I've written this story for over a year. Wow. I truly think this is the main cause of my writing improving. Thank you to all of you faithful readers who have been here for so long!
The last chapter was riddled with thousands of mistakes, mostly cause I'm reading a bunch of present-tense fics and I started forgetting how to write past tense. XD whoops! I'll go fix those eventually.
Btw, to clear some things up. Riesra is pronounced Ree-ESS-rah. Rianild is pronounced REE-ah-nihld. Does that help any?
It was Monday afternoon, and I was in the emergency room again for the second day in a row. What was with these people I live with? They break like twigs all of a sudden!
But I'm getting ahead of myself now.
Monday morning started out utterly normally.
"GET OUT OF THE DAMN BATHROOM ELLA!" I rammed into the door with my hip, but it did nothing except rattle on it's hinges and hurt my hip. Damn. I had a bruise there still from landing on it yesterday during the Downpour game.
This just furthered my bad temper.
"MAKE ME!" Ella yelled back, her voice echoing from those strange acoustics every bathroom seems to have.
"YOU'LL REGRET THAT CHALLENGE, KNAVE!" I threatened, hammering on the door again. This time though, I spared my poor hip and used my fists to pound instead. The wooden barrier still refused to budge.
Damn door. It was almost as stubborn as I was.
"MAX! STOP YELLING AT YOUR SISTER!" Mom joined the argument, somewhat hypocritically screaming up at us from downstairs in the kitchen.
"BUT I NEED TO SHOWER!" I howled back, driving my fist into the door. I succeeded in nothing but turning the side of my hand pink and sending a sharp pain through my wrist. Perfect. Now my hip and my hand hurt. Fan-freaking-tastic.
That's when my sister said those fateful words.
"CALM DOWN, MAX! I'M DOING MY MAKEUP IN HERE!"
Oh dear lord. She was hogging the bathroom for that? No way, not in my book sister dearest.
"NOT FOR LONG YOU AREN'T!"
Then I rammed into the door for the thirtieth time. All I was really doing was desperately attempting to force Ella into opening it through pure annoyance at the disturbance of the door banging every five seconds. This time, however, instead of just rattling loudly on its hinges, the door actually did splinter. A long crack flashed into being where my hip met wood, and as the door cracked further I could clearly see Ella's horrified face through the hole. We stared at each other silently, both shocked that I actually managed to carry out my threats to break down the door.
Well then. I can now officially say I've succeeded in becoming a human battering ram.
"MOM, MAX BROKE THE DOOR!" Ella, ever the squealer, screamed. I scowled at her, but the damage was done.
"SHE DID WHAT?"
I winced at the incredulous anger in Mom's voice. "I PLEAD THE FIFTH!" I yelled back.
Yeah, it was a totally normal morning.
I was grounded for an additional week for breaking the bathroom door, making my punishment for both fighting and breaking the door a grand total of three weeks long. Yippee. Mom was kind of pissed at me for already breaking something in our new house after only about two months, so I figured I was lucky she only grounded me one week extra. Ella and I scarfed down a quick breakfast, grabbed our lunches off the counter, and sprinted out the door.
And I never even got to take my shower, either.
When we arrived at school, there was a large crowd gathered around Nudge, who was seated on a wooden bench. I recognized a couple of Downpour players —Cassie and Jojo—, Terra, JJ, Gazzy, and Fang, but no one else out of the remaining ten lasses and laddies. I always forgot how popular Nudge was— she seemed to be friends with everyone in the ninth grade.
"Dude, you're an idiot," Terra proclaimed, examining the black splint strapped to Nudge's right wrist.
Nudge shrugged. "I prefer to think I have a talent for hurting myself," she replied primly.
"Sucky talent, if you ask me," Garnet remarked. "What did Christie say?"
Nudge grimaced at the mention of her coach. "I haven't told her yet," she admitted. "I'm kind of afraid of her reaction."
"She'll probably just yell at you for a few minutes and then go convince your mom to let you come to practice still," one of the unrecognizable girls commented. "Isn't that what she did when you broke your fingers?"
Nudge shrugged. "Maybe," she replied doubtfully. "My mom was kinda ticked off that I was in a fight and everything. I don't think she'll listen to Christie again."
