BOOKSDRAMA Chapter 6
“So,” I smirked, revelling in the completely bored and put out expression on his face, “shift’s over. You proficient in pottery yet?”
After re-shelving and updating the log, I spent the rest of my shift scrolling through my phone while pretending to be studying a really boring book on
ancient Chinese civilisations so my coworker wouldn’t ask about Masked Idiot. It was obvious she was dying to but for the time being, I didn’t have a
proper explanation for his presence. Oh, he’s just a criminal who’s stalking me, ignore him wouldn’t have worked for obvious reasons. Until I had a
workable reason, the plan was to avoid any such questions.
He grunted an unintelligible sound, snapping the book shut as he lazily forced himself to his feet.
“Where to now?” he inquired.
“Home but first, I have to see a few friends.”
“Fine.”
I would never admit it out loud but I was decidedly the worst person to stalk. Not in the ‘she’s so spontaneous it’s hard to keep track of her’ way but in
the ‘she’s so routine it’s unbelievably boring’ way. My life was the definition of mundane. Boring. If there was an award for most boring lifestyle, I’d win
it. My after school jobs comprised of tutoring, working at the library, volunteering at an elderly home -though I said my goodbyes to them a few days
ago-, and the highlight, writing articles for a family owned digital magazine. The magazine was the only remotely fun job I had and even then, all I had
to do was write my articles and send them to my aunt, the editor-in-chief.
The magazine started out as a childhood project between my mom and her sister but it ended up getting a lot more popular than they expected so
they expanded, and expanded, and expanded. Until it grew so big it became my aunt’s full time job. My mom contributed for as long as she could but,
as a high powered attorney, she wasn’t exactly swimming in free time. She was no longer actively involved in running in the magazine thanks to her
tasking job. It was, in many ways, a blessing in disguise. As soon as I was old enough, I got roped into writing for the younger audience and I didn’t
want to imagine how much harder that would be if my hard-to-please mother had to sign off on my articles too. Olly also got roped in a few years after
I did but unlike when I started out, she got to choose her own topics and theme right off the bat. I was kind of jealous. She got to write on most of the
interesting things. Tattoos. Biker jackets. Piercings. The grunge wave. I was stuck with the more mundane topics like hair care, how best to style
plaid, wedding dos and don’ts. You get the picture. Anyway, the point was, Masked Idiot was going to be bored out of his mind following me around.
My life was as interesting as a senile eighty year old with five cats. He’ll figure it out soon enough.
“My car is out back. Did you drive here?”
“Bike,” he muttered.
“Tail me.”
I didn’t wait for a reply or nod of agreement. If he couldn’t, that was his problem and honestly, I’d prefer it that way. I wasn’t exactly leaping with joy at
the prospect of being stalked so I definitely wasn’t going to make it easier for him. I was being stalked. Stalked. S. T. A. L. K. E. D. By a criminal. A
legit criminal. A criminal who I knew was a criminal. The kind that under normal circumstances I would’ve turned over to the cops. The kind I normally
would never be associated with. Not that I would normally be associated with any type of criminal. I was the poster child for all things good. The ace
of good kids all over the world. Well, I used to be. Now, I was covering for a criminal. Harboring one. There was something really wrong somewhere.
This was not how my senior year was supposed to end. This was nowhere close to how it was meant to go. It was meant to be smooth sailing with no
surprises whatsoever. I hated surprises. Olly and I were supposed to go to the arena, watch a couple of matches, get boxing out of Olly’s system and
move on. Never look back. Never be reminded of the escapade. I was not supposed get lost, get home late and to top it off, get my own personal
criminal/stalker.
With a wave at the guy taking over from me, I exited through the backroom.
It wasn’t until I was in my ‘respectable’ sedan that I realized how wound up I was.
I didn’t need this. I couldn’t afford Masked Idiot and all the trouble he came with. I didn’t sign up for this. This was not part of any plan whatsoever. If
my mom, with her millions of spies that a select group of mothers seem to have, found out...
I shuddered, cutting off that line of thought.
“Shit,” I hissed quietly, slapping my palm against the steering wheel. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!”
Each word that left my lips was accompanied by a slap on the steering wheel. Needless to say, my hands were now smarting.
“Okay.” I exhaled optimally. “Stop it.”
I steeled my spine and straightened my shoulders. Time to move on. Then, as though three seconds ago I wasn’t exhibiting less than sane behaviour,
I started the engine and backed out of the parking lot. I could do this. I could totally do this. I had to. There was no other choice. I had to roll with the
situation and hopefully, find my way around it in time. Bring an end to it. I could do it. I was me after all. I was smart, a fixer. I would fix this soon
enough. For now, I just had to breathe. And think. Think, Avy. What now?
Leverage! I needed leverage. Something to hold over his head. Something strong enough to get him to back off because if it wasn’t good enough, a
failed blackmail attempt would only make him more suspicious and more determined to stick with me. Until I had something of that calibre, the only
thing I could do was keep my plan under wraps and let him have his way. Show him I was in no way a threat. That the last thing I wanted was to be
involved in anything even remotely sketchy. Let him think he was in control.
