Bloody Maybach

'Elizabeth, lunch,' dad held up a plastic bag in one hand as he lodged his laptop into its case with the other. Although I loved my father for trying, he didn't know half a thing about food - in fact, it was his bread to jam ratio that always ruined everything.

With a groan I grabbed it from his hand and proceeded to stuff it into my bag.

'Uh,' he cleared his throat as he zipped up his case and looked at me with a sheepish grin, 'You might not want to do that'.

There was a silence in the light kitchen before I groaned again, 'Ketchup?'

My father gave an apologetic grin before he pulled on his trench coat and walked towards me. I caught a fresh whiff of his shaving cream and hastily sprayed on cologne as he kissed my forehead, 'Be good, pumpkin'.

'I'm always good,' I muttered under my breath as I stared at the obliterated bloody sandwich lodged between my calculus books. It looked like someone had tried to hide evidence of a bloody murder in my schoolbag.

'What was that?' he questioned from the doorway, trying to wriggle his feet into his business shoes without looking at them.

I gave him my most encouraging smile, 'Nothing, dad'.

With a brisk smile and a 'See you tonight' my father disappeared out the front door and I was left with a bag full of evidence.

☠☜◊✙◊☞☠

My father was a businessman, he worked long hours and traveled the world. When mama died when I was seven, his traveling increased. I'd often get calls from Paris in the evenings, and pictures on my phone of sunrises in Dubai. Because of all the traveling, he had hired a full time nanny from Poland for me. Michelle had a large bosom and clothes that smelled like cookies - she was perfect for hugs and Christmas. I called her Nana, a name my eight year old self associated with something more homely. When she passed away to cancer when I was 13, the small shred of home I had left disappeared.

Being alone taught me a lot about myself, strengths and weaknesses. Most importantly, I learned the art of decision making. What were good decisions and what weren't were stamped clear as day into my head. So clear, in fact, that I sometimes felt like the tragedies in my life were wasted - I could've turned into a great rebel.

The decisions I made had probably saved me from a life as an insufferable depressive teenager with an inclination towards addiction development but making good decisions for my heart was another matter entirely.

'Is your brain turning into mush again?' Charlotte whispered as she leaned up beside my locker, instantly making my hairs stand up in sudden surprise.

'Uh...' I stuttered, with one eye still busy studying Jack Isles' laugh as he high-fived his fellow team mates.

He was actually gorgeous, not the cliche Captain of the football team but just lean enough to-

I could barely hear the irritated sigh that came from my left, 'Earth to Lizzy,' Charlotte snapped her fingers near my ears. The red lacquer somehow made the snap seem louder than it was.

'What?' I finally turned, my eyes pulling unwillingly away from Jack's figure in his varsity jacket.

My best friend gave me a stare before she flipped half of her blond hair over her right shoulder, 'Don't give me 'what',' she tsked, 'we all know what you were staring at. Who you were staring at'.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' I whispered, trying to close my locker as I thought of Jack's dimples.

'God, you're hopeless,' with a slam Charlotte shut my locker for me, making me jump, before pulling me down the hallway with her.

☠☜◊✙◊☞☠

It was a pity that Jack wasn't in my Calculus class. Instead I had Mariah sitting in front of me. The redhead popped her watermelon chewing gum so noisily it surprised me that Mr. Collins hadn't heard it. My guess was that most of the teachers had given up on schooling Mariah in general because of the entire lack of interest in her education or that she was simply a lost cause when it came to actually following general rules.

Silently, I drew circles on my notebook, trying to ignore all the small noises in my classroom. At every small sound, Mariah's gum popped noisily as if emphasizing every miniature event that took place. Texts were sent under desks, pop, sniggering from the boys at the back, pop, I hate my life, pop.

'Mariah,' I hissed, leaning forward, jabbing her flannel clad shoulder with the butt of my pencil.

To my surprise and horror she shrieked and Mr. Collins, our near deaf teacher, surprisingly - but not really - did not turn around. However, the rest of the class were now looking in our direction.

