by Kailin Gow
“Uh, sorry,” he muttered quickly, turning bright pink, his eyes squinting for a brief moment to look at me. It was a serious look, different than the cheerful friendly ones he had been throwing me all morning long.
“Sorry,” I muttered straight back.
“I can only assume that you are Miss Mackenzy Evers,” said the coach again, striding towards us. “Or else you're a random trespasser. We only have one new girl due in the class this year.”
“Yes, I am,” I began, stumbling over my words in my nervousness. “I mean – yes, sir. Uh – yes, Mister...”
“Matthews,” he said. “Mr. Matthews outside the gym, Coach Matthews inside. You're late, Miss Evers.”
“Late?” I looked down at my schedule, confused.
“I'll cut you some slack this time,” said Coach Matthews. “You're new and easily confused.” The other students tittered. “But normally I'd expect you to be warmed up and changed by now.”
“But my first class,” I stuttered, looking at Varun with confusion. “It was Aeros History, wasn't it? I mean...”
Varun's ears were turning pink.
I grabbed hold of my schedule, which Varun was holding limply in his hands. There it was written, in clear typewritten letters, A-Format 8:00 am. Introductory Physical Fitness. Cutter Gymnasium.
“I guess my first class was gym,” I said, feeling stupid. “I'm sorry – I got confused...”
“You mean, you were misled.” Coach Matthews fixed a great, beady eye on Varun. “I don't blame you, Miss Evers. You couldn't have known.”
“Known what?”
“Nice try, Mr. Cutter. But just because you want to have the first crack at the new girl doesn't mean you get to make her miss her first class.”
“It wasn't that, Coach Matthews,” Varun's ears were now a bright scarlet. “Our tour just took a while, that's all.”
Besides Varun, I giggled, thinking about how Varun’s tour also meant him giving me a full imitation impression of each of the teachers.
“Mhm.” Coach Matthews raised a pair of bushy gray eyebrows. “If you don't know it yet, you should, Miss Evers. Young Mr. Cutter here is a good soul – but he does have a way with the ladies. I was the school lothario when I was his age – but he puts me to shame, don't you, Mr. Cutter? Ah well. Those that have the gift of charm must flaunt it.” The other students – nearly all males – laughed, excepting Chance, who stared down Varun with pure hatred in his eyes.
“I'm sorry I'm late, Coach Matthews,” I said. “It won't happen again.”
“Mr. Cutter?” Coach Matthews turned to Varun.
“Won't happen again!” Varun grinned at me. “Right, sir. Promise. My word!” He patted me on the shoulder, and I could feel the ocean-cool blue of his gaze pouring into my soul, comforting me. Everything's going to be fine, he seemed to be saying. Just stay cool. “Find me at lunch, Mackenzy. Sorry I got you in trouble.”
“Make sure it's the last time!” Coach Matthews called after Varun as he strode out the door, but there was no anger in his voice. It was clear that Coach Matthews, like the rest of the school, genuinely liked Varun and enjoyed giving him a good tease once in a while. If Varun was the school lothario, as Coach Matthews had joked, he certainly wasn't a cocky playboy like Chance, who seemed more annoyed by the second at the prospect of Varun's having already claimed the title
“Now, I know wrestling isn't the most popular sport with the ladies,” said Coach Matthews, “but signups for fall sports were last spring – this is the only class that had any slots left by the time you enrolled. So I hope you'll learn quickly to play with the boys.”
I scanned the class quickly, hoping nobody would have already judged me for my tardiness. But luckily, most of the boys in the class seemed to be more amused by Varun's half-hearted attempt at spending time with me than they were at my confusion. And they were almost all boys. Only two girls were sitting beside the wrestling mat. One was a slight, elfin figure with pixie-cropped hair and a pair of glasses sitting atop a tiny button nose. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen, I thought with surprise – and certainly she didn't look like she was capable of pinning a gnat to the mat, let alone a burly eighteen-year-old boy. Beside her was another girl with electric-blue hair in a messy fringe, who was glowering almost as much as Chance, albeit far more indiscriminately. She looked as if she'd rather be anywhere but in class – and preferably as far away from the other students as possible. Her nose ring glinted in the pale fluorescent light of the gym.