The girl nodded. "Christie will try anyway," she reminded Nudge. I stared at the girl for a moment, wondering if I had played with her yesterday and somehow manage to forget her already. On closer inspection, I realized she was wearing a Downpour sweatshirt, blue with a white '6' emblazoned on the back.
Fang was the first to notice our approach. He offered Ella a quick half-smile, which she returned, before turning to me. "Hey Max," he greeted me quietly, smiling softly as he reached out and picked up my hand.
I smiled at the easy gesture, squeezing his fingers slightly. "Hi," I replied. "You'll never guess what I did this morning." Ella snorted, rolling her eyes and turning to start a conversation with Terra.
"Broke down the bathroom door?" Fang guessed, a sly little smirk playing on his lips as he observed my gaping expression.
"How did you guess?" I demanded, shocked that he had actually figured it out, and on his first try no less.
"I could hear Ella screaming at you from my house," he informed me, his smirk growing. "It was really funny, actually."
"You could hear Ella screaming from three blocks away," I clarified. Fang nodded, watching my expression change from astonishment to incredulity. "How could you possibly hear that?" I demanded. "That's practically inhuman!"
Fang shrugged. "I dunno. I've always had good hearing," he replied dismissively. "How did you manage to break it anyway?"
I grinned at him, remembering this morning's events. "I was hip-checking the door because Ella was inside doing her makeup and taking forever and I wanted to speed up the process," I explained, "and the next time I hit it it just cracked down the middle. Next thing I know, I'm staring straight through it at Ella."
"Only you, Max," Fang said finally, shaking his head in mock despair. I bumped his shoulder in return, not really trying to hurt him but still wanting to retaliate. We grinned at each other, both aware of my thought process.
It's nice when your best friend/boyfriend can practically read your mind: misunderstanding each other was almost impossible.
"OH MY GOD ARE YOU TWO FINALLY TOGETHER?"
Fang and I jumped simultaneously, dropping each other's hands and springing away until there was no less than four feet between us. I snapped my head towards the sound, my heart pounding with sudden adrenaline at the screeching and my body poised in a fighting position. Were we under attack or something?
A blonde streak slammed into me, squeezing my ribs until I literally couldn't breathe. I gasped in a tiny amount of air, trying to squeak out a protest of some sort. No noise passed my lips.
I think I might prefer being attacked over being Terra-ed.
"HOLY FREAKING PILLSBURY DOUGHBOY, FANG WAS SOOOO JUST HOLDING YOUR HAND ARE YOU GOING OUT NOW HUH HUH HUH?" Terra screamed, swinging me back and forth in her death grip. She didn't seem to care that at least eighteen people had turned to stare at her little display. That was Terra for you.
"Terra," I tried to gasp out.
She didn't appear to hear me. "Did he ask you out? What happened? Oh my gosh, I am so excited I can't wait to see Lissa's reaction this is going to rule!" Terra gushed, wringing me forward and backward in her arms. My head rolled around precariously on my neck, and I swear I felt it crack at least once.
"Terra," I tried again, struggling to break free of her grip. Why had that strength I had yesterday decided to vanish now? Bad timing for a vacation, much?
"This is so cute! I mean, Fang was holding your hand and you were smiling at him and he was actually smiling back! He doesn't smile like that at anyone! It's adorable!" Terra squealed, jumping up and down and consequently jiggling me up and down with her.
Okay, that was it. I was done with the screaming. I gathered up as much strength as my oxygen-deprived body could offer, and with one Herculean effort managed to burst free of Terra's vicelike grip. Sweet freedom!
"Terra, calm down," I ordered, gingerly rubbing my ribs. "Nudge is rubbing off on you. You might want to see a doctor about that." Ignoring Nudge's squeals of protest, I plowed on. The sooner it was over with, the sooner things would go back to normal. "Yes, Fang and I are dating. Calm yourself down already, okay?"
Terra didn't look calm in the vaguest possible meaning of the word. On the contrary, she looked about ready to explode into a song and dance routine worthy of a Glee episode heralding Fang and I and our new relationship.
Frankly, I wouldn't have put it past her at that point.
Thankfully, Gazzy chose this moment to interrupt. "Good job," he informed Fang, clapping him on the back. "See where letting emotion show gets you in life?"
Fang just smiled in response.
"So Veronica and Maya did this to you?" asked the girl in the number six Downpour sweatshirt, pointing at Nudge's splint. Everyone turned back to my crippled friend, and I was exceedingly glad for the change of subject. Thank you, Six. I owe you one.
