CHAPTER ONEWhen one comes back to a place they’re grown up in, loved and remembered for eternity, everything seems

like a dream when they return.

Never in my deepest sleeps would I ever imagine myself actually here. Perhaps there were endless nights where I felt myself cover the aura here, even though it wasn’t real. It was never real. That’s the thing about life in general; there’s no way to distinguish dreams from reality.

I step off the train, the one we used to get from Melbourne to a small town by the name of Swan Hill.

It’s Alex Russel’s face I see first, his blond hair styled and his face losing all the baby-fat he once had. His face is no longer one of a child, but one of a grown teenage boy. His freckles are dark, making his brown eye stand out more.

Instantly, I race over to hug him. He smells familiar, even though it’s not something I’d remember by name.

“Cora! My gosh, I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers. “Welcome back.”

I open my eyes only to see a boy behind him. One with messy dark-brown hair and sparkling grey eyes. Only he’s doing everything in his power not to look at me.

“Hey, Leighton!” Jacob hollers, ignoring my existence completely. He high-fives my brother, and I’m surprised Leighton doesn’t have a handheld video game buried in his hands. “How’s life?”

“Ah, it’s good. Mandy was telling me about how aliens are way better than unicorns.” His expression morphs into one of disbelief. “Can you believe it?”

Jacob bites his lower-lip as to trying not to laugh. And that’s when I realise how good-looking he really is. Perhaps it’s because I don’t want to feed him to man-eating sharks anymore, but I’ve never realised how he has the perfect facial structure. Why haven’t I ever noticed that?

Because I was too busy hating him. Because I was too busy caring about what he thought. Because I was too busy caring about what Beth, Tanya and Claudia thought. My nose wrinkles. How foolish I was back then. We were all just children, weren’t we? Just thinking we need some sort of group to achieve the “perfect” high-school life.

But it wasn’t perfection I received. It was weariness, hurting and constant worrying about my appearance.

It was that alone which made me reveal Jacob’s secret words to the entire school.

Don’t hold your breath.

The words repeat again and again. Silent and deadly, like somebody mouthing words before murdering somebody around them.

I pull away from Alex just to stare Jacob in the face. He doesn’t look at me; he looks right through me, like I’m a piece of glass. Leighton’s gaze shifts from my face to Jacob’s, getting more uncomfortable every time. “Um, are you going to say hello, Jake?”

“Oh. Right. I forgot she was there.” With those words hanging in the air, he walks off.

Mum hands me some luggage, and with full hands, I walk out of the stony, graffiti-walled train-station to a hotel nearby. Because she’s extremely organised, Mum booked a hotel before coming here. Living here for so long, she knows exactly where to stay as a wonderful “welcome back” touch.

Alex and Leighton walk alongside me. They’re chatting happily, their voices entangling together like it was meant to be. I’m simply the piggy-in-the-middle, somebody they’d stop to glance at whenever their conversation pauses. Just to make sure I’m alright.

But because I’m a strong girl, I realise I truly am. I will be alright. I always will be. Mum and Dad are behind us, a smile on their faces. Only, it’s not forced. Not like mine.

I don’t want them to think I’m breaking because of something that happened two years ago.

*

The hotel is set-up and ready for me. I jump on the bed and think about Jacob.

Technically, I don’t have any other choice. Back in Canada I sort of forgot about my enormous mistake, but here, I’m remembering. And there’s not much of a chance of forgetting the time I hurt somebody I liked. Who liked me back because they got to know me throughout the entire month of December, realising I’m not who I make out to be.

How I’m filled with flaws and will never truly belong to Claudia’s “clique.”

“Seriously, Cora, how are you?” Alex is beside me. I want to be happy. I really do. I want to forget all about my worst enemy and just concentrate on having a good time with my best guy-friend. But how am I supposed to do that when Jacob’s also his best friend? “I mean, you’re not as ironic as you used to be. The Cora I knew would make me laugh any second.”

“She would also punch you in the face for making Jacob ask her out.” The words slip out before I can stop them. But Alex laughs anyway.

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” he manages to get out within giggles. “Elephants never forget, do they?”

You just called me an elephant, you bastard!” I chuck a pillow at you. “And to think I gave you a whole box of grapes two years ago!”

“But that was payment for betraying my best friend, wasn’t it? You know, the whole ‘Henrietta’s-Calling’ incident.”

I grin as wide as a monkey. Finally, my sparks are coming back. I’m being myself again. “Do you remember Jacob’s face?”

“Yes! It was ‘oh-my-gosh, what-is-this-super-ultra-hot-girl-doing-on-my-mobile?”

“But then we got found out…”

“…We should’ve used somebody in his league.”

I stick a finger down my throat. “Dude, anybody in Jacob’s league are people you don’t want to answer.”

“Touché.”

And just by spending a few minutes goofing around with my old best friend, I’ve begun to realise how much I’ve missed out on. How wonderful it was that I moved to Canada in just the right time.

A pang drums itself against my heart. I think about how lucky and fortunate it was that Mum lost all her money when she did –even though I completely hate Derek, I can’t help a selfish part of me thanking him for stealing all our money. Because otherwise, I’d be stuck here with a stubborn Jacob Taylor, one who refuses to acknowledge my existence, let alone listen to a word I say.

It was just a spur of moment. Everything happened so fast. Back when I was fourteen years old, I never realised how truly lucky I was. I just thought it was luck and chance which made me disappear when I needed to. But now I’m realising it wasn’t purely luck and chance.

God wanted me to go away for two years, let Jacob calm down a little and come back to change things. Perhaps we’d end up hating each other if I never left, my feelings of hatred reappearing. But because of this two year break, I don’t hate him. I’m still apologetic, and I’m older and therefore wiser. A second chance was given to me in a silver platter. This means I’ll have to do everything in my power to save myself.

Everything in my power to make Jacob talk to me.

“I know this is sudden, but,” Alex begins, “why did your parents leave each other in first place?”

“They convinced themselves they weren’t in love with each other. I was born when Mum was a teenager, so that was pretty hectic of them. I guess they began to hate each other, but they were more angry at themselves for landing in an impossible situation than each other.”

“So your mum just randomly called your dad and went ‘oh-hello-there, do-you-remember-me? I-kinda-need-somebody-to-live-with, seeing-as-how-you-have-so-much-money.’”

“…And he said yes.” I laugh at Alex’s raised eyebrows. “Seriously, no drama. I personally think it was their own foolish way of loving, you know –they couldn’t stand each other, so they arranged a divorce. But at the same time, they loved each other so much they couldn’t stand fighting.”

“Pretty darn weird.”

“So is your face.”

“You take that back, Freckle-Face!”

Jacob’s face flashes into my mind. I shake it out of my head. Oh, Alex definitely won’t win this verbal war. Has he forgotten he has the Coralie Campbell as his opponent?

“Alexa.”

His eyes narrow. We both know he can’t cross any sort of line to attack me harder, because there’s nothing more truthful than his own, pathetic name. Full-name, I mean. He wrinkles his nose and then sighs in defeat. I stand up on the bed and do a fast victory dance, throwing my arms in the air.

Leighton walks in. Sees me dancing like a maniac. Asks me if I’m thinking of taking up ballet in the future. Walks out before I can strangle him.

Alex simply bands over and giggle until I have a feeling Claudia has a new competitor when it comes to acting all “girly and petite.” Alexa. The name suits him at times.

“Oh, if only Jake was here.” He shakes his head. He stops laughing in a flash. “You really hurt him, you know, Cora?”

“I know.”

“He was really upset later on.”

“I know.”

“He was actually crying afterwards.”

“I– wait, what?”

He nods solemnly. “Something about Henrietta never really calling him.”

I take the second pillow on my bed and fling it at him. Alex doesn’t duck, and I watch with satisfaction as it hits him bullseye in the middle of his forehead. He doesn’t even flinch, just smiles.

“Ah, you’re back. It’s sickening watching you so worked-up about a simple mistake you made. You were pretty much a child back then.”

“I know. But what am I supposed to do? Jacob certainly doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood.”

“Just let it go. Don’t talk to him or anything. He’ll just forget all about it.”

I think through Alex’s words wisely. It goes without saying he’s right. He always is. Something I really hate about him, because despite how immature he acts at times, I feel as if it’s merely a mask. Nothing more. He’s a completely difference person on the inside, and it’s times like advice-requesting this other side is revealed.

Let’s go outside.”

The minute I’m out of the hotel room, I’m awaited by a long corridor. I never really thought much about hotels in Swan Hill. I always thought they were small, even though I passed them mainly every day. Only now am I beginning to realise how big this entire building truly is.

“It looks like the inside of a banana,” Alex says in wonder, licking his lips.

He’s right. The walls are creamy, mixed with yellow. The doors are off-white and some of them have golden, sparkling doorknobs. Ones which are perfect for Leighton to break, seeing how he has a history of

destroying other peoples’ things. The hard-floor, however, is black-and-white-tiled, leading all the way to a wide-open door where we exit.

The blinding sun attacks both of us, as we shield our eyes with our hands to avoid the glamourous rays. That’s when I see her, sitting right under the tree. Estelle, the girl who told me how lame I was on that internet chatting, where I tried to “attack” her. My face burns in humiliation. What an idiot I was!

She sees me and her eyes widen. But she simply grins, as I notice how the wrinkly-lines on her forehead are disappearing. She should smile more often.

I’m just about to race up to her, wave to her and tell her I’m sorry for being such an idiot. I needed to say those words. Unfortunately, I’m not the only one in demand of her. There, right behind her, is Jacob Taylor. I know his tanned-skin from anywhere, and his eyes flicker over to where I’m standing. He doesn’t leave them on me for a second.

He leans towards her and begins kissing her. My jaw drops. Alex’s jaw drops. This isn’t very wise, seeing how mosquitoes can enter our mouths in this season. But I don’t care. All I find myself doing is dropping my gaze to the ground, just to avoid two people passionately exchanging saliva.

Alex looks as if he’s going to be sick. “You know how I said ignoring Jacob might be a good idea?”

“Yeah?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea anymore. He’s mad at you. Really, really mad. I mean…”

Alex trails on, but I can’t listen to a word he’s saying anymore. It’s all buzzing in my ears. And I can’t let myself feel this deep, sinking feeling in my chest. But I don’t let any thoughts get themselves in my head. Especially not how much Jacob hates me, enough to make-out with a girl right in front of my face.

I don’t allow myself to realise how much I hate Estelle that particular second.

Or how much I long to be her.

CHAPTER TWOJacob is right beside me at McDonalds.

Heck, if it wasn’t for Alex death-glaring him all the way here, my once-worst-enemy would be nowhere near me. Henrietta and Ursula enter the fast-food restaurant, their eyes flickering open as if they can’t believe their eyes.

“Cora!” Ursula yells first, running straight to me and hugging with such force I feel as if I’m going to fall off my chair. Henrietta approaches me with a shy grin, gives me a quick hug before sitting opposite me. Ursula opens her mouth once more. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”

“Yeah, whoop-ee,” mutters Jacob under his breath. I try to ignore him; I really do, but I can’t. “Why don’t we all just celebrate?”

Henrietta death-glares him. “Hey. What’s your problem?”

There are people chattering among themselves at their own tables, minding their own business. McDonalds always has one person other than myself, every-time. It’s so successful! All the store is shiny and sparkling, like it’s been under a dry-cleaner several times in a row.

Unfortunately, no amount of shiny things can cause Taylor to forgive me.

“My problem?” Jacob laughs without humour. Uh-oh. This is going to get nasty… “I have no problem. It’s just that Cora here is a stupid prick who exposed me in front of everybody in the school.”

“Give her a break, will you?” Leighton comes to me rescue, standing in between us and acting like a shield. “She was young back then! She didn’t know any better.”

“Right. Support her. You know that, this is what really gets to me. You all let her get away with everything.” He glares at Alex. “You won’t call her names from me.” The focus shifts to Henrietta and Ursula. “You two are completely bias. Enough said.” Then he turns to my brother, slanting his head upward to stare at him in the eye. “And you think that, just because she’s your sister, you have to protect her or something.”

“Jacob–”

"Don’t ‘Jacob’ me, Estelle.” But all the same, his voice lowers an octave. I feel this rush of electricity rush through me. Why can’t I be the girl who can calm him down? Why can’t I be the one he respects enough to listen to? But the thoughts escape my mind when Jacob stands up. “Tell Cora I said bye.”

He walks out of the fast-food restaurant, catching a lot of gazes from strangers as he heads out. But people quickly turn their focus to their own business. Which is good. The last thing I need is for them to realise I’m a complete loser.

One with a mistake carved into her soul.

*

“Cora, I’m really sorry,” Estelle says, sighing. We’re sitting in my backyard, and I can’t help looking at the spot –the exact spot– where Jacob sat, reading through my diary. “He can be such a jerk sometimes, can’t he?”

Because my mother never really sold the house, it’s still one of her own properties. We merely stayed overnight at the hotel yesterday because we wanted somewhere to crash instantly, knowing it’d be tiring setting everything up after such a long journey.

All our items are in the house, positioned in the correct places. Fewer things, perhaps, but the essentials are all there. Waiting neatly for me to enter. Mum and Leighton worked all day to set the place up, while I was the one cooking and cleaning the house. It was exhausting, now that I’m thinking about it.

My eyes drift off to the fence, and the house opposite of us. There is the house I baby-sat. The one with the twins, Alfred and Nathan, and Liam. Liam. What was his real name, anyway? Yvonne or Wailyn? I shake the thoughts out of my head and focus on who’s there.

“Yeah. He can be.” But he has every reason to hate me. “I think you and him make a good couple,” I say out of nowhere. That empty feeling attacks me. “How long have you been dating?”

“Not long.” She grins. “He was always an idiot. I always thought I was better than him, you know? It took me ages to accept.”

I turn my body towards her. All my attention is focussed on her. “How did he ask you?”

“Oh, he just pestered me. Stalked me and asked me about all my favourite things and now he knows a lot about me. Too much.” She sticks a finger down her throat. “Typical Jacob, eh?”

My answer is half-hearted. “Yeah. That’s really… typical of him.”

“Come to think of it, do you know his favourite colour? I’ve been meaning to pick out a birthday present for him –you know, how he’s birthday’s in December and everything– but I want to give him something that’ll make him think I actually listened to him.”

“Blue,” I say without thinking. A small smile places itself on my lips. “Blue.” My voice is more confident this time around, but I can’t help a little bit of sadness break into my voice.

Why do I know these things about him? Even if I hate him, even if he genuinely does hate me at this particular second, why do I know everything about him? And though I don’t have any proof, I have a suspicion he has his own fair knowledge about things revolving around me.

And then there’s Estelle, who barely knows him. And even if she did know his favourite colour, there’s no way she’d know more than me about him. Sometimes, I feel as if I’ve memorised every fact about him, figured him out more than he ever could. Something which his girlfriend will never be able to do.

Something which needs around fourteen years of experience.

Everything in Swan Hill is the same. I probably would enjoy the view and how wonderful things have become if Jacob wasn’t mad at me. Somehow, I feel as if Jacob’s current hatred for me is the only thing keeping the world from spinning. It’s a stupid thought. But some truth rings into it.

Only then do I notice a football hidden beneath the bushes. The colour is fading, but with no doubt it belongs to Alfred and Nathan. I shake my head to supress a grin. Even when I’m away they manage to get the ball over the fence. Picking up the ball, I kick it as hard as possible and watch it sail over the fence.

However, there’s no sound of a ball dropping. Instead, there’s a loud noise of a foot and ball coming into close contact as the identical object flings over to my side of the fence. I’m so startled I don’t catch it. But I recognise the kick anywhere.

“Liam!” I shout.

There’s a pause.

“Cora? Wait, lemme come over.”

Within minutes he climbs over the fence and jumps onto the ground like a monkey. Estelle’s jaw drops. I suspect she’s not used to blonde boys with coloured eyes jumping fences with a goofy smile pasted on their faces. He waves hello to Estelle, who’s still speechless, before turning to me.

“How’re you?”

“I’m good. Came back from Canada.”

“Is it cold there?”

“The difference is noticeable, trust me. Extreme coldness to severe heat.”

“Is Jake still mad at you?”

Estelle answers for me. “Yes.”

“Oh. Pity, that. That guy’s one of the most stubborn I’ve ever come across.” He wrinkles his nose. “Really obnoxious and pig-headed at times, too.”

Estelle’s hands are clenching, like she’s ready to attack Liam with sharp-as-knives claws. Uh-oh. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Of course,” he continues, without a hint of surprise. “He’s also loyal, trustworthy and brilliant at hockey.” He sniggers. “And freakishly feminine.”

“Feminine?” I ask. There’s a new one.

“He cried while he watched that movie with the colourful fish.”

“Finding Nemo?”

“That’s the one. And when we confronted him for it, he just claimed allergies.” He shakes his head in disgust. “As if we bought it.”

Estelle stands up and looks him straight in the eyes. It’s obvious she’s not happy, because her arms are crossed and her feet are tapping in a rhythmic pattern. The grass on the ground is nowhere as green as it was in winter, leaving a straw-like and yellowish remaining.

I hear footsteps behind me, and I’m surprised to see Jacob and Leighton approach us. Leighton sees me, smiles and keeps walking. Taylor, on the other hand, freezes like I’m contagious. With a grimace, my brother grips on Jacob’s hand and pulls him forward, stringing him along.

Turning my head around, I’m just in time to see Estelle glaring at Liam. “And how exactly is that feminine?”

“Girls are always really touchy.”

“Not always. Please don’t stereotype.”

Liam’s nostrils flare. “Who’s being touchy now?”

“Who’s being a complete idiot?”

“I think we both know.”

“I think we do.”

With a fake smile, I cut in, “I think you two should just leave it.”

“Were we always this bad?”

