Both me and The Duelist's Heiress, who was my co-author in the past, are called Laura (don't worry, I got her permission to share her name on the interwebs), and we were discussing how Atia is pretty much us (and every other Marik fangirl) and how it'd be kinda funny to call her "Laura" for that reason. I didn't because it would've seemed too self inserty and weird and that's not my intention at all. I'd already created Atia for this fic when we were discussing this! Anyway, as a(n admittedly lame) joke, we've come up with a compromise for the name thing and you'll see it in this chapter. ;)
On an unrelated note, a guest reviewer mentioned that schools aren't co-ed in Egypt, and I'd just like to kindly clear any potential confusion anyone may have around that. When I did research for this fic back in the day, I found online that while most schools look to be girls or boys only, international schools look to be co-ed. In an essay I came across, it mentioned that when girls are in mixed classes they are often underprivileged compared to their male counterparts. Not sure if the underprivileged thing extends to international schools or not though, so I didn't roll with that part, but I did roll with international schools being co-ed.
Guest review reply for Random: Thank you for reviewing! I'm so glad you're enjoying my fic so far and sorry for the super belated update and review reply. I hope the above AN cleared any confusion regarding the co-ed school thing. Thanks for bringing that to light; I should've explained it sooner! :) I actually went to a girls only school for my last few years of high school, so I can totally vouch for that whole 'sneaking around' thing. Girls at my school always used to sneak up to our male school counterpart at lunchtime to hang out with the guys. If anything, girls/boys only schools just make the students more sneaky about seeing the opposite sex! Lol! XD
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vert De Jalousie
To Marik's surprise, A'isha actually knew quite a lot about probability and statistics. As far as math went, she wasn't terrible at every aspect. Rather, her incompetence at algebra, calculus and geometry let her down. A'isha was even more surprised than Marik. He was actually doing his job, tutoring her where necessary. She found it weird, to say the least. Was it about to rain cats and dogs too?
A'isha had breezed through the activities in Julie's textbook, then the questions Miss Tiller had scribbled on the whiteboard. She was pretty dang pleased with herself, feeling like she'd gotten most – if not all – of the answers right; though naturally, she refused to thank Marik for smoothing out any edges, so to speak. He didn't deserve it after everything he'd put her through.
After setting down her pen, A'isha glanced at the blond on her left. He was sifting through her textbook, looking bored out of his insane, little mind. He'd hardly needed to help her. Rather, he'd gone through the first few exercises with her, helped her solve some equations, then realised her capability and left her to do her thing. Even more surprisingly – especially when he was so obviously bored – Blondie wasn't talking to her via his creepy mind link. He hadn't done much of that at all today.
A few questions had stemmed from the jerk's new behaviour, only to swirl about her brain rather than leaving her lips. He must have felt her eyes on him and wondered why that was, for her head began to tingle.
Marik?
Silence.
I know you can hear me.
More silence.
Seriously! I'm actually asking to talk to you through your weird telepathic link and you're ignoring me?
Narrowed lavender orbs rose from the book to meet her gaze. "What is it?"
Her brows knitted together. Why are you actually helping me instead of pestering me?
"Because making you fail will merely make me look like an incompetent fool," he said as though it were obvious.
She rolled her eyes, reclining into her chair. And here I was thinking you actually cared.
"Did I not demonstrate care this morning?" For a split second, a ghost of a smirk revealed itself. Then it was gone, lest a classmate see. "To which you passionately rejected my offer to lend you a figurative ear-"
You shouldn't even know about that! A'isha hissed in her mind, nausea weighing down on her at the sickening reminder of her birthday party. Her eyes burned into his as she continued: And like I said, you're the last person I'd ever talk to about it! She frowned, absently eyeing her exercise book, littered with her work. You'd only be a jerk and make me feel worse.
"Would I?"
Of course!
"Talk to me." Marik's eyes narrowed. "Find out." His tone, like his expression, was oddly serious. It left her uneasy, doubtful and – to her immense distaste – a little curious. Probably what he was hoping for.
"Dang, Ishy Poo!" Julie interrupted, completely unaware of their telepathic talk as she leaned over A'isha to examine her exercise book. The tingling sensation in Ish's mind vanished instantly. "You're finished already?" She simpered at her friend's tutor. "Say, Marik. Wanna tutor me next?"
Marik laughed in that sickly sweet way that left A'isha wanting to throw up. "Well pass me your exercise book, Jules."
With a small smile, Julie obliged. Her brown eyes watched the boy as he glanced between the whiteboard, the textbook in his lap, and Julie's work. A minute later, he returned Julie's book to her. "You've got every question right so far," he enthused. "You don't even need my help!"
