As the sun was setting over the horizon, Marshall sat with a notebook. The words were flowing out of him onto the page. Whenever he was on the roof of the Academy, he was able to write without reservation. He could sing along to the lyrics, seeing how the melodies he thought up sound when he sang them out loud, not worrying about any distractions or interruptions. On that night, after another moment of misunderstanding with his father, Marshall wrote a song about longing for something he could never have, dreaming of a life that’s not his to live. In every word he could feel the presence of Kyle Abrahams. The kiss with Kyle at the Meyers’ party was haunting Marshall. It was an unfiltered moment, a stolen taste of being rebellious. Marshall had never allowed himself to admit the feelings that he had for Kyle, feelings that had started to develop since they had known each other in high school. He had never felt good enough for Kyle, the guy who was such a genius that most of the time Marshall could hardly understand what he was on about. Even when Kyle had grown distant, Marshall had thought about him, longed for those days that they spent together. There was a spark of something that Marshall longed for in Kyle, something that he could never admit to anyone else in his life.
As Marshall wrote the words and sang along to the lyrics, tears fell over his cheeks. He heaved and could barely sing the lyrics over his shaking voice. He wanted to release it all, there on the rooftop, all alone as night descended around him.
Chapter 7
Kyle and Riana sat on the grass in the small park built in front of Academy. The sun was out and in the distance they could see the performing arts students setting up a production at the amphitheater at Donovan Square. The sights and sounds of Ridgemont faded into the distance; all the two friends cared about was discussing Marshall.
Kyle leaned back on his elbows on the grass and looked up at the cloudless sky. He said, “I mean, it’s not like we even really know each other anymore. It’s been years since we’ve even spoken. We were friends in eighth grade, kind of close, but I was pushed up a grade like halfway through the year and we just drifted apart. I had no idea he ever felt that way about me. Maybe he was just messing with me.”
Riana creased her eyes, her glasses shifting on her nose as it flared upwards. “Is he even… smart? I mean, I really don’t see how you could be friends with a rugby jock. Are you interested in him? And I don’t just mean physically, because that part is as clear as day. But I mean, what do you guys even have to talk about? I don’t mean to be judgmental,” she said, clearly being judgmental.
“He’s smart. He’s got something about him. We just went in different directions. I don’t know what we could still have in common.” Kyle watched as a group of first-year students walked past them and marveled at the beautiful Academy building that Kyle and Riana had come to take for granted. “I don’t know how I feel about him. All I know is – that kiss has been on my mind. A lot.”
Riana curled her lip, and said, “Honestly, I just don’t think you should waste your time. You need to be with someone more like us. Someone who you can talk to about the things you care about. He probably won’t even understand what you’re on about if you tell him about the work we do.”
“I don’t just care about science, you know. I have other interests,” Kyle said, feigning offence.
“Like what,” Riana shot back, raising her eyebrow as Kyle tried to find an answer.
“Ummm… I care about good food! That’s something. We could talk about food!” Kyle chuckled at his own answer, but Riana didn’t seem entertained.
“Kyle, I just don’t want you to have another crush on someone who’s not right for you. Remember James? You could hardly sleep; you were so infatuated. I thought you wouldn’t be able to focus on your work at all.”
Kyle cringed at the memory of James. And the many other boys that he had met online and had formed impossible fantasies about. Kyle had always found it difficult to know when a guy liked him. He tried too hard, fell too deep too quickly, and always ended up getting hurt when he realized that the other guys weren’t feeling the same way about him. Most guys were only looking for fun. Relationships were messy and emotions were complicated, but even when Kyle tried to stop himself, he always developed feelings for the wrong guys. That’s why he found it so much easier to just spend time with machines, or with other people who were logical and rational like Riana. Much less complications when you could predict things. Much less room for hurt feelings.
“Speak of the devil!” Riana said, and Kyle felt his heart jump into his throat for fear that he would turn around and see James. But it wasn’t James walking up the path to the side of the Academy. It was Marshall de Villiers.