My heart races as I turn around to the direction of the whisper. None of the others heard us because Liam and Estelle are too busy bickering and throwing insults at each other, forgetting they’ve barely met. My brother steps in between them, acting as the identical shield as yesterday.

Jacob’s right beside me, keeping his eyes on the troubling threesome, but holding a small smile pasted on his face. I’m waiting for him to open his mouth and say something, anything, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he sits beside me and watches the three attack each other.

Estelle and Liam are pretending they have swords, attacking his other and using words which wouldn’t be found in the English dictionary. Something out of some fantasy movies; words which are made-up. I raise my eyebrow at this. Two years ago, this would be a common scenario. Two years later, it’s a strange but disturbingly-common one.

Now, all of a sudden, I’m realising what Jacob said. And before I can apologise to him for everything I’ve ever said and done, he turns his back to me before walking back to the house. The back-turning was a clear indication I should never talk to him again. One which tells me I need to stay away, because it’s “only for the best.” Because he doesn’t want me to hold my breath for him to start talking to me again.

But does it really matter? Would I care if he never speaks to me again? The thought haunts me before I can reassure myself I’m going crazy. I can’t imagine myself never talking to Jacob, even if it’s something competitive and completely unlike what teenagers do. I want to go back to our immature days as eight graders, just being together.

I want to go back and tell myself how much I regret this. That tape should’ve never been exposed. But at the same time, I think back to that conversation we had back at McDonalds. Okay, maybe not really “we” and it wasn’t much of a conversation seeing as how he exited the building in a flash. But I still learnt why he “hates” me so much.

That recording exposed to the whole school was very minor. It’s silly to get angry about things like this forever. Jacob was probably seething about it for weeks but then realised the real reason why he hates me.

Because I disappointed him. I strike him as some goody-goody-two-shoes girl who does rebellious things once in a while but never gets in trouble. He sees me as a weakling, never somebody strong. Somebody he could torment at a younger age and smile because of the tears sprawling out of my eyes later on.

And for that summer particularly, he thought I turned into my true-self. One who doesn’t care what others think of them. One who’s not afraid to play pranks or broadcast on local radio. Somebody who’s just me. Just Coralie.

He began to get close to me. Closer and closer. Now he realises what a fool he’s been. I hadn’t changed at all, had I? Despite acting like nobody could shake me, I took the instructions of somebody else. Somebody who wasn’t Coralie.

But he doesn’t have to hate me so much.

I hate myself enough for the both of us.

CHAPTER THREESometimes, when things don’t go well, I just forget the world and scream at my walls. Just stand there,

screaming my lungs out and hoping nobody catches me.

At the same time, I want somebody to find me. Just see me. Realise I’m not okay like I pretend to be. Everything has gone wrong ever since the first day I came to Swan Hill. Jacob was a complete jerk for the last three days, not speaking a single word to me.

My mother believes me when I tell her I’m happy, that I don’t need anything. How will she ever notice I’m not the same? I want to go back to Canada. I need that feeling of belonging back into my soul. For me, it seems as if Swan Hill is the place everything turns upside down.

Every-time I get used to this place, I lose myself. Just lose myself completely, can’t think optimistic thoughts, and simply can’t process my brain in an orderly fashion. Why am I such an idiot? How could I have done such a stupid thing two years ago?

But regretting something in the past won’t help me. This is something my very own twin brother had enough common sense to tell, right before we came here. It’s like he could read my mind, knowing exactly how I’d feel.

Perhaps he can tell the future. But if he could, surely he’d be decent enough to recognise how much I loathe everything. How much I hate everything in a passionate way.

“Cora!” Leighton yells, barging through the door without knocking. He clasps a hand over my mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I manage to get out through his hand. My eyes can’t look at him. “I’m just feeling down, you know.”

“And so you thought screaming and waking every neighbour around would help you?”

“Just for a second.”

I disappear out of the door. He doesn’t bother to stop me. Leighton knows exactly how stubborn I am about my own decisions. Rephrase: how much Cora is good at making her own decisions. This was the Coralie back two years ago, before she made the biggest mistake of humanity. But she was there. Even Jacob had a chance to meet her, even like her as a friend.

Why don’t I just be reckless? Surely he’ll come back. It’s a stupid idea. In fact, it’s the most terrible theory I’ve had ever since deciding unicorns are better than dragons (because Leighton made me.) But I need to prove myself to Jacob: I want him to realise that wild and confident Cora, the one who doesn’t let anybody get to her, is still there.

By completely ignoring him and sulking at occasional times isn’t helping. I need to make sure I am strong-willed and the far away from feeble. Something to show him the Cora he liked hasn’t disappeared.

With the strong-will I’m faking, I head down the street. As suspected, he’s right there at the skate-park with Alex by his side, both of them laughing. A sad smile crosses my face. How is it I know exactly where to find him?

Why do I know him so well? This is the kind of information Estelle needs to know, but even she doesn’t seem to be interested.

Which just leaves me with a broken heart, one which has its pieces stolen abruptly.

I remember the last time I was here, how we met Letitia. How she was thinking about Jacob in a way I could never. Even now, even know he’s slightly more attractive to me, I’ve realised it’s the fact he’s the “good guy” and I’m the bad that I’m noticing him more than I usually would.

He’s still the same Jacob, if not a couple of centimetres taller.

Wait. My mouth forms into a smile. Is he still shorter than me?

My mind tries to head back to the scene when he welcomed me at the train station. I hadn’t really noticed his height, but was more worried about whether he accepted me or not. Obviously, by how he “didn’t notice I was there” I wasn’t forgiven. Later on, it never struck me anything else changed besides his face-structure.

Which is a good sign, because it means I haven’t turned into the typical teenage girl –drooling over six-pack abs and noticing how “tall, dark and handsome” any breathing male is.

No. I’m somebody who just noticed how his smile was exactly the same, and how his face lost at least a kilo.

“Alex!” I yell to my best friend. He looks surprised to see me, and watching Jacob stop his skateboard with his foot, it’s obvious Alex isn’t the only one surprised. “How’re you?”

“Go away,” says Jacob in a surprisingly polite voice, one somebody would use when asking one if they’d wish a cup of tea. “Please.”

“Get lost,” I mimic in an exact tone. “Please.”

Alex almost drops his skateboard, just to mark how shocked he is. It’s the same skateboard he invented in eighth grade, the one he mercilessly made me test after I lost a game of paper, scissors and rock.  Jacob doesn’t seem too calm about this either, as his jaw drops the slightest.

But he fixes his cold mask before I can comment. “Are you challenging me?” He takes a menacing step forward. “Really? Seriously?”

I don’t let my facial expression alter, even if I’m screaming on the inside. What’s gotten into you, Cora? Jacob’s not the kind of boy who’d let a girl go off easy because of her gender: he respects you enough to consider you as an equal. Which is extremely bad in this situation. The thoughts are then fading when I mimic his step forward.

“Yeah, seriously.” My finger outstretches, my eyes narrow. I touch his nose and feel the urge to raise my eyebrows when he confusedly crosses his eyes to try and look at my finger. “Taylor, I challenge you to a match of arm-wrestling.”

“Oh, wow. How mature. Calling me by my last name, Campbell.” He grabs my wrist before I can pull it away, strengthening his grip and making me want to slap myself internally for being so stupid. “Bring it on.”

He releases, walking straight to a bench without looking at me again. Instead, he just grimaces. I try to tense my muscles, but I can’t help a throbbing pain in my arm. Like he’s gotten some sort of clamp and blocked out my blood supply.

Hesitantly, I pace myself towards the bench. I put my hand on it, in position. “You know, we can always settle this with a hockey match–”

“Stop being such a girl.”

My head starts spinning all of a sudden. He’s actually talking to me. And by that, it means he might listen to whatever pathetic apology I come up with. My mouth opens as I begin with the word “sorry” but he just cuts me off.

“Look, I’m just using this moment as an exception. Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“So ‘proving how macho you are so the whole world bows at your feet’ is an exception?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Maybe.”

The match begins. And as quickly as it begins, the match ends.

Jacob wins.

With a smile spreading through his face, he presses his index finger and thumb together, running it across his lips before standing up and disappearing. He picks up his skateboard without a backwards glance, standing up and skating through the half-pipe without even considering my feelings.

Dusting off imaginary dust from my red shorts, I scream out, “I’m sorry, okay?”

But he doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.

I feel smaller than an ant.

Actually, even the ant would get more recognition of an existence than I do.

*

Everybody gathered at McDonalds that evening.

By everybody, I mean all my friends. Because Leighton hardly ever comes to Australia, he doesn’t have his “own” friends, meaning our friends are mutual. The McDonalds restaurant is still crowded with mobs of people, just swarming around like a moth attracted to light. The light being fast-food.

But we all gather around a ginormous table, and only because Swan Hill is such a small town with hardly any tourists –despite the large, empty hotel rooms– we get away with doing what wouldn’t be allowed anywhere else. I enjoy watching my father burst out and greet a couple of old friends, sharing the most jokes I can possibly think of.

However, because I’ve never seen him happier, I don’t remind him how he’s humiliating the rest of my natural life.

And just then, they walk in.

Beth, Tanya and Claudia.

At first, I was thinking who invited them in first place. Why are they suddenly appearing among my group of friends? I see Tanya smile at Leighton and watch my brother smile back. Maybe Tanya and I aren’t the best of friends, even if we were once upon a time, but I know her a lot. Too much.

That expression on her face –the shiny cheeks, toothy grin– was the exact same when Jacob was around in her “gullible” years. She likes my brother. More than a friend. Why does this disturb me to the end of my toes?

But Leighton doesn’t give a second glance to her. No, his heart is only for a particular Mandy Hart back in Canada. And though Tanya was mean –maybe her feelings have changed, I never got to see them after I quit their group– I have a tinge of pity bubbling in my stomach.

Unrequited love. I know exactly how that feels. Although my feelings for Jacob are nowhere near love, I still respect him enough to care about his opinions. Maybe this is what’s so special about me. Although I seem like a complete sheep, the people I follow are the ones I respect.

The reason Jacob hurt me so much was because I had respect for him, especially in my toddler years when he was the only boy who liked hockey.

And now, that respect is still hanging out. Tacked like annoying glue, but I just can’t get rid of it, no matter how much water I use.

“Cora!” Beth says with a grin.

They wave to me, and all of a sudden, something flashes in my mind. Wasn’t Claudia supposed to be moving? But I shake the thought out of my head. Their expressions are genuine. And now I’m realising how well they’re fitting in. They talk to Jacob like he’s a human being, and –the most shocking of all– laugh at Alex’s lame jokes.

All of a sudden, they’re not so superior anymore. They’re not the same wannabes they were at fourteen years old. Only, they’re so much better. So much brighter. Whatever respect I’ve lost for them has returned. All three of them are talking to my friends like they hadn’t been stepping all over them in ninth grade.

My jaw drops. I press my lips together instantly, but I watch Jacob turn to me. He saw it. I can tell by how there’s a lopsided smile on his face.

He moves closer to me by moving through the three empty chairs in between us, sitting right beside me. But his hand remains stretching backwards, indicating he’s not planning to sit next to me for long. “You look shocked.”

“The girls who terrorised my childhood have reappeared as perfect angels. Isn’t that enough reason?” My eyebrows rise. “Hey, you’re talking to me again.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Nuh-ah.”

“Yeah-ah.”

“Nu–”

Tanya cuts Jacob off with a, “Seriously, extend your flirting skills. You two are driving me insane!”

I’m aware of the entire restaurant looking at me. Just staring. Sheesh, Tanya could be so loud! I forgot how she has “the lungs of a singer.” Everybody around me are silent, dead silent, as if they’re waiting for me to cat-fight Tanya or something. The silence buzzes like honey-bees.

Cheeks reddening, I can’t help thinking of what Jacob’s expression is. But I don’t turn my head to see. No, I’m too cowardly to see a look of disgust. Especially since he’s one of the few people in this world who I respect –even if we give hard times to each other, he’s still family.

People from other tables begin talking again, but nobody from my group opens their mouth.

My eyes dart towards my mum, whose eyebrows are wriggling like crazy. She has a glass of lemonade in her hand, bright red lipstick smeared across her face and there’s no doubt she’s giving me the look.

Swallowing a mouthful of spit, I allow myself to recall exactly what the look means. It was exactly the same look which speaks the dread words, “I think you two would be really cute together. And I will do whatever it takes. Mwahahahahaha!”

“Excuse me,” I say in a hoarse voice.

And just before I stand up and head towards the Ladies’ Room, my eyes steal a glance towards Jacob. I’m shocked.

There’s no hint of disgust on his face.

Just an unreadable mask.

 

CHAPTER FOURPerhaps Jacob isn’t on his knees begging for forgiveness. But it’s only a matter of time before he realises

what an idiot he’s been; a matter of time until he digests how completely immature this entire incident is.

And although he’s going to have to face it sooner or later, it’s still terrible waiting for the perfect timing to come around. I require some sort of truce; something which would make everything okay. Even if they aren’t in the best condition.

But there’s a fine line between love and hate. And from what I can tell, Jacob’s not going to cross over to the “love” side anytime soon.

My hands cradle around my light-brown hair, wincing. Just looking at it makes me sick. Split-ends are growing at every angle, zapping like a lightning bolt forced to split into direct charges.

Bad hair days are humiliating for most people. For me, however, it’s drop-dead terrifying. It’s not “embarrassing” –it’s a natural disaster, seeing as how frizzy my hair gets in the rain.

Rain. It suddenly occurs to me how my hair always frizzes up when the humidity rises. I pull aside the curtains to see an entire side of water droplets on the other side, spilling down and floating to the very bottom. My hand extends to touch it, when I realise I won’t be able to feel the rain.

As my eyes stare into the distance, I see a tree. Not just any old oak-tree, but the particular one Jacob and I were tied together on, once upon a December.

“You had the key all along? Why didn’t you say something?”

“You never asked.”

Even back then, he never lacked the nerve to be cheeky and completely annoying. Stubborn and hugely pig-headed. Full of himself. And yet, there are so many things good about Jacob. So many things I cannot name off the top of my head, but could it I had a whole list going.

“Cora?” It’s Leighton. “Alex invited us to school. Apparently, they’re having one of their ‘special’ days where it’s open even in the holidays–” He stops, staring at my hair. Just staring. “What are you trying to do, win a record for the most spastic hair?”

I elbow him, shoving past him and out the door. “Keep your mouth shut.”

I exit the plain-white door, stopping at my tracks immediately. Shuffling backwards to the kitchen table, I yell, “Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!” to a newspaper-reading father and a breakfast-eating mother. Neither of them look familiar with me, both of them looking ready to burst into giggles.

“Ah, Cora,” begins my father awkwardly. I can see he’s trying not to, but his eyes keep trailing up to my hair. He smirks. “Nice hair.”

“Great, not you too!”

Twisting the handle before yanking the door open, I storm out before anybody can add another word. But they probably wouldn’t need to say a single word. With my insides continuing to fume, I open the gate in front of me.

Dad always goes on about how people shouldn’t laugh at other peoples’ misfortunes, but he never follows his own advice. I guess this is one of the reasons Mum divorced him. Ha. I’m not surprised –I could never stand a male who says stuff they don’t mean.

Perhaps Jacob is cruel, but he’s brutally honest with his words. I can ask him any question in the world, and he’ll answer me honestly. Personally, I believe he prides himself on being “truthful.” I shake the thoughts out of my head and merely focus on the view in front of my face.

I can still hair the hysterical laughter behind me, which bugs me to no end.

*

“Whoa. Nice hair,” says Alex, the minute he sees me. A smug expression spreads on his face.

My mouth escapes in a groan at his unoriginal statement, but don’t retort back. Chances are, I’m going to get that statement a lot throughout the day. Especially since this is a high school where people say exactly what they think of one another. They just don’t know any better. Nor does it ever cross their minds it may be rude for somebody to point out flaws.

I’m standing in front of the school lockers. Everything smells the same: a smell without a name, but definitely familiar through my eyes. All the lockers are a dark yellow, pained over freshly. It makes me realise how much less graffiti is visible, and how difference the lockers look in comparison two years ago.

“Y’know, it’s strange how they’re actually letting–” Beth comes out of nowhere, stopping immediately when she catches an eyeball of my hair. I try to smile. Alex points out I have spinach in my teeth. I close my mouth and cross my fingers for the best. “What on Earth is wrong with your hair? What’re you trying to do, hold a record or something?”

“That’s exactly what Leighton said,” I mutter under my breath, but it’s audibly bypassed.

“So, Cora, do you want to go through the school?”

“Why’s it open in first place?”

“Oh, just stuff. I’m pretty sure they’re just fitting uniforms for the new students and getting them ready.” Alex waves his hand dismissively. “You know the drill.”

As I roamed through the hallways, there was a different type of recognition. No longer do I find this place haunting, a place filled with bad memories of people sabotaging my mind. It’s something completely alternated. This is the place I grew up and I’m proud of it.

The first room I enter is a classroom. My math classroom. All with new posters up, I notice all the classrooms are open, but there aren’t any teachers here. Since educational areas aren’t allowed to function without a full staff, chances are, parents just pick up uniforms and answer questions before leaving with their children.

An active image of my homeroom pops into my mind. I remember that girl with the zebra-patterned t-shirt and happy smile. Now, I’m starting to realise it might just be an identical clone of myself. Reaching out to feel the pouring rain trail down my fingers.

“Hey, Beth, check this out!” Alex gets a chalk from the blackboard. He stands on a chair and begins scribbling all over. One stroke, two stroke, three stroke, four stroke… “Ta-da!”

Sure enough, there’s a huge picture of my seventh grade math teacher. It’s instantly recognisable, seeing how he has those rounded-glasses and a ginormous nose which looks as if tacked on with modelling clay.

