him more," said Nudge, fanning herself with one hand. Kill me now…
"Unlock the doors, I'm going to jump out the car. And remember, don't stop moving," I said, pointing outside. We both laughed. We took our place at a table close to the check-out stand. I opened my laptop and gave it two and a half stars. It doesn't matter. Nudge would edit later. Nudge applied some lipstick and smiled at my rating then looked up. Her face turned into a scowl. I looked too and narrowed my eyes.
There. Lissa Martin. The school's whore, slut, bitch, etc. The only sophomore to make varsity cheerleading in the history of Coldwater High, took a seat on the edge of our table. Her red hair was combed into low pigtails, and like always, her skin was concealed under half a bottle of foundation. I was fairly certain I'd guessed the right amount, since there wasn't a trace of her freckles in sight. I hadn't seen any of Marcie's freckles since seventh grade, the same year she discovered Mary Kay. There was three quarters of an inch between the hem of her skirt and the start of her underwear … if she was even wearing any. Apart from that she has green eyes like a cat's.
"Hi Freakshows," chirped Lissa to Nudge and me.
"Hi Bitch," said Nudge.
"Slut," I coughed out. Nudge laughed and Lissa narrowed her eyes at me. I've always hated her and she's always hated me. I always beat her up and it's fun. The only reason she has no bruises is because of her rich family.
"My mom is looking for models this weekend. The pay is nine dollars an hour. I thought you'd be interested," she told Nudge.
Lissa's mom manages the local JCPenney, and on weekends she has Lissa and the rest of the cheerleaders model bikinis in the store's street facing display windows.
"She's having a really hard time finding dark skinned lingerie models," said Marcie. Racist much? Nudge has dark skin but she's very beautiful. And she was born here. So I don't know why Lissa says that stuff. I shot up from my seat and rolled up my sleeves, ready to beat her up.
"Outside. Now!" I hissed. Lissa is afraid of me. I love it when she cringes in fear, like right now. Nudge patted my arm.
"Max, not now. We're busy remember?" said Nudge I nodded and gave Lissa the finger.
"You've got food stuck in your teeth," Vee told Marcie. "In the crack between your two front teeth. Looks like chocolate Ex Lax …"
Marcie licked her teeth and slid off the table. As she sashayed off, Nudge stuck her finger in her mouth and made gagging gestures at Marcie's back. I smiled at her and high-fived her.
"She's lucky we're in the library. She's lucky we weren't in a dark alley," I said. Nudge laughed and agreed. Nudge nudged my elbow. Ha ha get it? Never mind…
"Speaking of dark…" she said, motioning with her head to the checkout line. I stopped typing and my heart skipped a beat. Fang. I hate it when it does that every time I see him. He stood in the checkout line. As if he sensed me, he turned his head sideways. Our eyes locked for a few seconds. I broke away when a slow grin made its way up his face.
My heartbeat turned erratic, and I told myself to pull it together. I was not going down this path. Not with Fang. Not unless I was out of my mind. I hate guys, I reminded myself.
"Let's leave," I muttered to Nudge. I stuffed my stuff into my old messenger bag and dropped a few books.
"Wait a sec…Yup, he's going to get a book called 'How to Be A Stalker,'" said Nudge.
"You're crazy. He's not checking out a book like that," I muttered. More to myself.
"You're right. It's either that or…'How to Radiate Sexy Without Trying,'" sighed Nudge. I groaned loud enough for her to hear.
"He's talking to the librarian. Checking out the book," she told me. I sighed in relief. I figure that if we speed walk towards the door, we could leave before he does. But he could finish any second and we would confront him, having me to say something. I just sat in my chair and pretended to read a book I dropped.
"I think it's creepy he's here at the same time we are," said Nudge, tapping her chin with a finger.
"in fact I think he's…following you!" she squealed.
"I think it's a coincidence," I lied. If I had to make a list of the top ten places I would expect to find Fang on any given night, the public library wouldn't make it. The library wouldn't make the top hundred places. So what was he doing here?
Then I remembered about the silhouette last night and inwardly shuddered. I hadn't told Nudge, since I hoped I would forget. Obviously not.
"Fang!" Nudge stage whispered. "Are you stalking Max?"
I placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from talking more.
"I bet he's following you! Maybe he has a history of it too. I bet he has restraining orders." she squealed again, jumping up and down on her seat. That gave me an idea.