A'isha went to roll her eyes at his nice-guy act, only to realise the action would look a little out of place. Though did she really care at this point? Being cautious of her own actions along with his was only adding to the 'Why A'isha is Ridiculously Exhausted' list, which was already horrendously long. She briefly wondered how he didn't get super tired from faking friendliness all damn the time.
"Good to know I'm showing math who's boss!" Julie chimed, before getting back to work, glancing between the whiteboard and her book with newly found enthusiasm. She was obviously pleased at having gotten every answer right thus far. Well, that's if Marik wasn't lying. She wouldn't put it past him after their little gossiping session over his sexuality. But he prefers to subtly torture his victims, she reminded herself, dismissing those suspicions as way too obvious.
It was karma, really. Using his creepy abilities to eavesdrop, only to receive a figurative slap in the face upon hearing something he didn't like. The jerk damn well deserved it—
The groan of a desk leg against the wooden floor yanked that thought away. Hearing a pained cry, A'isha glanced left to find none other than Atia sheepishly rubbing her hip as she stared daggers at a desk that was slightly askew from its neighbour. Whatever the girl was muttering under her breath, Ish doubted it was G-rated.
A few seconds later, Atia shuffled the desk back in line with another to its right, sending the inanimate object another stone cold glare. Then teal eyes looked A'isha's way, and all she saw was a warm innocence. "Hey guys!" their classmate chimed with a brief wave of her hand. She shuffled past the desk and in their direction. Apparently she was over her self-proclaimed humiliation, back when she'd arrived late to class, then practically fangirled upon realising Marik was breathing the same air as her. A'isha minutely wished she was capable of curbing her own embarrassment that easily.
A moment later Atia was on her knees in front of A'isha's desk, lazily leaning against it. "How's it goin', ma peeps?"
Julie returned her enthusiastic smile. "Kicking math's number-lovin' butt, so I'm pretty good!"
A'isha offered a simple "ditto" and a semi-forced smile. Atia seemed nice enough, but she still couldn't help but silently hope she wasn't there to either ask her about Mr High and Mighty—or God-forbid, to flirt with him. Either scenario would probably make her retch. She liked to think her judge of character was pretty spot on, but she still found herself hoping Atia wasn't one of those two-faced gals that believed in keeping her friends close and her enemies closer.
Meanwhile, Marik had revealed an ear-to-ear grin—likely fake. "I'm doing great! Thanks for asking, Atia!"
A'isha briefly wondered what he was thinking. Sadly, he wasn't stupid. He must've known this girl was absolutely nuts for him—and by extension, was absolutely nuts, period.
"Oh, Atia Smatia." She waved her hand dismissively, her smile growing. "My good friends call me Laura..." Her hands threaded behind her back. "My closest friends call me Lau… as in the law." Her eyes fell on Marik. "Because I'm all about… Just Us."
Aaand there's the shameless pick up line. A'isha barely avoided a face-palm at those words, and beside her, she caught Julie snort into her hand in obvious amusement. Marik merely laughed, the sound like silk. It made her feel sick all over again. How the hell was he so good at acting? He must have thought this girl was a complete and utter idiot. Poor Atia...Laura or...whatever her name was.
"I'm guessing Laura's your middle name?" Julie finally thought to ask, perhaps to end the awkwardness. A'isha briefly wondered if Atia was even aware of said awkwardness. She seemed pretty lax right now, even clueless.
Atia gave an enthusiastic nod Julie's way. "That's right!" Her teal irises averted to the girl directly before her, smile never swaying. "A'isha, right?"
"Erm... Ye-Yeah..."
Atia stunned Ish with a wider grin and an ecstatic handshake. "It's nice to meet you, A'isha!"
Looking somewhere in the realms of confused and surprised, A'isha stared at their entwined hands. Damn, the girl was like a ninja, swiping up her hand like that. "Erm... I-It's nice to meet you too, Atia."
"Please, call me Laura!" she insisted, laughing as she ended their exchange. "Better yet, call me Lau!" Without warning, the red-head suddenly leaned over the desk, well within her new friend's personal space. "You're really pretty, by the way! You should do hair commercials!"
"Uhh—"
"Oh! Sorry!" She cleared her throat, straightening soon after. "I'm terrible when it comes to figuring out where personal space starts and ends."
Well, her and Marik must get along swimmingly.
Atia held a hand to her lips, sheepishly clearing her throat. "Anyway... I – um." She bit her lip, now looking nervous in her obsession's presence, what with the way her teal eyes kept skittishly flickering his way. "A'isha, I wanted to thank you."