It looks like one of those cartoons where a lunatic and strange character has a long nose, tiny eyes and glasses which make their eyes look bigger than they really are. Perhaps this may seem coincidental, but Mr Rena looked exactly like that.

Beth doubles over laughing until her entire face goes bright red. “I hated him so bad!”

“I know, right? He used to single us out by our test results. Made us sit in arranged seats!”

“It was terrible! The whole ‘the-A’s-over-there-and-the-E’s-over-there.” She pauses. “But I bet you were in the A category all the time.”

“Not always,” he insists.

“Close enough.” And, as if Alex hasn’t been told a million times a day, she says, “You’re really smart.”

Only this time, Alex doesn’t wave the compliment off. Nor does he roll his eyes at how many times he’s been said this to. Shuffling his feet and avoiding neither of our eyes, he mutters, “Thanks.”

And that’s when it hits be like a lightning bolt.

My best guy-friend fancies Beth. Hm. Not going to let him get away with emotions like this.

“You fancy Bae-eth! You fancy Bae-eth!”

My chant is interrupted by a teacher walking in. She frowns but then smiles immediately. “Hello. I’m a teacher aid, so I’m new here.” She looks nervous. “You guys aren’t seventh graders, are you?”

“I wish,” says Beth, pretending as if I hadn’t been completely humiliating my best guy-friend. “They get everything so easy!”

Like a charm and almost scarily, Henrietta and Ursula enter the room with huge grins pasted on their faces. They move in identical footsteps, one after the other. Then, they start babbling about how awesome this rock band was and how they would definitely visit their tours again.

Sometimes, I envy the friendship they have. It seems that, although they hang out with a lot of different people, when the time comes for real, neither of them needs anybody else but the other. Each other.

Also, I’m not sure anybody has ever seen them fighting. They work too well, almost cautiously, to avoid fights. Always so friendly to each other. But I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Chances are, I’m giving them credit for being way more mature and understanding then they really are.

Neither of them comment about my hair, but I’m sure they’ve noticed.

I’m only half-listening when the teacher’s-aid, now known as Ms Winston, says, “It’s been so song since I’ve been in eleventh grade.” She sighs, slumping in the leather chair and spinning around aimlessly. “I feel so old.”

This is my chance, I realise, to continue paying out my best friend. “Don’t feel old,” I assure. “Have some fun. Example: Alex and Bae-eth are so in la-ove!”

“Are you really?” Ursula’s eyes sparkle like she’s caught some random person littering. As part of the M.A.D society (Make A Difference) she’s probably going to do everything in her power to truly make a difference in my life. Just, I’m not sure if this is such a good idea because it can backfire. “Oh my gosh!”

“Alex and Beth, sitting in a tree, K-E-S-S-I-N-G!”

Both Alex and Beth’s heads snap up like they’ve been broken away from a spell, puzzled expressions situating on their faces.

“You… spelt it wrong,” Alex manages to get out. “If you’re going to tease me, go ahead. But at least spell it right!”

I cut in. “Am I the only one who realises Alexa Russel hasn’t denied this statement yet?”

There’s silence. A thumping, drumming silence.

Beth blurts out, “Tell them!”

“Tell them what?”

“Oh, like you don’t know. We’re going out, Idiot!”

Another deadly silence. There seems to be a lot of silences today. And after their confession, I’m sure there’ll be plenty more. Tick, tock. Alex buries his face in his hands, not looking up at any of us. Not being able to face us. Just hiding himself away from the world. I realise this is one of Alex’s very few weak-spots –running away when everything seems tough to handle.

There’s a sudden barging of doors as a huffing Tanya walks in. She has the wrist of Jacob Taylor, staring down at the ground and not paying any attention to the world. It’s her hand around Jacob’s which really makes me feel agitated, like I’m a monster waiting to be released. Why am I so touchy when it comes to Jacob? Like no other girl in the world can look at him, or even think about him but me.

Tanya doesn’t like him that way: oh no, she’s too sophisticated to like Jacob. Instead, she chose my brother. Now, in what world is tis considered “a better choice”? Both of them are complete lunatics with laughing disorders in need of a serious touch-up.

“We’ve been,” she says between huffs, “looking for you all over.” She pauses, looking at me with a new light in her eyes. “Cora, your hair is… beautiful.”

Jacob still doesn’t look up at anybody, just keeps his eyes on the ground. He grabs a muffin from his pocket and begins munching on in in a miserable manner.

My jaw drops. “Beautiful?”

I’m sure everybody else is thinking the same thing, because Alex, Beth, Ursula and Henrietta are all having a personal debate on which drugs they suspect Tanya’s using.

“Yes. It’s so elegant and curly. It’s… beautiful. You should wear it like this more often.” You have got to be kidding me. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Jacob?”

Jacob looks up for the first time, his eyes widening. I watch in delight as he chokes on his muffin and quickly scrambles out of the room in search of water.

I pat my messy hair.

Hm. Maybe Tanya’s right; I should wear it like this more often.

CHAPTER FIVEJacob’s stuck to a tree with a skipping rope, so tightly he can’t be freed. Alfred and Nathan, on the other

hand, and running around with their hands tapping on their mouth like American Indians sacrificing a meal.

Am I the only one who finds something wrong with this picture?

My once-worst enemy’s head rises, and when he sees me, he grimaces before bowing down again. He’s not going to ask me for help. No, he’s just too stubborn to do that. Instead, he’d rather get himself killed by the twins than ask for help.

I sigh. Guess I’ll have to do it whether he likes it or not.

“Hey, Nathan, Alfred,” I say, walking towards them. “Let him go, okay?” When both of them stare at me, I feel self-conscious and slightly edgy. “I mean, what has he done to you?”

Alfred pokes Jacob in the face. Unfortunately, his aim is terrible and it ends up poking his eye. My once-worst enemy clutches at his eye, breathing heavily before blinking at an abnormal rate.

“Sorry,” says Alfred sheepishly, giggling.

Jacob doesn’t reply. I sigh.

“Seriously, he’s done nothing wrong. So, why don’t you just let him go–”

“So you can kiss him?”

I’m aware of a rainbow lorikeet flying around the trees. It looks so beautiful. “Yeah,” I say absentmindedly, not really listening. My mistake is recognised by myself when all of them –including Jacob– waste their meaningless time staring at me, their jaws dropped. “No!” I say quickly and too loudly. “No, no, no. I didn’t mean–”

Nathan pretends to yawn. “That’s what they all say.”

“And even if we have the worst hearing,” says Alfred, scratching through his hair. “At least we have enough dignity to admit things. We don’t keep feelings locked up among ourselves.”

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “I have two twerps teaching me how to open up. How pathetic am I?”

Jacob hears this, surprisingly, and replies, “Very.”

And before I can reply, Alfred says, “He stole my cookie!”

“Yeah!” Nathan chirps in. “He needs to pay.” He pauses. “Hold on. What did the cookie look like?”

“It was chocolate-chipped, big…”

Nathan looks at his brother with a guilty expression. “I may have, might have eaten the cookie.”

Before I know it, they’re chasing after each other. Alfred has his hands held high like claws and chases his brother around the entire backyard. He looks menacing, but can’t help laughing as he chases his brother around the fences and towards the trees.

Jacob watches this with a raised eyebrow. But still, as he tries to break free from the skipping rope, he finds himself unable to. I sit down next to him and pull the ropes apart. It suddenly occurs to me how this is my backyard, meaning the twins have come from their own house, pretty much trespassed through our property.

It also doesn’t take me much time to realise this is the tree Jacob and I were tied to once upon a December, sitting there in the pouring rain. That was the moment which changed everything. If the words can be applied, this would be known as a “bonding” moment.

This was the time and place which made me realise Jacob Taylor isn’t as bad as I make him out to be. I’ve been underestimating his kindness and empathy this entire time. Now that I’m thinking about it more logically, if it wasn’t for that slight encounter with both of us talking about normal things, I wouldn’t be so desperate to get Jacob to talk to me.

If it wasn’t for that moment, I would’ve never known the other side of Jacob. The one I’m working so hard to get. The one I’m trying to make like me.

And maybe it’s like wishing for the impossible, but I’m convinced Jacob grew to like me that summer as well. That he had an insight to a Coralie who wasn’t angry, following or completely ignorant to the world.

But he’ll never admit it, will he? Watching him stand up and walk away, right in front of me, makes me realise how feeling sorry for myself won’t get myself anywhere. It’s probably exactly what Jacob expects me to do. Just sit around like an idiot, mourning about something which isn’t that bad in first place.

It’s time to get even. Well, trying to get Jacob to talk to me. Anything. Whatever it is.

Thinking of these things when I enter the house, my face still meek, I look up at my mother who’s biting her lip. I know that look anywhere. It’s the same one she had when we were moving to Canada –of course, she didn’t realise how wonderful it was for me to get away– but it still means there is bad news.

“Cora,” she begins. “Jacob’s mother… she… she kind of asked us to stay over at their house.”

“And you said yes?”

She hangs her head down, not looking at me. “Yeah.” There’s a pause. “Look, I know you don’t like–”

“It’s not that I don’t like him!” I almost yell. Why doesn’t anybody understand me? “It’s the other way around. He hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. And he’s doing a wonderful job of showing it.”

“Cora, what has gotten into you? Jacob’s a lovely boy…”

“Of course. A lovely boy who’s planning my death under bed-covers with a leering smile on his face…”I mutter.

“Well. Too bad. It’s all settled. We’re moving there today.”

And that was that. When my mother said something, I don’t argue. It’s something to do with that stern face. I swear, every-time she frowns an innocent puppy dies somewhere in the world. Or maybe Jacob’s the one causing all this torment to puppies.

Now, if there’s a puppy-shortage in the world, I wouldn’t be surprised. I know too many people who’re quirky enough to kill puppies with their simple and overrated gazes. Seriously, what is up with that?

And she’s back, a voice says in my head. But I can’t help smiling. I’m back. Coralie Campbell’s back. And she’s not going to let Jacob Taylor spoil my holidays all because he’s so lovey-dovey with Estelle and…

My thoughts halt there. All my inspiration disappears in an instant. Why does it have to be beautiful Estelle? Sure, maybe she doesn’t have much talent in her, but she’s still prettier than me. Rage boils through me. Why do all the born-hideous girls (such as myself) in the world feel so lost and isolated?

I grumble within myself. What’s with the sudden ranting? No, I shouldn’t let Jacob take advantage of me. I’m not the type of girl who gives up just like that. Not me. Not Coralie. And if Jacob thinks he’s scared me off with just a fake-relationship with Estelle –okay, maybe it’s not fake, but it’s nowhere as real as he’d like it to be. I mean, the girl’s dating him out of sympathy!– and a few insults thrown here and there…

He doesn’t know me at all.

*

“Cora? Cora, what on Earth are you doing?” It’s Leighton. “Come on, we’re going over to Jacob’s.”

“Just five more minutes…”

I write down the list. The list I’m going to follow to get Jacob back. Not that he’s been stolen or anything, but I want the old Jacob. The one who doesn’t judge somebody of their past –just the present. He’s never been the type to focus on what happened in somebody’s part, but in reality, more what’s going to happen.

He can see the potential in people. I need that version of him back. Urgently. I need him so, so much. And I’ll do anything to see I’m still the same Coralie, if not wilder. He’s going to be so irritated at how much I’ve changed, especially into this new and dare-devilish version. There’s no way he’ll like it.

And when he finally talks to me –like, talks to me directly without walking off like I don’t exist– everything would be back to normal. I’ll have him back.

I put my pen to paper once more. Writing down my list. And now that we’re going to be staying there, it’s obvious this’ll be a very easy task to achieve.

-  Start a food-fight

-   Get a boyfriend to make him jealous (not that I care what he thinks, but it’ll be fun watching his disgusted face.)

-  Invite Letitia and watch her claw his face off like a starving tiger

-  Invade his personal space –sneeze on his pillows

-  Scrub the toilet with his toothbrush

”Cora! I swear, if you don’t come here right–”

“Coming!”

Putting on a pair of fresh jeans and a top with a smiley face, I race out the door and into the car. Mum and Dad are in the front seat, causing Leighton and I to be seated at the back.

Sitting there like a ragged door, forced to do things against my will, I watch mournfully as the car parks itself in front of the Taylors’ residence. All the perkiness and determination disappears, replacing itself with fear and anguish instead. No, I can’t do this. I seriously can’t.

Swallowing my fear, well, trying to anyway, I knock on the front door.

The house is still the same as I remember; spacious, a bird-bath on the side and a exotically big backyard.

Cora!” Mrs Taylor squeezes me into a hug. I almost choke. “How are you?”

“Good…”

“Mum,” says Jacob from behind her, looking at me and trying not to grin. “I… I think you’re choking her.”

“Nonsense!” she says, a hint of scorn in her voice. She turns around to face her son, but then she hears me gasping for air and twiddles with her fingers. “Oh, um… sorry.”

“You say that a lot,” Jacob says under his breath. He sticks out his tongue at Leighton who mimics the action. I wonder what happened to their video games, and how they’d fiddle with them so hurriedly. Their fingers would tap on the keys. What happened to them, honestly? “Hey, Leighton, I got some things you might want to see.”

Leighton’s face light up like an angel on Christmas. I’m about to ask what the “things” are, but they race up the stairs without even looking at me. The things but be something bad. Something boyish. My stomach churns. I refuse to allow my brother to look at naked pictures!

Rushing after them, I can almost see the confusion on all the adults’ faces. But I can’t see them because my back is facing them. Almost panting (mostly because hockey season is out and mouthfuls of chocolate aren’t helping) I watch them huddles over Jacob’s bed.

“Stop!” I yell, almost dramatically.

I dive towards them and everything happens in slow-motion. Leighton’s face wobbles, Jacob’s eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. Both of their mouths are hanging open as Jacob makes a mad dash towards the “things” and tries to hide them away.

But I snatch them away, scratching his arm as I do so, and then run towards the door so I can get a better look without either of them trying to steal the “things” away from me.

Unfortunately, it’s not what I expected.

“Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” It’s my turn to be completely mortified. “Even I don’t like it!”

“That’s ‘cause you haven’t read the book,” says Leighton in an awfully whiny voice. He grabs at the book and then walks away with his shoulders slumped. “Seriously, it’s amazing,” he says more to  himself than me. “Try it.”

“Yeah. Over my dead body.”

“Never underestimate Austen!” Jacob says with newfound pride. “She is amazing and glorious and if she wasn’t six feet underground, I’d date her.”

“She’s amazing and glorious and you’d date her. But here’s the tricky bit,” I say slowly, like a teacher mercilessly telling a kindergarten that Santa Claus doesn’t exist. “She has to, I don’t know, like you.”

“You are so full of it! Gah, I’m actually thinking of murdering you!”

My eyes light up. “Can you say that again? Wait a second, I need to get a voice recorder… Here. I’ll just use your camera. Now say it again. Slowly.”

“What do you need it for?”

“If I convince my mother you’re out to kill me, surely she won’t be heartless enough to make me stay here.”

“Why are you using my camera, anywhere?” His voice thickens. “Don’t you have a secret voice recorder somewhere? Just recording every single thing?”

My jaw drops. Jacob doesn’t meet my eyes. There is a painful, heart-shattering silence filling the air. Like it’s some sort of contagious disease. Leighton looks at both of our faces, his own expression turning into one of despair. Like a shallow girl trying to choose between two uberly-hot guys with fake-tans in the middle of a love triangle.

“Do you know what Pride and Prejudice is about, Cora?”

Happy to change the subject, I say, “No. What is it about?”

“Two people, who don’t like each other at first, fall in love with each other.”

Immediately, Jacob catches my eye and we both gaze down at the floor. My cheeks redden. I’m not quite sure about him, but something tells me he isn’t too thrilled with the idea either. Jane Austen must be some sort of psychopath. What normal person falls in love with an enemy?

 Neither of us saying anything. Great. I was determined to stop making things awkward, pretending I was actually interested in what Leighton had to say about this book, and it just made things more unbearable.

Finally, I speak up. “And what exactly are you implying?” I don’t look up to face my brother. I need to get over the shock of being completely humiliated.

“Nothing.” But because I’m his twin brother, I can detect the impish smile playing on his face. “Nothing. Just stating a fact.”

It takes everything I have not to punch him in the face.

CHAPTER SIXMy hands move from side to side. But at the same time, I’m keeping a narrowed eye on Jacob Taylor.

Because he’s evil. Despite befriending him two summers ago, I still find him unbelievably annoying and the slightest bit painful. The attractiveness I found when I first saw him at the train station has thankfully disappeared, revealing the same, girl-hating and monstrous worst enemy I’ve always known him for. But there’s still that little bit of attractiveness in him, though it’s not skin-deep. No, I think I actually like his stubborn and pig-headed personality. Perhaps. Maybe.

Perhaps he’s a little insensitive –actually, this is a lie. He’s overly sensitive, no doubt, especially after the “crying at Finding Nemo  incident Liam warned me about. But when it comes to feelings in real life, how people around him are feeling, this boy is as clueless as a pig with wings.

“Cora. Seriously, stop staring at me,” he says, but it ends up as a gurgle with all the excess toothpaste swimming around in his mouth. I’m just about to open my mouth and reveal words of disgust when he grins. “Hey, I’m taller than you.”

I watch with a horrified expression as some of the foaming toothpaste lands on my t-shirt. He mumbles a quick apology which doesn’t help, because more toothpaste falls on me all thanks to that. What is with this boy? But instead of asking me questions even the creator of diseases can’t answer, I ignore him.

Just stand there and admire the whiteness of the bathroom –though it’s better regarded as the ensuite in Mrs Taylor’s bedroom. Jacob’s a fussy toothbrush-er, and can’t stand the thought of brushing his teeth in a “normal” spot.