I hated my options. Option blackmail didn’t suck so much but I had nothing on him besides the fact that he was a criminal. I couldn’t use that without
implicating myself. Besides, that particular info had already proved to be useless on the blackmailing front when I tried to get him to leave with the
threat of calling the cops. I needed better, more concrete material before going down that road again. Option two, on the other hand, sucked for all the
information about me. While I didn’t think he was a murderer, one could never really tell. He beat people up for a living. Killing them was only a step
away.
I sighed wearily.
Nothing was going my way these days. I needed to play it safe for the meantime and subtly fish for any information I could use against him. I had no
other choice.
I was meeting two friends at a diner to finalize our plans for an upcoming debate. I was to be the main speaker, obviously. Unfortunately, Masked Idiot
managed to follow me despite the traffic and my sharp turns. I watched as he parked, eyeing his bike with both curiosity and disdain. Daredevils and
delinquents rode bikes. The exact opposite of the type of people my parents would approve of. He really was tailor made to ruin my life.
I sighed, wiping my face clean of the disapproving expression as he walked up to me. Without a word, I spun on my heel and walked into the
establishment where the two girls were already waiting at a table.
“Hey.” I slid into the only free seat at the table and gestured for Masked Idiot to pull up a chair.
“Hi.”
“You’re right on time.”
“Is it ready?” I asked, getting straight to business.
Even though I was asking, in my mind it was a forgone conclusion that it was ready. Sure, I only made the corrections earlier today and gave it back
but it had been a few hours since then. More than enough time for them to rework it. I’d have them replaced if it wasn’t ready. They knew that.
With a curious appraising glance directed at Masked Idiot, the two girls wordlessly slid two printouts to me. In my mind’s eye, I pictured what they
were seeing; his tousled ‘I styled it at some point but it won’t stay put’ hair, the expensive looking jacket, the plain white tee shirt he had on
underneath, the not aesthetically unpleasing face and his light shadow of a beard. It was clear when their expectant gazes turned to me, practically
salivating for an introduction, that where I saw ‘criminal’ in big bold block letters, they saw a relatively cute boy with passable fashion sense. Yes, I
was that petty.
I ignored their gazes, pointedly scanning the words on the printout while they tensely waited.
“Better.” I gave my verdict, sliding the printouts back to the respective owners. “Based on what I’ve read, Emily should go second. Martha, you’re
last.”
They shared a look that was both relieved and worried.
“I’m usually last,” Emily ventured tentatively.
“I’m aware.” I nodded. The ‘so?’ was wordlessly but loudly implied.
“We’re... It’s our... system. It’s the way we work,” she voiced, an unsure smile on her face.
I rarely ever participated in internal debates. Everyone in the club liked to joke that it was because I was proud and it probably was true but also, I
didn’t really see the point. I was only taking part in this one as a favor to the teacher in charge of the team. It was to be the last debate for the session
and he claimed really wanted to see me in action one last time before I jetted off to college. Emily and Martha, on the other hand, most likely only
ever got to see the light of day during internal debates so they have a ‘system’.
“Worked,” I corrected. “Past tense. Eric is gunning for us. It’s flattering. He’s never beaten me before but now that he has Ralph on his team, he’s
convinced it’s his chance.” I met their gazes squarely. “We’re better off with my arrangement.”
“You’re the boss,” Martha acquiesced, struggling to wipe the dissatisfaction off her face.
“Okay. If you say so.” Emily nodded slowly.
I allowed myself a small smirk. There was one reason they didn’t contest my judgment. One reason they didn’t argue to vote despite outnumbering
me. One reason everyone always deferred to me. Because I was always right. I always won. I was Avyanna Johnson. I was just that good. At least, I
still had that going for me now that my other superpower had failed.
I flashed a scowl in Masked Idiot’s direction. Asshole.
“Who’s he?” Martha asked, smiling coyly.
“Hmm?” My eyebrows furrowed reflexively as I tried to smoothen out the scowl that thinking of Masked Idiot had put on my face.
She flashed me a quizzical frown.
“Right!” I pasted on a smile, nodding emphatically to cover up my blunder. Of course, she was referring to the source of all my current headaches who
was, at the moment, sporting an amused smirk that I somehow knew had nothing to do with the request for an introduction and everything to do with
the conversation prior to it. If we didn’t have an audience, I’d be seriously tempted to slap the look off his face. Heck, I might still give in to the
temptation, audience or not.
“These are friends from the debate team, Martha and Emily,” I said, gesturing to one then the other. “And this is...” I trailed off, a frown marring my
face as I realized I didn’t know his name.
I more or less agreed to let him stalk me but I never thought to ask his name. Wow. That was a dumb move for me. You’re losing your touch, Avy. I
wondered apathetically, in a distant part of my mind, if his stupid was rubbing off on me. The thought made me shudder. That was the last thing I
needed. Anything related to him, besides his sudden -and preferably violent- death, was the last thing I needed.
“Ian,” he supplied, leaning forward as he flashed an all-encompassing smile that was so obviously supposed to charm the pants off them.
It worked. I couldn’t not roll my eyes. It was so typical, so clichéd I could barf.
