Brewing Angst [1]

(Malory)

After breakfast, Kyle and I head to school. We’re late for being early. Usually we’d have about forty five minutes to settle in before classes, but today we’ve only got thirty-five.

I’m anxious. Kyle rushed us out of the house this morning and I didn’t get a chance to put any makeup on his face.

I grab Kyle by his neckline when we reach the entrance doors and drag him into a corner. We hide.

“Why are you so aggressive?” he asks, still under my grip.

I glare at him and whisper-yell. “You idiot. You can only hide behind your hair for so long. If you hadn’t pushed me out of the house so urgently I would have put some makeup on you.”

He sighs. “If you haven’t already noticed, Lloyd, I’m not one to keep much company. I honestly don’t think people will notice. Especially if I don’t draw attention to it.”

“You know, for someone so smart, you really are very stupid in the area of common sense. You’ve been gone for two weeks. Of course people are going to stare you down like you’re a Nazi.”

I look around at the empty hallway. A student enters and walks right past us. I turn back to Kyle –who I realise I’m still tugging at by his neckline and holding near my face- and I glare at him before letting him go. He straightens his posture and looks down at me.

“What about swimming? You have that later today. And gym? What about when you have to change in front of the guys? Someone is going to notice, Kyle.”

“There’s nothing I can do about any of that, Lloyd,” he tells me frustrated. “Look. I’ll be fine. I’ll just stay low for the while.”

Just then, Mrs Beverly enters the scene and spots us mingling in the corner. She does a double take to confirm that her eyes aren’t lying to her.

“Davidson,” she says, surprised. “It’s good to have you back! Your co-star here told me you were sick.” She raises a brow at him. “Do you have the doctor’s note?”

He carefully shuffles into his book bag and finds it, limiting his movements to keep his hair plastered over his injured face.

Every slight movement of his hair fuels my anxiety.

He finds the note and hands it to her. She reads it and offers him a smile.

“Wonderful,” she says at last. “I’ll let you both off the hook –this time. Have a good day, both of you. And please stay out of trouble.” She walks off, and Kyle and I stare at her until she disappears.

Stay low.

I’m choking on melodramatic laughter.

I hit Kyle on his arm and whisper, gesturing to the path where Mrs Bev was. “See what I mean?” I think about what could have happened if he didn’t have the note, “And jeez, the things I’ve done for you.”

The smug seal smirks at me. “So you’re admitting that you’re not just doing this for yourself?”

I furrow my brows at him and cough out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t keep your hopes up. Now,” I say, digging into my schoolbag to look for my makeup kit, “Let’s find a place to do this. I may be good with words but I will not be caught giving Kyle Davidson a makeover. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He scoffs. “A reputation. And you say that like I’m forcing you to do this. Just forget it, Lloyd. I’m not going to swimming class this evening, I’ll skip it. Again. And I’ll take it easy in gym. The teachers will be informed, I’m sure, that I’m sick. They won’t make me overexert myself.”

I pause from the shuffling to look at him pointedly. “Oh, and just how are you going to pretend to be sick, Davidson? You suck at acting. I’m pretty sure that little Two-Minute-Broadway you put on for Clark at the guard booth was enough to make him depressed so he just let you think you convinced him.” I lean closer to his face and breathe the word into him. “Pathetic.”

“Just hurry up and do this thing if you’re going to do it. It’s getting late and the school’s going to be flooded with other piss-offs besides you soon,” he argues, defeated.

“What about the gym? Is it empty right now?”

“Never empty on a morning. There’s bound to be a jock or some health and fitness freak in there,” he reminds me.

“The computer lab?”

“Most definitely not,” he argues.

And then it hits me.

“Oh! The art room!”

He opens his mouth to protest but then he actually considers it. He raises a brow at me.

I shrug. “It’ll have a good excuse behind it, too, if anyone walks in. I’ll say I’ve got something to do for my art class and I’m using you as my victim to do the assignment on. It’ll look as though the bruise was done on purpose –with makeup.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Without even thinking, I grab his hand and pull him to the art room. I close the door while he takes a seat and then I rush over to him, sitting and shuffling to finally find my makeup kid and begin the cover up process.

“Stay low, my foot! You’re not a very wise genius.” I say as I apply the concealer.

“Oh give me a break, Albert Einstein,” he says, annoyed.