"Yeah, Maya pushed me over," Nudge replied, anger creasing her forehead for a moment. "Veronica started the whole thing though— she had to play goalie 'cause Chloe took out Jenna," she explained, "So Veronica was mad about that and Maya was mad that Max managed to juke her so badly."
Number Six scowled. "Veronica and Maya are the worst sports I've ever had the misfortune to meet," she announced, looking disgusted. "I'm mad I wasn't there to teach them a lesson."
Nudge laughed, grinning at Six. "It's okay Daph, Max was there to protect me this time," she assured her. "By the way, Max, Ella, this is Daphne," she continued, turning to face Ella and I. "Daph, this is Ella and Max. Daphne plays goalie for Downpour. Ella and Max are both on the Lynxes," Nudge introduced us, waving between the three of us with her good arm as we scrutinized each other.
Daphne was a tall girl, tan with big, expressive hazel eyes and dark brown hair cascading down her back in long glossy sheets. A white scarf adorned her neck despite the warm weather, and she wore skinny jeans and boots besides her Downpour sweatshirt. Altogether, she looked like one of the preppier girls Nudge hung out with, but decent enough.
"You played with Downpour yesterday, right?" Daphne asked finally.
"Yeah," Ella confirmed, smiling at her. "We really like the team."
Daphne smiled, tugging at the fringe on her scarf. "We're pretty awesome, aren't we?" she said jokingly. "I was sick yesterday, and I can still barely breathe 'cause my throat hurts so much." She gestured at her scarf, twirling the end around one finger.
"We missed you in goal, Daph," Jojo remarked. "Annelise did great in goal, but you could have stopped the one goal Flare managed to get in. It was a high shot, and Annelise is like, five inches shorter than you."
Daphne shrugged. "You still managed to pound them," she pointed out reasonably. "Come on Nudge, let's get you to class," she continued, helping Nudge up off the bench she was sitting on. "We have to figure out how to teach you to write left handed before the three page in-class essay in English."
Nudge paled. "Crap that's today?" she asked nervously. "I thought it was next week! I can't write left handed!"
"I'm left handed," Gazzy piped up, grinning at Nudge. "I can teach you. It's not hard."
"It's not hard for you 'cause you're left handed!" Nudge retorted, flipping her hair at him dramatically. "I'm right handed! I can't use my left hand for anything! It's a useless appendage!"
"Well, you better learn to write with it, or it's going to be a long six weeks," Gazzy replied mischievously.
"I hate you," Nudge declared, glaring up at Gazzy.
"You love me," Gazzy corrected with a roguish grin. "You love me so much that where other girls have posters of Taylor Lautner, you have my picture on your walls, Nudge."
"That is a frightening thought. Just go away Gaz," Nudge groaned. Gazzy snickered one more time before disappearing off towards the locker hallway.
"We should all get to class," Cassie decided, standing up and adjusting her grip on her binder. Slowly, the crowd dispersed to their classes, and Fang and I were left standing there by ourselves.
"I need to put my stuff away," I stated, starting towards my locker. Fang shrugged, following along behind me.
He leaned against his own locker as I twiddled the dial on mine, watching while I pulled various binders and books out and stuffed the rest of the junk in my locker. When I had finished with this daily little task, we set off towards homeroom together.
At this point, if someone wanted to portray me as a book character, they should have chosen Lord Voldemort. I was feeling very evil and gleeful as I sat down at the desk Fang and I shared, keeping my eyes glued to the door.
He nudged my shoulder, looking vaguely amused at the no doubt childishly eager expression on my face. "What are you so happy about?" Fang asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I only grinned in reply. "You'll see," I said mysteriously, flicking my hair off my shoulder in a single dramatic movement. Ella always did say I would be a great actress.
Fang just looked at me. "Why did I ask you out again?" he murmured to himself, looking torn between exasperation and the urge to laugh.
"Because I'm amazing?" I suggested. "And beautiful and wonderful and epic at soccer and you would die if I had to move again?"
Fang looked thoughtful for a moment. "Nah," he decided finally, a mischievous little smirk creeping onto his face. "I think it's just 'cause Christie is already married."
My jaw dropped, but before I could yell/threaten to kill him/pull his hair like a second grader in revenge, the announcements crackled on. Simultaneously, none other than Lissa-tissa-bitchissa sauntered into the room. She lazily handed Ms. James a late pass and glided up the aisle between the desks, her eyes riveted solely on Fang.
