Another Encounter [2]

(Malory)

Lunch rolls in and Olivia and I take our trays to a table in the cafeteria in silence.

Olivia takes a bite so big out of her burger it’s like she’s swallowing a whale. “So what was this morning all about?”

Internally, I’m tempted to walk out of the cafeteria right then and there just to avoid the topic.

“Nothing,” I say, biting into a fry.

“Liar,” she replies, through a stuffed mouth.

I shove more fries into my mouth. “Did you read the play?”

“I had no time last night. I’ll do it before Friday, though.”

I almost choke on my mouthful of fries while trying to talk. “Well I read it. It’s not the same as all the other times I’ve read or seen it. There are... things. Things that weren’t there before. Strange things. Things I don’t want to talk about while eating because it’ll bring up the mental image of having to practice those things with Kyle Davidson and I’ll puke up all my lunch.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full and just chew your food,” she scolds me. “You’re making me want to puke right now.”

Speaking of the devil, Kyle and Ron stroll across from the cafeteria line and pass our table, stopping right in front of us. Kyle slams his tray down on the furniture. He picks up his burger –drenched in so many sauces I mentally sing the funeral song for the meat patty inside it- and he shoves half the burger into his mouth.

Obnoxious beast.

“Hello, Pal.” He says.

I almost gag.

I don’t acknowledge his physical existence beside me. I stare blankly at the wall in the distance behind Olivia and reply to him. “You disgust me. No, you know what? I’m not even going to tempt you to insult or fight me right now. You’re like a skin boil –or a pimple. When your top is popped, you’re despicably nauseating.”

Olivia and Ron share a stifled snicker at the comment.

Kyle clicks his tongue three times. “That’s no way to talk to someone you’re trying to cooperate with, now is it?” He says in a pseudo-innocent voice.

I open the raspberry juice on my tray. I take a sip. I swallow. I look up at him. I stand. “Isn’t it? Why don’t you cooperate with this?” I pour the rest of the juice over his head. He stands frozen at the feeling of the liquid on his skin, rolling down his cheeks, soaking into his scalp. Students who witness the action laugh and gasp from where they are. “Don’t worry,” I say to him, “Your shirt is black so the stains won’t show.” I smile wittily at him. “See? I can be considerate sometimes.”

Kyle allows the juice to run down his face. He doesn’t budge.

I look down at Olivia and laugh while she holds an expression of shock –covering her mouth in embarrassment and disappointment.

What I don’t see coming is Kyle squeezing the second half of his disgustingly sloppy burger in his hand and proceeding to wipe that same hand over the entire surface of my face.

I gasp in horror.

How dare he-

Kyle’s expression goes from blank to something not as grave as it is stern and frightening. “Don’t test me.” He says, walking away and pulling at the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face. Ron watches him leave.

“That was... unnecessary,” Ron says, following behind his best friend.

I sit, my expression of disgust unwavering. “There is literally no way I’m surviving the next eight months. None. I’m going to die. I’m either going to die of embarrassment, or I’ll die of shame, or I’ll die of frustration or anger, or I’ll die because I’ll kill myself. The two of us are never going to cooperate.” I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling a few times to remain calm. When I feel as though my voice won’t break if I speak, I do. “Olivia, do you have any extra napkins?”

She taps me on my shoulder and points behind me. I turn to look up and find Adrien Evans with an extended hand full of napkins, smiling shyly down at me.

“Malory, right?” He begins, “Here you go. Take these. What was all that about? Who is he? Some friend of yours?”

I accept the napkins and immediately slap about half of them unto my face. I want to laugh at the thought of Kyle and I being friends, but I’m too upset. “Thanks, Adrien -and hell to the most definitely not. Not in a million life times would I ever call Kyle Davidson a friend.”

“He doesn’t seem like the friendly type, otherwise. I mean I’ve only been here for two weeks but wiping sauce on someone’s face is the closest I’ve seen that guy come to having physical contact with someone besides dragging around that one friend of his. The one who’s always following him around...”

