Chapter 2

Dinner went about as well as you would expect it to, what with our parents forcing us to sit next to each other. Their idea of conversation was actually a bombardment of clueless questions:

"Will you have classes together?"

"Will you sit at the same lunch table?"

"Will you be locker neighbors?"

"Will you share a locker?"

My inner Titan nearly awoke at the last question, and Will (who had kept silent up until this point) nearly choked on his well-cooked steak. What is with these people? Do they think we're in a teen romance novel?

I quickly recover with a forced smile to Mrs. Luxen, before sending a wicked glare over to the sole culprit of these questions—my mother.

"Can you please stop asking stupid and pointless questions?" I say, the petty annoyance clear in my voice. My mother's pink lips pucker like a fish, narrowed eyes reverting back to the food on her fork.

"I'm just curious is all. There's no need to be all feisty," She chirps, voice dripping with false sweetness. Then, as if on cue, Mrs. Luxen and her turn to each other with matching expressions.

Not much to my surprise, they both burst out into a fit of laughter as though there were an inside joke nobody else understood. Somehow, the two had this way of communicating using only facial expressions. It was similar to how my best friend, Kate, and I could glance at one another and know exactly what the other was thinking. It's an unwritten ability of friendship that I understand, but that doesn't mean it's any less infuriating to watch when it's at your expense.

"Yeah, a little too curious, if you ask me," I mutter under my breath, angrily using my fork to mix the potatoes on my plate with the peas. The result is an unappetizing chunky white glob.

"What did you say?" She snaps out of her fit of laughter in a mere second, eyes glaring down at me. Her face pinches in disgust when she sees what I've done to my food.

"Nothing, okay?" I snap. I inwardly roll my eyes, knowing that I'll probably be murdered if I make my annoyance any more visible.

I hear an awkward cough, and my father expertly chooses this point to interrupt the conversation.

"So, Will, what classes are you taking this marking period?" He interjects, deep brown eyes flitting from my mother to me. He was always bad with timing, but he was good at diffusing near-fights between my mom and I. 

Will finally tunes into the conversation after being addressed. His gaze moves up from his empty plate, which he had been intently focused on a moment before. He had at least four servings of mashed potatoes. How do guys eat so fast?!

"Well, sir, I'm thinking of majoring in forensics or criminal justice in the near future. When I talked to the school counselor over the phone the other day, she recommended a bunch of different physics and biology classes. Those are where I'm focusing my credits this year."

This catches me off guard. Science? He was thinking of pursuing the career he had talked constantly about as a child? Before he left, he had given Kate and I the impression that he had given up such a dream for the life of athleticism. Before he moved away in eighth grade, Will had dropped all his academic motivation and instead joined the soccer team.

It was a huge surprise for his childhood best friends, who were confident they knew everything about him. It was bizarre to see Will disregard every academic interest that was once important to him.

I cannot stifle the low chuckle that originates from my chest.

"Is that so?" The condescending tone in my voice is obvious. "I seem to recall you nearly failing a biology class because of your football practices in eighth grade. You had to drop it or something."

From my position at the table, I can see his defined back muscles tense up. In a rigid motion, he slowly turns his head to face me.

"I think you're mistaken, Az. I didn't drop any classes," He says, his words measured. Desperation is seeping into his clouded eyes as they bore into mine. He is asking, no, begging for me to keep quiet. I suppose his mother didn't know? His esteemed, academic mother.

"You failed a class, Will?" Mrs. Luxen stares at her son, her usually chipper voice holding extra weight to the syllables. It was obvious this is the first she had ever heard of this. 

"No, mother. I didn't." He replies, perhaps a bit too quickly. She has narrowed her emerald green eyes into little more than slits, red lips pulling into an impossibly straight line. "Azalea must be confused. I think she is recalling my soccer phase, where I really found my love for sports. I assure you, mother, that I was equally dedicated to my studies then. You know how young kids can get so into things that it appears to consume their lives." He says smoothly. The quick flash of panic has vanished, and his usual calm demeanor has returned.

I am silently seething. Liar. He is a filthy liar. Still, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty for putting him in this sticky situation. I know as well as anybody what an academic-crazy parent is like.

"I see." Is all she says before turning back to her plate of vegetables. I internally exhale a sigh of relief. Will and I may be sworn enemies, but I would hate to see his mother disown him on behalf of my loud mouth. Unlike him, I'm not hopelessly cruel. 

When I tear my gaze away from Mrs. Luxen, I catch a glimpse of a wicked scowl aimed at me, courtesy of Will. The venom in his stormy eyes is clear as a rather angry, sadistic smile plays at the corners of his lips.

"Well, Azalea. I hope you're as excited for this school year as I am. I cannot wait for the surprises that are in store for us," He says simply, but I sense the threat underlying his innocent words.

He's mad. Very mad. I shake my head slightly, earning me an odd glance from my father, which I ignore. I refuse to let his subtle threats get under my skin. I won't be the scared little girl I was before.

I decide to return the malicious smile, an equivalent amount of venom dripping from my words.

"As am I, William." He doesn't realize that whatever he has planned is a double-edged sword. One that I've been preparing to wield since the day he left.

Revenge will be sweet.

• • •

The rest of the weekend passes by much too quickly.

The moment Will and his mother left, I dialed Kate and broke the horrible news to her. Unfortunately, she was not ready for this. The poor girl nearly choked on the corn dog she was eating and, in her words, 'Nearly sh-t her pants.' Similar to me, Kate had been ditched and bullied by Will, developing a deep resentment for him.