She completely ignored David in the seat next to her as she gracefully sat down in her chair and turned to face Fang instead. Lissa smiled a predator's smile, twisting a red lock of hair between her perfectly polished fingers. "Hey Fang," she purred, not even casting me a glance. "How was your weekend?"
Fang actually turned in his seat to check my reaction. From the sudden tensing of his arms, I could hypothesize that he expected me to leap across the desk and strangle Lissa where she sat.
Jeez. I'm not that violent.
Instead I smiled, docile as a lamb, and laced my fingers together in my lap. It was no use wasting my energy on these petty sparklers. I was waiting for the real fireworks to begin.
"Umm, good I guess," Fang replied slowly, looking cautiously between Lissa and me. I could tell he was a little confused by my silence, but he hid it well.
"That's great!" Lissa gushed, flashing him a pearly white smile and fluffing her hair with one hand. "Mine was kinda boring… I mean, I'm single and my friends were all busy. What was I supposed to do?" Lissa sighed, a little too dramatically in my humble opinion. She seemed to be stressing the 'single' point in her comment, as if inviting Fang to ask her out then and there.
"Read a book?" Fang suggested, his face completely serious.
Lissa pouted. "Books are boring," she announced pettishly. "I need human contact!" Her hand started inching towards Fang's arm. I watched its progress, feeling dangerously close to breaking my promise to my mom not to get in any more fights for the rest of my life.
Fang's eyes were also locked on Lissa's hand, but he seemed more wary and indifferent than anything. "If you want human contact you should talk to David," Fang informed Lissa blankly. David half turned at the sound of his name, but instantly faced front again upon seeing the deadly look on Lissa's face.
"But Fang," she whined, all anger on her face instantly melting into sugar as she attempted to seduce my boyfriend. "I want contact with you." Her hand reached Fang's arm at last, the sparkling, bright blue nails stroking his skin.
I coughed loudly into my elbow, my gaze boring poisonously into Lissa's head. She finally glanced in my direction, looking annoyed. "Did you say something, Maxi?" she asked, her voice falsley sweet.
At the sound of the nickname, my mind instantly flashed back to Sam. I grimaced at the painful memory, but quickly turned the frown into my own sugary smile. Lissa had only succeeded in egging on my anger at her with using that despicable name. "I just wanted to let you know that I don't appreciate you hitting on my boyfriend right in front of me," I simpered, smiling widely as I waited for her to process this.
And with that simple sentence, the fireworks began.
Lissa's green eyes widened in shock, and she visibly tightened her grip on Fang's arm. "You are so not talking about Fang," she hissed, her voice cutting through the background noise of the announcements like hot steel through butter.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I am so talking about Fang," I hissed back. With one swift movement, I wrenched her hand off of Fang's arm and threw it roughly back towards her.
Lissa glared at me, open mouthed with shock and fury. "You bitch!" she exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards and standing up.
"Lissa! No swearing!" Ms. James reprimanded from the front of the room, her face plain with disapproval.
Lissa paid the teacher no attention, focusing all of her anger on me instead. "You stole him from me!" she accused loudly, her furious voice now high and shrill, clearly audible above the announcements' low drone.
Now it was my turn to push back my chair and stand up. I was only half aware of the dozens of eyes trained in high interest on Lissa and me. Blood was rushing in my ears, and I was starting to get pretty pissed. "Stole him from you?" I demanded, setting my hands on my hips. "You weren't even still dating him when I got here! He doesn't like you anymore!"
Fang sat immobile in his chair, his eyes trained on me and his face in its normal expressionless state. Lissa didn't spare him a glance, leaning forward on our desk and glaring at me viciously. "You slut," she growled, "You pretended to be his friend just so you could hook up with him and take him away from me!"
I snorted at her. "The world doesn't revolve around you, sweetie, and Fang is my best friend," I retorted. "He just happens to also be my boyfriend now."
Low wolf whistles resounded around the room, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Fang fighting to withold a smile at my words. I let my own satisfied grin slide onto my face, raising a challenging eyebrow at Lissa.
Lissa dearest, on the other hand, was not amused. "You bitch!" she screamed again. Then, before I could register the movement, she lunged forward across the desk and slapped me across the face.