“What’s he doing here?” Kyle said as he sat upright. He felt a jolt of excitement in his stomach. He was definitely starting to form an attachment to Marshall, even after just one kiss. He just hoped that it wouldn’t leave him hurt again. Kyle watched as Marshall walked along the path to the side of the building, near the fire escape. Marshall’s head hung low and he didn’t see Kyle sitting on the grass in front of the building.
Riana frowned and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “He looks sad. I wonder where he’s…”
Before Riana could even finish her sentence, Kyle was up and rushing in Marshall’s direction. Riana called out after him, and he turned back to her to say, “Don’t worry. I’m just checking where he’s going. I promise I won’t even talk to him.”
Riana sighed. “You’re stalking him now. That’s much worse than talking to him.” Kyle was out of earshot before he could hear the rest of Riana’s lecture.
As he turned the corner, Kyle saw Marshall heading up the stairs of the fire escape, going up the various landings towards the roof of the building. Kyle skulked in the shadows of the building, avoiding Marshall’s line of sight as he slowly crept up the stairs. Marshall looked as handsome as ever, wearing a tight white shirt and blue jeans. Kyle did his best to be quiet as he climbed the metal stairs, and made his way up to the roof a few seconds behind Marshall.
As Kyle peered over the edge of the roof in the space where the stairs met the railing, he saw Marshall walk over to a shaded corner. Marshall swung off the bag that was on his shoulder and sat down on the ground, looking out at the sky. Kyle wanted to go over and talk to him, but just as he got up, he saw Marshall take a notebook out of his bag and begin to write something. As he wrote, the sad expression on his face grew even more severe. Kyle could swear that Marshall was close to tears as he wrote. Kyle’s heart almost broke seeing Marshall alone like that. What he saw in Marshall reminded him of the same kind of loneliness that Kyle often felt, like no one in the world would ever understand him. Like he would always be just a bit too different to ever fit in. Kyle remembered what Marshall had said to him that night at the Meyers twins’ house, that there was more to him than Kyle could know. In that moment, Kyle got a glimpse of what he meant.
Suddenly, Marshall looked up directly in Kyle’s direction, and said, “Is someone there?” Kyle immediately began sneaking down the stairs, feeling blood rushing to his face. He couldn’t let Marshall see that he had basically been stalking him. When Kyle heard Marshall’s footsteps getting closer to the railing, he ran down the stairs, barely able to keep his balance but descending as quickly as he could. He ran all the way down and around the front of the building, and went inside the Academy, trying to make sure that Marshall wouldn’t see him. Kyle marched straight to his research room and sat down at his desk among the rows of processors that kept Paul running. He was breathing heavily, feeling bad that he had invaded Marshall’s privacy and scared that Marshall might’ve seen him on the stairs. How would he possibly explain why he had followed Marshall there? He tried to calm his thoughts; he was safe in his lab. No one was around to see him.
But just as Kyle was starting to calm down, he heard footsteps behind him and a booming voice calling out from the doorway: “Kyle! What are you doing here?”
Prof. Greer looked just as shocked to see Kyle as Kyle was
to see him. Prof. Greer was carrying some of Kyle’s files on Paul as he entered the room, his eyes wide with fright.
Kyle responded through heavy breathing: “I’m just… getting ready for some work this afternoon. I want to test out some new predictions with Paul. Are you reading through some of my notes, Prof? I’ve shared a lot of it on our online folders. Those are just some new things I’ve been working on, some stray thoughts. I’m sure they don’t even make much sense yet.”
Prof. Greer walked over and put the notes down on the desk in front of Kyle, shifting his eyes nervously: “I must’ve grabbed the wrong notes last night. I thought these were mine. Sorry about that, Kyle.”
“No problem, Prof. It’s not like the work is a secret. You’re the one who first developed the blueprints for Paul anyway. I’m just piggybacking on your work.”
Prof. Greer gave a weak smile, his green eyes still not settling on Kyle. “Yes, well, we’re closer than ever to getting Paul to being fully functional. I see that there are a few more variables that you’re struggling with?”
Kyle was still out of breath, and tried to calm himself. “Sorry, just took a bit of a jog,” he said lamely. “Yeah, some of the variables are tricky. There’s one variable, in particular, that I just can’t seem to account for in the predictions. It’s one of the most… slippery variables for Paul to work with.”