Pretend he’s not there. Which is ironic, since it’s the other way around: he’s the one with reasons regarding why I shouldn’t be here. Just breathe and keep away from his foaming mouth.

I shudder at the thought. What if Estelle has to put up with this for the rest of her life? For the first time ever, I feel sorry for the beautiful girl. I guess beauty even has its flaws –beauty-queens have complete losers such as Jacob Taylor chasing after them like a dog and a cat.

Except beauty cannot climb trees. Which just makes it even easier for the dog to attack –in this case, “love”– the animal it has been chasing.

“Are you okay?” I jump out of my thoughts to see Jacob, his hand frozen in mid-air with his toothbrush clutched tightly. His eyes are widened and his fingers on his free hand are vacillating, like they’re wanting to reach out sometime soon.

“Pfft. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“’Cause you were making cat-noises a second ago.” He pauses. “And then you had this weird accent on and tried to make the sound of a dog choking.”

Curse my open and free-minded thinking. I smile as wide as I can, before waving off the incident with my hand. Jacob looks suspiciously at me. He has every right to, It’s not every day some random shows up at his house and starts brushing her teeth along with him, making animal noises while continuing the process.

“So, Jacob,” I say to ease off the awkward incident. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Actually, the pillow felt kind of… humid.” A huge smile plays on my lips before I can stop it. Jacob’s eyes widen more in weariness than horror. Cautiously, he approaches his pillow and looks at it for the first time all night. He doesn’t’ look pleased. “Eww! Cora, what have you done?”

“It’s only a couple of sneezes,” I say innocently. When he continues to stare at me in disgust, I shrug. “Okay, so I got some dust-mites from your cupboard and inhaled them to make more than a couple of sneezes.” When he doesn’t answer, his lips quivering like he’s about to say something, I put on a ginormous, phoney grin. “Don’t thank me. It’s all in the job description of being a worst enemy.”

Victoriously, I exit the room.

-  Invade his privacy (sneeze on his pillows) – PHASE COMPLETE

*

Sometimes, when a worst enemy such as Jacob attacks me once again, I realise how horrible it was to be myself. At fourteen years old, I had zero common sense. If somebody could see through my thoughts, have a glance at how terribly I behaved to people around me, maybe they’ll realise I’m not the person I make out to be.

I’m a bad person. No wonder Jacob’s in loathe-mode with me. But once upon a December, he accepted me. Once upon a December, he hugged me –ew, I know, but still. He recognised me as one of his friends, even if I was different to everyone else. Even if I thought Claudia was a goddess sent from a different planet and I was one of the lucky ones, able to worship her.

Just by thinking like that, I humiliated myself so badly. How could I have been so foolish? Followed her around like some sheepdog. Jacob was right when he said I was nothing like what I once was. But now, there’s no chance to change the past. This means I need to focus on the future and pretend the past never happened.

Now, all I need is for Jacob to have the same way of thinking.

“Lottery tickets!” yells a man with a twirled moustache. We’re at a restaurant; one with heaps of food and entertainment. Mum, unsurprisingly, invited the Taylors’ along. Which is perfect. Because I can accomplish another goal. Before my thoughts progress any further, the man pretty much shouts into my ear. “Get a lottery ticket! Get it–”

“Sheesh! If it makes you happy, fine!” I snap, handing over two dollars and watch his face screw up in frustration and anger. “Give me a damned ticket!”

“Teenage hormones,” Leighton whispers to a wide-mouthed Jacob. He drops his fork while I glare at him, gazing anxiously at my brother. My twin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried. “Don’t worry. She always takes out her anger on food first.”

“But she’s finished her food…”

Leighton pretends to think thoughtfully. “Then you’re pretty much doomed.”

My mother makes me sink down with one of her death-glares. Keeping her eyes glued to my face, she puts another piece of lamb-chop in her mouth and chews like a mad cow. I almost laugh aloud. This is exactly how Tanya used to chew her gum in eight grade, thinking she was royalty. However, she’s matured now. I think we’ve lost all immatureness.

The raffle ticket is still in my hand. Instead, I throw it to Jacob who simply stares at it. But he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t place it in the bin or scream him lungs out. No, he’s too “mature” for it –so, he folds it into four and tucks it in the pocket of his suit.

Yes. No, I’m tragically not mistaken. He’s wearing a suit with a sapphire tie. Even his hair is pulled back with gel making him look almost, dare I say it…

Normal.

The restaurant is the stereotypical “rich” folks’ restaurant; lighting is bright but not blinding, chairs are all leather or have a silk covering, beads cover most of the table-cloths, there’s a variety of flowers at each circular table. But regardless, all the tables are big. Very spacious –with two entire families sitting together, it kind of needs to be.

With a death-glare, the old man hobbles to the stage and then declares the end of the night. He tells us the usual –thank you to everybody who’re supporting his animal-saving committee. I feel like hiding under a rock when he states something about not everybody approving of his actions and feelings. Jacob giggles at this but then stops in a flash when I glare at him. He gulps and looks away, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

“Cora,” Leighton begins, hesitating. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever been told this before, but… when somebody’s mad at you, one would usually try and make it up to them. Not scare them half to death.”

“I wasn’t scared!”

“Puh-lease. You put your pillow so many times in the dry-cleaner, I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up with a ‘toasted’ pillow.” Laughing like a maniac at his own joke, my brother almost falls off his chair.

Jacob and I exchange a look. I sniffle. This may be the one and only thing we ever agree on: my brother is a lunatic escapee from a mental hospital. Or perhaps the Taylors’ son wasn’t so interested in my brother, but rather, how familiar twins are in personality. Chances are, he’s plotting ways to expose me to the whole world.

Now, if this was ninth grade, I would’ve burned his house down to prevent anything happening to my reputation. But right now, I don’t care. Heck, I actually want him to destroy my reputation –wow, doesn’t that sound troubling?– just so I can prove myself. Perhaps if he destroyed my image, I’d be forced to stand up for myself and he’ll realise how I’ve never changed.

Coralie Campbell is always going to be one person. Always. Perhaps she’ll have a gazillion masks, but at the end, she’s always going to have the same face. She can’t change her face, no matter how much plaster she puts on her masks. The most alarming thing is, however, how she’s talking to herself in third person. Perhaps this is something she has to learn is part of being a teenager.

“And the winner is number 342-343,” the man says, his lips curling up in a smirk. I know this. Now, I realise why he was so offended. He gave me the winning ticket on purpose while I simply blew him off. “Anybody out there?”

Jacob’s eyes are so wide, it’s like somebody grabbed some of the stars from the sky and placed them in his eyes. But how on Earth did they fit in there? I shake the useless thoughts out of my head. “Jacob,” I say calmly. “Give me back my ticket.”

“No.” His voice is simple as he stands up, grins and then walks towards the stage without looking sideways at me. “It’s your fault for giving it to me in first place.” He doesn’t even bother to face me. “Now, live with it.”

Just as he’s about to pass me, I trip him over with my high-heels. Smack-bang. Right there in the middle of the floor, he wrinkles his nose like a maniac. Next, he clutches it like he just realised falling on the floor with his nose thudding would hurt. Everybody in the restaurant are giving me death-glares but I ignore them.

Instead, I snatch the ticket off Jacob’s hands and walk, in my clickatty-clackitty high-heels up to the stage. The man’s smile disappears instantly as he narrows his eyes. What is this, some international conspiracy to make me feel guilty? But even if it is, I don’t care. Jacob shouldn’t be somebody who’s pitied. I should be pitied. Me, me, me!

Feeling a little snobby and shallow, I snatch the certificate from his hands. Almost everybody in the restaurant stares at me with gaping mouths. Mum and Dad are burying their faces in their hands, and I automatically know that, when we get home, they’ll be changing my last name. I’ve seen it all before in the movies: “Darling, you’re wonderful. But you’re a little too quirky for our tastes… Oh, and we locked up the cupboards. Good luck getting bread to throw on your way. Mwahahahahah.”

I shudder. Deciding I rather not be feasted upon by a pack of wolves, I reluctantly hand the piece of paper to Jacob. He takes it with his surprisingly-firm grip, standing up and reading through the paper with such speed I’m sure he’s not capable of.

“Oh my,” he says excitedly. Perfect. This is the kind of flowery language Jane Austen would probably use. “A trip to Dreamworld ! Two adults, two children. I’m taking Leighton–”

“No, you’re not.” It’s Mrs Taylor with her fingers interlaced among each other, looking almost professional. “Cora’s going.”

His jaw drops. “What? Why?”

“Because if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be going in first place. Now, don’t give me that look: I like sleeping without imagining my son trying to murder me.”

He sighs. “Fine. But who’re the adults going?”

“It’ll be myself and Mr Campbell. Leighton can stay behind.” Because my brother sulks at this, she winks at him. “I’m sure your mum would allow you to stay at Alex’s house the entire summer.” His eyes light up instantly, like the stars have been sucked out of Jacob’s eyes and pushed into his.

Seeing Jacob look so genuinely sad, it made me feel guilty. But it will make all the difference by having this trip to mark how he would never underestimate me again. My mind perks up with the possibilities of such a wonderful trip, with me pulling off all the things on that. He’ll have no choice but to spend the entire summer with me, wearily looking on his watch and praying my food contains a hint of poison.

Now it’s my turn to have stars in my eyes.

CHAPTER SEVENWhen we finally arrived in front of the amusement park, I felt like I was dreaming.

Well, this might be an obvious statement, seeing as how every person under eighteen would be in awe after seeing DisneyWorld. But I’m happier than everybody in the world. For one thing, I’ve discovered something I never thought I needed to know about Jacob.

He gets carsick very easily. And so we had to stop a few times for him to empty a bucketful of vomit and then come back to the car with a pale face. Of course, one might think this has absolutely no influence on happy, carsick-free me. But trust me, seeing Jacob throw up about six times throughout the entire trip has put me off my food for a long, long time.

The worst part is how there was this one time where he couldn’t move, so I, painfully enough, volunteered to empty the bucket. Big mistake. My eyes caught a glimpse of the orange carroty substance floating around. Only, after what I learnt in science, it’s not carrot after all.

It’s a part of mucus which rose up the throat and out the mouth.

Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t help my mental thinking and it was my turn to look pale. Heck, Jacob had a worried look throughout the entire trip as he kept looking sideways towards me, but not saying anything. Of course he wouldn’t: isn’t that the whole idea of a silent treatment?

Still muttering under my breath about how complete immature my once-worst enemy is, I do everything but kiss the ground. Jumping around like an energised Mexican Bean, I pretty much run through the iron gates. Dad pays for the tickets and I catch a glimpse of the amusement park.

But for now, we’re heading towards the hotel we’re supposed to stay at. Dad’s still going on about how suspicious this entire set-up is: I mean, why would some old and ragged fellow like himself give up such an exotic holiday to me? To us, I mean. From the dirty looks he was shooting me the other day, it’s obvious he doesn’t approve of me too much.

“Cora, put the bags in.” Dad hands me a couple of luggage, craning his neck to indicate the direction she wants me to head. “Jacob, you go with her.”

Wow. That doesn’t make things awkward at all.

With grumbling my father doesn’t hear, Jacob follows me with his own hands full of baggage. I feel like knocking him senseless with a punch, but I realise it might not help the situation, if not make it worse. Let’s just say knocking somebody unconscious isn’t the brightest way to win their approval.

Especially when it’s Jacob Taylor.

The hotel room is very spacey, and reminds me a little of the Swan Hill hotels but a lot different in detail. Back at the hotels in Swan Hill, they carried all the essentials and nothing else. A bed in the bedroom and a dresser beside it, a bathroom with a toilet, sink and bathtub –whereas, it was so detailed here.

There were souvenirs all over the desks, a bookshelf with bestsellers, a television with classic movies and children’s television shows and a computer with internet access. Hands down, this was one of the best hotels I’ve ever visited in my short sixteen years.

“Jacob–”

“Don’t talk to me.”

Well. So much for apologising.

“Aren’t you being a little stubborn?”

“Aren’t you being a little bit annoying?” He takes a menacing step forward and I’m reminded of that time at the park, where he challenged me to an arm-wrestle. I lost.

“I mean, going out with Estelle just to make me feel jealous isn’t–”

“Wait, what?”

Only then did I realise what a big mouth I have. Zipping it shut, I vow to never speak to Jacob again. Especially not when he was in this mood. I recognise this type of thinking anywhere; there are always those times where he missed all the important things but caught on the little things I didn’t want him to find out.

But he found out anyway.

He has a gift for things like that.

“If I recall correctly, you said,” he starts slowly, “something about jealousy and Estelle.” And before I can wave my hand in dismissal, he adds with a grin, “What, are you jealous or something?”

“What? No!”

He ignores me. “Wow. I mean, I actually like her. I never thought it’d make you jealous…”

“I’m not jealous!”

“…But then again, a lot of girls would kill for a chance with the Taylor.” He flicks his collar in the most obnoxious way. “Wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah. They’ll kill, alright.”

“Wait, did you just agree–?”

“If your definition of killing is starting an international conspiracy to kill the Taylor,” I cut in, adding more of an extra mocking tone to the “the Taylor” part. “Then yes. They’re gonna kill. And they’ll enjoy every minute.”

“You sicken me.”

“You disgust me.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re the one who’s jealous of my girlfriend.”

“And you’re the one talking to me.”

“But I’m not talking to–” Realising he’s pretty much losing his own battle, he presses his lips together.

“What’s that?” I taunt. “Can’t hear you.” When he doesn’t say anything, I simply add, “Oh. Guess I got the last word. Ha.”

I exit the door, but not before hearing a snort from the one and only Taylor.

*

Something doesn’t really fit in.

He’s being so mean to me –ha, like that’s a change– but at the same time, he’s taking every opportunity to talk to me. If I start an argument, he’s not going to block me out. He’s going to keep going. He will make sure he has the last word, even if it destroys one part of his pride.

So, in other words, I’ll have to surprise him. With my arguments, I always agitate him with how the hopeless Coralie is competing with him in a discussion, no matter how ridiculous the topic.

I will need to lose control of myself.

And what better way to do it than bungee jumping?

We’re walking around the amusement park, and I can’t help a feeling of extremeness cross me. There are rides all over the place, with crowds of people at every corner. It’s difficult to find an empty place without a mob of people swarming it like hungry flies over a hot-dog.

When my feet start moving towards the bungee jumping centre, I feel the sense of extremeness increase to no extent. Higher and higher my excitement rises like the effects of global warming.

A hand grabs my elbow. It’s Mrs Taylor. “Cora, stay with us.” She takes a quick look at the bungee jumping cords, deciding I’m not the type of person to bungee jump. No, through her eyes, I’m simply a follower. Somebody who’ll never have the guts to jump for myself. Huh. Time to prove both her and her son wrong. “You don’t want to go there.”

I pull away with more force than I intended to. “Yes, I do.”

This catches both Jacob and my father’s attention as they turn to me with shock registering on their faces. But Taylor, being the “expression” boy he’s trying to be, hides his expression very quickly.

Not being able to take in another minute of their disapproving gazes, I march towards the counter, show my waterproof bracelet as a sign of validation and continue through the door. I shut it straight in their surprised face. Perhaps it wasn’t the most respectful thing to do, but I’m sick of people looking down on me.

I’m sick of people judging me on the past. Don’t judge me from the past. Judge me by what I am right now! Because right now, I’m a version of Coralie who’s broken inside. I have, admittedly, lost a friend. All this time I

thought Jacob hated me, but in reality, he never did. He clapped so loudly when I won the spelling bee at a younger grade.

Perhaps he wasn’t as nice as he could’ve been, but it wasn’t him talking. It was jealousy towards me, and how “perfect” I seem to his parents. How he can never be the centre of attention at the dinner table, about how sick he is of hearing about me. But at the same time, he never really hated me.

Now, however is a different story. He hates me. Loathes me. Absolutely can’t stand me. And it’s probably not just the exposing incident, though I wouldn’t be surprised it was. No, he’s just mad that I get everybody’s sympathy simply because I’m a girl, while he has nobody backing him up. He hates that.

These thoughts are buzzing through my mind as I hang onto the harness for dear life. A man wearing a bright orange vest and with cropped sideburns is explaining instructions with a stern face, but my head is buzzing too much for me to listen to a single word. Too much excitement. Too much fear. And when he puts his thumbs up and a grin to reveal three fillings on the side of his teeth, I do what I thought I never would do.

I jump.

*

“Are you insane?” This is the first question Jacob says to me. Actually, no. This, in general, is the first sentence he says to me at his freewill. But trust me, he’s not looking happy at all. Angry. Mad. Confused. “What was that for? Seriously, what is Ms Perfect trying to prove?”

“Nothing,” I mumble.

“Really? Then why’re you so up yourself? Why do you try and get everything to go your way? Even when you know things will never change?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble, just wishing he wouldn’t hang onto this subject like a mosquito discovering blood. Because right now, my head’s in too much of a daze to recognise what I’m doing.

It seemed like the best idea when I was doing it, and even before. But afterwards, with my father still shocked about his darling little daughter doing such a careless thing and Mrs Taylor still not impressed about my lack of manners… it just doesn’t seem like it’s worth it. Especially when the very person I’m trying to change views for is giving me the worst lectures of the century.

“Cora, why’re you such a pain?”

“I don’t know.” It seems like a standard answer for everything.

“Why’re you doing this? Are you insane?”

He’s giving me so many rhetorical questions, everything inside me is burning with fury. And right then, the comment about insanity makes me snap. Everything I’ve been trying to hold in escapes. “No, I’m not insane! Is it really wrong to try and get something as stubborn as you to forgive me?”

Jacob tries to say something, probably relating to how he’s not a “thing,” but I cut him off. Oh no, this is my moment. I’ll make sure I get the last word. “I was a child then, Jacob. Why won’t you realise that?” I plead.