"Lissa Rift!" Ms. James cried from the front of the room. No one turned to look at her, all attention riveted on me.
I stood there for a moment, completely stunned. Then I started to feel the stinging on my cheek, and a low buzz of pain filled my ears. I narrowed my eyes at her, trying desperately to stay calm and not murder Lissa in front of a whole room of witnesses.
Then she smiled at me in the most aggravating way possible. "Don't lie to me honey," she told me sweetly. "I can tell you're trying to mess with me."
I stayed silent, balling my hands into fists. Keep calm, keep cal-
"I mean, why would Fang ever date you? You're practically a boy— boy name, boy clothes, and boy looks. You're not pretty, you're obviously a total wannabe, and the only thing you ever seem to do is play soccer," Lissa sneered.
I can keep my cool. Insults don't bother me. Insults will never hurt me.
"And now you're just standing there like an idiot," Lissa jeered. "And it's obvious stupidity runs in the family! I mean, look at your sister!"
Oh, she so did not just insult Ella. That tore it. I didn't care what she said about me, but no one trash talked my little sister and got away with it.
Before I knew what was happening, I had sprang across the desk and grabbed Lissa. She cried out shrilly as I twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her down to smash against the desktop. Lissa was breathing heavily, her hair splayed across her face as she tried to wriggle out of my headlock.
"Don't mess with my sister," I told her, my voice deadly calm. The classroom was silent, even the background noise of the announcements finally gone. "No one insults my sister in front of me. No. One. You hear?"
Lissa whimpered pathetically.
"The only time I'm a bitch is when you try to step on my family, Lissa," I informed her sweetly, tightening my grip on her arms. "And for the record, soccer is a perfectly acceptable pastime, one I'm sure is beyond your capability."
"Lissa Rift and Maximum Ride!" Ms. James yelled, her voice booming and sounding slightly strangled. Everyone jumped except for Fang and I, whirling to look at the teacher, pale faced with anger. "Go to the office! Now! Max, let go of Lissa or you will be suspended!"
I instantly dropped Lissa's arms, backing away as Lissa struggled to right herself. I silently picked up my binder, and with one last look at Fang, walked out of the room.
I could hear Lissa trailing behind me, her heels clicking loudly on the empty tile floors. We didn't speak the entire trip to the office, and I didn't wait for her before going up to the front desk.
The secretary, a lady named Ms. Jean, looked up, narrowing her eyes as she spotted my slapped cheek. "What's the problem?" she asked carefully, looking between me and Lissa, who had just walked up behind me.
"Ms. James sent us here," I said quietly, tightening my grip on my binder. Two fights in two days: my mom was going to kill me.
Ms. Jean's eyes lit with recognition, and she nodded towards a door off to the side. "Go in there," she directed. "Mr. Reynolds will be there shortly to talk with you two."
We obeyed silently, slinking in the door marked "GUIDANCE COUNSELOR".
The room was deserted, so we had plenty of time to scrutinize it. There was a leather rolling chair and a big wooden desk at the back of the room. The desk's surface was surprisingly messy, and littered with piles and piles of papers, a laptop, and what looked suspiciously like half of a Subway sandwich. A bronze name plaque was propped against a jar of pencils, reading out 'RICHARD M. REYNOLDS' in bold black capitals. There were several large gray filing cabinets and a wide, overstuffed bookshelf ringing the perimeter of the room, and a couple framed pictures hung on the walls. Thankfully, there were no crappy motivational posters in sight, which gave me a bit of hope about Mr. Reynolds. Two red cushioned chairs were placed in front of the desk, and I plopped down in one to wait. Out of pure boredom, I glanced towards the big silver clock mounted on the wall, wondering what time it was. The little hand was pointing at the eight and the other pointing at the four.
8:20 AM and I'm already in the guidance counselor's office. I'm such a great kid.
And won't my mother be proud?
"Hello, sorry for the delay! I had to run to the Seven Eleven down the street to pick something up." The voice came from behind us, and both Lissa and I whirled to look at the speaker.
A tall man walked in, grinning at us as he gestured to the box of powdered donuts in his hand. He looked young: there was no gray in his neat brown hair, and the lopsided smile on his face didn't cross paths with any worry lines. "I'm Mr. Reynolds," he introduced himself, walking over and settling himself in the leather rolling chair. "And you two lovely ladies are?"
