by Bea Paige
When I get to the end of the corridor, I can either head towards the gym and swimming pool or outside to the back of the building and the formal gardens beyond. Whilst I’ve looked at the gardens plenty of times from Pink’s room, which is on the opposite side of the annex to me, I haven’t ever bothered checking them out. I’m a city kid at heart. Give me concrete and skyscrapers any day of the week. Today, however, after my session with Mr Burnside, I feel the need for air, space. The fact of the matter is, I’m itching for my cans. To spray paint something, anything. I need to switch off, I need to get rid of this constant unsettled feeling inside from being here, for all the weeks of shit I’ve had to endure. I miss home… I miss my little brothers, Eastern, Tracy and Braydon. I wish I didn’t feel anything, but I do.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I head outside hoping that this time the fresh air will blow away the cobwebs like Libby, my foster carer, would often say. God, if she knew I was taking a walk in the park (because, let’s face it, these gardens are practically a fucking park) she’d have a fit. She was always trying to get me to go out for fresh air with her. Now look at me.
After a couple of minutes, I find myself at the entrance to the maze. I’ve seen it countless times from Pink’s bedroom window that overlooks the gardens and not the car park like mine. Each time I’ve looked out of her window I’ve never seen anyone enter.
Peering into the entrance, at the high hedgerows and pathway that seems to end in another wall of green hedge, I chew on my lip. My gut, which is generally always right, is telling me to back off, but my sense of adventure and that familiar adrenaline rush that I usually only get when graffitiing is telling me to go for it.
I go for it.
For the next half an hour I lose myself in the maze, and I like it. My head is so preoccupied with finding the centre that I don’t think about anything apart from that. After taking several wrong turns and having to retrace my steps on a number of occasions, I finally find the heart of the maze. Except when I get there, I’m not alone.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer, completely thrown by the fact that Camden is sitting on a bench in the middle of the maze as though he’s been there the whole time.
“Skipping class,” he shrugs.
“I can see that. But how the fuck did you get to the middle so fast?” And more importantly, why is he here? Did he follow me or something?
He gives me a meaningful look. “There are two entrances, two paths to follow to get to the middle. I took one, whilst you took the other. We’ve still ended up in the same place.”
“Is that supposed to be significant or something? It’s a fucking maze, Camden. That’s all.” I turn around and stride towards the gap I entered by. There’s no way I’m staying whilst he’s here. Especially not since we’re on our own together, and I have no fucking clue what his agenda is.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and even though I quicken my pace he’s in front of me in seconds. I raise my gaze to meet his and to avoid the sharpness of his nipples beneath his thin grey t-shirt. It’s cold out, evidently.
Thing is I’m not cold… I’m the complete opposite of cold. I feel warm, alive and I’m not sure I like it. Actually, what I should be saying is that I’m positive I hate it. though, truthfully, I’m somewhere in the middle.
“You’re running again… Isn’t that what you did at Sasha’s party that night?”
“Have you got some weird case of amnesia or something? I stayed, remember. Pretty sure I called you out too.”
He laughs, showing that pretty gold molar. “Only after I challenged you. Do you always follow people’s orders or just mine?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m going to my room. So, if you wouldn’t mind,” I snap, trying to step around him. He simply mirrors me, and I’m faced with a wall of muscle and a determined look. “Get out of the way,” I insist.
“Not happening,” he whispers as his topaz eyes glower with a mixture of challenge and… lust. There it is again. What the fuck? Inside, that flame ignites.
Spinning on my heel, I run to the other gap in the hedgerow on the other side of the central square. This time Camden isn’t fast enough to stop me and I hook a left sprinting as fast as I can, acting on instinct. I can hear his heavy footsteps right behind me and feel his heavy breaths as though he’s mere inches from me instead of metres. Following my gut, I race through the maze. I’ve no idea where I’m going just like I’ve no idea why I’m so intent on running from Camden. Is it because of the way he looked at me? Is it because I’m genuinely afraid of him? Or is it because of the way my heart pounds not in fear, but in excitement? This is a dangerous game I’m playing.
