Chapter Seven: Amarillo
Day one of Aisha's new school and it was finally lunch time. Her self-proclaimed tour guide was at her side as they made their way to the cafeteria. He led her through the busy corridors as fellow students went about their business, heading to their regular lunch time spots or rummaging through their lockers, retrieving books for their next subjects. That reminded her...after easing her groaning stomach, she would need to fetch her History and Biology books from her own locker.
Only two more periods till the torture ends, she thought, scowling at her blond company. Oh wait- after that I get to deal with him during the car ride home...and when I actually get home thanks to his freaky mind powers...and then tomorrow...and the day after that...and the day after— She dismissed that thought upon realising how bitter she suddenly felt. Not that she didn't already...
As they approached a particularly busy crowd, A'isha felt a gentle warmth graze her fingertips. A moment later, Marik seized her hand in a firm grip, drawing her close as he weaved them both through the crowd.
She would've ripped her hand from his grasp in an instant, had she not been paranoid that she'd elbow the girl behind her in the face during the process.
And perhaps another part of her was past the point of even caring...at least enough to bother. At this point, it certainly seemed as though her pride had been outweighed by exhaustion; not only from lack of sleep, but because today's events were really beginning to take their toll.
Once they had weaved through the particularly large crowd, a dark chuckle sounded in her mind. "What's wrong, My Dear?" His tone was lined with mock guilt. "Don't tell me you've already succumbed to the inevitable?"
She glared. The inevitable?
"The realisation that you are powerless against me."
A'isha was silent. She didn't even bother to roll her eyes. She refused to find truth in his words, but really…what power did she have over this whole situation? Nothing, she caught herself thinking, before reminding herself that he was listening.
"Aww…" Marik drawled, feigning compassion. "Is this little game just too much for you to handle?"
She realised he still held her hand. What do you think? she shot back, eyes narrowed to slits as she ripped her hand from his grasp.
He only smiled, throwing more fuel onto the fierce fire that burned in her brain. He was a great actor, she had to admit…just strolling along and smiling, while inwardly being a total ass! He seemed to be eyeing her, as though savouring the results of a well-done performance; the result was her unyielding fury, brought forth by his hand.
"Regrettably, Dear A'isha,"he finally continued, eyeing her with laughing eyes,"the fun has barely begun." He chuckled quietly to himself as they entered the cafeteria.
The room was bustling with hungry students, some in the line and others at tables. A group was crowded around something a few metres to the left of the entrance, which A'isha quickly recognised as a vending machine.
Marik barely acknowledged the many greetings sent his way as they zigzagged through the crowds. He perhaps offered a small smile or a curt nod here and there. She was rather relieved that he wasn't paying his classmates much mind. If he was being more open, the greeters might run over to talk to him—well, to them—and talking to desperate girls and big-headed boys didn't exactly sound appealing to her. Finally, they had reached the long line of students queuing up for their lunch and joined the line.
How many times have you said something like 'The fun has barely begun' now? I've lost count.
"You struggle that much at maths?" he countered, clearly stifling a smirk, no doubt amused by how easy she was to bait.
You can read minds, can't you? I'm sure you already have your answer.
A small smirk showed on his lips. "Naturally." His eyes left hers to examine the food that covered the counter. "I must say, all this mind reading has me starved."
A'isha's eyes narrowed on him. That wasn't even remotely funn— Her retort was cut short when a sharp pain stabbed at her side. She winced, her hand gripping her now-aching rib out of instinct. Her attention turned to the one responsible for the pain; a rather stocky girl who was busy shoving her way through the line.
She was at least a head taller than A'isha…and at five foot nine, Ish considered herself to be quite tall for a fully-grown female, so this girl was freakishly tall. She was paper white and garbed in gothic attire, mainly black leather garments with silver spikes. Her face was caked with dark makeup and her hair was black, short and spiky; the tips bearing a faint purple sheen beneath the cafeteria's florescent lights.
A'isha watched as the bulky girl continued to force her way to the front of the line. She despised people that use their power to intimidate and overrule others. She minutely realised that description fit the boy beside her perfectly. His power was his ability to read minds; this girl's was her bulky exterior and tough, bad-girl image. Her eyes burned with rage when a petite girl –probably Amara's age– was too slow to move, and the bulky girl thrust her aside, sending the young girl stumbling through a group of wide-eyed students, before she landed back first against the hard floor. That did it.
"Hey you—!" Ish's words were quickly cut short by a tanned hand upon her lips. Before she could process it, her back was against something solid. She soon realised that something was Marik's body.
"Don't, A'isha!" Any prior arrogance his voice possessed had been whipped away by panic. "Amarillo isn't someone you want to bait—"
Shut up, Marik! A'isha hissed, any exhaustion she'd felt had now vanished into thin air; her mind and body now driven by the desire to teach this girl some manners. With all her strength, she pulled herself from his hold. This cow needs to learn her place!