"What?" Ish blurted out. "Uhh… Wh-Why?"
"The girl that Tamarillo knocked over in the cafeteria yesterday… That was my sister." She smiled gently, an expression that seemed far too calm for the super hyperactive girl. "I really appreciate you sticking up for her."
The new knowledge took A'isha by surprise, overshadowing what would have been a sour reminder of her trip to the sickbay at that crazy tank's hands; not that the ever-aching lump on her temple wasn't enough of a reminder. "I-It was nothing, really." The cliche sentence only made her feel fake.
"Are you kidding me?!" Atia squawked. "You got your lights punched out for sticking up for her! That's hardly nothing!"
"Well – Not nothing, you're right." A'isha forced a smile. "I just hate people that use their power to intimidate and overrule others." Like Marik, she ended in her head, knowing she'd thought the very same thing in the cafeteria yesterday.
"Too true!" said Atia, nodding ardently. "That loony almost beat me up a couple of years back, too. And for, like, no reason whatsoever. Maybe she just has it in for us Henton girls."
Henton? ... Oh, that's right! Miss Tiller addressed her as Miss Henton earlier, A'isha recalled, watching as Atia turned to her obsession, barely seeming to contain her infatuated excitement over the creep.
"But Marik saved me and even walked me home to make sure I was okay!"
The way she stared at him was almost heartbreaking. So genuine and full of devotion. And so, so naive it actually made A'isha sick with sympathy. She had to wonder what he possibly could have gained by saving Atia from Amarillo's wrath back then. Why would he just save someone for the hell of it? He was too much of a self-absorbed jerk... wasn't he?
Perhaps it had something to do with whatever went on between him and Amarillo. She also remembered Atia was a member of what seemed to be one of the gossiping groups in the school, so saving Atia may have also helped to thrust him into the student body's good graces, as news of her Knight in Shining Armour's marvellous deed would have spread like nobody's business.
"Don't mention it," Marik interrupted A'isha's thinking session, showing another dashing smile. His next words were lined with faux concern. "How's Tamzin doing, by the way? I hope she didn't take that psycho's actions to heart."
"Oh, Tammy's fine," Atia returned, dismissively slapping the air with both hands. "A little embarrassed, but—I mean—she couldn't stop talking about how awesome you guys were, stickin' up for her and all that jazz. Like, I'm pretty sure, A'isha, you've got a friend in her now... like Woody and Andy from Toy Story or something." The red-head paused at that point, and A'isha was sure the girl's cheeks was starting to flush. "Cause, um, y'know. That song... You've got a friend in me or whatever. Ahem." She resorted to fidgeting, awkwardly ruffling a hand through her auburn roots like she felt about as stupid as a platypus in the desert.
A'isha immediately came to her rescue, though her laugh at the random comment was very genuine. "Yeah, those movies were pretty much my childhood. And I love that song!"
Atia perked up. "Oh, I know right! Disney's, like, the bomb dot com!" she enthused, her prior bubbliness returning. She turned to their male company at that point. "So, um. Hey, Marik." she drawled, still ruffling her roots. "You wouldn't be able to please help my group out with a few of these questions, would you? I think we only have ten minutes left to finish them and we're kinda stuck."
Marik glanced over his shoulder to find Atia's friends ogling at him, sickening smiles across their faces. Well... they were sickening to A'isha anyway. How? How could they really be so obsessed with him?!
With a charming smile, Marik smoothly found his feet. "I'd love to help you out! That's why I'm here, after all."
A'isha barely bit back a smirk as Marik suavely stepped along behind Atia to her group of friends. She could tell he was lying. Being around a bunch of girls who were more interested in staring at him than learning anything sounded more than a little frustrating, even though it probably stroked his already swollen ego too. But all of that didn't make the situation any less funny. He had brought this upon himself by somehow becoming the TA for her math class.
Finally, karma's on MY side.
x
A'isha dashed out the door the second the bell rung, while Marik was busy discussing something or other with Miss Tiller. Probably more of that disgusting flirting he seemed to be doing earlier.
She had parted ways with Julie right outside, seeing as the girl was heading in the opposite direction. Ish just hoped Jules hadn't felt like she was itching to get rid of her; really, she was itching to make a run for her next class before Sir Jerk-A-Lot had a chance to catch up. And thanks to her brand spanking new map of the school, finding her French class probably wouldn't be a problem. Maybe she'd even manage to claim a desk as far away from Marik as possible.
Weaving through streams of students, A'isha had barely rounded the first corner to her next class when swift, yet somehow still calculated steps echoed through the hallway. Did he practice walking so suavely or something?