I might lie to others, but lying to myself? I’ve never done that until now.
When I turn the next corner, I’m faced with a dead end. Camden is on me in a matter of seconds. Like me, like most kids who live their lives on the street, he’s not even broken a sweat. Being a criminal keeps you fit. We might generally stay and fight for our honour and reputation, but we run to save our arses from the law. Except, I’m not running from the law. I’m running from Camden when I should’ve stayed to fight. In all honesty, I’m pretty sure I liked the chase.
“You’re quick, but I’m an expert at hunting, Asia.” He steps closer, crowding me. My back hits the sharpness of the hedge, little branches dig into my back scratching at my skin.
“Back off, Camden,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I hate you. Because you’re an arsehole, ruling over a bunch of arseholes. Because you destroyed my friend’s life. Because we’re enemies. Because you hate me. Because you confuse me…” I admit.
“How so?” he asks, the tenor of his voice lowering. He’s so close I can smell him and the deep musk of his cologne. It’s expensive and smacks of riches stolen not earned. Fakery. I wonder what his real smell is like beneath the heady aftershave he’s wearing. “Why do I confuse you, Asia?” he persists, crowding me more. Spikes of fear and… excitement run amok inside my chest. Fuck sake.
“Every time Monk hurts me or tries to, you’ve stepped in… Why?” I grit my teeth and force myself to look into his eyes. My throat constricts as he stares down at me.
“Asia…” he whispers, bowing his head so that it’s only inches from mine
“Yet you let him try and hurt me time and again. I don’t understand. Be my enemy or be my friend, you can’t be both. You can’t straddle the line, one which you drew in the sand, not me,” I remind him.
“I think you’ll find that was you forcing my hand.”
He leans forward suddenly, invading my space further. His chest heaves, but not from the running. There’s emotion in his eyes, so much emotion; anger, fear, lust. All of it swirling, I’m not sure what I’m going to be left with. I wait. It’s like watching the reels on a fruit machine turn, waiting for three of the same to hit the fucking jackpot.
Eventually he blinks, and just like that all the emotion is gone, replaced instead with that look I’ve become accustomed to. Blank, uninterested. He steps back, but I won’t let him get away with this bullshit. Not today. Today, I’m done. Mr Burnside tried to pry me open with his gifts and promises and words. I need action. Camden is a man of action, even if it’s the kind I have to defend myself from. At least I know where I stand with that. I don’t know where I stand when he looks at me the way he just did.
“What do you fucking want, Camden? You hate me, then protect me. You turn a blind eye when your crew disrespect me, but study me when you think I don’t notice. You chase me, but don’t hurt me. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”
Something seems to snap inside him. I see it behind his eyes, I can almost hear it crack.
“Fuck!” Camden growls, grabbing my arm with lightning fast speed then yanking me against his chest. With the other hand he grasps the back of my head, cupping it roughly. One word slips from his lips before his mouth crashes against mine: “This.”
The kiss i
s rough, quick, overpowering, devastating and over before it’s really begun. Camden steps back, the muscles in his arms taught, the sinews jutting out against his dark skin.
“You bastard,” I spit. “How fucking dare you!” I’m so angry. I hold onto that, because if I don’t I might just step back into his arms and kiss him back and that I won’t do. Can’t.
“Just claiming what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours, Camden. I turned you down, remember?”
“Yes, you are,” he insists, anger blazing in his eyes now.
“I don’t belong to anyone, just like you don’t belong to anyone either,” I remind him.
“Belonging to someone and being owned are two very different things,” he responds quietly, and for a moment I’m pretty sure he isn’t talking about me, but about himself.
We stare at each other, neither of us willing to step away, caught somehow in this dangerous attraction.
