A/N: Hi again! Here's the next chapter of this fic. I hope anyone reading this likes reading the development of teenaged Maltara as much as I'm enjoying writing it. A huge thanks to Christie (The Beautiful Filth) for actually reading this and leaving a very sweet review! There's a bit of innocent Maltara fluff in this chapter. I love writing their characters when they're younger and awkward and just trying to get to know each other. Enjoy! (:
A few days following the after-school incident, Bethany and I make our way to the physics classroom. We sit down in our usual spots and continue our conversation while pulling out our notes, preparing ourselves for the next forty-five minutes. I hear Mal sit down in his usual spot, too, and I turn and flash him a quick smile—which he returns—before turning around and continuing the conversation with Bethany. The teacher had not arrived yet, as she had a rather ironic habit of being a few minutes late to class but still sometimes lectured us about the importance of promptness. As I'm telling Bethany about something funny my sister did the other day, I feel someone walk up near my desk, and I turn just in time to see Drew Bowden reach down, shove my notebook and papers off my desk, and continue walking like nothing happened. He sits down in his desk and gives me a smug look. The notebook slides across the floor as loose papers fly in several different directions, and the pencil I had on my desk clambers against the linoleum and skitters under someone else's desk. "Ya' dropped your papers, nerd," he comments under his breath as he walks away. I scowl up at him before adverting my gaze downward, cheeks flushing hot in embarrassment as I feel the eyes of other students on me and hear some small chuckles from around the room. As I stand up to retrieve my notes, I glance at Bethany. She turns towards Drew, opening her mouth to shoot out an angry response, when a familiar male voice cuts her off.
"Hey, dude, what the hell?" I turn around and, to my surprise, Mal has turned to face Drew's desk. Several other students look at him in shock. "That's not cool, man."
"Oh, and what are you gonna do about it?" Drew spits back with a mocking laugh.
Ignoring the accusatory taunt, Mal replies, "She didn't do anything to you, just leave her alone."
"Ooh, we've got a tough guy here," Drew announces obnoxiously, earning a couple chuckles from his friends. "You wanna be next?"
Mal looks at him and laughs. "Yeah, why not. Have a go at me, see if I care."
"Well, for starters, that sweatshirt looks like something my grandfather would wear, and—"
"You're seriously making fun of my clothes? What are you, a middle school girl?" A few people around us laugh at this, including Bethany and I.
Drew rolls his eyes. "Shut up, dumbass. You're just—"
"Dumbass?" Mal echoes with a smirk. "I wouldn't be talking, mister I-got-a-forty-five-percent-on-my-last-exam." Several people around us "ooooh" at this, and I laugh as well.
"Whatever, man, you're a dick," he mutters with a scowl.
"At least I've got one," Mal replies with a smug look. Drew just rolls his eyes and looks away, muttering something inaudible under his breath. Most of the other students have gotten to class by this time, and the ones who heard the whole exchange are laughing and whispering with their friends about it. Mal then proceeds to stand from his desk and reach down to grab some of my papers. Bethany smiles and joins him, and after I've picked my jaw up off the floor, I do as well.
"Thanks, Mal," I say sincerely as he hands me back my notebook. "Really. I appreciate it."
"Yeah, no problem," Mal replies, returning the smile and looking suddenly a little embarrassed.
Just then, the bell rang and Mal, Bethany, and I scramble back to our seats. For once in her life, Mrs. Roberts is only five seconds late instead of five minutes. Unable to wipe the smile off my face, I tilt my head down so my hair covers most of my features and smile silently to myself.
"Dude, you need to date him," Bethany whispers from beside me. "That was the best thing I've seen all year." I do my best to toss her a scowl, but I can't manage one so I just laugh and roll my eyes, knowing full well that I'm blushing out of my mind.
After class, Bethany makes the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom before her next class. I know she's secretly just trying to get Mal and I alone, but she's gone before I can stop her. On her way out, I notice she taps Mal on the shoulder. He turns around expectantly. "Hey, thanks for helping her out," she says, clearly referencing me. "That was cool."
"Sure thing," he replies with a slightly sheepish smile.
I pack my things up quickly and walk over to him as he finishes putting his notebook away. He glances up and smiles—once again, almost sheepishly—and he becomes visibly nervous as he quickly runs a hand through his hair. "Thanks again," I smile.
"It was no problem," Mal returns.
"No, really, I... That was really sweet. I never could've stood up for myself there, so thank you for that."
He looks at me in the eyes for a moment before flashing me a genuine-looking smile. "You're welcome. That guy's such a douche."
"Yeah, a bit," I chuckle as we begin to walk towards my locker. "He's been giving me crap all year."
Mal shakes his head. "I'll never understand why people do stuff like that." We stop walking when we reach my locker, and I briefly turn to twist in my combination.