I felt myself turn that God awful tomato color and bent down lower on my desk, instantly regretting having started the scream fest that was about to begin.

'What do you want, freak?' Mariah hissed at me, chewing her gum with her right jaw. She frowned and I wondered at how brown her eyebrows were, it surprised me that she didn't dye them red too. Karl, known for his infamous jokes, had once screamed across the cafeteria, questioning why Mariah had decided to go full on 'Ronald McDonald' this year. He had gotten a milk carton in his eye and had to walk around with a patch for like a week, so I figured I should keep my thoughts to myself.

A few people around us sniggered as she called me 'freak' and the tomato red on my face ripened into a darker color, 'Could you stop with the gum popping?' I asked, my voice way too small and feeble.

The brown eyebrows on Mariah's face creased further, 'What?'

I cleared my throat in an attempt to shake off the sniggering of my neighbors, 'I said-'

'Mr. Black,' the entire class sat up, shocked by the sudden thunderous voice of our quiet math teacher.

There was only one person in the school that could make the poor deaf pot so mad, and my eyes flickered over to the school's newest, and most unwelcome arrival; Lucian Black.

Lucian, as always, seemed utterly indisposed. He had that emotionless mask on that made me scared, he seemed inhuman, so inhuman it seemed to suck me in every time he came close. Goosebumps formed on my skin as I watched the leather clad male specimen stop at the door.

'Good morning,' he greeted Mr. Collins, in a voice so silky it made goosebumps arise on my flesh. The rest of the girls seemed to feel it too but it seemed pleasant for them, resulting in dreamy smiles. To me it felt like somebody had just slid an ice cold finger up my spine.

'Who gave you the permission to come in as you please?' Mr. Collins continued to shout, his face red under his grey mustache, the white chalk in his hand dangerously close to breaking in half.

Lucian shrugged his shoulders and even from my spot I could see the vein in Collins' temple pulsate like a near-to-blow-volcano, 'I missed my bus'.

It was so silent that I could hear my own heart beat into my eardrums.

The lie could never have been more... lousy.

Everyone knew, from the moment Lucian Black, arrived to Peril High that he simply did not do public transport. When the sleek black Maybach Exelero had rolled in to the school parking lot that day, everyone stared. No one had expected to see a car like that in their lifetime. On internet yes. Maybe even on TV. But not in real life. Not in the school parking lot. Not where we could touch it.

It was out of question that someone like Lucian, who could afford to own a Maybach, came with a bus. I doubted he even knew what a bus pass was.

As the silence ensued Lucian seemed to think it was the cue for him to sit down. With something that resembled a smile to Mr. Collins, who automatically backed up a step, Lucian slid in between the desks to reach his favorite spot. All the way in the back, all the way in the corner, all alone.

My heart thumped harder when he came near me, I knew he had to walk past me and I dreaded every morning Calculus lesson because of it. Sometimes if I were lucky, he would skip class, maybe because of his Maybach malfunctioning or his maid misplacing his keys, God knows. But most likely, to my despair, he would attend class.

The emotion is hard to be described, when Lucian Black nears me, it's like a pull I don't want. When he nears my pulse catches fire, and my heart goes so fast it's close to insanity. I know what it is like to crush on someone. I know how much I crush on Jack. I know how it's supposed to feel like. This wasn't a crush.

This was pure unaltered fear.

As he came closer, I kept my face forward, trying to focus on Mariah's red hair, the brown roots that seemed to emerge from her scalp. I tried to count the number of hairs on her head for Christ's sake. All in vain.

No one else seemed affected by him, they all seemed intrigued by his cold attitude and dark aura. I, on the other hand, felt like having a full mental breakdown every time he was close.

Was I insane? Probably. Maybe his dark aura thing was just scaring me; an innocent soul.

I nearly snorted at my thought. What was I? In a magical story book?

I held my breath when he passed my desk. Like every morning nothing happened. He did not look at me, he did not snigger, he did not even comment on how I should pick up my books because he stepped right on top of them leaving sandy footprints as if they weren't even there. Lucian was a bully that induced indescribable fear in me.

And he didn't even need to look at me.