“Back the fuck off, Camden.”
Camden twists on his feet at the same time I step out from behind him. Ford is staring at us both like he’s about to commit murder. Had he seen us kiss? Correction, had he seen Camden kiss me? I most definitely did not kiss him back.
“Or what?” Camden taunts.
“You know exactly what I’m capable of. Do you want a repeat of what happened that night in Grim?” Ford steps forward, his fists clenched. Camden does too.
Oh, fuck. Here we go. They can’t fight here, not on school grounds. Not like this.
“Stop it. Stop! Not here.” I shout, getting in between them.
I’m tired of this shit. My head is all over the fucking place. This day has gone from bad to fucking worse. I press the flat of my hands against both of their chests. Beneath my palms their hearts battle for my attention with the thudding and the pounding. Anger oozes from them both and perhaps something more, ownership, jealousy? Maybe both?
“Why? Let’s deal with this once and for all. Right here, right now,” Ford snaps. I see the violence in him then. I feel it in the tremor of his body beneath my hand. It’s a thousand times more powerful than Camden’s. That surprises me.
“No. I’m done today. No more.” I grit my teeth, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. Mr Burnside successfully dragged out unwanted emotions and memories, and now Camden has had the audacity to kiss me, leaving me reeling. The violence pouring off Ford is too much. I don’t need to bear witness to this fight. I don’t.
“I’m done today,” I repeat.
“Who are you protecting right now, him or me?” Camden asks, glaring at me.
“Neither,” I snap, refusing to be drawn into the argument. Both, I think. But why? I should let Ford kick the shit out of Camden. I should, and yet I don’t want to.
Ford’s nostrils flare but he steps back, heeding my request, surprising me. He schools his emotions, keeping the rage under wraps. I watch as he shuts it down. And Camden? He leans into my hand, baring his teeth at Ford. “Stay the fuck out of my business,” he snaps.
“I won’t do that, not when it comes to Asia,” Ford retorts, glancing at me.
“Then things will only get worse around here.”
“Bring it on, Camden. I’m not scared of you or your pack of wolves.”
“Just go,” I snap, glaring at Camden.
“Me?” he says, pointing to his chest. “You want me to fucking go?”
I scoff, an hysterical laugh pushing free from my lips. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What makes Ford the better option?” he asks.
“He doesn’t want to hurt me…” I respond instantly. I might be wrong. I might be very, very wrong but I’m going with my instincts here. Besides, Camden is still my enemy, after all. One rage-filled kiss doesn’t change that fact.
He glares at us both. Then shoves past Ford, pushing against his shoulder. “This isn’t fucking over, not by a long shot,” he snaps and I’m not sure whether he’s talking to Ford or to me now. He rests his gaze on me, and I wince at the beauty of his topaz eyes and the bruising memory of his kiss. “Don’t think for one second that Ford won’t hurt you. He’s capable of inflicting more pain than you could ever imagine.”
With that last parting shot Camden stalks off, disappearing into the maze and leaving me with Ford and making me question whether my instincts were right after all.
25
As the weeks crawl by and the weather turns cooler, fights continue to break out around the school between the opposing gang members. Over the last day or so there’s been whispered talk about an organised brawl at the Tower between Ford and Camden to settle the score once and for all. The dislike between them is thick and toxic, causing the atmosphere around the place to worsen a thousand-fold.
Just this morning at breakfast, Mr Carmichael went apoplectic after finding out that two kids had to be sent to the hospital last night to fix broken bones. He pushed for someone to come forward. No one admitted to anything. No one said anything. Even though the crews are enemies, the rule on the street remains the same in this setting just as it ever did back home: no one rags, ever.
Believe me, it’s a stupid fucking rule. Aside from that one time on the field when Monk hit Pink, I didn’t tell any of the staff about what happened later that week with the stunt Monk pulled. I won’t either. I want revenge on my terms.
