~ 44: Marathon - Part 4 ~

As the main races were over, Mel and I went over to see the other events. We only saw the first round of hurdles before we left the track venue.

We checked out the participants' list, searching for any of the sprinters in the other events. After watching one after the other every 5-10 minutes, we gave up as we couldn't find them and retook our seats at the edge to wait for the results. We still didn't know what the outcome of the relay race was.

We sat expectantly, sitting straight and waiting to hear the results under the midday sun. All the athletes had gathered in the central arena in the middle of the tracks with their heads bowed and hands in the front. The female teams had gathered behind the men after the male athletes were seated.

I did feel a bit jealous as many people gazed, including the female athletes, gazed at Aidan. But after breaking away from him, I couldn't ask myself to look at him or any people who ogled at him.

"Before we release the final results of each race and the school who will pick the final trophy," said the announcer, "we would like to inform you about the marathon that had been scheduled. Since all the teams have excelled fairly well, we have decided to let the marathon decide the winner.

"So athletes, you get 4 hours of rest and then thirty minutes to have the rules explained. The marathon will be held under the shade of the city in the afternoon so that the heat or other weather problems don't interfere with the event. All dismissed!"

Seeing the turn of events, I felt discouraged that the athletes may not be able to perform with the given drop-outs from the event. It seemed like the pitch wasn't very good, and only the Wildon students had the capability and courage to play the game. So it felt slightly unfair for athletes who prepared for all the events. Therefore, the marathon was a boon to elevate their points as it was a game-changer, and a bane as the tired athletes would probably just fall off.

"What happened to the scholarship thing?" I questioned with worry after the announcement was over.

"I think they scrapped it off or they will be giving that to the best player of the tournament," stated Mel.

"Let's hope they will," I returned and showed her my crossed fingers. "So where are we going? We can't meet any of the athletes as they have been ordered to rest."

"But don't you want to see Aidan? I thought you at least wanted to see how he was doing after he finished his schedule of events."

"I would rather know how Lucas is doing instead. He injured his ankle only so that he could reach the finish line faster. And that all amounts to Aidan's fault for playing a foul card."

On seeing her quizzical face, I explained what we had seen on the tracks. Her pursed lips held disappointment either at me having left him or at his wrong-doing.

"Well," she huffed out after listening to the tale, "he shouldn't have attempted that. The fact that he admitted and didn't apologise is disturbing. How are you going to get him to turn around?"

"If he really wants me, he should change the defective to the good," I replied without regrets. "He's an idol as well and he can't be going about speaking or doing things poorly. As much I have only started to like him, I don't want him to be miserable later on in his life."

With that, we discussed the day and what end we would have from the marathon as we headed to a convenience store farther away from the occupied ones.

The convenience store was quiet, peaceful and mostly empty of people, except for the soft little jingles created whenever someone entered the store. We had decided to have a light lunch as we heard that the venue would be offering some great evening snacks. We ate from cup noodles along with other delicacies as we chatted with the idle store owner.

He lived near the outskirts of the city with his family to save money. The kind middle-aged man reminded me of Mr Hans and his little plight. It turned out that the shopkeeper had a daughter studying with us at the Wildon, though she was a senior.

The bells jingled again as a tall figure entered the shop. Her hoodie and cap hid her hair and back, but her high-laced boots said something else. The man went around to serve the customer who had arrived.

"A cigarette pack," she demanded in a rude voice.

"Why do you want that, dear?" he asked in a sad tone. "You know it's harmful to you. We can't afford for you to be ill."

"Don't parent me anymore. I'm old enough to make my choices. And I'm extremely glad that nobody knows 'you' are my father. It would be so embarrassing to show you to any of my friends. I would rather lose you than them."

'What?!' I exclaimed in my head. 'This rich looking brat is actually his daughter?'

I could see the tear streaks on the man's eyes from the reflection of the glass. It was saddening that he was given such a child in his life.

"I will have one of those while I'm here," she said and paid the bill when the man asked her to pay up a twenty for the items she had bought.

"What a pleasant surprise," she said as she rounded the corner to sit behind us. "Who knew we would be meeting each other again, and this time, without your bodyguard? Aidan shouldn't belong to a low-class like you."

I turned around on my chair, immediately recognising the face. She removed her hoodie and cap, letting her flashy hair of different colours flow freely. Her thick, layered makeup made her look like a lady from the Gothic era.

"Oh, it's Lady Disdain," I said as I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "Who would have thought that you belonged to a kind father like that? And what do you think makes you so classy that you look down upon people of your own kind?"

"Excuse me, but you don't know who to mingle with. And with that kind of style, where do you think you'll get? You'll never be able to get yourself anywhere near great people."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you know that the 'friends' you talk about will eventually backstab you, just because you aren't the 'rich' type. They are phoney enough and they would rather have nothing to do with you despite your 'taste' in clothes. And on another note, they look horrible on you. Are you a painted version of a ghost?"

A glass smashed against the floor, spilling the liquid and sending glass bits flying everywhere. I sidestepped to avoid getting my skin cut on any. Mel sat in her place with a petrified countenance, not daring to speak a word. She only signalled me to give the game up. Yet I didn't care to stop until she had learnt her lesson.

"You dare to talk like that with your senior?" she rasped out as she ran towards me to unleash her anger.