Maybe he's a raging alcoholic, A'isha humoured herself, and he spends all of his free time walking in a straight line for those awkward times when the fuzz pull him over for a balance test.
Boy, if the random thoughts popping into her head didn't prove how exhausted she was, A'isha didn't know what would. And she'd even managed eight hours of sleep last night, unlike the mere few hours she managed every other evening.
"Wait up, Ish!" came a voice that had her yearning for a pillow to scream into. Maybe the map in her hand would work we—
A'isha tensed as a warmth wrapped around her upper arm. She glared at Blondie the second she saw that infuriatingly angelic smile, then at the hand he'd curled around her bare bicep. "You didn't forget about me, did you?" he innocently asked, releasing her arm a second later.
"If only," she muttered under her breath, though her next words were a little louder. "I didn't want to interrupt your flirting session with Miss Tiller."
"Don't tell me you're jealous."
Of course he'd fallen back to telepathic talking.
Let me guess. You aced math by bonking the teacher?
"I don't need to woo my way to success, little Ish." She caught another creepy chuckle that had become far too familiar far too quickly. "Besides, my sister would murder me."
You make it sound like you've actually considered it.
"Of course not." He showed a sickly sweet smile. "As a matter of fact, we were discussing you."
A'isha rolled her eyes. All bad things, I'm sure.
"Actually..." That angelic smile of his only grew. "You really aren't as bad at mathematics as you think you are," he spoke aloud, now that his words were innocent enough for their classmates to catch.
"It must be my amazing tutor," A'isha gushed in mock sincerity.
"Naturally." Marik suddenly gripped her hand and squeezed it lightly. "Excited for French? Mr Hendricks thinks you're wonderful."
She ripped her hand from his and shove it in her pocket, away from his over-enthusiastic touch. "Ecstatic," she groaned, hardly wanting to encourage any small talk with the creep.
"It's pronounced en extase."
A'isha scowled, sifting through her French vocab for the rudest form of 'shut up' she could find. It didn't take long.
"Actually, it's pronounced ta gueule."
No sooner had the jab left her lips, did a slightly shocked gasp resonate from right behind her. She went rigid. Cold claws of dread, with a dash of horror-driven humiliation, sunk through her. What curve ball was the universe hurling her way now?
"Miss Dahar, did I just hear what I think I heard?"
Ignoring the fleeting look of sheer amusement from her blond classmate, A'isha spun on her heel to find Mr Hendricks staring down at her.
"I – I – Uhh."
"Don't worry, Mr Hendricks," Marik shocked her, quickly coming to her rescue. What happened to revelling in her misfortune? Or, y'know, being the reason for it? "We were just having a friendly debate as to what the rudest form of 'shut up' is in French. Y'know, prepping ourselves for class!"
Mr Hendricks' perfectly pruned mustache wriggled as he pursed his thin lips. "I see," he drawled, his oddly stern hazel irises switching between the two teens. "Well, I'll admit that you're close, but I certainly won't be sharing the worst way that you can say it." His eyes softened when a smile slid across his mouth. "Just don't bring such sayings into my class, you two," he lightly warned, before side-stepping his students to continue down the corridor.
"Of – Of course not," A'isha stuttered, her tact apparently having dived out the nearest window the very second her teacher's gasp had met her ears.
She groaned when Marik laughed beside her, cheerfully calling out, "We won't, Sir!"
A moment later, Sir Jerk-A-Lot's laughing lavender pools were on her. She could tell his amusement had soared at the sight of her confusion.
"Why did you cover for me—"
"De rien," he cut through the question, accepting her thanks before she'd even given it—not that she'd planned to.
With that, Marik suavely spun on his heel to take the same path as their teacher. A'isha sent an icy glare at his back, her fists curling at her side.
De rien... You're welcome...
Her fists clenched tighter.
Boy, he was a pain in the derrière.
x
Forty five minutes later, French class was almost over and A'isha didn't know what to think.
To her immense surprise, it had been way less torturous than she'd anxiously anticipated, and not just because Mr Hendricks had cared enough to pull her aside and ask if she was alright after her... err... encounter with The Tank. Fortunately, only a handful of students had spotted her, then whispered in their neighbour's ear, no doubt over the same pride-battering event to have earned her teacher's concern.
Ish hadn't managed to snag a seat as far away from Sir Jerk-A-Lot as humanly possible; but, without a word, he had selected two seats, one in front of the other, that were pressed against the windowless wall, considerably curbing her habit of daydreaming in the process. And even more startlingly, her thoughts had been hers and hers alone for the duration of the class, unless there was a way for him to read her mind without the faint tingling sensation. She hoped not.