By the end of his rant, and ten minutes of waiting for someone to step forward, Mr Carmichael realised that he was dealing with a bunch of kids whose skewed sense of loyalty remained fierce. You can take the kid out of the street, but you can’t take the street out of the kid. Of all people, he should know that. But it would seem he’s forgotten his roots no matter how much he tries to convince us all otherwise.
Every single one of us had fifty credits deducted.
Fifty bloody credits.
Now my overall score is back down to one hundred and ninety. I’ll need to earn back the fifty credits I lost and gain an extra ten more to get my day trip out of this place. I’m desperate for a whole eight hours where I can do whatever the fuck I want. Granted, I’ve escaped Oceanside to visit the Tower, but that’s not the point. It’s a risk every time I do that and whilst the thrill of getting caught is part of the fun, I do actually want to spend time outside of Oceanside without having to keep looking over my shoulder.
Honestly, I need to breathe.
It’s begun to get a little stifling in here.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sonny asks, plonking himself next to me in the art studio where I’m sitting now.
“You’d have to pay a lot more than a penny,” I retort.
If only he knew. The truth is all four of them consume my thoughts and it’s driving me fucking mad. Camden has barely acknowledged me since the afternoon in the maze. But I know he’s got his eye on me. I feel it every time I walk into a room. That hasn’t changed.
Danger is creeping up on me, I feel it like a nightmare that I can’t prevent, but this time I won’t leave myself vulnerable again. Camden appears to be losing his hold on Monk and his wolves and I’ve no doubt Monk is going to go after me soon. When he does, I’ll be ready. I have a plan and I’ll have Ford to thank for that. Well, I hope so anyway.
After lunch, I’ve arranged to meet Ford in the outhouse that borders the edge of the sports field. The space is used to store the sports equipment, but a portion is empty and that’s where we’ve agreed to meet so he can teach me how to hone my fighting skills. I’ve not told anyone about our arrangement, least of all Sonny. A nervous kind of energy runs through me at the thought.
“Asia, shit. If I knew kissing you would make you clam up like this around me, I might’ve thought twice about it.”
“I’m not clamming up. I just have stuff on my mind, that’s all.”
“Is this who you have on your mind” he asks, tapping his finger on the portrait of Eastern I’m sketching.
“Yeah,” I admit. That and three others, including you. Though I don’t say that thought out loud.
/> “Who is it?”
“My best friend, Eastern,” I explain. The tight expression on his face relaxes.
“Ah, phew. There’s me thinking I had more competition.” He grins, then his face falls when my grimace gives my feelings away. “More than friends then?” he asks, trying to be all cool and relaxed but failing miserably.
“It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that.”
Sonny taps his fingers against the table, then puffs out his cheeks. “I know I should respect your wishes and all, but I kind of want to know who I’m up against. Don’t tell me a guy as pretty as that is built like a brick shit house,” he responds, playfully. Though it isn’t really playful, not when he’s looking at me so intensely. “The list is getting longer and longer. I need to up my game.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s me, your best mate Eastern, and Ford,” he adds with a little growling noise.
“Ford isn’t interested in me like that…” I insist, ignoring the flutter in my chest. Although, the way he’d looked at me that night he and Camden caught us kissing told another story.
“I told you before, Ford likes you. The guy might be a closed book, but I’m not an idiot. Neither is Camden. He sees it too.”
“How so? And more to the point, how do you know what Camden does or doesn’t see?”
“There’s something about you, Asia. Don’t you notice how they both watch you?”
“No. No, I don’t,” I lie. Yes, yes I do, and it feels weird. Good weird in the case of Ford, and strange, I’ve-no-idea-what-to-make-of-it-because-I-hate-Camden-I-really-fucking-do, in the case of the notorious HH gang leader.
“See? Competition,” he insists.
“Look, we’re not together, you and me. We shared a kiss ages ago, that’s it.” I wince at how harsh that sounds.