What Varun had said about me being fresh meat was evidently true. Between the dearth of girls in the gym class and the clearly exhausted dating scene at Aeros overall, the boys evidently regarded me as hungry dogs might a new-killed carcass. As they looked me up and down, evidently sizing up my dating potential, I turned redder than Varun had done earlier. I wanted to be popular in my new school, but certainly not that popular.
“Well, Miss Evers,” Coach Matthews's voice burst through my thoughts. “Are you going to join us or not?”
“I want to,” I said, fumbling for words, “but I haven't got any clothes to change into. They weren't mentioned in the orientation letter...”
“That's okay!” The tiny girl sprang to her feet. “Coach Matthews, I've got my spare set in my locker. Can she borrow those?”
“Fine,” said Coach Matthews. “But be back quickly, both of you! No socializing in the locker room.” He tossed the girl the locker room key.
“I'm Alice,” the girl explained as we walked, her voice as wispy and small as her frame. “I know it's tough to be new here. When I arrived freshman year, I'd skipped the seventh and eighth grades, so I didn't know anyone either.”
She went over to her locker, expertly dialing the lock, and removed a crisp white tank top and blue shorts, neatly folded, from her locker. “I always keep a spare in case I don't have time to do the ironing,” she said.
Certainly, I thought, Alice looked like the kind of girl who would evidently iron all her clothes every night. Unfortunately, she was also half my size, with bony shoulders and a flat chest. I, on the other hand, had inherited my curves from my Italian father, rather than my Chinese and Irish mother, and there was no way I was going to fit into anything Alice gave me to wear.
“It's stretch fabric,” Alice said in an attempt at helpfulness as I wiggled my ample Italian inches into the unforgiving Polyester. I blushed as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The clothes weren't unflattering, thank goodness, but if anything I had the opposite problem.
They were tight. Very, very tight.
I cursed my choice to wear a black bra that morning.
“I feel like I'm wearing a bikini,” I muttered to Alice as I reluctantly allowed her to lead me back to the gym. Raised by my mother to be a sensible girl and to use my brains rather than my looks, I never dressed to make it a focal point. As soon as I walked into the room, all eyes were upon me, and I could hear some of the boys snicker to their friends as they ogled every curve on my frame.
From the back of the room, someone said, “Damn, she should be in that swimsuit magazine, Sports something…”
At least you're getting positive attention, I thought, looking intently down at the ground to avoid the stares.
Fresh meat, indeed.
“Okay, Alice,” said Coach Matthews, pointing to the mat, where an enormous boy with sideburns was sitting cross-legged, waiting for the match to begin. “You're next.”
I gaped with surprise. Tiny, rabbit-like Alice certainly was no match for this boy – ten of her wouldn't be enough to so much as knock him over.
“But we have an odd number now,” said Alice. “Tim's already gone once.”
“Right, then,” said Coach Matthews. “Mac, you go!”
“Me? No! I don't know how to...” I faltered. Alice seemed so gentle, so nice. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt this fragile, sweet girl.
“Just give it a grapple,” said Coach Matthews.
“Sweet!” One
of the boys cried. “We get to see the chicks fight!”
“Yeah!” his friend chimed in. “Shame we haven't got any mud.”
“Pigs!” The harsh, clear voice of the blue-haired girl rang through the gym. “How about you two get all hot and sweaty together, and then I can pour a vat of dirt on you. Fun, huh?”
Embarrassed, the two boys fell silent, and the blue-haired girl scowled as she hugged her knees to her chest.
Alice stared me down, her wide hazel eyes looking ever more like a rabbit's.
“Okay, girls,” Coach Matthews evidently was choosing to ignore the interrupted. “Time to square away. One, two...”
Before he could say three, Alice had sprung upon me, knocking me flat on my back.
“What the...” I sat up, seeing stars. Alice had seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Don't be too eager, Alice!” Coach Matthews chided her. “Wait till I say three – how many times have I told you that?”