As for any activities that involved a buddy, Marik had even toned down the jerkness.
"You're completely butchering the French language."
Well, sort of.
"What? How?" A'isha shrieked, sitting back-to-front on her chair to face the blond. Clearly, she looked like the very definition of refined and proper, each leg slung over the base of the chair while her arms were perched atop the back of it.
"How do you think?" Marik answered matter-of-factly. Ish felt that maybe – just maybe – she was gradually learning how to not take offence to the infuriating blond's snarky comments; though the false friendliness in which he delivered them was still pretty hard to take. Furrowing her brows, she focussed on the matter at hand, repeating the French phrase with a little more effort. "Où se trouve le serrurier le plus proche?"
"No, silly!" Marik cooed through a light bout of laughter. "It's pronounced serrurier."
Ish groaned. "Isn't that what I said?"
"Not even close." He feigned a sincere smile. "I know you can do it, Ish." Pfft. As if he really had any faith in her. "Repeat after me: Où se trouve le serrurier le plus proche?"
A'isha rolled her eyes, almost thankful for the fact he'd opted on sitting at the very back of the class. It meant she could express her hate for him far more openly. "Fine. I'll amuse you."
"Oh. S'il vous plaît." A sly smile snaked across his lips as he leaned across his desk, lavender eyes set on her. "Amuse-moi," he taunted, thrusting an irritating realisation her way: she wasn't the only one who could express themselves more openly now that they were at a back corner of the classroom.
Another eye roll. "Alright. So… Où se trouve le serrurier le plus proche?" The laughter in his eyes already spoke volumes, but she bothered to ask anyway; "Was that any better?"
Exhaling lightly through his nose, Marik shook his head slowly. "It's just that one word letting you down."
She sighed. "You mean serrurier?"
Even then, she'd sucked at saying it, which was probably why he was pursing his lips in an obvious attempt to bite back laughter. He took no time to compose himself. "It's one of the most difficult words to pronounce," he pointed out. "The multiple R's demand rolls of the tongue in quick succession, something that can be quite hard to achieve."
"Well go on then," she dared, flourishing a feminine hand out before her to emphasise the request.
"Very well." Blondie showed a cocky smirk. One that told her he'd ace the phrase; the universe apparently hated her too much to let him suck at anything. "Où se trouve le serrurier le plus proche?" he spoke, both his pronunciation and accent utterly flawless. Of freaking course.
Her black brows gathered. "Wait – How did you say serr...whats-a-ma-jig again?"
"Serrurier," he repeated with care.
She cocked her head. "Serrurier?"
"Serrurier."
A'isha's visage twisted into a look of intense concentration. "Se-rru-ri-er?"
By this point, Marik was grinning from ear-to-ear, revealing blindingly white teeth. Apparently he was having a field day. Probably because she couldn't wrap her head around the damn word to save her life, while he could manage it without so much as a stutter. "Repeat after me," he suggested – well, basically ordered – as he eagerly shuffled forward in his seat.
Unbearably awkward couldn't even begin to describe how A'isha felt as she stared down his lips for far longer than desired—so at all. As if she already didn't feel awkward enough, what with how Mr High and Mighty was being unusually helpful today. Heck, she'd almost been welcoming the arrogance scattered through half of his words, if only for its oddly more settling familiarity. The sugary sweet acting, on the other hand, just made her want to gag.
"Alright." His lavender gaze met her own blue one a little too intently. "Se."
"Sssse."
Marik rolled his eyes. "What are you? A snake?"
"Shut up!" Ish squawked, thoughtlessly smacking his arm—something she often did when someone would tease her.
Marik's spurt of laughter seemed uncomfortably genuine as he yanked his arm towards his chest. That was when another rush of awkwardness hit her. Had she really just playfully hit him, of all people? Ugh, and now he was grinning at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking. The jerk probably did, even without his mind powers. Just peachy.
"I said se."
"Fine," she muttered, loathing the way her cheeks burned. "Se."
"Rru."
"Rrrruu."
"No," he snorted, forever amused. "Rru."
"Rru?"
"Better," he praised. "Now… Try saying serru."
"Serru?"
"Oui. Serruri."
"Serruri?"
"Serrurier."
A'isha prayed the almighty tongue gods were on her side today; then straightened slightly, hoping against hope that Marik hadn't just heard her think something so stupid. Apparently exhaustion made her worship tongue gods…
Silence and no tingling sensation. Good. He wasn't listening. Or wasn't planning on pestering her over the stupid remark, anyway.
