HYBRID

by Emery Skye

  Hell, my last trip to my counselor’s office wasn't too great either. Apparently, fighting in school is frowned upon. Who knew?

  She takes the slip with her boney fingers. Miss Lawry has to be in her sixties. She has grey hair and wears orange lipstick that's the same color as her painted-on eyebrows.

  "Yes, yes!" she says with a bit more enthusiasm than should be possible at this time in the morning.

  "Miss Lawry, who is the guy outside?" I ask, staring back towards the doors.

  "Oh, that is a transfer. His name is Hunter. Hunter Daniels. Quite the cutie, if ya ask me, but you didn't, did you..." she rambles. My ears ring from the pitch in her voice.

  I think of Jack Daniels Whiskey. That's what happens when you spend an unhealthy amount of time in a bar playing poker with guys who smell like ashtrays.

  "What exactly do you need me for?" I interrupt her incessant yammering.

  "Lexi, Hunter is a scholarship recipient and needs someone to show him the ropes." She shuffles through the never-ending piles of papers.

  "Can't someone else?" She glares at me above her thick-rimmed glasses and I quickly backtrack, "It's just, I'm super busy with my own..." I don't really have anything that would inhibit me from giving some guy a tour.

  If it were another boy, I'd probably be fine with it. Then again, I don't like people. But any guy would be better than him. I didn't want to be near him any more than I had to.

  However, my investigative side wanted to pick him apart like a toy.

  Miss Lawry holds up a boney finger that cuts me off mid-sentence, "Now, Lexi. I think we both know that you are more than capable of showing that cute, new boy around. Who knows, maybe you'll make a new friend." She winks at me.

  I grimace.

  Great, now I have an old lady trying to play Cupid in my life. Fabulous. "And, God knows he could use a friend and a point in the right direction." She shakes her head a bit. "Argo, I tell ya', argo."

  Argo, never heard her say that before. Right direction. Huh. I wonder what she means. Maybe Hunter has a habit of getting into trouble? No, Fairmont wasn't known for allowing problem kids into the ranks.

  I collect the paperwork, including his class schedule. It appears he has almost every class with me.

  "Sounds good," I say, far more chipper than I feel. The last thing I wanted to do with my day was show some kid, who gave me heebie-jeebies, around campus.

  "Ace," she responds. I have learned over my span of time here that when she says ace, it means -I've done something right.

  "Bloody hell," Miss Lawry exclaims as I walk away. I hear papers fall to the ground and I quicken my pace.

  I don't want to be recruited for cleaning purposes- she already made me a tour guide. I roll my eyes at the thought of spending another minute with Hunter Daniels.

  What would Caity say? Almost six-years-ago, I was the one that needed help and now here I am, pissed about helping someone else. Am I really that selfish?

  I decide to try.

  FOUR

  I walk out onto the frosty Fairmont locale. Hunter is statuesque against the cloudy sky. He pockets a flask and the mysterious contents disappear with it. I wonder if there's any way I can figure out what's in it. If he were drinking, that would for sure get him expelled. Oh, good God, Lexi, I scold myself. It's not like you could ever tell on anyone anyway.

  I'm normally the person that people tell on and if it weren't for Pierce, I'd probably be suspended by now. It's not that I'm a troublemaker, per say. I play poker, sell essays, that sort-of-thing,

  "Um...My name is Lexi," I stare him in the eye.

  "Lexi. I like that," he responds, his tone deep and a too seductive for my liking. He's wearing dark jeans and black boots. He has a sort of perfect, masculine body. He's got the body that you see on the cover of GQ, but you know that it had to have been photoshopped, because no one really looks that perfect. Only, Hunter does.

  I want to tell him to change his tone, but instead, I say, "I am going to give you a tour. You have a few of the same classes as me," I attempt polite small talk.

  "You looked at my schedule?"

  I don't see anything interesting about me reading his schedule, but whatever. " I wanted to make sure you know where all your classes are going to be.”