“Sorry,” said Alice sheepishly. “I didn't mean to – sorry, Mackenzy.”
“Another go,” insisted Coach Matthews. “One, two, three!”
This time Alice waited for the “three,” but it didn't do me much good. While I was able to grapple with Alice for all of five seconds, she expertly managed to flip me over and pin me on the ground, her spindly arms evidently far more muscular than she looked. I gasped. Alice wasn't only strong for her size – she was super-strong, keeping me pinned to the mat so heavily that I couldn't even squirm from her grasp. I felt that Tim, for all his seeming strength, had probably been relieved to cede his beating to me.
“We have a winner,” declared Coach Matthews, and Alice sprang to her feet, letting me up. I clambered to my feet, my muscles aching.
But Alice was evidently unaware of her strength. She stuck out a friendly hand for me to shake. “That was really good for a first try,” she said. “Especially if you've never wrestled before.”
“Thanks for humoring me,” I gave her a smile. “But you beat me fair and square.”
“You're new,” Alice said brightly. “You'll beat me next time, once you learn some more technique.”
But as Alice darted off to speak to Coach Matthews, who was beckoning her aside, I got the distinct impression that I wouldn't be pinning Alice to the mat anytime soon.
Well, that was at least one potential friend, I thought, feeling vaguely better. But what about the blue-haired girl? I felt some measure of gratitude for her for sticking up for me against the boys, and wanted – if not to thank her – then at least to meet her properly. But as I looked around the gym, I found that she and her electric-blue tresses were nowhere to be seen.
“Looking for Misty?” I whirled around to find Chance standing before me. There was something in the soft, proprietorial way he said the name that made me jealous, in spite of myself. If I wasn't good enough for Chance to be friends with, I felt reflexively, it wasn't fair that any girl should be.
“What, did your father force you to dance with her, too?” I asked, giving away a bit too much of my anger in my sarcasm. Why was it when it came to Chance, he brought out such uncontrollable emotions in me?
“He didn't force me, no,” said Chance lightly, with a wry smile that made it clear he knew just how much his words were getting to me. Despite his smile, his gaze fell on my gym clothes still a few sizes too small for me. Under his gaze, I became acutely aware of how little to the imagination and unforgiving my outfit was. I gritted my teeth and made a mental note to get gym clothes that fit me comfortably, soon.
“She’s probably just in the locker room,” I said.
“Don't worry, Miss Evers,” he smirked. “You can dance with me again too, if you want.” He came up close to me as if he was about to dance with me. We were so close, not touching, yet each aching to touch. I bit my lip, while he watched me intently with those icy blue eyes that seemed to cut straight through me to see me as I am. It was unnerving. It was exhilarating. It was impossible.
“I'm fine,” I said. “I can manage without. And the name's Mac.”
“Very well, Miss Evers,” he said so smoothly in that gentle and subtle British accent of his that it was infuriatingly arrogant, but sexy at the same time. His lips curled into a smile as beautiful as it was maddening, and my cheeks burned with rage mingled with desire. It wasn't fair, I thought bitterly to myself. I’ve had boys come onto me before back on Angel Island, but I have always handled them well. Being with Chance was throwing me off my game. Why were all the good-looking ones such jerks?
“Mac,” I said again through gritted teeth.
“Oh, no, I wouldn't dare!” His voice was gently sarcastic, almost like a caress. “It wouldn't be proper. I went to Eton, you know. We never addressed one another by our first names. It simply wasn't done. Nanny would have been scandalized to think I would dare to do such a thing. Of course, she had her heyday sometime around the coronation of Queen Victoria, so perhaps her methods are a tad outdated.”
Now I knew he was trying to get to me. He could be telling me to go effing off, as the Brits would say, and it would still sound like sweet whispers in my ear. Chance Cutter was not only lethal in looks, but his soothe and sexy low voice was like a sword slathered in honey.
“Well, Mr. Cutter,” I said, swallowing down my annoyance. “I'm sure Nanny would think you behaved like an absolutely perfect gentleman last night.”