"Lissa," Lissa muttered defiantly, crossing her arms as she sank into the chair beside me.
"I'm Max," I said shortly, not sparing another glance at the girl next to me. "Why did you go out and buy donuts in the middle of the day? Don't you have to stay here and, I dunno, work?" I sent a questioning look towards Mr. Reynolds and a slightly covetous one towards the donuts.
Mr. Reynolds grinned easily at me. "The donuts are crucial for my work," he explained seriously, no hint of teasing in his voice. "I find that some students are more open when faced with a bribe."
I had to smile back at that. Mr. Reynolds seemed like a smart man. He knew that the way to a teenager's heart was through the stomach. I was about to ask him who he used this method on when dear Lissa interrupted me.
"Can we get on with this?" she cut in, sounding annoyed. "This is a waste of time."
"Well I could just suspend you for fighting instead of hearing you out," Mr. Reynolds offered pleasantly, smiling at Lissa. She glared at him, but fell into a moody silence. "That's what I thought," Mr. Reynolds remarked. "Now what exactly happened here?"
That was a bad move on his part. Lissa and I both started talking at once, the memory of the incident resparking my previous anger.
"She stole my boyfriend," Lissa announced.
"She thinks Fang is her boyfriend, but he doesn't even like her at all," I corrected, glaring at Lissa.
"She's a stealing slut!" Lissa cried.
"She's totally oblivious and stupid!" I snapped back.
"Fang was mine!"
"Well, now he's mine! Deal with it!"
"You're a bitch!"
"Ladies!" Mr. Reynolds interrupted, holding up both hands. "Name calling is not the way to solve this." Lissa and I, in a rare moment of agreement, both rolled our eyes at this kindergarten logic. Mr. Reynolds ignored us and continued. "I'm going to hear out both sides of the story here," he decided, settling back in his leather chair. "Lissa, you first."
Lissa straightened in her own chair, adopting an injured expression as she began her woeful tale. "So I've been dating Fang Rianild for months," she started, "and everything was great with us. Then Max came to school and he broke up with me. Now, just two months later, he's dating her! So I slapped her for being a boyfriend-stealer and Max attacked me. Then Ms. James sent us here." Lissa shrugged, as if she couldn't understand what was wrong with slapping me, or why she was here in the first place.
Mr. Reynolds nodded solemnly, then turned his gaze on me. "Max, your turn," he prompted.
"Fang doesn't like Lissa anymore," I stated, my eyes locked on the counselor's. "They've been over since before I even got here, but Lissa can't seem to understand that. So yeah, I was friends with Fang and we got closer over time, and this weekend he asked me out." I snuck a peek at Lissa, who was fuming silently, her cheeks matching her hair color in redness. "When Lissa found out she called me a bitch, slapped me, and insulted my sister, so I put her in a headlock to get her to lay off. I didn't hurt her at all, and I did not attack her." Lissa snorted, but I ignored her. "Like Lissa said, Ms. James sent us here," I finished, looking steadily back at Mr. Reynolds.
"Okay," Mr. Reynolds said, looking between the two of us. "Judging from both of your stories, I think I need to get Fang himself in here."
I smiled. "That's a great idea," I agreed.
Lissa glowered silently, but made no protest against the action.
Mr. Reynolds stood up and crossed the room to peek out the door. "Hailey, would you mind asking Fang Rianild to the office?" he called out. Ms. Jean replied an affirmative, and moments later the loudspeaker crackled on, calling Fang to the office.
We sat in silence for a moment while Mr. Reynolds returned to his desk and started shuffling some papers around. "Hopefully Fang will be able to help clear up this little misunderstanding," he commented casually, peering at one paper before tossing it in the recycling.
"He will," I assured him. Lissa rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and fixing her hair.
A few minutes later, Mr. Reynolds' door opened again, and none other than Fang slipped inside. He looked cautiously between Lissa, Mr. Reynolds, and I, obviously checking to make sure we weren't about to rip each other's limbs off. "Hello," he said warily, closing the door behind him. Fang kept his hand on the doorknob, possibly for use in a quick get-away if he needed to escape.
Such a mistrusting boy I'm dating.
"Hello Fang," Mr. Reynolds greeted him enthusiastically. "We just wanted to hear your views on a few questions. Is that okay?"