A'isha sent a death glare Amarillo's way. The girl was now leaving the line with a tray full of food and a satisfied smirk upon her face. "Hey Tamarillo!" she shouted boldly.
Marik's palm met his temple. "It's Amarillo, you fool!" he barked. "A tamarillo is a fruit!"
A'isha's breath caught in her throat. I—I knew that, she lied, fighting back a blush. She had thought the name seemed a little weird. Thankfully Marik had been the only one to hear her error over the many conversations taking place throughout the room.
"Amarillo!" she corrected, pointing a challenging finger the girl's way. She failed to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.
Amarillo had just set her tray upon an empty table. She straightened, spinning on her heel to face the one who dared to address her…and in such a challenging manner.
"You talking to me?" she spat, her voice far deeper than usual for a female. She began to approach A'isha, who still stood near the back of the line. Her steps were slow and deliberate, intending for each step to strike more and more fear into her new potential punching bag. It was working.
The cafeteria had grown deathly silent, aside from a few thrilled whispers and the rushing of lunch staff, the latter no doubt scrambling off in search of help.
"Yes," A'isha replied firmly, eyes boring into Amarillo's steel grey ones. "I am."
"Oh really?" Amarillo was only a few feet from her smaller schoolmate. "And what exactly did you want?" she pressed, eyes narrowing to slits on the slightly shaking girl before her.
"What makes you think you can just barge in here and shove your way to the front of the line?" Her eyes flickered to the petite girl still cowering on the floor, tears staining her cheeks and making the skin glisten beneath the florescent lights. Her eyes met Amarillo's once more. "Why are you more important than anyone else here?" She gestured around the room. "Huh?"
If looks could kill, A'isha would be half way to the nearest morgue by now. "Everyone here is afraid of me," she growled, towering over Ish at barely an arm's length away. "You should follow their lead."
"Afraid of you?" A'isha laughed dryly. "A girl whose name rhymes with a fruit?"
Behind her, Marik narrowly avoided another face-palm. Of all the things A'isha could bait Amarillo about, it had to be the thing that peeved her off the most.
"Name it," Amarillo dared.
"What?"
"Name the fruit."
"Tamarillo."
Amarillo chortled quietly at this…and a moment later that sound had turned into a fit of near-uncontrollable laughter. "Ah…Tamarillo…" she murmured, lightly shouldering A'isha in a manner that could almost pass for playful. "That's a good one."
A'isha was on edge, realising that she knew nothing about Amarillo's approach to these situations. Was this the calm before the storm?
Her answer was quickly answered when, a moment later, a fist hurled her way, heading straight for her face. Her mind went blank, eyes widening in disbelief; but a moment later, relief washed over her, spreading its warmth through her visibly trembling form. A tanned fist had wrapped around Amarillo's pale one.
"M-Marik!" Amarillo stuttered, her face growing paler than A'isha thought possible. "Wh-What are you—"
"Hitting a face as pretty as Dear A'isha's wouldn't be very nice," Marik interrupted, throwing her fist back her way. "Now would it?"
Amarillo sent a dark glare his way, then tried to shove past him towards A'isha, making Ish take a few steps back out of instinct. But Amarillo failed, and was sent stumbling into a nearby table at Marik's hand, sending trays full of food spiraling across the room and onto the floor.
"My meatloaf!" one guy had the gall to cry out. Luckily her rage wasn't set on him.
"How sweet of you, Marik," she spat as she regained her composure. "Protecting your stupid little girlfriend?" She approached him and A'isha once more, the latter now hiding behind Marik, feeling an odd sense of security behind the blond boy…a feeling she refused to consider any further…along with the fact that Marik seemed to be standing almost protectively in front of her, shielding her from the fuming tank ahead that seemed to be stalking them as a lioness stalks its prey.
"Leave her alone, Amarillo."
"This doesn't concern you, Blondie," she growled, now standing before them once more. "So step aside." Despite the girl's strong demeanour, A'isha was near-certain she could detect fear swimming within her grey eyes.
His expression was firm. "I won't let you harm her."
"Step. Aside."
"Need I remind you of the last time you tested me?" A cocky smirk revealed itself when Amarillo's shivering strengthened. "There's a reason it's been six years since you did."
Amarillo's trembling was now painfully obvious, leaving A'isha wondering exactly what occurrence Marik was referring to. The bulky girl was silent as she turned on her heel, a six-year-old memory driving the action. She was met by several hundred pairs of eyes, staring on in utter disbelief. Was Amarillo really backing down? She froze, her hands suddenly curling into fists. No… She wasn't… She spun to face Marik.