“Seriously, I didn’t know how to hold a hockey stick properly! Okay, well, that was a lie. But I was so easily distracted, I almost forgot how to hold it.”

“And you know what? I’m not doing this for you. I’m not doing this for anybody but myself. I’m doing it for myself; I need to stand on my two feet.”

And the minute those words escaped my mouth, I was lying. I was doing everything for Jacob to forgive me. There’s nothing special about risking my life bungee jumping. Maybe he’ll disapprove. Perhaps this isn’t the best way to get somebody to forgive me.

But if Jacob truly hates me, he’ll find enough enjoyment in my near-death experiences. Only he’s not finding any amusement in them. My heart skips a beat. Wait a minute –if he’s being this overprotective, does this mean he doesn’t hate me? Of course, this is the most ridiculous conclusion I could come to.

Jacob thinks of me as a bratty sister.

Nothing more.

CHAPTER EIGHTUnfortunately, my extremeness has no limits.

It’s the same with his stubbornness –both uncontrollable and has absolutely no boundaries. For all I know, he’s probably plotting a book. He’s probably laying out every possible fact a person needs to recognise to become “unstoppable.” But doesn’t Jacob realise being stubborn doesn’t help in life?

Everybody needs to be flexible, especially when things don’t work out. What if I was pretty? I don’t know how this thought creeps into my head, but it repeats over and over like being recorded and played back on a voice recorder.

Nobody can stay mad at somebody beautiful. Maybe makeup might make all the difference. The thought is so absurd, I find myself thinking back to Ian. I forgot his last name, seeing as how he’s such a minor part of my life, but he’s still swimming around somewhere. For all I know, maybe showing I’m capable of getting a boyfriend makes all the difference to Jacob Taylor.

So, when I said my extremeness has no limits, I wasn’t kidding.

Before I know it, I’m burying through Mrs Taylor’s makeup supplies and applying a variety of difference substances on my face. Perhaps this isn’t the brightest of all options, seeing how difficult it is to maintain perfect skin when there is artificial gunk loaded on it. I wince. Seriously, why can’t the stupid and unforgiving boy realise how hard I’m working to win his approval?

But this is Jacob we’re talking about –stubborn, thinks he’s independent, Jacob. There’s no way around his usual “I’m the best” attitude –trust me, I’ve tried. So now what I’ve have to do is show he truly is the best (even though it’ll be a lie) and put on makeup, making him realise I truly am worth forgiving.

Mrs Taylor comes out of the shower and almost trips over. There is a robe covering her entire body and a towel wrapped around her hair –and despite a shower supposed to “relax” one, she looks as if she’s just undergone a heart attack. “What are you freaking doing?”

I have never heard Mrs Taylor swear. Not that “freaking” is a swear word or anything, but nothing remotely impolite has ever escaped her mouth. It’s a shock to see her lose herself for once. Stop that lovely and cute exterior she tries so hard to maintain.

“I’m putting on makeup,” I say innocently, the word “duh” just sitting on my tongue.

Mrs Taylor seems even wearier after hearing my comment. “Cora, don’t you know it’s impolite to rampage through materials like that one?”

“And do you know it’s impolite to have your son hold a grudge against me? I mean, he’s the most–” I feel a hand grab my shoulder. “–Amazing person I could ever meet.” The hand releases.

“Why, thank you, Cora.” The voice is overly, sickishly formal. “I never knew you loved me so much.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I mutter under my breath, but have a forced smile situating on my face. Deciding Jacob’s annoyed me enough for the day, I turn around completely so he can see my face. Blotched black mascara runs down my eyes like it’s poisonous, making him stagger backward. “Am I pretty enough for you, Jacob?”

He looks like he’s tempted to choke. “You’re always… uh… pretty.”

“Oh, Jacob.” I slap him with a hysterical laugh. He winces, but it’s not audible to his mother. I keep slapping him, every slap more forceful than the last. “You kidder. You wonderful, ingenious, beautiful–”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” is the last thing Mrs Taylor says before running out the door and heading towards the kitchen sink. I hear the sound of water splashing, which I suspect she’s doing to wash out her mouth.

Jacob’s still facing the door, crossing his arms with a scowl on his face. I grin. He truly does look irritated, like somebody has just walked on him while he’s brushing his teeth. He’s always been extra conscious of them –ever since I pointed out they were the slightest shade of yellow– and whitens them every day, according to Alex.

But it seems as if he’s forgotten all his worries and brushed his teeth anyway, especially the other day when we were both brushing at the sink. Hm. Maybe he’s realised that my comments towards his appearance are just as useless as his ones towards mine. We all have imperfections. It’s not fair to be pointing them out so much.

This also means Jacob respects me and my opinion enough to care about his appearance. Hmm. Maybe I’m not as “invisible” to him as I thought.

“You know, it’s actually really sad when your own mother is sickened at the idea of her son being so amazing,” I state the obvious. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I did it, but your innocent mother?” I feign shock.

“Shut up,” he mutters, shuffling his feet. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“Oh, I think you’ve misinterpreted me.” I toss some of my light hair behind my shoulder. “I’m not surprised at all. I’m merely stating a fact.” This causes him to scowl. “Let’s face it, everybody’s going to hate you sooner or later.”

“And everybody already hates you. There’s no ‘sooner or later’ in that part.”

“You’re just being silly. Nobody hates me.”

All of a sudden, the atmosphere changes. It’s not a light and carefree one anymore; oh no, it’s worse than that. It’s something lingering in the air, like a bad smell of rotten fish. But I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going to happen next.

Anything can happen next.

“Yeah? Ever wondered why Ian was so disgusting towards you during the ‘dates’?” He uses his fingers in the right place to indicate air-quotes. I gulp. How does he know that? My fists clench without me intending to. “That guy’s legendary, Cora, but you don’t know it. All because he absolutely hates your guts.”

The words are like a sharp slap to my cheek. Slap, slap, slap. Only it isn’t once. It’s twice, thrice, four times, five. Every time he opens his mouth, nothing positive comes out of it. It’s always something which will make me underestimate myself, find myself falling deeper and deeper. It’ll make me feel guilty about something I did two years ago.

Two years ago. For the love of all things good, it was a freaking two years ago!

“That’s why everybody hates you, Cora,” he says in his taunting voice. Why does he have to make me feel so small? So defenceless? “Don’t you ever learn?” I’m aware of him standing a couple of centimetres away from me, as his long, thin fingers twirl strands of my hair around his fingers. Twirl, twirl, twirl. “You’re never going to be liked. Not now, not ever. And I take back what I said two years ago. I don’t feel sorry for the boy who ends up with you. Because you’re going to die alone.”

I don’t think twice.

You’re–

My clenched fist rises.

-going–

I gather all the strength in my arm.

-to-

My arm seems to have a life of its own.

-die–

Jacob’s eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything.

-alone–

My hand slams into his nose for the second time in three years.

*

There are a box of chocolates in one of my hands and a mental letter of apology in the other.

This is an awkward moment when I sit around, thinking of ways to start off apologising. Hmm. Knocking my once-worst enemy down with my fist and then having him scream loudly enough that my seemingly-deaf father could hear it… well, it’s definitely not a good mark next to my name.

The hospital is different here; close to the hotel, though Mrs Taylor drove him away in the car because she was so panicked about blood running out enough for him to die. Which is impossible. A bleeding nose won’t do that much damage, right?

I convince myself so the whole time we were in the car. My heart leaps at certain aspects, as the doctor thoroughly explains Jacob’s nose is broken the exact same way as last time. Which is ironic, because he’s only broken it twice in his whole life –both times, it was by me.

But when I think about it, his nose was going to break anyway. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been some other girl who he’s been terrorising. He doesn’t terrorise anybody else, though. It’s only you.

It’s only me.

“Coralie Campbell?” the doctor with a mono-brow, the one who explained the whole procedure, says my name with an audible question mark attached to the end. “Do you want to see him?”

I think the question’s more do you have to see him? Because if I don’t go in right now, my father will never speak to me again. He’ll recognise his own daughter as a coward, somebody who doesn’t deserve to live in this cruel world. Which I find is hugely irritating, especially seeing how he’s the one who ran away from my mother when they were merely children.

Now’s not the best time to bring their past up.

Standing up, I walk towards the room. I walk away from the main waiting room, with white walls and the only touch of colour are plants in every corner. Even the ceiling fan, which is madly turning in this heat and season, is an off-white. The waiting-room is huge, and I can’t help feeling curious if any records of other irritated and traumatised girls who punch boys in the nose when they’re mad at them exist.

I sigh.

No, I think I’m the only one.

When I walk in the room, the blinding whiteness approaches me once again. It’s like looking at the sun for so long I can’t tell the difference between the worlds I’ve living on. Jacob’s sitting up in his bed, staring at me with those heavy and dark eyes. Except they’re not happy. No, they’re far from happy.

“Um, hello,” I say. “Would you like a glass of punch?” I laugh hysterically at my own joke, which makes his frown lighten. Surprisingly. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“Cora, sit down, will you?” Could it be? Jacob Taylor is actually offering me a seat instead of making me stand up until my muscles weaken, nerves cut open and I’m awaited by doom when people brush past me, placing bruises all over my body? No. It can’t be! “Please.”

And now he’s saying please.

What is happening to this world?

But regardless, I sit down to be face-to-face with his grey eyes. I notice he’s wearing the exact same outfit he was wearing at home, and that his hair’s messy and not brushed like it was in the morning.

“Cora, I have a confession to make.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

My jaw drops. “Wait–”

As if by magic, the entire room is filled with his laughter. Only it’s not the cruel laughter I’m used to hearing –it’s not the one I hear before he makes my life a living torture. It’s soft, warm and almost… melodic. It’s cute.

“You’re forgiven,” he says between giggles, clasping a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from breaking out into more hysterics. “I… I just wanted to see your face.”

There’s a Band-Aid on his nose, holding the bones in place. I know this is the first thing I should’ve noticed, but it completely misses my eye. I yawn, realising how tired I truly am.

“Cora?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don’t think you’re forgiven for being such a betrayer two years ago, but the things I said were really uncalled for. I was just… getting through something difficult, that’s all. So.” He sucks in his breath. What’s the “something difficult”? But I don’t comment. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

I’m–

My hand reaches out.

-Sorry–

It seems to have a life of its own.

-For–

I feel his shoulder blade underneath my hand.

-Being–

My other hand touches his other shoulder-blade.

-Such-

My arms wrap around him.

-A–

I hug him.

-jerk.

He doesn't pull away.

CHAPTER NINE     Four hours later, I’m still giggling like an idiot.

     Jacob had actually hugged me. Well, it was actually the other way around, but still. He hugged me back; he didn’t pull away. And why on Earth does it make me feel so happy? There’s a thump in my chest as I struggle to breathe. This can’t be love, can it?

     How is it possible to love somebody who tortured me with their comments, not even recognising how much it’s hurting me? Sure, it was all in the past, but it torments me. Things like this make me realise I’m far less than I appear to be.

     On the inside, I’m breakable and freakishly fragile. One blow and I’ll be knocked down, on the ground and moaning to myself in pain. All because of a boy who dared to say such things to me. And now, apparently, I may be falling in love with him.

     To anybody else, this isn’t a big deal. In fact, this shouldn’t be a big deal. One is to find another they truly love and cherish them for eternity. They shouldn’t have a past like I do, nor should they feel fear burning in their soul about their loved one turning back.

     Back to the way they were before, kicking and screaming.

     These are the thoughts burning in my head as I raise my hand.

     We’re in the middle of a museum trip, where a special guest is welcomed. He has round spectacles and a lopsided grin. There are people admiring him, but I have no idea what for. All I see is some old scrawny guy in rags and, all of a sudden, he gets respected for it?

     Mrs Taylor is beside me, along with Jacob and my father. We’re all admiring the leftovers of the ancient Greek civilisation, my dad still pondering over why we got these amazing opportunities for free. I have to admit, that is beyond my understanding as well. Even though I never bothered to think much about it, I’m slowly beginning to realise normal people don’t give away such amazing tickets.

     Especially if they’re as ugly as that man.

     All the things at this museum and exclusive and available only to those occupying a hotel-room. So we’re lucky that, even if we came here, we wouldn’t be allowed. It’s amazing how much a simple night-in at the hotel would cost. And there’s the part about how not everyone can accommodate, and how all the rooms are usually filled.

     Jacob looks at the special guest with his eyes shining. Unfortunately for him, the special guest ignores him completely, turning his focus to me –the girl who raised her hand.

     “Yes?” The special guest looks at me, pushing his glasses up his nose. Everybody turns to me in an instant, and for a moment, it’s like the world just stopped turning.

     But I have to do this.

     “Can you tongue-twist?”

     He’s surprised by this statement, but a smile forms on his lips. “Humbly, I was the best tongue-twister in my younger–”

     “Say ‘Olivia Oak-tree tore the tussling door and opened another.” It’s barely a tongue twister.

     “Olivia Oak-tree tore the tussling door and opened another.”

     “Nope. You got it wrong.” There are bewildered expressions directed towards me, as if saying, Do you know who he is? But I ignore them for two reasons: caring what other people think isn’t going to help me get anywhere and… well… I truly don’t know who he is. “Try again. Listen closely this time. Say ‘Olivia Oak-tree tore the tussling door and opened another.’”

     He repeats it. Once again, I shake my head. “Nope, got it wrong again.”

     There is deadly silence in the room. Finally, he breaks it. He tries to hide the scorn and frustration out of his voice, but doesn’t quite fool me. “Alright then. Tell me where I went wrong.”

     “You didn’t say the word ‘say’.”

     I run out of the door, not giving anybody a chance to blink.

     *

     When we’re back to our hotel, Dad and Mrs Taylor fix me up with a sandwich. By me repeatedly saying sorry over and over again –though not really meaning it– they’ve decided to be softer on me.

     Jacob, however, doesn’t come home. He’s simply riding around the amusement park on his skateboard, claiming he doesn’t want to face the girl who cost him his reputation. Huh. Figures. I guess it wouldn’t be too surprising in first place.

     When I arise from my bed, I push aside the blankets and covers before checking myself in the mirror. I try to imagine myself at fourteen years old, with a wider face and toothy grin. I was so innocent back then. Jacob was innocent back then –well, better than what he is now, anyway. Everything used to be right for me.

     And before I realise what I’m doing, I start giggling. Like a maniac. Coralie Campbell never giggles, but this might be the day it all changes. First, it was in the morning when the idea of Jacob not pulling away from my hug cheered me up majorly. Perhaps he’s not forgiving me. Perhaps he isn’t going to forgive me for a long, long time.

     But every time he doesn’t pull away from my hugs, every time he doesn’t disagree when people say we’re “perfect” for each other… I’m one more steps towards forgiveness. Even if it’s only a fairy-step.

     Going through my laptop, I’m suddenly truly aware of what happened last summer. Why everything was so plot-less, but at the same time, brought so many memories for me to experience. Things which I’ll lock up inside me for a long, long time. Things which have made me realise Jacob’s not as bad as he seems –in fact, I actually like him enough to want his forgiveness. Crave his forgiveness.

     Now, doesn’t that sound insane?

     There was the pranking, back and forth. The time he barged in an argument, telling Mum I missed Dad. The time he kissed me on the cheek, and now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think it was just “because Letitia was kissing these lips a couple of hours ago.” No, there is more to this… whatever this kind of relationship would be called.

     Racing to the fridge, I take out a whole packet of chocolate. Now that Claudia isn’t completely ruining my life anymore, I’m free to eat whatever I desire. Or crave. She can’t stop me. At least, I hope not. There’s always a possibility she’ll arrive at my window with a chainsaw, threatening to eat up my insides if I don’t follow her commands. But that’s unlikely. Not completely impossible either, but has low capabilities of ever happening.

     Jumping back into bed, I shove a chocolate in my mouth. As if on cue, the door opens at that precise moment as an all-too-familiar figure enters, messy brown hair and grey eyes, with a skateboard in their hands.

     “What on Earth did you do that for?”

     Sure enough, Jacob Taylor’s giving me a lecture about the incident before. I resist the urge to snicker, stuffing another chocolate in my mouth. By now, I’m confirmed there are small smudges of brown substance stuck the edge of my lips, as I try licking it off.

     Bouncing slightly on the hotel bed, I feel a pang race through my heart. This is going to be so boring, having my worst enemy lecture me! Then again, isn’t this what I wanted from him? Him to care about me, and actually realise how silly he’s being by making me do these things?

     Suddenly, I don’t want lectures. I just want forgiveness. His forgiveness. But by the way he’s pacing around the room at rapid pace, screaming a lecture at the top of his lungs about how completely selfish and humiliating I’ve been, I don’t think I’ll be earning it anytime soon.

     “Do you have any idea who he is?” His voice is on the verge of hysteric.

     No, I have no clue. But I know how much he means to you. That’s why I chose him as a target. But instead of saying those words and making the situation worse than it already is, I lay back in my bed. The sun has completely disappeared, causing darkness to fall. The days are going faster than I could ever imagine, especially seeing how we’re having so much fun.

     At least, I’m having fun. Jacob just sounds like a grouchy old lady who’s ready to whack people with her walking stick. Of course, it’s silly to compare Jacob with someone like that –he barely has any idea what a grandmother looks like.

     Moonlight seems through the window, as I yawn once more. I’m in my pyjamas, waiting around for Jacob to shut up so I can go back to sleep. That boy talks more than half the girls I know! Which is quite an insult, seeing as how Beth and Tanya are both girls and their existences are acknowledged by me. Barely.

     Though I have to admit, life would’ve been much easier if I’d never met them. Actually, scratch that –if Jacob had never entered my life, made me feel like I needed protection in first place, everything would’ve been terrific. The old Cora would never give in to a bunch of used-to-be snobs like themselves –no, she would’ve been too strong for that.