"Is giving me lovey eyes a part of your strategy in pronouncing serrurier?" Marik goaded, tearing her from those thoughts. She blinked twice, realising she'd been watching him way too long. Oh man. Awkward.
Ish cleared her throat in preparation for what would preferably be a more successful attempt at the dang word. "Serrurier?"
"Close enough."
Wow! He really knew how to encourage a classmate!
"Now, Ishy Poo, let's try that sentence again."
The phrase had come across as super condescending, as though he was telling a toddler to hand over some bite-sized object before they could think to stuff it in their mouth. She tried to ignore it, though in that moment she decided his snark was somewhat easier to tolerate than his conceitedness. Probably because – when comfortable enough with someone – she could deliver just as much snark back. Wait—but she wasn't comfortable around him, so that didn't even make sense? Oh gosh, she really needed a few nights of good sleep.
A'isha slowly sucked in a breath, exhaled, then cleared her throat once more. "Okay… Où se trouve le serrurier le plus proche?"
"Enfin!" Marik quietly, yet dramatically announced. The single word was French for 'finally', and was currently the reason for another infamous eye roll from A'isha.
"Gee. Thanks for the kind praise."
"We'll forget that you still don't have serrurier down," he teased, making her groan and throw her hands in the air as though cursing some higher being.
"Seriously? I was sure I had it right."
He shrugged. "You aren't pronouncing it as fluidly as you could be. That's all."
"Ugh. Well if you can do it, then so can I. So what? Is there some kind of trick to acing those R's that you're not telling me?" A'isha regretted her question the second she fell victim to a perverse sneer.
"There sure is, Dear A'isha," Marik whispered, leaning over his desk to close a little too much distance between them. He adopted an unsettlingly husky tone as he continued, "I'm good with my tongue."
And just like that, A'isha's flushed face earned envy from tomatoes all over the globe. "You – You're disgusting!" she somehow hissed in a quiet tone, and shoved his face out of her personal bubble.
When his only reply was a wink, Ish proceeded to scoff, twisting in her seat to face her desk. The mirth-laden laughter behind her only had her cringing ten-fold, as she all but slammed her head into her textbook.
Can class just be over already?
Hardly a minute passed before A'isha got her wish, the shrill ring of the bell resonating through the classroom, followed by the familiar sounds of hefty textbooks slapping shut, pens rustling in pencil cases and the abrupt zipping of school bags. Over all the commotion, Mr Hendricks was reminding them to finish off any exercises for homework. Fortunately, she'd already done so.
Another benefit of being at the back of the class? She didn't need to wait for the walkway to clear, as her fellow students had already beelined for the exit, refusing to waste even a millisecond of their morning interval.
Leaping to her feet, A'isha shrugged into her heavy, leather backpack, already having a destination in mind: a group of picnic tables by the school field, where Julie had mentioned her friend group hung out during breaks; unless it was raining, to which they then resorted to chilling in the same music room her new friend had shown her before class commenced today.
A'isha tensed the second Marik's merry voice tortured her ears.
"Heading to the picnic tables, are we?"
She pulled a one eighty to glower Blondie's way, the look only hardening another notch when she noticed his infuriatingly happy smile. The jerk looked like the very definition of enthusiastic, what with his hands stuffed in his pocket and his posture dead straight as he rocked back and forth on his feet, from his heels to his toes and back again.
"Please tell me you're not," she groaned, already knowing the answer.
"Well, I always hang out with Dani, Aiden and all that." Smile stretching, he cocked his head to the right, his platinum blond locks following suit. "So lead the way, Ish."
A'isha tipped her head back, groaning to the ceiling as she willed her legs into motion, with Marik right on her heel. Of course, the moment they left the classroom, he seized the opportunity to slip to her side. That only willed A'isha into shoving her hands into the pockets of her snug-fitting, three quarter jeans, refusing to risk him going in for another gossip-fuelling hand hold. She swore she heard him chuckle at that.
The Egyptian duo weaved their way through hoards of other students: some rummaging through lockers; others chatting away in a circle, blocking a portion of the corridor in the process; most, like them, were navigating the sea of fellow students with a destination in mind.
Unsurprisingly, Marik was receiving greetings left, right, centre, back, front, diagonally and every other way A'isha could think of. The throws of hi's, hello's or some equivalent rekindled the flame of one question she simply couldn't shake, which only reminded her of another.
Now that she thought about it, Marik did seem a little less egotistical today—emphasis on a little. Setting aside technicalities, maybe Mr High and Mighty would actually be in the mood for answering questions, rather than dancing around them. Or at least, maybe he'd give an answer that was actually enlightening.