Prof. Greer stood over Kyle, looking down at him intensely. “Well, I’m sure we’ll figure it out, Kyle. Listen, I’ve really been impressed with your work here. So much, in fact, that I think you should consider some international opportunities. Maybe even the Mary Lewis Ellison grant, so you can do research at Oxford or Harvard. I know the Academy is a great place to study, but at your age you should be spreading your wings. I’ve already printed out the application for the grant for you and written a letter of recommendation. I’ve left it in your mailbox upstairs.”
Something in the way Prof. Greer spoke to Kyle made him uneasy. The corner of Prof. Greer’s mouth was twitching slightly, and he seemed almost… annoyed as he stared Kyle down waiting for an answer. The striking features Kyle had once found so attractive now seemed almost unnerving. Kyle responded, trying to lighten the mood: “Aren’t you happy with my work here, Prof? Trying to get rid of me so quickly?”
“I just think you’ll benefit from expanding your research to some other projects. See what’s out there. I’ve already asked Paul what the probability of you winning the grant would be, and he should be ready to give you an answer any minute now. Think it over. It’s a great opportunity.”
Kyle frowned slightly, but said, “Thanks Prof. I’ll definitely think it over.”
Prof. Greer gave a satisfied smile, and patted Kyle on the shoulder, finally seeming to soften. “Good. I think it’ll be a good move for you, Kyle.” Prof. Greer greeted Kyle and left him alone. Kyle booted up Paul, who had just returned an answer for Kyle’s probability of winning the grant: 84.6 percent confidence that he would get it. It would definitely be a great opportunity; Kyle could travel the world and work with some of the greatest minds at the most prestigious institutions. But he would have to leave his research with Prof. Greer and maybe even stop working on Paul.
“What do you think, buddy? Should I go?” Kyle asked the monitor in front of him. Paul’s voice recognition interface showed that he was analyzing Kyle’s question. A minute later, Paul displayed the message: No. 72% confidence.
Kyle smiled and said: “Right. I’ll miss you too, buddy.” Kyle went through his notes and began to input code for some new variables into Paul.
The memory of Marshall on the rooftop was still flashing in Kyle’s mind. Kyle couldn’t focus on work, and instead started to look up Marshall’s social media profiles. He saw lots of pictures of Marshall with a very handsome, muscular blond guy. They looked very close. There were also pictures of Marshall and his father. Kyle scanned Marshall’s face in the pictures, trying to see if he could find a trace of the sadness he had seen on the roof before. But none of it was present in the pictures.
Kyle got an email from Prof. Greer on his phone, reminding him about the application for the Mary Lewis Ellison grant, and Kyle had a brainwave: why would he need to apply for grants when he could just make his own money using Paul? Paul’s predictions were getting much more accurate every day. Maybe Paul could see which public stocks would have the greatest growth…
Kyle input the data into Paul, feeling a renewed excitement with all of the possibilities. If he could become rich enough to finance his own research, he could develop Paul much faster, buy ten times the number of processors, have a team of coders working with him…
Kyle spent the entire night on his new mission to use Paul to profit from the stock market. For a few hours, he managed to think about something other than Marshall de Villiers.
Chapter 8
Donovan Square was decorated with giant purple and white banners, the official colors of Ridgemont University. The cheerleaders were doing an intricate routine in their form-fitting uniforms, with some of the more athletic guys and girls on the cheerleading team doing cartwheels and aerial stunts as upbeat music blared across the square. Hundreds of Ridgemont students were enjoying the afternoon sun, sporting their Ridgemont colors in support of the rugby team. The pep rally helped to inspire students to buy tickets for the final match in the intervarsity tournament, less than two weeks away, and the team also used it as a chance to sell arm bracelets for a local charity. It was one of the big Ridgemont traditions for students to cheer on the team if they made it to the championship finals, and it seemed like more students than ever were joining the festivities.