“Ian,” I echoed, with a smile on my face as though I’d known all along. Now all I need was his last name so I could start investigating. I had a female
“Very, very nice to meet you.” He beamed, laying the charm on really thick.
I tried not to let my face scrunch up in repulsion. Was the second ‘very’ really necessary?
“I have to run,” I said with the smile still firmly in place. “Memorize your debate.”
“Let’s go,” I said to Ian as I rose to my feet.
The second we were out of the restaurant and more importantly, out of their line of sight, I stop and faced Masked Idiot.
“What was that?” I demanded.
“What was what?” he parroted warily, sporting a startled look.
I wasn’t buying the act.
“You clearly have something in your head about Martha and Emily. Spit it out.”
“What makes you think so?” He leaned back on his heels, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he tried and failed to seem causal and
uninterested. To goad me. Like I was that easy.
I rolled my eyes.
“It was all over your face. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” I hissed.
“I’ll hold my peace.” He glared.
“Fine.” I matched his glare. “I’m heading home to study. For my finals. Or do you plan on coming along for that too?” I sneered. “Should I add possible
child molester to your already very colorful rap sheet?”
It was a trick that hadn’t failed me yet. It wasn’t fool proof but it worked on most people. I’d drive the person up a wall and just when they’re about to
decide they’d had enough of me, I’d imply that staying was something that they would not only find boring but would also paint them in a bad light. It
made them feel like it was their idea to leave all along because all they remember at the end of the day is the anger when they stalked off and the
option of staying being on the table. It’s a trick I picked up from my dad. I fell prey to it a number of times and later gotten in trouble for leaving or
doing whatever it is I had been manipulated into doing. It took me a while to figure it out and know what signs to guard against but since then, it had
come in handy a lot. It was a very effective way of making people believe they came to certain decisions on their own even though I actively
manipulated them into it.
“I do plan on following you home,” he said.
If I had been eating, I would have choked. Heck, if I had been talking, I might have still choked on air.
“What?”
“I do,” he asserted calmly, holding my gaze.
If we weren’t in a public place, I would’ve killed him. Or at the very least, maimed him. Broken his nose a little. Dislocated a joint or two. Bruised up
his face just a bit. Unfortunately, I had to settle for a well-aimed kick to the shin. Thankfully, my shoes had wooden platforms that made it all the more
painful. His face scrunched up in pain as he crouched, hugging his leg.
“What the hell!”
“Let’s go,” I smiled innocently, all cherubic. “You know the drill, tail me.”
I took two steps towards my car before realization dawned me.
“You already know my address.”
Despite the smile on my face, I found myself suppressing a shudder. A criminal knew my address. I wasn’t mentally prepared to handle any of this.
He was a criminal for heaven’s sake. One who wanted to follow me around for heaven knew how long. It was suddenly a little harder to breathe.
As I drove the familiar path home, I told myself to react better, healthier.
Objectively speaking, I knew how I had gotten into this mess but how did I get into this mess? I’d lived my whole life as the good kid. The good
student. The good employee. The good everything. How did this happen? I had an actual criminal stalking me and I agreed to let him. Clearly, I was
losing my mind. A violent shudder ran down my spine shaking my hands off the steering wheel for a second. They went back on immediately. I
couldn’t imagine what my parents would say if I had an accident. I would never hear the end of it. My entire driving career, I’ve had one near-miss and
even now, over a year later I was still bearing the punishment. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I actually embarrassed them by
legitimately being in an accident.
“What’s done is done,” I whispered in the silent car. “Adapt, Avyanna.”
I had to accept it and keep him away from anyone who could tell my parents about it until our agreement was over. If I could manage that, this whole
arrangement wouldn’t blow up in my face. I just needed to keep him from my parents and family friends so no following me to the Davidsons’ or any
of the other tutoring gigs I landed through my parents and no going t-- Oh shit!
As I came to the chilling realization that I hadn’t given him instructions to hide himself from my nosey neighbor, fear squeezed my heart so tightly that
I wondered if I was having a heart attack. It wasn’t so farfetched given everything else that had happened so far. The odds of accidentally bringing
home a known criminal who would then proceed stalk me were astronomically lower than that of a heart attack but it happened anyway. While I was
all for beating the odds, it was definitely not these kinds of odds.
I pulled into my neighborhood and parked along the sidewalk, taking deep breaths to calm myself as I waited for him to pull up next to me. He did
soon enough. He alighted from his bike and rapped a single knuckle on my window. I drew in one more deep breath to steady myself before pressing
the button to roll the window down.
“Don’t let anyone see you. You snuck in successfully last night. Do it again. My neighbors can’t see you or that bike,” I said in a tone that sounded
hollow even to my ears.
I wondered in a distant part of my mind if this was how people passively became accomplices to crimes. Objectively speaking, at this point, I qualified
as one. If he got busted, he could name me as an accomplice and I’d get locked up too. Think happy thoughts. Or at least, less depressing ones.
Without waiting for a reply, I pressed the button once more, on autopilot and restarted the engine.
‘Home sweet home’ was the farthest thing from my mind when I arrived.