Chapter Text
As the team lead, I want to make sure I've got my team's back. That's why I had to grab PJ some double chocolate ice cream as a pick-me-up after he got creamed in math. It's also why I'm the one lugging our books as we walk down the sidewalk toward the bazaar outside campus - the bazaar is for Bobby.
All I want to do right now is crash at the dorms and sleep the rest of the day away. But, no, as the team lead, I'm determined to stump on my flat feet to make my teammates beam with the joy of a thousand unburdened souls.
A bunch of colorful tents are lined up right outside the campus gates, and the place is packed with students hitting up the booths. "Whoa, look at all those tents!" Bobby exclaims. "Think of all the finds in there!"
I smile at PJ, who is losing himself in his ice cream. "Hey, Peej, what…"
Something fast and sharp hits my legs from behind at the same time a thing jams into the back of my head, sending our books flying and me sprawling onto the sidewalk. I feel a sharp sting in my legs and a dull throb in my skull.
I look up to see Bradley Upper-Crusty-Underpants swerving on his skateboard, looking back with a punchable smirk. "I'll see you at the qualifying rounds, freshman!" he taunts, laughing as he speeds away.
The sight of PJ covered in chocolate ice cream and Bobby lying beside me rubbing his head makes my blood boil. I scramble to my feet and glare at Bradley's retreating back. "And after, when you'll be bringing me my towel, BOY!"
~*~*~*~
Damn that jerk! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! He's the one thing standing between me and a decent college experience - besides my dad, and even he is finally backing off now that he's busy with Ms. Marpole and being in a fraternity.
Clutching the three textbooks in anger, I fume while PJ and Bobby "ooh" and "ahh" over the tents.
"Check this out," Bobby breathes in awe as he checks a red and white console in a tent filled with retro video game consoles. "A Famicom, right from Japan! These were never sold here in the US."
PJ stands next to him to check the price while I huff and puff, blowing at the hair on my forehead. I observe the tents around me in boredom, watching a guy selling weird-looking jewelry to a couple of girls.
"Did you see that robot cat? How sweet!" PJ says, leaning closer. I lean away, making sure he doesn't stain me with his chocolate-covered shirt.
"Totally," I mutter, wincing as the sting in my head doesn't let up. Damn you, Bradley Upperdust! What wouldn't I do to rip that stupid smirk off his face? For a Gamma president who's won the X-Games more than once, I wonder why he's always butting heads with me. Am I really that threatening? Guess I am. Why else would he keep stalking me and bugging the hell out of me? He must be smelling his own downfall now that there's a new legend ready to put him in his place! I'll get even once he becomes my towel boy!
I snap out of a tempting daydream of Bradley trailing after me with a towel only to realize I'm standing in a tent full of junk. There's no sign of PJ or Bobby anywhere. We must've gotten separated.
I turn to leave and run smack into someone.
"Oh, my bad…" I instantly regret apologizing the second I see who it is.
"You again?" Bradley sneers, brushing off his stupid vest. "Following me now, freshman? I know I'm a big deal, but get a life."
"Look who's talking," I retort with an incredulous scoff. "You're the one running people down on a skateboard!"
"Careful, Maxie," he says, stepping into my space with a wider smirk. "You're already at the bottom of the food chain. Don't make me drop you a few more rungs before qualifiers."
"The only reason you 'dropped' me is because you sucker-punched me from behind like a coward," I snap, finally losing my cool. I shove his shoulder. "Why don't you try moving that fast when I'm actually looking at you?"
"Don't touch me, you nobody," Bradley snarls, shoving me back even harder.
That's it!
I toss the textbooks on the ground and kick him in the shins. He kicks me back.
I shove his shoulders with both hands. He slaps my face. I gasp. He snickers.
I slap him back harder. He growls and slaps me even harder. My cheek stings, so I shove him instead of slapping him again, but he ends up slapping me in the face for the third time.
"That hurts!" I snarl, and then I lunge at him, sending him to the ground. We wrestle on the floor, knocking things over as we kick, shove, and - to my embarrassment - pull hair.
"ENOUGH!"
We both freeze, me on top with both our fists clutching each other's collars. He grimaces and then flips us until he's on top, grinning smugly down at me. I roll my eyes.
A woman is standing over us. Half her inventory is shattered on the floor. My heart sinks; that's so much junk to pay for!
"I am so, so sorry," I pant, kicking Bradley off of me and smiling when he yelps as he tumbles back. I rise to my feet and point a thumb at Bradley on the floor. "He'll pay for everything. His pocket change could buy this whole block."
"I'm not paying for your lack of coordination, you clown!" Bradley retorts, getting to his feet and shoving my shoulder again.
The owner narrows her eyes, her gaze flickering between us.
"I do not want your paper money," she says. "But you will pay."