“Nanny would know,” he grinned a cocky grin at me. “Father never bothered to visit me up at Eton, so it was really just her outside of term-time. She used to make me scones, you know. Don't you just love scones, Miss Evers?”
And with that, he turned on his heel and began to stride off.
All at once, stupidly, I wanted to run after him, to talk to him again, to try and make a fresh start. He was after all, the son of my mother’s new boss. And Antonio Cutter did say he wanted me to try to become friends with Chance.
“Wait!” I caught up to him, then stumbled a little and ended up in his arms. I felt again that same sizzling desire that had overtaken me last night.
Chance noticed it too. His face – so much more painfully beautiful up close – was overtaken by shock.
For one brief moment, the shock was enough for me to see the fleeting look of longing in his intense blue eyes as he took a rapid step back.
“I have to go, Miss Evers.”
And before I could say anything, shame and embarrassment flooding over me, Chance vanished into the locker room.
I was left standing there, my face flushed, and my heart pounding like the beat of the luau drum. I could remember the flames of last night flickering around Chance and I as we danced, encasing us in a curtain of red and orange warmth. There exist no barriers between us, just our raw emotions, as the beat of the dance carried on. At that moment, although I had just met him, I felt an eternity of love, loss, and passion flood through me. He infuriated me, but I still wanted him.
Chapter 6
By the time I came home from school that evening, I was exhausted. I'd had five classes that day, and in that time my bookbag had been loaded down with textbooks upon textbooks, most of which were completely unfamiliar to me. Most of what I had learned at Angel High had been pretty basic – World History, Post-Erosion History, Math, English – but here the curriculum seemed to be completely different. Not only was there an entire class devoted to the Erosion Period – the decade during which the floods had transformed the massive continents of the world into scattered archipelagos – but indeed almost all the other classes were focused on Aeros itself, ignoring the rest of the world. We had one class just in Aeros History, and two in Mythologies of Aeros. It appeared that the local settlers of Aeros had worshiped what looked at first glance to be a mix of all the other pagan religions of which I'd read – Norse gods and traditional Polynesian ones were worshiped alongside Ancient Greek and Roman gods; likely, the textbook said, as a result of traders from the Roman Empire getting shipwrecked and stranded on Aeros thousands of years ago,
starting their own colony. It was interesting, to be sure, but as I looked at the books I had unloaded on my desk, my heart sank. Surely all the other students at Aeros Academy had grown up hearing about these myths and legends, grown up knowing who founded Aeros and when. But all that would be new to me. I didn't know Aeros from any of the other islands in the Pacific, except that it was pre-Erosion rather than Post – and I certainly didn't know anything about how the ancient Aerites worshiped the Roman god Neptune on the beaches where the Cutter Imperial now stood. Everyone, I felt, would be massively ahead of me – how would I ever catch up in time to put more A's on my transcript for college admissions? As I grudgingly started my homework, I was glad that tonight was a Friday night, and at the very least that I had two whole days before I'd have to present my work to my teachers. I had a report on Early Fire Cults due for Tuesday, two chapters of Aeros History and Culture to read and summarize, and a quiz on the economic impact of the Early Erosion (2150-51) to prepare for on Monday. I no longer had to worry about making friends, I felt. I wouldn't have time for any, anyway!
At least Chance was new, too. I sighed as his face came flickering back into my memory. I tried to put it out of my mind, but the questions kept coming back to me. Why had he treated me the way he had? What could he possibly have against me to make him so angry at me? And what had happened the other night at the party – the bonfire, the flames, that sizzling sense of connection? I knew from his expression today after gym class that he felt it too. From glimpses of him when he wasn’t trying to hate me, I could tell he wanted just as much as I did to give into our attraction, our desires. But then why did he treat me the way he did? I scowled at myself. I had never been one to let any boy treat me badly – my mother had always given me stern talking-tos about the dangers of mooning over crushes – but this felt different, somehow. This was more than just a crush. There was something I didn't know – something I had seen in Antonio Cutter's eyes when he talked to me about Chance, something to do with the bonfires and Chance's expulsion from Eton and the Cutter Scholarship my mother hadn't told me about. Some secret that was being hidden from me.