     However, the newly and damaged Cora would do everything in her power to crave independence. To crave a time she can whistle her way through life and not get confronted for it. That’s all she’s craving –this is all this wants.

     “He is the creator of Nintendo.”

     I sit up. “Wait, isn’t that the gaming console?”

     Confirmed I’ve heard the name before, I still can’t grasp where I heard it from. Though there’s always the possibility I’ve simply forgotten.

     “Oh wow. You’re not as dumb as you look. Yes, he’s the freaking creator. And yes, you have ruined my chances of ever getting him to like me. And yes, that just makes me want to stab you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

     “Stabbing isn’t legal yet. Perhaps try again next decade?”

     “You’re absolutely irritating! Why don’t you just bury yourself?”

     It’s a lame comeback. So lame that even I –queen of all lame comebacks– have to raise an eyebrow. For his own advantages, Jacob doesn’t comment. He doesn’t say anything. In fact, he’s appearing indifferent to the weary look I’m shooting him a million sparks a second.

     “If it gets me away from you, I’m definitely considering it.”

     “You know what, just because you have almost everybody on your side, you think I like you or something?”

     Again with the “everybody on my side.” What is with that sentence? Why does he continue to repeat this, like it’s some sort of curse? And no, not everybody is on my side. Why does he keep repeating it, like a broken record?

     What does it feel like to have everybody on my side? Oh, wait. That’s right. I don’t have everybody on my side. Jacob’s simply being his paranoid self and thinking the whole world’s against him. He’s just having a great passion for hatred. A passion called hate. Remind you of somebody, Cora? ‘

     Yes. It does. It reminds me of a version of myself which I refuse to confirm identity for. A part of the past I’d rather forget. And maybe this is why Jacob hates me so much, and how the feeling’s mutual: one can only hate somebody else when they see something in them that they see in themselves.

     But Jacob seriously has to stop being so immature.

     “I so don’t have ‘everybody’ on my side.”

     “You so do.”

     “Don’t.”

     “Do.”

     “Just shut up.”

     Flicking the light off, I bury myself in my blanket, disabling him from saying another syllable.

     I’m going to have a peaceful night’s sleep, no matter how long or how much torturing it requires.

     *

     Halfway through the night, I feel something touching me.

     A pair of hands covering my mouth.

     And dragging me through the doorway.

 

CHAPTER TENI try to scream, but no words escape my mouth.

     It’s like somebody got a gag and stuffed it in my gob. Which is, ironically, exactly the situation. The figure is tall and lean, looking as if it’s able to run many kilometres in an hour. Dressed in all black, I realise for the first time how horrifying this entire situation is. Why am I being kidnapped?

     Hold on. Would there be a possibility that this is Jacob Taylor? The figure looks a little too skinny to be him, but there’s no denying Jacob’s evil enough to scare me like this. Which wouldn’t really surprise me, seeing how nobody cares about how I feel anymore.

     Oh no, kidnap Coralie Campbell and laugh evilly internally. It won’t make her feel uncomfortable or helpless at all.

     Even when I’m in such a place and time, I still manage to think sarcastic thoughts. No wonder I don’t have any friends. Hey, maybe this kidnapper of mine might be my new best friend! The thought makes me smile. We’ll have tea-parties, pillow fights and play video games.

     Everything which Alex can’t do, especially since he rediscovered his love for independent online games, which make him say, “Die, evil monster from the drain, die!”

     Unless, of course, my kidnapper is Jacob. In which case, I’m more than happy to whack him with a fish.

     A chill runs up my spine. I’m one of the very few teenagers who’re thinking about anything but the kidnapping. No, I refuse to believe it’s happening in real life. However, when the hands roughly grab at my neck, I know this is not a dream. Nope, definitely not a dream.

     I’m being introduced to the darkness, where a new moon is forming in the sky. So dark that I feel isolated; alone with a sicko. Which probably isn’t the best thing to feel at a time like this. I’m being laid on the grass, gently even.

     My mouth dries up. This isn’t normal. Laying a girl on the wet, black-appearing grass isn’t normal. Heck, kidnapping her from her bedroom kind of cuts out the “normal” factor.

     And before I can stop it, a word escapes my lips. “Jacob!”

     The scream is so shrill, even the kidnapper is terrified. There’s a ski-mask over their face, and it’s obvious they’re not Jacob. No, Jacob would rather die than wear something that ugly. At least, I think he would. Two years later, I’m not sure if he’s the same person I knew two years ago. So much would’ve changed in such little time.

     I’m not sure how much time goes by –five minutes or five seconds– but I feel hands grab me from behind. The hands are so warm. So familiar. They wrap around my waist as they lift me up and carry me in their arms. I grasp onto the figure with my life, looking over their shoulder out of curiosity.

     The ski-mask-maniac sits there with his head resting in his hands, sitting cross-legged with his elbow touching the grass. Bored is the expression on his face. For a second, I can’t help feeling annoyed and insulted at the same time. How dare he think I’m some strange girl who’s not worth kidnapping! I feel like marching up to him,

slapping him in the face and telling him to kidnap me. And then I realise how completely insane this sounds. So I prevent my abnormal mind from creating anymore thoughts.

     I feel the figure’s heartbeat against me. The same heartbeat I felt at the hospital, when this figure ended up with a broken nose, thanks to my abnormal adrenaline and his own menacing words.

     In no time, I find myself in my bed. He wordlessly gets into his own and turns away from my focus. All night, I’m awake, just looking at the back of his head, his bed-hair making me smile the slightest.

     I’ll never forget this night. The night where Jacob pretty much pushed me off a cliff, making me sleep while feeling so outraged at him.

     But then catching me when I was falling. He saved me.

     How am I supposed to ignore a fact like that?”

     *

     “Jake?”

     “Yeah?” He looks surprised I’m talking to him. Even more surprised I’m using a nickname. Right now, he’s probably wondering what completely lunatic-associated plan I have up my sleeve. Which is ironic, seeing how I slept wearing a singlet so I don’t have any sleeves at all! “Um…”

     “Thank you.”

     “You’re welcome.”

     “No, seriously.” I exhale loudly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I’d pretty much get raped–”

     And that’s when he starts laughing. Hysterically, even. The urge to whack him with a fish –salmon, even– returns instantly. How is it possible to like this boy? It’s the one question I want to ask Letitia, the girl who thinks like a complete insane person. Jacob and hot are two things which can’t be used in the same sentence.

     “You weren’t going to get raped,” he manages to get out between giggles. I suddenly find myself smiling at how his eyes scrunch up when he’s smiling or laughing… it’s adorable. Oh no. No, no. Stop, stop, stop! “Okay, prepare yourself for a very weird explanation. You see, that man who gave us these tickets… his son was Alex’s friend on that virtual video game. You know, the one you paid full membership for?”

     I find myself nodding like a maniac. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

     “Let me finish. So, you can’t get gold memberships anymore on that website –it was only like a limited offer or something. Alex told that guy that you were the one who gave him the membership, so this guy’s thinking, ‘Hey, what if she works for one of the creators?’ And so he got his father to get free tickets from his uncle’s mother who knows this person who knows that person who knows this person… Anyway. Pretty much, he got tickets and tried to bribe you with them.”

     “And…?”

     “In short, he wasn’t going to rape you.”

     “Okay, this is interesting. You see, when some random sicko comes into my room and carries me outside, I usually don’t think they’re going to ask me politely so I get membership for some stupid game on the inter –hey, wait a minute. How do you know all this?”

     There’s a pause. A very short and silent pause, but one all the same. I know this pause anywhere –it’s one which makes me realise Jacob was one of the reasons behind this entire scheme. It’s like Liam Yvonne, and how he would terrorise me, but he wouldn’t be himself. He’d be using the words of the one and only Jacob Taylor.

     “I… I guessed.”

     *

     “Cora?” The sound of my father’s booming voice enters my ears. “Are you going to come out anytime soon?”

     I’m in the ladies’ room, my hand firmly grasped around Jacob’s toothbrush.

     “Jacob, tell me exactly what happened.”

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “I’m serious. What did you tell that boy?”

     “I… I may have told him you had an extra couple of gold membership vouchers–”

     “How many?”

     “Twenty-three.”

     Perhaps this isn’t the most mature response, but it’s definitely helping me cope! If cleaning a toilet with one’s toothbrush is enabled as a definition of “coping.” After Jacob told me those words, not looking into my eyes, I knew something had to change. That boy was taking too much out of me to just stand there and smile.

     Take it in like it doesn’t bother me; because trust me, thinking I was about to be raped by a guy in a ski-mask isn’t a positive start to my holiday. Or my summer. It really irks me how this may be something which I’ll remember forever. And also, how if it wasn’t for Jacob confirming the ski-masked guy, this entire incident would never have happened.

     Hopefully, there aren’t any cameras in the cubicle. But even if there are, I suspect Jacob wouldn’t think of asking someone to check through the cameras. He’s simply not intelligent enough; I’ve been overestimating him too much at times.

     I hurdle over the toilet bowl, my hand tightly grasped on the toothbrush. Back, forth, back forth. The toothbrush moves in a rhythmic pattern, making me smile like an idiot. At last, I have found my revenge.

     “Coralie Campbell, if you don’t get out of there right now, I will reveal your middle name to Jacob.”

     “What’s her middle–?”

     “Stop!” I yell, barging out of the door and find myself standing face-to-face with Jacob, only a few centimetres away. Staggering backwards, I find his eyes dropping slowly. Slowly, slowly. Right down to where my hand is tightly wrapped around his toothbrush, dripping wet from something. Trust me, he doesn’t look happy. “Ah, I’ve been meaning to give it to you.”

     Dad smiles, clearly having no idea what’s going on. “You’re a nice kid, Cora. See, Jacob? I told you she was an angel.”

     “Yeah, an angel minus the halo and add the devil horns,” he mutters under his breath, not audible to my father. “Thank you, Cora.” There is extra exaggerations to my name. One which suggests I better sleep with one eye open.

     But I’ll give him cheek, which is clearly the last thing he wants.

     “No, no. Thank you, Jacob.”

     *

     “You know what really troubles me sometimes?” Jacob’s sitting next to me in the hammock. It’s the first time he’s bothered to talk to me, after a long and awkward silence filled the air. “How you’re so…”

     “Yes?”

     “…Terrible.”

     “But this ‘terrible’ person has you jealous, doesn’t she?”

     “Jealous? Why jealous?”

     “Being better than you in –oh, I don’t know– every way.”

     He rolls his eyes skyward but doesn’t deny it. Or try to kill me with a stapler like he attempted in fourth grade. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m reminded of how he would refill his stapler every single day, just in case the perfect opportunity came around to get rid of his competition for the “Best and Fairest” award in hockey.

     Except for one year, I won it every other year. And even in that one year, I was stuck with a broken collarbone, so I didn’t have much of a chance in first place. A lot of people didn’t count this as a “year I missed” but rather a “year I couldn’t.” Which still makes me smile, because it exaggerates the point more.

     I may hate everybody in the world. I have a passion for hatred, but nobody really hates me. Not that much, anyway. Jacob probably finds this the most annoying this in the world; how I’m liked, even if I don’t return the favour. Tanya, Beth and Claudia… they sure as heck didn’t like me, but definitely didn’t hate me.

     If they did, they’d make sure to stamp on me. Instead, they let me go off lightly; setting out impossible and almost unrealistic expectations so they have an excuse for “gently” letting me go.

     So, because of this particular fact, he made sure this was his responsibility. To return the hate everybody else wasn’t. Because he hates me enough for all the people I hate –if that makes any sense.

     I don’t know where it comes from, but the words escape my mouth before I can stop them. “How’s Estelle?”

     Jacob’s head snaps up like I was caught chewing on a dead cockroach. After a couple of seconds, the look disappears. “She’s good. Why, do you like me or something?”

     “Oh my gosh. You know what, I’m sick of you saying that. I don’t like you in ‘that way’ and I probably never will.”

     He pauses. There’s a long, long silent pause. I feel vomit rising up my throat, but manage to stop it.

     “I’m a little scared of how you said ‘probably’.” He looks away from me, keeping his eyes towards the ground. “But if you must know, we broke up.”

     Heaven forbid me from ever discovering why I felt so happy after hearing those words.

 

CHAPTER E;LEVEN     “Why did you and Estelle break up?”

    The question just stumbles out of my mouth before I can help it. Jacob turns to me with raised eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. In fact, his eyes linger on my face for barely a second before he turns away, pretending he never heard me in first place.

    We’re both packing our bags. Turns out, the guy who made us come here in first place is kicking us out. Joy. So this is what people do when things don’t go their way… My eyebrows furrow into a frown, but at the same time, I just sigh.

    Jacob’s not about to tell me his flaws. The reason I pick on him directly, is because it’s always Jacob’s fault. In every relationship he’s ever had, even if it’s just unrequited love like the type he had with Henrietta, he does something stupid to mess it up.

    Letitia was probably the one and only girl who’d ever look at him in that way. And he pushes her away because “red isn’t his type.” What is wrong with this boy? Can’t he see what’s good in front of him when it’s there?

    And now, there’s Estelle. What had he been doing? Watching porn on his mobile? Eating peanuts with celery, because they’re both foods which she really hates? I mean, come on! Then there’s Alex who bites his dirty fingernails, but still manages to keep a girlfriend like Beth.

    I’m sure they were going out at one point, but now I’m not too certain. This was before the clique was dominating over us all; before we had our own way in life.

    These questions revolve around my mind, but the only answer I’m getting is silence. Silence from Jacob Taylor, who clearly doesn’t want to express why he got dumped. And even though he says they simply separated in their own ways, we both know he got dumped.

    If he didn’t, he’d be spilling out his guts about how much he hates Estelle. However, he doesn’t say anything. His mouth is zipped. And tragically, I know him enough to realise what this must mean.

    “Jacob? How ‘bout this: you tell me the reason you got dumped, I tell you my middle name.”

    He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he continues folding his clothes and gently placing them in his suitcase. “What makes you think I want to know anything about you?”

    “So you can blackmail me.”

    Turning to me, I see a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, you’re extremely unpredictable.”

    “Why, thank you.”

    He sits on his suitcase and buckles it quickly, making sure the clothes don’t jump out. Which has every possibility of occurring, especially since it’s overflowed with his clothes. “It wasn’t a compliment, Rally.”

    All of a sudden, I’m reminded of the day Leighton came to our school, two years ago. How Jacob called me that exact nickname and I was wondering where on Earth he gets such nicknames from. First Freckle-Face and now “Rally”? My lips form into a grin.

    “Oh God. Coralie Campbell is smiling. What innocent animal has she slaughtered this time?” Jacob puts his closed fist in front of my mouth, motioning me to speak into it. A microphone. He widens his eyes in mock-horror. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

    I don’t even have to think.

    “Do you like cheese?”

    “Yeah. Cheddar’s my favourite.”

    “Same.”

    And for a moment, I forget about the rivalry. How terribly Jacob made me cry in primary school, and how he would tease me about my glasses and braces at the same time. I’m certain he disremembers how I betrayed him two years ago, recording his private conversations within ourselves.

    Just for one moment, one second, we smile at each other.

    Maybe it wasn’t much, but I’ll remember this moment forever.

    *

    The list of things I made to get revenge on Jacob is tossed into the bin; right before I walked out of the hotel. It’s amazing how quickly Jacob and Estelle broke up in front of my face.

    Why am I so relieved? Why do I feel like a huge chunk of me has just faded into the distance; a piece of me full of jealousy? It’s like my capabilities as a human, of being jealous, has disappeared ever since the oh-so-famous couple has broken.

    These are the thoughts circulating my head as I ride in the car, a breeze of fresh hair tussling through my hair. Jacob’s sitting on the right side of the car, and there’s a large amount of space in the middle, but I have a feeling that if Jacob was forced to sit directly beside me, he’d do so without a word.

    “Cora?” My name is whispered so that the adults at the front, who’re bopping their heads to music from the eighties can’t hear a sound.

    “Yeah?”

    “Let’s play Truth.”

    My eyebrows rise. “Seriously? I never took you as the girly type.”

    “And I never took you as somebody who’d pass up an opportunity to blackmail your trust worst enemy.”

    “Touché. Okay, you ask first.”

    The game goes back and forth, back and forth. Neither of us are really into the game. It seems like we’re in a whole different world when we’re admitting things, but it’s not an exciting game. Especially since most of Jacob’s questions revolve around, “What’s your favourite (insert word here which has a lot of choices)?”

    And then there are my questions, which are the slightest more exciting, but he lies in response. What’s the point of Truth if neither of us are going to play it properly?

    As Jacob asks me another question, my eyes narrow as I examine him. He’s biting back words. I know he is. It’s just something he does when he wants to say something –in this case, ask something– but can’t find the right way to express them.

    I interrupt him halfway through his question. “Jacob, just spit it out.”

    “What?”

    “We both know you want to ask me something. Man up and ask.”

    “Do you have a boyfriend?”

    Okay, so I did ask him to be more straightforward, but not like this. Imagine, asking the worst question possible! If I say no, he’ll be terrorising me for the rest of my natural life. And then he’ll be sending emails to the local pound, asking if they’d like an extra dog in their cages because he came across one which “looks lonely.”

    Maybe that was an exaggeration. But I’m not giving up without a fight.

    So my mouth says a word I never thought it would say; especially not to a question like this.

    I say yes.

    *

    Finally, I’m at Jacob’s house with my laptop on my knees. This was a bad idea. The entire scheme of trying to deceive Jacob Taylor by pretending I have a relationship with a male? Ah, did I mention this is one of the worst ideas ever?

    This is a boy who knew me since kindergarten. Once I show him a picture of my oh-so-very-gorgeous boyfriend, my entire plan will fall apart. He will realise, the minute he sees the model-like figure, that it was a picture from Google images which I mercilessly used so I wouldn’t get teased.