Fang looked suspicious. "Sure," he replied, sounding unconvinced by Mr. Reynolds' light tone.
"So! First off, what are your feelings on Lissa?" Mr. Reynolds asked bluntly.
A startled look broke through Fang's mask, and he glanced sharply at the girl in question. Lissa straightened expectantly, smiling winningly at my boyfriend. "She's… okay," he hedged finally.
Lissa deflated at his lack of enthusiasm. I had to struggle to hide a victorious smirk.
"And what about Max?" Mr. Reynolds prompted.
Fang actually smiled a little bit, but the expression quickly faded into indifference under Mr. Reynolds' and Lissa's scrutinizing gazes. "I'm dating Max," he said simply. "So I think it's pretty obvious I like her just a bit."
"Only a bit? No more cookies for you," I muttered. Fang smirked at me, and I rolled my eyes dramatically at him in return.
Lissa looked angry again- probably about the fact that Fang himself had just stated he was going out with me. "Obviously they're going to make this against me, since he likes her better," she pointed out pettishly to Mr. Reynolds.
The guidance counselor looked unconcerned by this, leaning back in his chair and gazing up at the clock. "Well, you just admitted you know he doesn't like you anymore Lissa, yet you call Max a boyfriend stealing slut," he remarked calmly. "I can't correlate those two facts."
Point for Mr. Reynolds. Score: Reynolds 1, Lissa 0.
"And I think an apology to Max is in order for name calling and insulting her sister," Mr. Reynolds added.
Lissa's jaw dropped. "What?" she demanded.
Reynolds 2, Lissa 0.
"She should be apologizing to me!" Lissa continued, sounding affronted.
"Lissa, I haven't liked you for months," Fang interjected suddenly. "I didn't start dating Max because of you, I started dating her because I like her."
The skin of Lissa's cheeks were turning a nasty shade of red now. She was openly glaring at me now.
I can't imagine why she could possibly be angry with me.
"See, Lissa? I think you just misread the situation here. No big deal," Mr. Reynolds assured her brightly. "Let's apologize and be done with it."
Reynolds/Rianild 3, Lissa -1.
Lissa looked furious now, but she couldn't just disobey a direct order from a staff member. "I'm sorry," she muttered in a sulky voice.
"For?" Mr. Reynolds prompted gently.
"For calling you a bitch and saying Ella's stupid," Lissa snapped, her voice dripping with disgust.
"I accept your apology," I said carefully, trying extremely hard to contain my laughter. I'm pretty sure only a snicker or two escaped, which I considered a pretty magnificent feat on my part.
"Excellent!" Mr. Reynolds said approvingly, completely overlooking the insincerity on both ends of our little apology. "Lissa, Fang, you may go back to class. I want to talk to Max for a moment."
Lissa stood up and brushed past Fang, stalking angrily out the door and slamming it behind her. Fang looked at me for a moment, his head cocked slightly. "See you at lunch?" he asked, ignoring Mr. Reynolds for a moment.
"Definitely," I assured him, flashing him a quick smile. Fang half smiled back, then slipped quietly out the door. I was left staring awkwardly at Mr. Reynolds, who was situated very comfortably in his big leather chair and fiddling with his laptop. "So, what do you need me for?" I asked after a moment, looking at the counselor curiously.
Mr. Reynolds looked up, his brown eyes more serious now. "You're friends with Iggy," he stated. There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his voice— to Mr. Reynolds, this was a fact.
I nodded slowly, wondering how he knew that and why he was bringing it up. What did my fight with Lissa have to do with Iggy? "We're pretty close," I agreed.
"How do you think Iggy feels about being blind?" Mr. Reynolds asked, leaning forward intently. "Just from your point of view," he added. "Not what anyone else has told you."
I frowned slightly, looking away from Mr. Reynolds. I fixed my eyes on his little bronze name plaque instead, mentally tracing the letters as I thought. I was halfway through 'Richard' when I spoke again, keeping my gaze on the plaque. "He deals with it perfectly in everyday life," I said carefully, thinking back to my first day at Cromwell. It had never occurred to me Iggy was blind when no one told me that fact. He walked with such confidence and ease that it was nigh unnoticeable he couldn't even see where he was going. "Iggy has no problem navigating or learning or anything. I think it's more of an internal thing, like he thinks everyone thinks of him as a usesless cripple, even though it's totally the opposite."