  I hug myself tightly to fend off the biting cold; my hoodie isn’t cutting it. I don’t know why they put one of the nicest equestrian schools up in the mountains. It seems like it would create logistical issues. It also seems like they purposefully secluded us from normality, but it works for me.

  "Tour time," I say and push the papers at him. I'm trying to be civil, but there's something about him that gets under my skin like dirt under my fingernails.

  We walk in silence toward the apartments, until Hunter says, “Tell me about yourself, Lexi."

  I sigh. "You know my name and that I'm a student here. What else do you want to know?"

  He laughs deeply. "How about where you're from?"

  "Colorado," I say simply.

  He laughs again. "Where in Colorado?"

  "East." Noteworthy is that there's nothing west of here.

  "You don't want to talk to me. Do you?" he questions, and I give him a sidelong glance. He stares at me expectantly under a messy wave of brown hair.

  "Is it that obvious?" I smirk.

  He reaches his hand up and rubs his neck.

  "How long have you been here?" he asks.

  I contemplate not answering his questions, but I told myself I would try to be pleasant. "Almost six years."

  "Six?" he says in a questioning tone.

  "Yes."

  He frowns. There's something different about his frown.

  I catch my foot on the crevice of the God-forsaken pathway and Hunter reflexively grabs hold of my arm like a snake attacking its prey.

  "Are you always so clumsy?" He melts my innards into putty with the languid fire burning in his crystalline eyes.

  I jerk my arm away from him. "No," I want to say, but for some reason I answer honestly, "yes."

  I want to ask him about himself, after he plundered for my answers, but I don't want to roll down that nasty hill of acquaintance.

  I read on his papers that he's staying in 2E13 and head toward the building. He carries one duffel bag. It's the least number of belongings I've ever seen a student bring on their first day...other than me.

  I point toward the dining hall. "That's where we take meals. There's always some sort of food for you to eat. It's not spectacular, but it's pretty good." We continue down toward the scholarship side of campus. I walk with Hunter on my heels. "This is building 'two' of the East Apartments." Or the "loser apartments," as some call them, I think bitterly. Chipped brown paint cases the exterior.

  I walk over to room thirteen, "This is your apartment. You'll probably have a roommate."

  "No, I won't." He retrieves his keys, opens the apartment door and walks in. "I don't do well with others," he says, pushing the door open.

  I don't understand why that would matter. Administration won't care. I don't feel the need to blister his ego with a wake-up call.

  His apartment is much larger and nicer than mine. Instead of the usual oak furniture, everything of his has been replaced with cherry wood. It looks like one of the rich kids' dwellings.

  Oddly enough, it isn't the type of furniture that has my mind reeling, it's the amount--there's only one bed. A king sleigh bed positioned with its high back to the far wall.

  "Weird." I don't mean for the words to slip out and silently curse my blabbermouth.

  He looks at me questioningly and I can't help but admire his perfect olive complexion and strong facial structure. His lips are amazing. No, Lex. What are you thinking? I yell at myself. This boy is trouble, trouble, trouble. Quit checking him out!

  "Your apartment is different than the others." He continues staring at me. How did he get a room like this?

  He cuts my train of thought. "Take a seat, Lexi. Make yourself comfortab
le." He comes close to me again; I can smell sweet-mint lingering on his breath. A euphoric sensation pole-vaults into my mind and warms my body. It's a feeling so different from the depression that usually lingers there and more pleasant than the anger that twinges my faculties.

  I almost accept his offer but am quickly jolted back to reality thanks to a rush of cold air on my back. We left the door open.

  "We should get going. There's a lot to see and it's late. He's standing three inches away. I jump back in surprise; it's crazy that he is right here. He had just been standing...I look around flustered. I should sleep more. I move left, he moves left. I move right, he moves right. We dance like that for a minute.

  "Look, I'm going to go left, and you stay," I say frustrated. The door’s behind him and I’m determined to get through it. The heat isn't as overwhelming as it once was and my stomach doesn't feel quite as off, but I still have other plans than to stand here with Hunter Daniels and his obnoxious sparkling eyes.