It's not like I have anything to lose, she reasoned, eyeing the boy beside her as he whistled some tune she didn't recognise. Something unfittingly upbeat. What had him so happy?
When they ditched the stuffy, brick building and reunited with the cool, fresh air of the school yard, A'isha seized the opportunity to ask away while no students were around. She'd ask through their weird mind speak, but her mind hadn't tingled since their walk to French, so he probably wouldn't hear her.
A'isha started with the less gutsy question. Or, at the very least, the one she had higher hopes on getting an actual answer to. "So…" The whistling ceased. His amethyst eyes snapped her way. "How long have you been acting like Mr Nice Guy meets the Saintiest of Saints?"
Marik arched a smooth brow. "Who says I'm acting?" he softly challenged.
"You're kidding, right?"
"If one embraces a role for long enough, they eventually forget that there was ever a part to be played."
She rolled her eyes at the rather cryptic statement. Couldn't he just give her a straight answer like a normal person?
"So… long enough that acting like a total suck up is second nature to you?"
"More or less."
Sweet relief filled her with its warmth as she spotted a group of familiar students in the middle distance, crowded around a couple of picnic tables. Thank the Heavens! Soon she wouldn't be alone with Sir Jerk-A-Lot!
Sighing, A'isha returned to the present rather than rooting for the very near future. "Second question." She gave him a pointed look. "Why are you being so nice to me today?" She already had her suspicions, but wasn't sure she believed them.
"Do I really need to answer that?"
A'isha scoffed. He couldn't possibly be showing some level of compassion because of her shoddy morning. She said as much.
"Believe it or not," Marik started, "I'm more than capable of expressing compassion where it's due."
"What?" A'isha snapped, ire suddenly making her shake. "So it's not due when I move to a whole other country because of my parents passing away, but it's due when—"
"HEADS UP!"
In an instant, A'isha was embracing her inner cat, leaping to impressive heights as something raucously slammed into the pavement. It sounded close. Ridiculously close. As her heart battered against her rib-cage, her eyes snapped left. A football. It had probably landed half a metre to her left, if that. Now that she thought about it, that shouldn't have come as a surprise. They were right by the school field, after all.
Ish exhaled in the aftermath of her borderline heart attack, her ire evaporating and her mind zoning in on the present. She watched the ball bounce about the pavement following its initial reunion with solid ground. Certainly better than the thing becoming acquainted with her face. One headache thanks to Tamarillo was enough for the week.
Actually, if she counted Marik's incessant pestering, she'd already exceeded her weekly headache quota by a bajillion.
A sheepish laugh seized her attention and she soon caught sight of a familiar face. She'd recognise that blinding smile anywhere.
"Sorry about that, Ishy Poo!" Dani called out from the outer rims of the school field, maybe thirty feet away. A couple of other guys were scattered around him, participating in a little ball chucking and kicking. "Though dayum, have you ever considered being a wide receiver?" He laughed. "The way you leaped in the air in two seconds flat, you'd be perfect!"
A'isha snickered. "Well I applied for a position on my old school team," she played along, "but my smile wasn't distractingly white enough to make the cut."
"Why thank you for noticing," Dani returned, smiling brighter still.
"Any time," she laughed, only to tense a second later as a scoff hissed through her mind.
"Seriously? You're flirting with a guy over his teeth?"
A'isha scowled at the blond on her right. Truth be told, she'd forgotten he was even there. For once. During her brief interaction with Dani, her far less amicable peer had plucked up the football and – for some reason – returned to her side. Now he was busying himself by bouncing the thing on the pavement, somehow doing so in a way that didn't cause it to unpredictably rebound in some random direction. She refused to be impressed, instead focussing on his silly accusation.
Despite the scoff that spiralled through her lips, she somehow remembered to think her response. You've got to be freakin' kidding me! She barely registered the way her lips had curled into a pout. I am NOT flirting with him! The last thing I need right now is a boyfriend!
"Are you sure Dani's 'distractingly white smile' hasn't blinded you to the truth?"
I—It was just a joke! It didn't mean anything! And- And anyway, who I DO or DON'T decide to flirt with is none of your business!
Marik bounced the ball again, his narrowed gaze fixed on the pavement. "You were flirting, Ishy Poo." Another bounce. She could've sworn it had been harder. "Just admit it."