Mr. Reynolds nodded thoughtfully. "That's pretty much what I've gathered," he agreed, smiling a little sadly at the box of donuts in front of him. "Iggy has a hard lot to deal with. I heard he was a fantastic goalie when he was younger, and was generally an outstanding athlete. It must be awful to have to sit back while everyone who can see plays his favorite sport."
"Yeah," I agreed softly. I let my eyes linger back on the name plaque for a moment.
Then I remembered why I was here— to be punished for fighting, not to talk about Iggy. "Why are you even asking me this?" I asked, "What do you have to do with Iggy?"
Mr. Reynolds looked slightly surprised. "Didn't Iggy tell you about me?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
I was about to say no, to answer that I couldn't imagine Iggy putting up with a guidance counselor demanding to know his feelings about being blind. Then I stopped and thought for a moment.
The powdered donuts.
Mr. Reynolds knew Iggy and I were friends.
He knew exacly who Fang was, when most of the teachers never caught on to his nickname. I was 99% sure Fang had never personally spoken to the guidance counselor before.
And then my eyes were wrenched back to the name plaque I had been eyeing for the past few minutes. Richard M. Reynolds.
"You're Richie?" I asked bluntly, the words spilling from my mouth as soon as I came to the conclusion.
Mr. Reynolds (or should I say Richie) grimaced slightly. "Iggy insists on calling me that," he admitted.
"Iggy told me I should talk to you about my feelings because I was snapping pencils in history class," I informed him.
Richie actually grinned at this. "Yeah, Iggy let me know about your little anger management problems," he snickered. "I'd be happy to help with that, you know."
School guidance counselors are not supposed to snicker at students!
"I do not have anger management problems," I retorted. "And I don't talk to therapists after one tried to reason with me when my dad ditched us. Bad memories." I rolled my eyes slightly, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned back in my chair.
Richie looked a little more serious now. "Really, Max, if you ever need someone to just listen for a minute, you can come here," Richie offered. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes started twinkling. "I always keep a supply of powdered donuts, too," he added persuasively. "And you can skip history with Iggy to come chill with me!"
"Is that where he always goes?" I demanded. "That's not fair! History sucks without Iggy to bother."
"You can come too sometimes," Richie assured me. "Of course, I'll have to talk to you separately at certain times, but you can hang out in the office and do homework while I'm here with Iggy, and vice versa."
I smirked, raising an eyebrow at Richie. "Aren't you supposed to care that we're ditching class? You're a faculty member, and you're aiding students in skivving off history!" I accused.
Richie shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by my accusation. "I have my reasons, and there are ways to get what I want," he said mysteriously. "Now you should go to class Max. I'll write you a note." Richie reached for a pen, simultaneously scrabbling for a sheet of paper with his other hand. "Class?"
"Science with Mr. Lundom," I answered, standing up and hitching my jeans to sit better on my waist.
Richie scribbled on the paper for a moment, then held it out to me. "Have fun in class," he told me mischievously. "I heard it's pig dissection today!"
I grimaced. "Lovely. See you Richie," I called behind me, heading for the door.
"And Max?"
I turned around, expecting to get another piece of pithy advice. Instead, a small white object came hurtling at my nose.
I grabbed it unthinkingly straight out of the air then paused for a moment to admire my ninja skillage. Richie laughed, probably at the expression on my face, then waved me out. "That's your reward for talking to me," he said with a grin. "Now get out of my office."
"Bye Richie," I replied, grinning back before hurrying out. I took a bite of the powdered donut in my hand, then hurried down the hallway to get my stuff from Ms. James' classroom.
Iggy had some major explaining to do.
I know you people are gonna be mad about me not explaining the whole emergency room deal, but just chill for a week or so, kayp? =P you rock!
Happy Valentine's Day! I wanted to update as a present for you guys. =) I'd make a little Internet heart, but fanfiction would just eat the less-than sign. =(
My little V-Day experience: I opened my trumpet case and there was a little valentine note taped to the inside, along with flower petals scattered all over my case. =) it was adorable.
ONE LAST THING! would you guys prefer long (like my usual 5-8,000 word) chapters and a little longer waits, or shorter (like 2-3,000 word) chapters and quicker updates?
Actually, I personally prefer to write long chapters because it tends to flow better and I feel like it's more well-written. PLEASE LET ME KNOW!
Review please! =D
~TMI~