☠☜◊✙◊☞☠

'Did you see it?' she assaulted me when I left Calculus class. Per usual, it had left me both confused and annoyed because I hated equations, and Mariah has spent the rest of the class popping her gum to a pop song she had gotten stuck in her head.

'Grace, I am not ready for this,' I muttered, trying to pry her iron fingers off my right arm.

The black haired athlete shook her hair, making her pony tail swish, hitting someone behind her right in the face, 'I need you to see it. It is heavenly. And I want it for my birthday. And you just have to get it for me'.

Without waiting for an answer she pulled me with her, through the crowd like a knife, slicing through the waves.

Grace was one of my best friends and captain of the volleyball team. She was athletic, smart, boyish and really really... intense. It was a known fact that Grace Evans had the most intense stare, in fact, it was speculated that that was how we had won most of the state championships. The opponents seemed to turn to jelly whenever they faced the 6' foot senior.

As I stumbled after her, getting my face slapped in between the bodies of the Peril High morning crowd, Grace was an unstoppable force. Her entire body was muscle and people moved out of the way, knowing that they'd be knocked off their feet if they didn't move, 'Grace, you're hurting me. Let me go,' I grumbled, pushing pass Peter McRan who gave me a dirty look.

I mumbled an unheard and useless sorry as Grace continued to stalk forward like an athlete on a mission.

'Tada!' when she finally let go of my now-reduced-to-nothing wrists, we were standing outside, on the school parking lot.

I frowned, rubbing my wrist with my other hand, 'What?'

Grace rolled her eyes before gesturing, 'There Lizzy, there!'

When I turned to see what she was gesturing at, my eyebrows got lost in my hair.

The bike was beautiful. I didn't know anything about bikes but I knew this one must've cost a whole lot of cash. It was black, pure, sleek, black. The silver on it was glistening, it literally blinded me in the sun.

'Tell me you know what it is,' Grace whispered, her voice sounded like she was part of some sappy romance film.

'A... Harley?' I whispered back, afraid I'd get the answer wrong and be chastised for it for the rest of the week. Not to mention the pile of magazines about bikes I got from Grace the last time I'd mistaken an Ecosse for a MTT. But let's be honest, who actually cares this much about bikes except for Grace Evans?

This time, however, my friend beamed, 'A Harley!' she jumped around on her spot like a monkey at the festival and I cringed as she punched my shoulder amiably, it hurt like hell, 'That's not any Harley Lizzy! It's Jack Armstrong's Cosmic Starship!'

'Cosmic what?' I was so confused, 'Starship?' What was this, a bike from Mars?

'No silly, although... I don't understand why it doesn't have the artwork...' she muttered to herself before shrugging and turning back to me, 'It's Jack Armstrong's!' when this seemed to have no effect, she added more details, 'It has a 1250cc V-rod engine!'

I registered nothing in my head, but I nodded enthusiastically before murmuring, 'You say you want this for your birthday?'

Grace nodded her head excitedly before grinning, 'It only costs about a million dollars'.

'What?' I shouted, looking back at the bike. I knew this one probably cost a lot. But a million dollars? 'Seriously? A million?' I repeated out loud.

Grace put one hand on her heart and one hand in the air, 'Swear on my life'.

'Holy shit,' I wihspered, taking a closer step to the bike.

Then - ice.

I couldn't move, I was stuck, it was like I'd randomly stepped into a big pool of quick sand. My whole body was screaming at me to move, move, move. But all I could do was stare at that stupid Harley. All I could do was feel the hair on my neck stand up further on back.

It made no sense that I was so scared in broad daylight.

'Liz!' it was Grace who saved me, who pulled me away from the bike. She didn't let go of my arm as we watched Lucian Black mount his million dollar Harley. As the bike seemed to come to life without a key, like magic, he was gone so fast I didn't even have the time to blink.

'Of course it's Black's bike,' Grace muttered under her breath as she turned, I caught another ''Bloody Maybach'' under her breath as she went back to the school.

Above me, thunder rumbled, and I frowned as I looked up at the sky. When had it started raining?