Marshall wore his rugby uniform along with the rest of the team, the deep purple and white jersey hugging his muscular torso, and the white shorts sitting tightly around his thighs. He always felt self-conscious at pep rallies like this, since he would be showered with attention from so many guys and girls who hero-worshipped the rugby team. Even though alcohol wasn’t allowed at the pep rallies, Marshall could see that many students were clearly drunk and becoming unruly. He rolled his eyes watching a group of guys pushing each other in the crowd, bent over in laughter and childishly swatting one another’s ears. Marshall shook his head and continued to smile on the small stage that had been erected on the square.
Donovan Square was always the hub of activity on Ridgemont campus, surrounded by academic buildings on the one side, and pubs and restaurants on the other, and close to the sports fields and the swimming stadium. There was a lot of foot traffic, and Marshall could feel the hundreds of eyes on him as he tried to maintain a smile and act cheerful. Reinhardt was standing next to Marshall on the small stage, looking equally uncomfortable. Marshall gave Reinhardt a weak smile and whispered in his ear: “I feel like a circus freak. I don’t really know how we’re supposed to act with all these people watching us.”
Reinhardt shrugged his shoulders and clapped along to the pop song that was playing, his bulging chest and arms quivering under the tight rugby top. “I know what you mean. But we’re doing this for charity too, remember? And just think, there’ll be even more people at the final match if we give them a reason to get excited about it. We’ve been practicing so much. It’ll be good to have an audience.” Reinhardt gave a naughty wink and flexed his muscles at the crowd, which was immediately met with loud applause and cooing. “See, we’re doing a public service!”
Marshall laughed at Reinhardt’s joke and tried to get himself into good spirits. There had been a lot happening with him lately, and Marshall felt like he needed time to just think about everything on his own. Especially about the kiss he had shared with Kyle. It had been on his mind for days, and the song he had written about Kyle on the roof of the Academy was playing on a loop in his head. What would Marshall say if he ran into Kyle again? Why were all of these feelings suddenly taking ahold of him?
Coach Barker gave a speech in front of the crowd, trying to get some enthusiasm, but most of the students were chatting wit
h each other and ignoring Coach Barker’s attempts at getting applause. Only once Coach Barker started introducing the starting lineup for the final match was the crowd interested again. One by one the teammates went to the front of the small stage, raising their arms in the air or flexing their muscles with broad smiles as the crowd roared. Coach Barker introduced the vice-captain, Quinton, who sneered in Marshall’s direction as he walked to the center of the stage, seeming to relish the applause more than the other players. Marshall raised his eyebrow and creased his nose.
“Just ignore him,” Reinhardt said. “You know he’s still pissed that Coach chose you as captain when he’s already a senior. He’s an ass!”
“I know,” Marshall said. “It’s still not fun when someone is so hostile with me. But I’ll get over it.”
Coach Barker smiled from ear to ear as he looked back at the stage and said, “Finally, our team captain, the Ridgemont University record holder for most tries during an intervarsity match, Marshall de Villiers!”
Marshall painted a smile on his face and did a playful jog to the center of the stage, waving at the crowd. The rest of the team jumped off the stage as Marshall was greeted with loud applause, and the players hoisted Marshall on their shoulders, singing the university anthem in deep, tuneless voices. The rest of the crowd joined in the chanting, and Marshall tried to pretend like he wasn’t painfully self-conscious. Reinhardt was holding one of Marshall’s legs, beaming up at him and looking extremely proud to be by Marshall’s side. Marshall looked out over the large crowd, the purple and white banners in the distance, Donovan Square swarming with activity. His father would be so proud to see him at that moment.
Suddenly, Marshall felt a pinch at his leg, and his weight swayed to his right. He had lost support from someone, and he felt himself falling to the ground. Before Marshall could even make sense of what was happening, he felt adrenaline rush through his body, and his face met the ground with a loud thud. The entire crowd gasped in unison, and the rest of the rugby team rushed around Marshall to see if he was okay. Reinhardt’s face was red in the sunlight as Marshall looked up into his blue eyes. “Are you okay?” Reinhardt asked. “What happened? How did you fall so quickly? We were all holding you.”
Rewriting Destiny Page 5