It's called making friendly chit chat, Ish shot back. Why don't you try it sometime? Or can't you make friends without the help of your creepy mind pow—
She tensed as an abrupt pop roared through the air, like the resounding rumble of a bullet launching from a pistol. It took two seconds for her to notice the slowly shrivelling shell of the football at Marik's feet. And twice that time to catch his dumbfounded expression before he wiped it from his face. Instead, his brows furrowed over his glazed lavender eyes and his lips settled into a thin line.
Marik said nothing. Neither did she. Although she may have thought a few colourful lines within the realms of "calm your farm, you freaking psycho" or "how the hell did you pop a football meant for sport between a bunch of burly dudes twice your size?" Such thoughts, she knew, were not at all ideal when said psycho was in her head.
"Oh fudge knuckles!" a new voice piped up, one A'isha almost instantly knew belonged to the far more tolerable blond in the vicinity. Dani must've crossed the field to reach her side while she'd been preoccupied by Sir Jerk-A-Lot. He plucked the carcass of his beloved ball off the worn pavement in one large hand.
Through a staring contest with the ground, Marik mumbled out a, "Sorry." It sounded about as convincing as toddler who'd just had his hand in the cookie jar. So not at all.
"Ehh... It's fine. I mean... well, it's a good thing I bought this hunk of junk at a bargain shop." She could've sworn she'd glimpsed a slightly faded signature on one section of the football before Dani tucked it under a bare, toned arm. Poor guy was obviously lying to clear Marik's conscience, not that the jerk didn't deserve every shred of guilt thrown his way.
Dani continued. "And, y'know... that I always keep a spare in the trunk of my car." He glanced at the digital watch on his left wrist."Aaand we've got about ten minutes of break left."
His sky blue eyes met hers as he revealed an undeniably dashing smile. It was warm and welcoming, nothing like the boy's beside her. It almost felt strange, seeing such warmth after being exposed to the ice-laden irises and the unnerving chuckle of her taunter for four days. Gosh, four days? It felt like far longer than that.
"Say, Ishy Poo..." Dani drawled, stealing her from her daydreaming before she could drift too far. She noticed the way he'd started slicking his right hand through his golden locks. Was he nervous... again? "Uhh... Do ya mind if I steal him for a bit of ball tossing?" His dashing smile sunk, replaced by horror. "Th-That sounded way less gay in my head. I mean, it sounded not at all gay in my head." His hand left his hair to sheepishly rub his neck. "No-Not that there's anything wrong with being gay. I just, uhh, happen to be straight and I don't—"
A'isha only realised she was holding back a laugh when Marik finally found his voice box again. He swooped in to grip Dani's wrist. "Let's go, Daniel."
"Uhh... Ri-Right," Dani stuttered, his lightly tanned skin flushing faintly.
She didn't miss the unimpressed look that twisted Marik's features as he dragged his blond counterpart away from the field, towards a nearby parking lot near the school entrance. Probably just a minute's walking distance away.
With Marik carelessly tugging him by the right wrist, Dani threw his left hand in the air to bid her farewell. "Buh bye, Ishy Poo!" The toothy grin he gave was downright adorable.
"See ya later, Dani Devito!" she called back, returning the wave. He only grinned wider.
A'isha couldn't help but laugh, especially when he turned to Marik and had to basically rip his wrist from the guy's grasp. She had to wonder why her self-proclaimed tour guide had dragged him off like that. He'd actually looked aggravated for a change, even defensive. Why? Why was he so bothered about Dani? And their supposed flirting, real or not?
Come to think of it, A'isha pondered, thoughtfully chewing on her lip, he always seems to get that way when Dani's around. Her brows gathered. Is this his weird way of protecting his friends from me, like he stupidly said yesterday? Or could it be that... Her breathing hitched. Was Julie seriously onto something in the sick bay yesterday? Her stomach churned, writhing with unease and uncertainty. Could Marik actually...
Never before had someone shook their head so fervently. How ridiculous. Such a selfish creep could never feel that way about anyone, let alone her.
At least, A'isha hoped not...
For anyone who's interested, please find loose French translations that may or may not be structured the grammatically correct way (the interwebs is only so accurate).
FRENCH TRANSLATIONS:
Vert de jealousie – Green with envy/jealousy
En extase – Ecstatic
Ta gueule – Shut up (one of the more offensive ways of saying it)
Derrière – Behind (or just a person's buttocks in English)
Amuse-moi – Amuse/entertain me
S'il vous plaît – Please
Où se trouve le serrurier le plus proche – Where is the nearest locksmith (random, I know, but I read that "locksmith" in French is meant to be one of the toughest words in the language to pronounce, so I went with it...)
Gosh, I hope the next chapters ANs are way shorter. Anywho, hope everyone has a great day or night ahead! :)