"MOVE IT, YOU COCKY LITTLE BASTARD!" she roared, hurling a fist his way. He dodged it, yes… however, not before she had reached her true target.
A'isha's eyes went wide, her heart pounding, twisted by unyielding fear as Amarillo's fist lashed through the air. All too quickly, a splitting pain sliced through her head. A sharp cry left her lips. Everything spun. Her vision blurred. A voice screamed her name…a voice she knew. And before she'd even met the floor, everything faded to black.
A'isha came about slowly. The first thing she felt was the faint, repetitive pounding of her skull. The second was the blanket between her fingers. As sleep's aftereffects faded, she was sourly greeted by a more pronounced pounding skull, waves of pain shooting through her head and making her groan.
"A'isha?" a familiar voice murmured.
"Wghhh…" she mumbled groggily. The word 'what' had made more sense in her head.
"Are you awake?"
She pried her eyes apart, squinting as they adjusted to the blinding light of wherever she was.
"You are." Her vision cleared to find her squinting into a pair of familiar amethyst eyes. "It's about time."
"What?" The word had more clarity than her last attempt. She raised a brow, then wished she hadn't as her headache worsened, the pain originating at a spot on her temple. Her hand reached for the spot out of instinct. Her mood soured as her fingertips ran over a particularly large bump above her left brow. "How did—" She stopped herself, quickly recalling the events of the cafeteria. Th-That tank knocked me out cold! she realised, succumbing to dread and disbelief. Greaaat. Now I'm probably the talk of the school.
"You were saying?" Marik spoke up, arching a brow as he eyed her inquisitively.
A'isha leveled herself into a sitting position upon the bed she occupied, a single bed with two on her left that looked just like it. A door was opposite her bed, while a wooden shelf stood opposite the first bed on her left. Marik occupied a chair on her right, nestled away in the corner of the room. "Oh great. Don't tell me this is the sickbay and that I'm here because that crazy tank flunked out of anger management class?" she barked, fists curling at her sides, her knuckles quickly going white.
"I see your powers of perception weren't hindered by your new friend," he stirred, earning a glare from the girl. "I considered showing you this place on our little tour this morning, but it seems you managed to find it on your own anyway."
"Why do I feel like you've been sitting here in anticipation since I got here, waiting for me to wake up purely so you could say those two remarks and savour the reaction they got?"
He only smirked. Answer enough.
"Typical," she groaned.
"I must say, you're making quite an impression on your teachers and fellow classmates—picking a fight on your first day."
"Greaaat," she drawled, slumping back into her pillow; then wincing as the action riled her headache. She gingerly brushed her hand across her temple, inspecting the blow through sense of touch. Luckily her bangs would hide most of the bump from sight…and concealer would fix most of the discolouration from the bruising. At least, she assumed there was bruising. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "You blocked her." It was a statement more than a question. "How did you know?"
He reclined into his chair with a soft sigh. "Do I really need to remind you, Ish?"
"Don't call me Ish," she growled, eyes narrowing on the teen. Then realisation hit. "You read her mind, didn't you?"
"Again, your powers of perception are remarkable."
A'isha ignored the sarcasm. "You've read her mind before, haven't you?"
Marik straightened at this. "What gives you that idea?"
"I saw fear in her eyes when you interfered," she murmured, eyes dropping to the white bed sheet as she absently toyed with the fabric. "And you asked if you needed to remind her of the last time she'd tested you… You said there was a reason it had been six years since she did." Her eyes left the sheet to meet his. "So what happened six years ago?"
"Nothing that concerns you," he dismissed, flashing a glare that seemed like a defence mechanism more than anything else.
A'isha scowled. She knew pressing for information would be a lost cause. Instead, she continued with the next question that currently racked her brain. "If you won't tell me that, then at least tell me this… How do you read minds?"
A frown etched across Marik's lips as he considered her question. A moment passed and A'isha failed to notice his tanned hand slowly inching towards his backpack, slumped on the floor against one leg of his chair.
Suddenly, an acute beep sounded through a speaker fixed into the wall above him, making them both freeze. A woman's voice blared through the speaker. Her tone was brief and direct; "Marik Ishtar, can you please come to the Administration Office. I repeat, Marik Ishtar, please come to the Administration Office. "
Marik drew his hand to his side, inhaling deeply as he forced an arrogant smirk. "It seems I am required elsewhere." He eased out a sigh of relief as, in one fluid motion, he swept up his bag and slung it over one shoulder. He approached the door coolly; however, A'isha's next words made him freeze, if only for a moment.
"You're avoiding my question."
Marik's eyes narrowed as he turned to face her, his expression twisted into one of mock kindness—his specialty. "I'll check up on you later, Ish," he reassured her with that increasingly annoying sweet smile, "But right now, my presence is required elsewhere."