    And then he’ll laugh. That’s what I’m really afraid of: his mocking laugh, sounding in my ears again and then I’ll be reminded of the days where he absolutely loathed me, and didn’t do a good job of hiding it. In a way, that’s the only thing I’ve got to lose by letting him laugh at me: losing my streak of things going right.

    So, in order to maintain both my position as a honest (ahem) person, I’ll have make the statement true.

    Simply enough, I go onto Omegle.com, a place I caught Alex chatting on sometimes. Talking to strangers is one of his many strange habits, especially since nobody in real life takes much notice in him. However, now that he’s dating Beth, I have a suspicion people would be seeing him a whole lot more than they’d like to.

    You’re now talking to a stranger. Say hi!

    You: Hi

    Stranger: A.S.L?

    You: A Super Life?

    Stranger: Never-mind. This is a thirteen year old who’s willing to kiss you senseless.

    My cursor clicks on the cross at the top corner so fast, I’m surprised I’m not an accomplished ninja by now. What is up with this website? Full of strangers who have no logic in them! And what’s more, it seems this thirteen-year-old’s face hasn’t been smashed in yet –he’s still on that website!

    With quivering hands, I breathe deeply a couple of times before reloading the website. Only this time, I stare at the screen until they say hello. They don’t. So, naturally, I close the browser and reload it again.

    This same procedure occurs so many times in a row, I’m ready to give up. I feel as if all this is some kind of avengement for trying to deceive my once-worst enemy in first place. Which I wouldn’t be surprised if karma comes around and slaps me in the face, because I sure as heck deserve it.

    How pathetic am I, being afraid of Jacob in first place?

    “Cora!” Mrs Taylor’s voice rings out. “Dessert’s ready!”

    She doesn’t have to repeat herself. I’m already racing down the long and endless hallway, claiming a chair and pretty much jumping on it. Jacob watches this with wide-eyes, swallowing his ice-cream and giving me the most confused look I’ve ever seen in my sixteen years.

    “Cora?”

    “Yeah?”

    “You… you…”

    “What?”

    Self-consciously, I look around all over the place before staring at the bowl in front of me.

    “You’re taking vanilla ice-cream. Um, are you okay? I mean, shouldn’t you be taking chocolate…”

    The poor boy. He thinks I’ve chosen this seat by mistake! Which I haven’t, of course, because chocolate ice-cream is absolutely terrible; nothing can beat vanilla! Just to indicate my point, I take the shiny silver spoon, scoop up a fraction of the substance and place it in my mouth.

    Mrs Taylor watches this with weary eyes. Dad just buries his head in his hands, probably trying to pretend I’m not his daughter.

    Which brings me to a question…

    “Hey, where’s Leighton and Mum?”

    “They’ve gone shopping,” says Jacob, not looking away from my bowl of vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat. “Okay, I’m going to come right out and say it: take the chocolate bowl of ice-cream.”

    “What? No!”

    “Take it.”

    “No.”

    “Are we seriously having this argument?”

    Every nerve in my body shakes that very second. My eyes narrow. Perhaps this is a very little thing to get worked up about, but I’m not about to let him take over my life. Oh no, I already had three girls with girly laughs do it once; I’m not about to let it happen the second time around.

    “No. And don’t you dare ask again.”

    Pushing away my bowl of ice cream, I stand up and walk confidently back to my room, making sure to keep a straight posture. I must not show any signs of weakness. Finally, when I arrive at the room (technically, it’s not really my room but a guest one) I close the door and surprise myself when I don’t slam it.

    My entire body-frame rests against the door, as my knees give way and my entire back comes sliding down until I’m in a rocking position. What just happened? Why was he so panicked about me liking vanilla ice-cream?

    Deciding I’m not going to get any answers by just sitting around, I sigh before turning on my laptop. There’s no point obsessing over something like that: everybody knows Jacob Taylor is among the most strangest and least-sense-making people on the planet.

    Or maybe it’s just me who thinks that.

    Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I’m awaited by the homepage of Omegle. Suddenly, the urge to get a boyfriend rings of much more importance than ever before. I need to find someone, anyone.

    Give me a sign. Just give me a sign.

    The phone beeps. Hallelujah, my sign’s here! Unfortunately, when I get there, it turns out to be just a low-battery crisis. Feeling glum, I’m about to turn it off when I suddenly notice there are a lot of unread messages and missed phone-calls.

    Uh-oh. I set my mobile on silent. There are text messages from a range of people, and I wince at some of them. Alex’s ones catch my eye the most.

    Ring me back as soon as possible. That is, if you’re not too busy ignoring me.

    Dialling his number at once, I’m awaited by his voice.

    “Hello?”

    “Alex, it’s me.”

    “Oh. Decided to suddenly not ignore me?”

    “I wasn’t ignoring you! I just left my phone on silent.” My eyes dart to the laptop. “Hey, do you reckon you’d be able to give me a heads-up on how to use–” A brilliant flash of inspiration hits me right then. “Alex! You’re a boy, aren’t you?”

    “Uh… is this a trick question?”

    “Anyway, you have a lot of friends right?” The enthusiasm fades the slightest. “Of course you don’t. It’s you we’re talking about.”

    “…I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

    “Right. Whatever. Well, can you set me up with one of your guy-friends?”

    “Cora, what are you–?”

    And before he can finish his question, I end the phone-call.

    A grin makes its way to my face.

    Cora: 1 | Jacob: 0

 

CHAPTER TWELVEI’ve always known Alex Russel was unpopular.

     There’s this really pitiful aura he carries around like contacts, automatically making people think, “Oh my gosh, he’s a loser.” Maybe this is why the clique told me to avoid him. This is probably also why I agreed so happily to avoid the boy who still –to this very minute– chews on his fingernails. And then he somehow became my best friend, although it was so long ago and before so many important events, that I completely forgot.

     But this? Oh my, this is pure torture.

     At this karaoke centre, there are five boys sitting around me. Ian Chandler is the first boy who catches my eye. Sitting there with his huge grin placed upon his face, nodding his head like a maniac. I wonder if he brushed his teeth today, because this was something he avoided doing on our “date” when the clique forced us together.

     Now that I’m thinking about it, the clique probably never approved of him. Heck, with even my low standards, my approval doesn’t go to him. A scowl takes place on my face. Of course, they were probably laughing like a maniac with these tight, tied-up buns at the top of their heads. It makes me agitated and want to punch a wall.

     But I’d probably end up breaking my fist, so I decide against it.

     Sitting there with these five, strange and idiotic boys makes me want to become Christian and a nun. I’d rather never marry than hang out with one of them. For goodness sake, I’d rather share a romantic interest with Jacob!

     …Actually, no. Not true at all. Let’s just say if we were the last people on Earth, I’d slowly begin a lustful desire for dead bodies. Unless they were zombies, in which case Jacob would be alive and I would be six feet underground with my paranormal ability to act completely out of character. Of course Jacob would be alive –zombies do eat brains, after all.

     “Can you sing?” There’s a drip of snot escaping from his nose. He somehow has the decency to look embarrassed before wiping it on his sleeve, leaving a bright green smear on his white sleeve. “I bet you’re really good.”

     “I went out with her, you know,” says Ian Chandler with a proud grin. All the boys look to him, whether in envy or disgust I cannot tell. “We kissed.”

     “Tongue?” says Snotty-Boy, his mouth gaping like a kindergartener beginning to accept the reality of Christmas and the presents.

     “Oh, yeah,” he lies. I shoot him a death glare. He winces while staggering backwards the slightest bit. “We… uh… broke up, though. ‘Cause our needs and–”

     “Somebody gag me,” Alex whispers under his breath, staring straight ahead with disgust written all over his face in permanent marker, or what seems to be. I happen to hear it and can’t help a muffled laugh. He turns to me and smiles. “Anyone of them tickling your fancy?”

     “Oh, Alex. You devilish person, you. Why did you bring such fine young men for me to consider? There’s no way I’d ever be able to choose one over the other.” The posh accent disappears, as I look at him. I deadpan, “Seriously. I honestly can’t choose who’s worse.”

     He giggles so uncontrollable, I can’t help raising an eyebrow and slowly begin to laugh. All the other boys –Snotty Boy, Ian, Mohawk-Guy, Monobrow-Man and Bruised-Bryce– are laughing like maniacs. For a second, Alex and I stop and stare in horror at the surrounding sight. None of them stop laughing, continuing as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

     Alex and I exchange a look, shrug, and continue laughing at how they don’t even know what the joke is.

     When I walk home with a small smile on my face, I suddenly feel a million times lighter. Not only have I realised there are complete losers in the world who’d actually consider me as a romantic interest, I’ve also learnt a very vital thing I’ve never thought of before.

     Note to self: If Alex Russel offers to help with matchmaking, make an excuse and catch the nearest flight to Africa.

     *

     “Wow. You’re home early, Ms Goody-Goody,” Jacob says, using his oh-so-marvellous air-quotes in exaggeration. But there’s no anger in his voice. It’s all said monotonously. “Where have you been?”

     “Out,” I reply casually, closing the door and sitting in the kitchen. Or more specifically, his kitchen. “Why do you ask?” There’s so much innocence in that tone, I’m surprised Jacob doesn’t pinch my cheeks.

     Unfortunately, he’s never been the cheek-pinching nor the cute-recognising type. “Nope.” He shrugs, looking away. “No reason… Out with who?” He takes a sip of orange juice, as if it adds to the indifference he’s trying to pull off.

     No reason my Aunt Petunia, I think with a smirk. I knew it, He’s going to question who I was out with. Oh, Jacob, Jacob, Jacob. Prepare yourself. “With my boyfriend.”

     The orange juice squirts out of his mouth, a minor bit landing on my t-shirt and jeans. Wiping my face and a little bit of my t-shirt with a paper-towel, I death-glare him. Now it’s his turn to feign innocence, as he takes another sip and pulls his hands together because that’s what the “cute” people in anime do.

     Although somebody has to remind him he’s about as cute as toe fungus in the middle of hibernation. I mean, the poor bear wouldn’t be able to sleep all those months with an itchy and irritating feel to its toes –or rather, paws.

     Shaking the random thoughts out of my head, I force a smile.

     I’m just about to speak when Jacob cuts in, “You’re too young to have a boyfriend.”

     I snort. “Yeah. And I’m hearing this coming from the guy who dated and made-out with Letitia two summers ago?”

     There’s a faint blush creeping to his cheeks. “D-Don’t change the subject!” he splutters, still refusing to look me in the eyes.

     Taking a menacing step forward, I can’t help a victorious expression on my face. “What are you implying?”

     “What? Nothing–”

     “Then take a step forward. Go on. I dare ya.”

     “Cora…”

     “What? Are you a wimp or something?”

     I enjoy watching his fists clench. A smile forms itself on my lips. But at the same time, I can’t help thinking of Leighton’s words back in sixth grade. Although there isn’t much to be remembered, I’ve pretty much forgotten it all. Feeling a little sheepish, I try to remember the incident which flashed a spark of reminiscence. It attacks me instantly.

     Jacob was getting angry because of me, as always, but this time Leighton didn’t roll his eyes or let the whole thing disappear. There was a time where my brother took what I said quite seriously, and I can’t help remembering what I said. “You’ll never get a girlfriend.” I remember how hard it hit him. Like rocks pelted at a window, his fists clenching like right now.

     Because, like me, around that time, Jacob had a low self-esteem. Not in himself, but the ability to have anybody care for him. Unfortunately, he’s not as insecure and awkward anymore –oh no, he’s too busy being egoistic to notice anything. So truly, Jacob has no weak point. Not anymore, he doesn’t.

     Long point short, I felt a reassuring hand on my shoulder from my brother. But at the same time, it felt as if he was trying to pull me away like I was an attracting magnet. He whispered, Careful with Jacob. If you weren’t a girl, you’d be in two pieces by now.

     Which I can’t really deny, seeing as adrenaline can do anyone do anything. But what really concerns me is how the controlled and head-in-air boy can even think about bashing people up. He’s always been the type who, though very easily agitated and can insult very well with his mouth, will never touch a soul.

     I’ve never seen him fight for something. Not in a physical way, but not even mentally. He seems pretty laid-back about everything which comes face-to-face to him. In a way, it always made me jealous –how, though a lot of people hated him in primary, he didn’t care. He didn’t seem to, anyway. And especially how, when I won the hockey’s Best and Fairest after every year, he’d come to congratulate me.

     Sure, his eyes would shift around a lot and didn’t sound like he meant it, but he always made sure I was congratulated. And I remember how, every time he did that, I thought, Hey, maybe we can be friends. But we can never be friends. Isn’t that the whole point of hating him? A sigh escapes my throat. Heck, I’m not sure I hate him anymore. I don’t like him, but my feelings of hatred aren’t as strong anymore.

     “Why did you and Estelle break up?” I take another step forward so we’re only a couple of centimetres apart.

     His eyes widen, but only for a while. Skilfully, he dodges my glare and sits back down. “I don’t fight with girls. Sorry.”

     I don’t let his word affect me. Instead, I pour myself a glass of milk and whistle softly under my breath. Mr and Mrs Taylor, I’m pretty sure, are sleeping. They’ve had a long day, even though it’s barely evening, so they decide to rest for the next oncoming day. With a smile forming on my face, I can’t help noticing the time which passes. Jacob’s clenched fist slowly relaxed, and I watch it with a whoosh of relief escaping from my mouth.

     Wait. Why am I relieved that he’s okay? Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I turn to him and smile. “Hello.”

     Looking up, a little tired, he smiles back. “Hello.” His eyes flicker. “Wait, why am I talking to you? I hate you! Go away.”

     Despite myself, I can’t help laughing. Laughing like a maniac. Jacob looks at me with a quizzical expression, mixed with a smirk which says, “Wow, what a laugh. Where’d you get that from, the local swine-breeding agency?” But there’s no meanness in his expression, just of pure disgu –okay, so there’s the slightest bit of disapproval.

     However, he shrugs and grins. Then laughs. “Idiot.”

     “Weirdo.”

     “Freckleface.”

     And though I’ve got a zillion names I’d like to scream out at him, just an example of how much I hate him, my mouth remains zipped. He seems surprised but doesn’t say anything. But what’s the point of shouting out untrue things? I can’t call him a complete loser, because he’s one of the coolest people I know –doesn’t care what others think of him.

     So I say exactly what I mean. “You’re not too bad, Taylor.”

     “You’re not too bad, either, Campbell.”

     In unison, we stick our fingers down our throats. “Too.”

     *

     Not only have I no relationship with any males, I’m also going to be ridiculed to my doom when Jacob realises I’ve been making it all up.

     With my fingers frantically pressing on the keys of my laptop, I can’t help the urgency to look in the mirror, and know I’ll be knocked unconscious if I attempt it by any chance. My messy hair and how messed up my eyes must look by now… it’s a sight which is better unseen. With a grimace crossing my face, I push away the covers and place my laptop on the empty dressing table.

     How am I supposed to make everything go right for me? Bouncing back, I lie with my head resting gently on the pillow. I suddenly realise exactly what I need to do. With my amazing skills, I will get any guy possible –so long as they’re a complete loser and suffer from a pathetic case of bad breath or terrible hygiene.

     “Cora, we’re going to the movies in five. If you aren’t ready…”

     Gloomily, I sit down on my bed once more, hugging my knees to my chest. Why not just act girly? A light sparks. Of course. In order to get a guy who doesn’t suffer from loser-mania, I shall act completely girly.

     Searching through my wardrobe, I look for the shortest skirt I possibly can find. A smile fixes on my face. It covers so little, I may have to wear shorts underneath. Which I do, because looking completely revealing and trying to attract guys are two different things. Walking over to my makeup centre, I put all types of makeup possible, but in the right amounts.

     All those years of fixing makeup and applying lip-gloss to look my best… who knew it could’ve been of significant importance now? Next is my hair which I blow-dry for a shiny look and touch it up with a humungous amount of bobby-pins to hold it in place. Perfect. I think. Though it’s nothing like my personality.

     Feeling confident, I step out of my room.

     “Freckle Face, your mum says–”

     Who else should see me first but my horrid worst enemy?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN     I wonder how many bugs can fit into Jacob’s dropped jaw.

     From the size and the matter of physics, I’m thinking around thirty can fit without being completely drowned in his mouth. Yes, that must be it. Unless Jacob has suddenly decided he prefers to have the insects all squished up together, in which case there wouldn’t be anymore than a maximum of sixty.

     While I’m pondering this strange and rather embarrassing factor, Jacob finds the courage to say, “What are you wearing?”

     Some nerve! “Clothes. You know, something that civilised people wear?”

     “With so much of your legs showing, you might as well go naked.”

     “Oh, please. Just because I’m more loved doesn’t mean you have to get all jealous on me.”

     “Freckle-face–”

     “Stop calling me that!”

     He doesn’t even flinch. What is with the new robotic structure of my once-worst enemy? It’s like somebody got a different version of a chip and inserted it into his mind, disabling him to overreact and get angry all the time like he used to. Quite frankly, I hate this new emotionless version of him. He’s so mature and understanding –who likes that in a person’s character, anyway?

     “I can call you anything I want,” he says in a calm tone, possibly surprising even himself.

     “Yeah? And what exactly are you going to call me?”

     “My little, stupid sister.”

     There’s a smile on his face, an impish one like he’s done stupid things a zillion times before. Hm. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as I expected or thought I knew him. He ruffles my hair and then walks down the hallway, leaving me stunned beside my bedroom door.

     “Cora! Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!” Mum’s voice screeches, as she impatiently hits the horn twice in a row. She has this OCD thing about never hitting the horn once, but multiple times. A very annoying habit, as observed by her road-pals. “The movie’s gonna start screening anytime now!”