Needless to say, we had spent the weekend on the phone. We cooked up different plans to even out the playing field, knowing perfectly well that Will would likely be just as, if not more, popular in high school. Unlike before, we knew to be prepared for the bullying that would inevitably follow his return. Kate created scenarios that would undoubtedly occur during school, and I came up with possible solutions and plans of action.

For instance, when he would greet Kate for the first time- which we both agreed he'd do- she'd summon her inner Satan and rip out his guts.

Okay, she said she'd give him the silent treatment. To me, it means the same thing.

After many plans, plots, and fake scenarios, the all-anticipated time had come. Monday.

I awake to my father's "singing." My mother says she loves it when he does this, but I consider it to be more of an ancient call to the underworld. It's horribly off-tune and most definitely a tactic to disturb the dead. Consequently, I awake with a pounding headache.

"Dad!" I throw myself out of bed with a frustrated sigh. My eyes are temporarily blinded from the bright light pouring in through the large hallway window. "PLEASE, STOP."

"Morning, Azzie!" He shouts back, then continues singing what I think is supposed to be Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles.

I huff, rubbing my eyes to reduce the black spots in my vision. I turn my attention to more pressing matters: "What the heck am I going to wear?"

Outfits chosen by my mother and laid out the night before coat my floor in bundles. They are all extremely eye-popping and bright. I don't even consider wearing one. No way in hell.

I pick through what is left of my closet and sigh. If only I had those crop tops and high-waisted things all the stylish girls wear. It's not that I don't want them, it was more of an issue that every time my mom offered to take me shopping for them, I was too lazy or preoccupied to comply. With these regretful thoughts in mind, and a mental reminder to take my mother's advice at least once in my life, I settle on my favorite Pepsi tee and old jeans.

I shuffle down the hallway and to the stairwell as my fingers rip through the knots in my hair. I give up trying to untangle the majority of them, and pound down the stairs. "Azalea, I can drive you in today if you'd like," My dad offers, the bagel in the toaster popping up like a mole in the ground.

"It's alright, dad, I can walk," I say, quickly dismissing his offer. Ordinarily, I would've pounced on his request. I hate even stepping outside on freezing January days, much less walking to school. However, I did not want to risk being dropped off at school, and potentially being seen. I don't want to give Will anymore ammo to use against me when it can be avoided. Though I personally don't find it a big deal, if you're seventeen and without a car, or even a permit, jerks at school find it quite funny.

He stares at me skeptically, pouring hot coffee into the '#1 dad' mug I bought him last year for his birthday. It's the only mug he'll use in the mornings, worn to the point that there is a slight chip in its lip.

"Are you sure? It's freezing out. I don't mind, really," He says.

I swallow a bite of the bagel that I've plucked from the toaster, eyeing the icy pavement outside through our window. The sight is disheartening, but I'm as stubborn as I am impulsive.

"Yeah, don't worry. School is only a few blocks away, and I sort of need the exercise. Got to start working on that summer bod all the Instagram pages are raging about, ya know?"

He shoots me a suspicious half-smile, definitely not buying my half-hearted excuse. Luckily, my dad isn't as much as a helicopter-parent as my mom. "I guess you're right. About the exercise part, I mean," He says, winking.

I shoot him an unamused look. "You know, the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

Grabbing his mug off the counter, he fishes in his pocket for his keys and prepares to head out the door.

"Alright, alright. You better get your lazy butt out the door, though, or you'll be late. You know your mom wouldn't like that."

• • •

The walk to school has my butt freezing faster than...whatever the heck freezes fast. I immediately regret not accepting my dad's offer to drive me.

Although it isn't snowing as I walk, the air is frigid. Ice coats the pavement in thick, translucent layers. Every time I step around one patch, I end up slipping on another. Eventually, I give up being careful and practically slide my way to school. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked— a teenage girl sliding around like a penguin on broken ice.

The school parking lot isn't much better. Cars are swerving everywhere, sliding on ice and missing students by mere millimeters. They need some kind of security out here.

While carefully navigating my way through the parking lot, now avoiding cars and ice, I spot Kate's blue 2014 Toyota Corolla enter the swarm of cars. Unlike most teenage drivers who drove like they were playing GTA, Kate has the driving skills of a thirty-year-old mother. She was already a careful driver and was taking extra caution with the ice. Within minutes, she had successfully claimed a spot close to the front doors, and was waiting to greet me.

"Heyo," I sigh, rubbing my stiff fingers together in a mediocre attempt to restore some feel into them.

"Hey!" She says, greeting me warmly. I glance upwards from my nearly frost-bitten fingers, and instantly connect her sweet, honey-brown eyes. Kate is a bit on the chubbier side, with a rounded face and round waistband. Although, the thickness only accentuated her beauty. It gave her large brown eyes and auburn blond hair the extra adorableness it needs to make her very attractive.

Needless to say, she wasn't short on the guy department. She didn't always catch on, because she was hopelessly innocent. Guys were always approaching her and complimenting her wherever she went. It was sometimes funny to watch the scenario unfold, her overwhelming disinterest in reaction to their attraction.

The sight of my dragons-breath sends shivers down my spine, and I nearly jump in happiness at the sight of the front doors.

"Let's get inside, I might turn into a Popsicle if I stay out here any longer," I say, already moving towards the doors.

Today will be the start of a new day. A day with many surprises.