"We should sneak into the front office. It's gonna be on his student file," I said. I saw Fang smiled at the librarian and did a hair flip, making my heart skip a beat. Damn heart.
"Nope! We're not sneaking into the office," scolded Nudge.
"I could create a diversion. I'm good at diversions. No one would see me go in. We could be like spies."
"We are not spies," frowned Nudge.
"Oh, come on. You love a good mystery, and it doesn't get better than this."
"The best mysteries involve a dead body. We don't have a dead body."
I smiled evilly and curled my hands into fists. "Not yet!"
"Max!" gasped Nudge.
"I'm joking," I laughed. But I once tried to sneak in to get some files to see what the principle would do. I got caught. I mentally created plans. Each failing. Then I got two iron pills and swallowed them together.
"You're not going to drive me home?" I asked. I knew the answer already.
"There's fog."
"You're serious?" I cocked an eyebrow.
"And the fog always gets worse near your house," Nudge continued. "It freaks me out after dark."
I grabbed the keys. "Thanks a lot."
"Don't blame me. Tell your mom to move closer. Tell her there's this thing called civilization. You guys should try it sometime."
"I suppose you expect me to pick you up before school tomorrow?"
"Seven thirty would be nice. Breakfast is on me."
"It better be good."
"Be nice to my baby." She patted the Neon's dash.
On the drive home I allowed my thoughts a brief trip to Fang. Nudge was right—something about him was incredibly alluring. And incredibly creepy. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced something about him was … off. The fact that he liked to antagonize me wasn't exactly a news flash, but there was a difference between getting under my skin in class and possibly going as far as following me to the library to accomplish it. Not many people would go to that much trouble … unless they had a very good reason.
Halfway home a pattering rain flushed out the wispy clouds of fog hovering above the road. Dividing my attention between the road and the controls on the steering wheel, I tried to locate the windshield wipers.
The streetlights flickered overhead, and I wondered if a heavier storm was blowing in. This close to the ocean the weather changed constantly, and a rainstorm could quickly escalate into a flash flood. I fed the Neon more gas.
The outside lights flickered again. A cold feeling prickled up the back of my neck, and the hairs on my arms tingled. My sixth sense graduated to high alert. I asked myself if I thought I was being followed.
There were no headlights in the rearview mirror. No cars ahead, either. I was all alone. It wasn't a very comforting thought. I pushed the car to forty- five.
I found the wipers, but even at top speed they couldn't keep up with the hammering rain. The stoplight ahead turned yellow. I rolled to a stop, checked to see that traffic was clear, then pulled into the intersection.
I heard the impact before I registered the dark silhouette skidding across the hood of the car.
I gasped and stomped on the brake. The silhouette thumped into the windshield with a splintering crack.
On impulse, I jerked the steering wheel a hard right. The back end of the Neon fishtailed, sending me spinning across the intersection. The silhouette rolled and disappeared over the edge of the hood.
I was holding my breath, squeezing the steering wheel between white knuckled hands. I lifted my feet off the pedals. The car bucked and stalled out.
He was crouched a few feet away, watching me. He didn't look at all … injured.
He was dressed in total black and blended with the night, making it hard to tell what he looked like. At first I couldn't distinguish any facial features, and then I realized he was wearing a ski mask. My heart began to pound wildly.
He rose to his feet, closing the distance between us. He flattened his palms to the driver's side window.
Our eyes connected through the holes in the mask. A lethal smile seemed to rise in his.
He gave another pound, the glass vibrating between us.
I started the car. I tried to synchronize shoving it into first gear, pushing on the gas pedal, and releasing the clutch. The engine revved, but the car bucked again and died.
I turned the engine over once more, but was distracted by an off key metallic groan. I watched with horror as the door began to bow. He was tearing—it—off.
I rammed the car into first. My shoes slipped over the pedals. The engine roared, the RPM needle on the dash spiking into the red zone.
His fist came through the window in an explosion of glass. His hand fumbled over my shoulder, clamping around my arm. I gave a hoarse cry, stomped the gas pedal, and released the clutch. The Neon screeched into motion. He hung on, gripping my arm, running beside the car several feet before dropping away.
I sped forward with the force of adrenaline. I checked the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn't chasing me, then shoved the mirror to face away. I had to press my lips together to keep from sobbing. I began gasping wildly, and then got some iron pills swallowing them. I ran my hands through my hair, biting my lip hard, until I tasted blood. What the hell just happened?
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