I shrug. "I don't know. I guess I've just always thought there was something wrong with me, and that's why people choose to pick on me." The moment I say that sentence, I regret it and I feel myself heat up. I absolutely hate sharing personal details—especially about my feelings—with anyone other than Bethany (and sometimes I talk to my little sister—not like she actually understands, but still), so I have no idea what possessed me to say that. But I really wish I would not have. I glance up at him nervously and quickly look down, suddenly feeling really shy and awkward.
Mal stares at me for a few moments, and I look away, suddenly uncomfortable. "It's not you," he replies. "Drew and whoever else are just assholes. You're, uh... There's nothing wrong with you."
I look up at him and meet his gaze. Why is he being so nice? He really doesn't know me that well, nor does he really owe me anything. I don't mind the tutoring at all. But maybe he just said all of that because he felt like he somehow owes me something in return for me helping him with physics. "You don't just have to say that just to be nice," I reply, glancing up for a moment before letting my gaze rest towards my locker again. I don't need anything in there, but I feel incredibly uncomfortable right now and the contents of the locker is something to keep myself physically busy. "You don't owe me anything, I honestly don't mind helping you with physics. It's not like I have anything better to do."
"I didn't say what I did because I felt obligated," he answers after a moment's pause, leaning his weight against the locker beside mine.
"Then why did you?" I question, genuinely curious. If he didn't do it because he felt like he had to, why would he bother standing up for someone he didn't even know that well? From what I've seen he has plenty of friends, so it's not like he was so desperate for another one that he was trying to win the friendship of some nerdy freshman with, like, two friends.
"I, uh... I dunno, I just think you're really cool, and uh... You're like, super nice and don't deserve people being so rude to you." He clears his throat awkwardly and looks around, avoiding my perplexed gaze. Cool? He really thinks I'm cool? He's probably one of the first people ever to think that about me. My heart is beating faster than normal, I can feel my face getting warm again, and I laugh nervously because I'm not sure how else to respond.
"Really?" I ask before I can stop myself. He just nods and looks at me uneasily as if he's afraid of how I'll respond. I smile shyly. "Well, uh, thank you. That's... I think you're cool, too," I add, still smiling up at him.
He smiles as well, looking slightly less uncomfortable. "Thanks."
I turn in the direction I need to go and, surprisingly enough, he follows. We walk in silence for a few moments, and then, in an attempt at conversation, I ask, "How's your mom doing?" He immediately stiffens at this, and I immediately regret the question. "Oh, uh, but if you don't wanna tell me or talk about it, it's totally okay. Just, uh, making conversation. Sorry."
He relaxes slightly and sighs. "Nah, it's okay," he shrugs, "no need to apologize. I just... It's kind of tough to talk about sometimes. But it's okay, I don't mind right now."
"Really," I repeat, "if you don't feel comfortable talking about it, you don't have to. I was just making conversation, I don't wanna make you feel weird."
He shakes his head. "No, it's okay. It's nice of you to ask, actually... A lot of people just don't know how to bring it up or what to say, so they just avoid the topic. I know they mean well, of course, and I'd honestly probably do the same thing if roles were reversed. But I guess it's just nice that someone asks once in a while." I smile at him and he returns the gesture. "But uh... She's not doing that great, to be honest." We stop walking once we reach the gym, and we both lean against the wall right outside of it. "She's had a few emergency surgeries recently which went relatively fine, but her body's already super weak from all the chemo and other treatments, and uh... The doctors aren't sure how much more she can take." His voice breaks slightly on the last couple words, and he quickly clears his throat and looks away.
A pang of sympathy and sadness stab me and I look at him sadly. "I'm really sorry," is all I can think to say. I reach up to touch his arm in comfort, but as I pull it up, my hand grazes his hand and we both simultaneously look at each other. I glance down and realize my hand is resting lightly on his wrist, and before I can pull it away, he turns his arm around and gently takes my hand. We stare at each other for a few moments and I say nothing because I have no idea what I would even say. I look down again at our linked hands and gently give his a squeeze. His lips form into a small, shy smile, and I return it.
"Thanks," he murmurs simply, voice quiet and eyes still trained on mine.
Just then, the bell rings, and I jump slightly. "Crap," I mutter, glancing into the gym and then back up at him. We both pull back our hands simultaneously.
"You should go," he says, glancing at the small group of students already leaving the locker room, changed and ready to go. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you late.
"It's okay," I answer, cheeks still flushed. "It's just gym, anyways." He laughs lightly.
"Would you, uh... Help me out with physics again sometime before the mid-term next week?"
"Yeah, of course," I reply with a broad smile.
"Thanks," says back with a small grin. "I'll, uh, talk to you later then. Don't go too hard in there," he adds jokingly, gesturing towards the gym as he turns to leave.
I laugh. "I'll try not to. See ya' later, Mal."