With that said, Marik left her to stew over both his words and his mock kindness, relieved that the speaker had interrupted them. Had he really been about to expose the item that granted him this power? If she knew how this was all possible, this wouldn't be nearly as fun…not at this stage anyway. No, he'd rather keep her guessing...and fussing over how such a feat was even possible. He did plan to tell her eventually; however, this was only day three of their little game.
Five minutes later found Marik calmly entering the school office for the second time that day; the first had been with A'isha, who had desperately sought out a copy of her timetable. He barely withheld a smirk, recalling the disappointment that had swept across her face when the woman had said the information was nowhere to be found.
His eyes fell upon a young woman behind a large desk. "Mister Ishtar," she addressed, the worry in her tone evident upon her face. "I heard you were in a fight."
As he came to a standstill before her desk, he let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Actually, Miss Dewberry, it was more along the lines of helping out a friend."
The woman smiled. "Now that makes more sense."
He returned the smile. "She's in the sickbay recovering. Amarillo did quite a number on her."
"Oh dear," Miss Dewberry cried as a hand covered her mouth. "Getting into a fight with Amarillo is basically like asking for fifty stitches."
Marik nodded curtly. "I agree," he murmured, his words strewn with mock worry.
"Best wishes to your friend."
"I'll tell her," he lied.
Miss Dewberry nodded, and then spun on her office chair to gesture to a door on her right that read 'Academic Advisor – Mister Vallis' in big, bold letters. "Now then, I believe Mister Vallis wants to see you.
"Very well. Thank you, Miss Dewberry." With those words done and dusted, Marik coolly made his way to Mister Vallis' door, not at all deterred by whatever laid beyond it. If he was in trouble for the scuffle in the cafeteria, it was nothing a little…persuasion…couldn't fix.
Marik stopped at the door, proceeding to knock thrice upon its mahogany surface.
"Come in," a warm voice welcomed.
He complied, reaching for the silver doorknob and easing the door aside. His false smile returned right as the door parted to reveal his tanned face to Mister Vallis, seated behind a desk across the room.
"Ah, Mister Ishtar." The advisor smiled up at him, setting down his piping hot cup of coffee. Steam floated up from the beverage; then faded into nothing as it was greedily absorbed by the atmosphere. "I hadn't expected you so quickly." He gestured to the seat across from him, the desk separating the two objects. "I assumed that with your girlfriend in the sick bay, you would take your time." Marik stifled a smirk at the way he'd addressed A'isha—'your girlfriend'. That rumour was spreading even quicker than he'd first anticipated. He barely resisted a chuckle...Ish was sure to lose it when she found out.
Marik showed a smile in place of a smirk. "I would have stayed longer, but I'm certain that Ish is in great hands, Sir." He threaded his fingers, then set his elbows upon the older man's desk. His chin rested upon his knuckles as he continued, "I doubt my sister would be pleased if I neglected a meeting concerning my education."
Mister Vallis nodded. "Well let's get right down to it then." He reached out for his computer mouse. "Because you have passed our highest Maths class with such respectable marks, you should have that period free." The soft clicks of the mouse met Marik's ears as the man sought out something on the computer. Marik couldn't see the screen. "The problem is that at this school free periods are not, under any circumstances, permitted for an eleventh grader."
"You're wanting to offer an alternative?" Marik asked with an inquisitive raise of his brow.
"Yes, Marik, I do." He straightened in his office chair. "How would you feel about taking on the role of a teacher aid in one of the two lower math classes of your grade level?" He smiled, thrilled to have such an intelligent student here at Alexandria High; this was the first time he'd made an offer like this to a student. "I know Mister Newton or Missus Smith would be thrilled to have your assistance at hand."
Marik succeeded in suppressing a scheming smirk. "I'd love an opportunity such as this." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his visage. "Though perhaps I could assist a higher class?" He already knew the answer to that question. That knowledge made his eyes narrow. But that's where my skills at persuasion come into effect.
Mister Vallis frowned as confusion chiselled its way into his mind. "But Mister Ishtar, why would you want to assist those in a higher class when there are clearly students who struggle far more in the subject? They would better benefi—"
With no preamble, Mister Vallis' words ceased, his eyes suddenly void of any and all expression as an eerie eye emerged upon his temple, glowing menacingly against his tanned skin.
A menacing smirk snaked across Marik's lips. "You were saying, Sir?" His smirk grew as the title rolled off his tongue.
Mister Vallis' voice was almost mechanical, drained of all emotion as he spoke; "What class do you suggest, Mister Ishtar?"
"Class C would be just…perfect."
Dang Marik, give the girl a break! Oh, and this ain't the last you've seen of Amarillo ;)