“Ron,” I say.

“That’s the one,” he confirms. He acknowledges Olivia, who’s already looking up at him but turns away the moment he turns to her. “Hi, I’m Adrien. I’m in Malory’s class,” he said to her, smiling.

“Oh, I know,” she replies, a little too quickly, “Everyone in senior year probably knows you by now.”

I finish wiping up my face. “You can take a seat if you want,” I offer.

“Okay,” he says, taking a seat beside me and digging into his plate of potato wedges. Olivia goes back to staring at him while he wasn’t looking.

Someone please slap the common sense of playing it cool into my best friend –she’s such a sell-out of herself when it comes to guys she finds interesting or attractive.

“Olivia, is there any sauce left on my face?” I ask her, hoping to snap her out of her daze before she embarrasses herself. She doesn’t reply at first. “Olivia,” I say, with more emphasis.

She snaps out of it and turns to me. “Huh? Oh, no, Mal. It’s all good.”

I turn to Adrien, watching him while he eats. “How come you’re not sitting at a lunch table where you’re surrounded by too many friends to even be spotted among them? You’ve been pretty distant from everyone since you got here. I thought you’d make a dozen friends on the first day.”

“I’m not the type to have a crowd of followers around me,” he says. “I’ve had to move so many times. That kind of life doesn’t exactly allow one to settle with a sizable group of friends. A few close friends, maybe. But not enough to make me a popular guy.”

That’s it. This guy has me curious. “If I may ask... How come you’ve had to move so much? And to think you could’ve been done with all this high school crap if you’d just stayed in the other city a bit longer and completed exams.”

“My family situation is a little complicated. My parents are divorced, and I’m living with my dad. He got full custody of me when I was eight, and things were fine then but now he’s a mess. So whenever he has to work, it’s always a hustle to move for both of us. It’s not a big deal. I’ve gotten used to it.”

I frown. “That’s pretty sad, though... I can understand the moving thing. My parents... were only able to afford to buy a house as recently as a year and a half ago. I’ve moved and rented houses and apartments my whole life basically. So I get the moving thing. As for friends, I’ve never had trouble finding them if I wanted to.”

“Friends like this one?” He asks, gesturing to Olivia, “or friends like that guy, Kyle?”

I laugh. “Kyle is not my friend. He never was my friend. He never will be my friend. Clearly.”

“It’s not like he’ll be able to do anything to you anyway,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean judging by the way you two seem to go at it every day, you’re a tough one,” he compliments. “He can’t knock you down. He won’t. And if he tries, you can always call for me. I’m willing to be that friend.”

Ah, there it is; One of the classic fuckboy lines.

I scoff. “I can handle Davidson myself. I have handled him myself. For the past three years –this one will make it the fourth. I just can’t believe now it’s gotten to the point where we’re forced to get along for the sake of our records. Ugh. Me and my pathetic life.”

“Oh... you mean the April Fest thing?” He realises. “I heard about it. There are a lot of students talking about how you two have to take the leading roles and how apparently the two of you are a popular pair in the school when it comes to chaos. It’s not like I listen to gossip but from what I’ve seen today I’m guessing that what they say is true.”

“To put it simply, Adrien, He’s awful towards me. So I just return the favour. I hate his guts the same way he hates mine.”

He turns to Olivia. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“What?” She responds.

I laugh. “What? Olivia Prescott is quiet?”

Olivia couldn’t have felt any more offended. Truth is Olivia only looks quiet because she has to. Maybe her reserved demeanour is roped to the fact that her parents run a church, but what I know for sure is that her silence in this situation had nothing to do with her being the daughter of a pastor.

“I’m not,” she defends. “I’m really, really not. I’m just listening to both of you. I’m a little tired, I think. And upset. Malory, you’re still not telling me about what happened this morning –why you stormed into my Physics class to drag Kyle out by his ears.”

I groan. “Ugh, this again. Read the script, Olivia. I’m not getting into the details. It’ll make me sick.”