  "Bossy, aren't you?" He reaches down and grabs my shoulders. A static shock bites my skin. It's uncharacteristic of anything I have felt before. It's like a subtle tremor of electricity. He releases me instantaneously and jumps back.

  "Sorry," I stutter.

  "Didn't you say we have a tour?" His words are clipped. He heads into the bathroom and comes out with a black backpack that he throws over one shoulder.

  My phone vibrates.

  Where are you? –Caity

  Giving a tour to a new kid.

  Really? You better be nice, Alexis Marie!

  I grin at her bossiness.

  Yes, mother! I joke.

  A second later.

  Who is it?

  I know she's asking whether it's a guy or girl. She'll find out eventually. If I don't tell her about Hunter and she meets him and sees how hot he is, she'll know something's up.

  Hunter Daniels...

  See ya at lunch, pretty lady ;)

  Oooyyy... I groan silently.

  I walk him around the campus and show him the West Apartments. They're nicer than the East Apartments. They are kept up, unlike our fake wood cabins. They each have little balconies that overlook the mountains.

  In my deep thought, I hadn't noticed that an awkward silence had grown between Hunter and myself.

  I attempt small talk. "What brings you to Fairmont?" Nothing. I try again. "So, do you have an athletic or academic scholarship?" Still nothing. He's big and enough to have an athletic scholarship, but his classes scream academic.

  "At least I gave you one-word answers," I snidely remark.

  "Education," he responds, and I roll my eyes at his boorishness. Two can play that game.

  "You were all for asking about me and now that the tables have turned, it's not so cool, huh?"

  He shoots me a death stare that makes me feel like terrible to my core, but I don't let him see how much pain just one look caused. Instead, I smile.

  Two junior girls pass by us. They stare at him like they're starving, and Hunter is the only meat for miles. Come to think of it, every girl has stared at Hunter with that same hungry look.

  My mom warned me about guys like him. They will bait, catch, and release what's left.

  I show him around Main Hall. I read once that the school cost upwards of seventeen-point-eight million dollars to build, which is outrageous in my mind. The house I used to live in was perfect and it didn't cost a quarter of a million. I thought that it was perfect for my family, anyway.

  "Lexi," my mom shouted. "It's time for you to get down here and get going! You’re going to be late for school." Her tone was short and impatient.

  We always fought. "I am coming!" I yelled and ran down the stairs.

  "Lexi, I talked to your teacher," she began. I remember her being a beautiful woman. She had long, blonde hair and delicate features. She was small-framed and had the most engaging sapphire eyes. That morning, her hair was swiped up in a bun. She was a gem. A gem I didn't see and didn’t learn to appreciate in time.

  "You, what?!" I snapped, shifting automatically to the defensive. "You have no right to talk to my teachers. I'm leaving, you know. I'm never coming back once I do." I was infuriated. She was always getting into my business.

  "That's fine, but I want you home right after school," she yelled back.

  "We'll see about that," I stormed out the front door and didn’t look back.

  I’m snapped back to reality by the sound of Hunter's voice. "Watch out!"

  I jump in my skin and my eyes flash forward. There's nothing to watch out for.

  "What? Watch out for what?" I ask.

  He's wearing his token cocky grin.

  I punch his arm. Just like me to resort to violence. "Prick!" I won't admit that he actually scared me.

  "I tried the nice ways of getting your attention. Next time, maybe I should start stripping," he tells me seriously.

  My jaw drops. "What?"

  His eyebrow lifts higher and a sexy dimple forms. "Yes, that'll do the trick."

  "You are so full of yourself," I retort.

  "What's there not to be full of?" he replies.

  I make a gagging noise.

  "Main Hall is where your classes will be."

  He releases a seductive laugh.

  Main Hall is like a state-of-the-art log cabin, mixed with the stability of old-school Victorian homes--the ones that are perfectly symmetrical with huge pillars in front. Inside, the foundation is made up of wood and stone terrazzo. It all seems a little silly, considering that kids trudge in snow and dirt. Yet, the floors always shine under the fluorescent lighting. I'm sad for whatever kid got the job of cleaning Main Hall.