"Yeah, okay, lady. Real spooky." Bradley pulls out his Mastercard and holds it up with a bored look. The shop owner clicks buttons on the reader and offers it to him, staring levelly at him the whole time. He swipes his Mastercard through it and leans over the counter.
The woman keeps her eyes locked on his as she slides a clipboard across the counter. "Your number. I must be able to find you."
Bradley scoffs, writing his name and cell number before stuffing his card into his pocket and stalking off.
A weird feeling creeps over me as I gather our textbooks from the ground. I look back at the woman; she's eyeing me with a sinister glare.
~*~*~*~*~
Hmmm, my pillow is extra fluffy today. It's the perfect excuse to stay in bed, though I doubt excessive fluff will fly as an excuse with my professor. My blanket seems to have undergone an overnight upgrade from a thin piece of fabric to a cloud-like comforter. I let out a low moan of pure bliss and shift, hugging the puffy pillow tight while feeling the solid headboard right above my head.
Wait a second…
Since when does my bed have a headboard?
I blink my eyes open, except I see darkness. Shit, I've gone blind! Nope, nope, just this stupid sleep mask covering my eyes. Sleep mask??
I yank it off, expecting to see Bobby and PJ asleep in their bunk bed on my left. Instead, what greets me is a dresser with a giant mirror that looks just like the one in Mrs. Pete's room. I bring the sleep mask into my field of vision; it's pink and fluffy. But what's even more horrifying than the dresser and the mask is the fact that I don't have my glove on. And what's even more horrifying than not having my glove on is the fact that my hand is not my hand.
I stare in horror at those long, slender fingers, then bolt upright on my extra-comfy bed. The face that greets me in the dresser mirror is the source of my nightly nightmares. Mouth dropping, eyes bulging, it's freaking Brad!
I jump out of bed and stare around, wide-eyed, at the vast room filled with everything I dreamed about as a kid but never managed to get - well, except for the luxurious white silk pajamas I'm wearing. That wasn't on the list of ten-year-old Max. I hold up my hand and stare in alarm at the ostrich-feather trim on the cuffs, then turn to the dresser and stare at the variety of creams and skin treatments.
I look in the mirror again. I touch the messy brown nest on my head, blink those smaller-than-mine blue eyes, scrunch that tiny nose, and clamp that wide-open mouth shut. I wiggle those bushy eyebrows and wonder: with all these self-care products and the women's pajamas, why hasn't Bradley thought about plucking those babies?
I pinch my cheek. Nope, not waking up from a living nightmare. I pinch it harder. Nothing. A harder pinch. Nada. I look at the growing red mark on Bradley's smooth cheek and grin. Hehe. Let's ruin the bastard's face!
A sudden, loud, generic phone ring makes me shriek, and I instantly clamp my hands over my mouth. That's not my voice! I whip my head toward the cellphone ringing and vibrating on the nightstand next to the bed. I approach it with caution, my new slender, soft fingers still clamped over my mouth.
I stare at the Nokia phone, which looks remarkably like the one Mr. Pete was bragging about buying at the barbecue he and my dad had the day before we left for college. I touch it tentatively before picking it up and staring at the screen; an unregistered number is calling.
I click the Answer button and bring the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I say in a hoarse voice, then clear my throat and try again. "Hello!" Ugh, Bradley's voice is coming out of my mouth!
"Hello," a sinister old woman's voice answers. "Come back. I have something for you."
The line goes dead. I stare at the phone with a frown. That's weird. But not weirder than this menacing dream I can't seem to wake up from.
The door to my room bursts open. "Rise and shine, baby!" Tank strides in with a grin, his large body barely fitting through the door frame.
I shriek and slam these incredibly soft hands over my new ugly face, ostrich feathers tickling my new tiny nose. "Dude! Don't you knock?!"
"Since when do we knock?" Tank says, approaching me. "And since when do you call me 'dude'?"
He stands way too close for comfort. His giant hands take hold of my slender wrists, and he gently pulls my hands down before leaning in and giving me a peck on the lips.
I freeze, staring up at him in shock, a strangled, high-pitched scream wheezing out of my throat.
"You just woke up?" he asks, walking around my bed, not noticing my downright panic at all. He kissed me! No, he kissed Bradley! Bradley's gay? He kissed me! And I haven't even brushed my teeth yet! The grossness of my morning breath tastes awful in my Bradley-mouth.
"You said you wanted to try the Famicom I bought yesterday," Tank says, picking up a small tub of whatever cream from the dresser. "Get pretty and meet me downstairs before the others are up."
He puts it down and walks toward me, leaning in for another kiss, but I jump back, pointing at my mouth with an awkward smile. "Morning breath!"
He barks a laugh. "We never cared about that before." Then he picks me up, and this is my first exposure to a French kiss, and more importantly, my first exposure to a gay kiss!
He sets my stunned body back down and walks out, saying, "Don't be long."
The door closes shut, and I sink to the floor in the softest silk pajamas I have ever felt.
What the hell just happened?