  A girl dressed like a French prostitute trots by and stares at Hunter. He winks and she trips over her feet. I laugh.

  "What?" he asks bitterly.

  "You really are one of those guys? Aren't you?"

  He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "What guys?" He sips his water bottle.

  "A man-whore? Chauvinist. Womanizer," I say.

  He chokes on his water. "Did you call me a man-whore?"

  "If the trunks fit?"

  "I don't wear trucks," he says suggestively with wiggling eyebrows.

  I grimace. He laughs hysterically. I laugh too.

  “I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. You should have seen your face," he holds his stomach and I hit him hard on the arm.

  "Feisty, huh? I like that," he winks again, causing my face to contort angrily and flush crimson. My response, only provoking more deep, sticky laughter.

  "It's not that funny.” I wish he’d shut up. I'm the one who makes people feel uncomfortable.... What's happening?

  I try to direct our energy back to something more productive...the tour.

  The lobby has study areas, where some kids are hard at work. I'm uneasy that I have missed a few of my classes, especially on the first day.

  To the left, through double doors, there is a huge library, a.k.a. "my second home”. I steer myself toward it. Hunter flicks my shoulder. Yes, he literally flicks me.

  I face him. My long hair whips around. "Do I look like a fly to you?" I question with a penetrating gaze that's been known to make anyone back off.

  He tilts his head around; my jaw tightens. You have similar characteristics: bulging eyes, annoying...."

  My eyelids draw together in fury as I glare at him.

  "I'm annoying? Have you met yourself?"

  "I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about you.”

  "What is your problem?"

  He shrugs. "I won't need to go in there," he says flippantly.

  "You clearly don't know how demanding the course curriculum is. The second floor is where seniors have most of their classes." I proceed to show him. Occasionally, he sighs. I'm not sure if he's dreading his classes or just annoyed by the tour.

  I care a little bit about his reaction and don't understand why. I prefer not caring about anything and it makes me dislike him. I know he’s still follow
ing behind me, even though he’s awfully quiet. I don't have to look to know he's there. I can feel him like he's an added appendage, whose function is to radiate heat through my body.

  "Who drew this?" His shoes clunk against the ornamental flooring as he stops.

  He's staring at a picture Caity designed. I wonder if I should tell him about Caity.

  It’s an image of a man kneeling and a woman lying in the dirt at his feet. They have their backs to the viewer with lightening flashing in the background.

  I remember the day I described my dream to Caity. She jumped up and down enthusiastically, claiming that my dream would win her the award at the media festival. I sat with her for hours as we designed the image together until it was exact. I couldn't see the faces of the people in the photo, but Caity said that was better for artistic appeal anyway.

  "Why?" I ask Hunter.

  "I want to know. Do you have a problem with that?"

  "A friend of mine," I tell him. His face turns contemplative, then he gives me a wry smile. I don't like the devilish expression he's wearing and attempt to drag him away from the piece of art.

  I lead him down the 'B' hallway.

  He catches me off guard and grabs me by the shoulder. "What were you thinking about?" Silence. "Earlier," he says.

  “Earlier when?"

  "When we were walking past the poor-kid apartments. You had this look in your eyes."

  Perceptive. Uncomfortably perceptive. Apparently, he's not as shallow as I thought. I know he's talking about when I was recalling the memory of my mother.

  "None of your business," I say tersely.

  "Homesick Lex?"

  Lex, no one calls me Lex, except my brother. Like a relentless cold, the stony cloud of depression is back and it brought friends that swim maddeningly through my skull, leaving a trail of sadness in their wake.

  "You don't know anything about me.” I can’t tell him that I have no home or that I’m an orphan. He’ll look at me with pity and who knows what he’ll think or what questions he’ll ask next.

  "Then tell me. What did you do to get sent here?" His wavy hair falls into his eyes and he brushes it back. His hair is uneven, like he might have cut it himself.