     But my eyes are only focussed on Jacob, with his gelled-spiky hair (yuck, I know. I hate it when boys pay more attention to their hair than girls do –it’s just not natural) and his hands shoved in his jeans’ pockets. He looks so carefree, so relaxed. Back when I was fourteen years old and still following the every order of the “clique,” I’ve never seen him so natural or… himself.

     I remember how self-conscious he was when admitting, against his will, that he was scared of fire and making me light the Bunsen Burner while his “oh-so-rebelling-self” hid behind me like a helpless rabbit. But now, I

have the assumption he’d admit his fears to me without a second thought –with a hint of enviable laziness, like it couldn’t possibly matter.

     And, just before he takes a turn in the long hallway, he turns around slightly towards me with a glint in his eyes. “Now, go put some clothes on before Ian Chandler invites somebody to do ‘math homework’ with him.” As if he’s expecting me to murder him on the spot, he powerwalks quickly out of my sight.

     My hands clench up as I breathe in a couple of times in a row, very rapidly. But at the same time, I can’t help chuckling a little under my breath. He never changes. Always putting me down, but at the same time, would care if I took it too seriously. This is exactly the relationship between siblings, and I know this for an account of me already having a twin brother.

     I remember how when we met up at the café, eating banana and chocolate muffins. It was just before Christmas, and I didn’t think the “clique” would actually do something like that. But at the same time, no matter how controlled I was, I can’t help feeling a little silly. I could’ve easily disobeyed them, but instead, I was a coward for safety.

     Just like how I’d always run away when everything turned bad. And anyway, the clique didn’t even want me. It was obvious by how many obstacles they placed in front of me to try and kick me out without another look back. But I somehow, because I was so desperate, found a way to do whatever they wanted me to.

     And look at them now. So nice and social, it’s impossible to believe they were once them. Suddenly, they became an us without me even realising when it happened. When it started. It’s kind of surreal how so many things can change in two years.

     I look down at my clothes. They are so not me –Jacob’s completely right about the Ian Chandler inviting me to do “math homework” with him, especially seeing as he’s a movie geek who spends most of his lifetime at the cinemas. He’s bound to see me and try to strike.

     But at the same time, I can’t help the feeling of wanting to irritate Jacob by not doing what he wants.

     Which is why I head to the car in my awesome clothes, looking, as Jacob said, half-naked.

     *

     Mum’s reaction when we got out of the car was of pure horror. And then sly. “So, Cora, who’s the lucky guy? Could it be Ian Chandler?”

     Jacob clasps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. I keep my fist locked in my palm to keep myself from punching him.

     Unfortunately for me, Mum knows a lot about my romantic history –not that there’s much to know in first place. And she knows Ian Chandler enough –she used to babysit him when he was born, apparently. So that just leaves her to realise how much he loves movies and would spend most of his time at the cinema. And also answers her question towards why I’m wearing such revealing clothes on this one occasion, coincidentally, to the movies.

     How humiliating!

     “Mum, that wasn’t it…”

     “But Cora, you’re going to get your boyfriend jealous if another guy hits on ya.” The exaggeration on the word boyfriend makes my teeth clench. Somehow I have a feeling he still believes me, despite being so reluctant about accepting the fact. Which isn’t very surprising: who believe me, of all people, to have a romantic relationship with somebody? “Did you know that she has a boyfriend?” he says, nudging my shocked mother.

     “Oh em gee!” she squeals, and I try not to flinch. I don’t mind her using abbreviations, but it’s how she tries too hard which makes me ready to catch the next trip to Texas. She scrambles into my face so fast, I have a hard time not seeing fire flowing from her head. “Who is he? Tell me, tell me.”

     Lightly grasping at her shoulders and pushing her away, I say with a hesitant smile, “Secret. Can’t say.”

     With my entire body swelling up with worry, I sneak a glance at the sceptical Jacob, who’s too busy raising an eyebrow to even care about who my so-called boyfriend is. Oh, wonderful. This is just great.

     We’re stuck in the dark halls of the cinema, waiting for the movie seats to open. Mr Taylor, Mrs Taylor and Dad are all buying the food, and unfortunately for my controlling and “always right” mother we weren’t late. In fact, we were so early there were no people who’re attending the same movie as us. Even the ticket collector looked at us strangely.

     Finally, in what seems like years, the doors opened and we all fluttered in in a matter of seconds. Like butterflies landing on flowers. Only, a whole lot stomping around and carelessness. Perhaps elephants are a better animals to compare ourselves with?

     Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I sit in the middle. To my surprise, Jacob sits on one side while Leighton sits on the other. Right next to Jacob is the fully-lighted aisle, and a zillion seats after where my brother is sitting. I feel like moving but then realise I’ll only end up hurting people. And then they’d both feel rejected, so I sit there, feeling rather squished.

     Thanks to them sitting there, I won’t be able to eat without feeling self-conscious. What if they think I’m a complete slob for eating so much and wonder about this is why I’m fat? Well, I wouldn’t call myself fat –just everybody’s too skinny. Nevertheless, I’m closer to underweight than overweight –but it’s only in winter where I have the “perfect figure.”

     …And then all the months afterwards, I’m the same old junk-food machine.

     The movie starts screening. I forgot what we were even going to watch! And at the same time, I can’t help feeling a little nervous. What if it’s a romance movie? Surely it’d be awkward with both of my brothers –one biological and another one who’s just plain annoying– sitting next to me? But Jacob has more common sense and a little more shame to sit next to me in a movie choice like that.

     So I let the worries fade.

     As it turns out, it’s a humour movie. Just humour, light-hearted and occasionally unrealistic, but I still find myself giggling. Why are they sitting next to me? And finally, when Jacob flashes me a grin and holds up a voice recorder, I realise with a stomach-jolting feeling. Of course. He’s been recording my hysterical and sanity-question like all this time.

     How could he? Because he’s Jacob Taylor.

     “Now, Cora,” he whispers in a surprisingly calm voice. The cinema is fuller after two seats in front and two seats behind us, so he doesn’t really need to whisper. But I have to admit, it does add a deadly feeling to the whole ploy. “Tell me who your boyfriend is and nobody gets hurt.”

     “How am I–?”

     “Not you, Idiot! I’m talking about the people on the internet and after they get a load of this. Do you really want to be responsible for their eternal hearing loss?”

     The way he said it makes me frown. So surely, like I would give in to him so easily. Luckily, I’ve got the slightest bit of pride to say, “Oh, I’m gonna go to the restroom. Be back in a minute.”

     And walking around the edges of the room as to interrupt any viewers, I casually enter a small door at the edge of the cinema. They keep the toilets literally in there, so people who need to go can enter during a movie and not have bright lights interrupting other watchers. It’s a fancy idea, and it took them forever to build. But it’s a privilege a lot of people have used to no extent.

     When I enter the room, it’s a rather large space with three doors to choose from. Ladies, gentlemen and disabled.

     The only reason I came here was so, miraculously, I could meet somebody. Preferably a short and cute guy with a goofy smile –just like that Oliver King guy I used to like when I was fourteen, before he returned to America. I remember him being half my size. But I still thought he was the most adorable thing ever, especially with his endless smiles.

     So imagine my surprise when I see Liam Wailyn –or should I say, Liam Yvonne– casually pressing buttons on his portable game. When he looks up, he immediately pauses the game without taking his eyes off me. He grins. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

     “What’re you doing here?”

     I guess it’s a legit question to ask, especially since he’s in the middle of –literally– nowhere and playing a portable, handheld game.

     He sighs. “Mum’s a worker here. She usually bring me here so that I can ‘watch movies’ for free, but I find them really boring.”

     “Boring?”

     “Yeah. I mean, why watch something you have no control over? That’s why video games are the best. You get to watch and control everything. Everything’s under your control.”

     Of course, I know this, being a gamer girl myself. Also a skater-chick to realise how some of the stuff boys do are also unisex and a lot of girls should start practising three-sixty turns instead of learning how to apply eye-shadow perfect (a crime I committed while I was still a part of the “clique.”)

     Realisation hits me. “Hey, Liam, are you going out with somebody?”

     He looks at me in surprise, dropping his handheld device. “No. I’m forever alone.”

     “Good.”

     I drag him out the room and into the cinema.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN     “My boyfriend,” I declare, a hint of smugness in my voice as I push Liam forward.

     There are a few people behind us, ordering me to sit down and stop blocking the movie for them. Feeling rather grudging I do as they ask and sit next to Liam. He simply puts his arm around me and whispers in a low voice, “You owe me.” And I realise telling a random guy they’re supposed to pose as my boyfriend deserves a reward.

     But I believe the reward should be Jacob’s face itself. It just fades to such a pale colour, I begin to question if he suddenly turned into a ghost in the last five minutes. Perhaps now’s not the best time to ask.

     The movie continues about the funny bits, repeating a lot of jokes and lame puns. I put my hand in Liam’s left one and steal a look at Jacob.

     He doesn’t exactly look happy. Well, mad is more the word right now. How possessive. Why can’t he ever be happy I’ve found somebody to share a romantic interest with? But then it hits me: Jacob can see through this entire scheme, and it angers him how I’m even thinking of deceiving him with something so easy-to-see-through.

     Although it’s technically his fault for being so annoying and arrogant, I can’t feel a little uncomfortable. He doesn’t deserve to be deceived in such a terrible, underestimating way.

     Liam, however, has different ideas. He puts his arm around my waist and brings me closer to him, making me question what his intention was.

     As if reading my mind, he says, “Now the fun begins. Just watch Jacob’s face.”

     And sure enough, for the entire movie, I keep sneaking looks at my worst enemy’s facial expressions. At one point, he has his arms relaxed, the next minute, they’re ready to slam somebody into a brick wall. I stare in horror as I realise how accurate Liam’s predictions are about Jacob suddenly being annoyed and agitated.

     For one thing, he must be glancing at me a lot also to create such a tense atmosphere, but I never seem to notice when. He must be doing it very sneakily and kind of like a secret spy.

     “Now for the final run,” Liam whispers in my ear, a smile playing on his lips. I can actually hear it, though I’m too close to turn and glance at it. He puts his face closer to mine.

     Closer, closer–

     “Liam, can you get a drink for me?” Jacob’s voice is light and friendly, a smile forming on his face. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d consider it genuine. But it’s obvious he’s not smiling on the inside. He turns to me and flashes a smile, giving o evidence of ever watching us. Oh, he’s good. “I’m really thirsty.”

     “Why not get it yourself?” says Liam. Obviously, he’s trying to crack my once-worst enemy. I can’t help wondering why. Why is Mr Yvonne so desperate to disturb Jacob’s calm interior? “Can’t you see I’m sitting next to my girlfriend?”

     “Liam.” All the friendliness has disappeared from his voice. Jacob’s face had never looked darker. “Just go.”

     I watch, a little stunned, as Liam rises from his seat and disappears out through the restrooms. My breathing increases a little when I notice Jacob glancing at me from the side, though he’s not being subtle about it. It’s almost like a challenge –as if he’s pressuring me to turn towards him so he can see right through my soul and everything I’ve set-up.

     But to my surprise, his lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Nicely done. You almost had me fooled.”

     I decide to play dumb. “What do you mean? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Idiot. Of course you do. Just setting up Liam on a whim, right?” He sighs. “You’re lucky I saved him by letting him cool off.”

     “Wait, what–?”

     “He has a thing for Estelle. I went out with her, made-out a few times as well. Do the math.”

     “But he hates her…”

     “Just because he seems to hate her doesn’t mean he actually does.” His eyes snap up, widening as he realises what he just said. “Not that this has any connection to us,” he says quickly.

     “Right,” I reply just as quickly. “None.”

     As if on cue, Liam comes back with a tight smile directed at Jacob. “Oh, um, thanks… I guess.”

     Unlike my “boyfriend,” Jacob gives a brilliant dazzling grin. I begin to wonder if I’ll be blinded by the whiteness of his teeth –yes, whiteness. It seems he has taken my advice and started using more toothpaste. “No problem. Anyway, Estelle’s available, you know?”

     Liam’s head snaps up, his eyes shining in horror. “How–?”

     “It’s so obvious,” Jacob says, waving his hand in dismissal. “It’s pretty much written over your face in permanent marker.”

     My romantic partner is absolutely shocked for a moment. Jacob ignores this and concentrates on the movie screening, his mouth turned upwards. My fist clenches involuntarily. I know exactly what this look means –I’m so much better than you, because I can read your mind. It’s a taunting and very annoying look I always receive from him.

     But maybe because he has nothing else better to do. Bullying his competitor is a cheap way of holding the trophy for the Best and Fairest in hockey. Yet, Jacob committed the crime and caused me to hate him for eternity, also to completely loathe the idea of independence. For most of my entire life, I would be scared of losing everything I worked so hard to earn.

     The popularity, although now that I’m thinking about it, it’s not really “popularity” after all. Popular people are ones who’re liked. I guess, in a way, The Clique was popular, because everybody thrash-talked it so much to create a bad reputation for us. But did we care? Not at all.

     So imagine my surprise when, in the summer when I turned fourteen, Jacob was the one who made me realise there are some things in life which are more important than feeling self-conscious all the time. The one who made me feel inferior in first place was the one who stopped me from feeling it.

     How strange.

     “I’m not actually going to kiss you,” whispers Liam, not looking at me at all, but keeping his eyes stuck on Jacob. He brings his face close to mine. Closer, closer–

     “Hey, Liam, can you please not make-out in front of me?” says Jacob, his face staring straight ahead, but his eyes turning sideways to look at us. He grimaces. “It’s kind of disgusting.”

     My blood boils right then. How dare he insult me in any kind of way! Sometimes, I wonder if Jacob exist for the sole reason of making me want to punch him in the mouth and call the mental department for my own independence. Or maybe he’s one of those secretly mutated aliens who’ve taken over the world, one place at a time.

     This doesn’t seem far off. It’s humanly not possible for a person to be this annoying or completely repulsive to the eye. Now that I’m looking at him properly, he has a line of whiteheads and blackheads on the band of his nose. Those must be the scars for when he failingly turned from an alien to this “human” costume.

     “You and Letitia making out on my bed isn’t disgusting?”

     “No, it isn’t.” His entire face reddens, turning his entire body to stare at me directly. “Don’t bring her up.”

     “And then you kissed me on the cheek so bits of her saliva will be stuck on me. What’s wrong with you?”

     This actually happened on his birthday, two years ago. He shamelessly kissed me on the cheek because he wanted to annoy me. Ha. Mission accomplished, though I was kind of surprised when he kissed me on the cheek. It made me feel kind of... strange. Although I don’t think it has anything with him kissing me on the spur of the moment, but more, my heart beating really fast.

     Why did it beat so fast? Ugh, I’m remembering useless things again. There are some things which should be illegal from remembering, and this infected boy exchanging saliva with my innocent, unsuspecting cheek is number two on the list.

     Right after the time he made me kiss him for forty dollars. Which I kind of scrunched up and threw on the ground after his “girlfriend,” Letitia, ran away with tears in her eyes. What a jerk. How can anybody think somebody this repulsive could be attractive?

     “That was in the past. So ignore it.”

     “Yeah, just like how you being scared of fire was in the past as well.”

     “So? You’ve never alcohol or smoked,” he recounts, referring to when we had a survey in Health class in ninth grade.

     “What’s that got to do with this situation? And anyway, I can drink anytime I want to.”

     “Fine. Tomorrow’s Saturday, Mum and Dad will probably come home at eleven. I dare you to drink.”

     “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Consider it done.”

     Liam’s smirking. So is Leighton. Naturally, they’re exchanging a look in between them. A gulp sounds out of my throat before I can stop it. Everything seems like its carrying an uncomfortable aura, and Jacob, despite being so slow to most things, looks on the floor. Just to avoid our eyes.

     The silence has never been this loud. Every minute of nobody speaking feels like a zillion people are screaming at the same time. Why is this so? How can something feel like the replica of the original?

     “What is it?” I yell, receiving a few glares from seats in front of us. The movie’s still running and they don’t want to miss a second, even though I’ve lost the plot a long, long time ago. “Seriously,” I say, a little quieter. “Quit leaving me out of your little looks. We can see them.”

     “Cora, don’t ask,” mumbles Jacob, still looking on the floor. Now he’s awkwardly shuffling his feet. “Seriously. Just listen to me for once in your life.”

     They exchange the glance again. I fake a smile, but it’s making me paranoid. What are they on about?

     Suddenly, it hits me. “Oh my gosh, you think Jacob likes me, don’t you?”

     Jacob’s eyes widen, his head snapping up and glancing at me in genuine horror. Leighton and Liam are giggling like idiots now, obviously with no intention of stopping. It’s then I realise both of their names start with L. From now on, I’ll officially never look at boys with “L” starting their names without the urge to slap them with newspapers.

     “It was the other way around, actually,” Leighton says, finally breaking free of his giggling-fit. “We thought you like him.”

     “Me? What gave you that idea?” But there’s amusement playing on my lips, not horror. Because I know, for a fact, I’ll never fall for Jacob Taylor. Not that yellow-toothed hockey player, even though his teeth are pretty much gleaming after usage of toothpaste. It must be a sudden trend which I’ve missed.

     Jacob’s attention is suddenly on the screen in front of us. He suddenly happens to notice the movie’s still running, although we’ve been in the theatre for around an hour already. Liam and Leighton on either side of me stop talking, but after a while, my brother moves seats –crawls so he doesn’t block views of the viewers– and sits next to me.

     Well, he kind of shoves Liam away, but my “boyfriend” doesn’t seem to notice.

     “Answer these questions. Who has seen you or made you cry? Who would you talk to, as a friend, about your problems with The Clique and Who did you write a zillion unsent apology notes to, just so they don’t erase you completely from their life?”

     I don’t really have to think. Instead, I hang my head down. “You know the answers to all of them, don’t you? You read my diary, didn’t you?”

     “That’s beside the point. Anyway, I read a recreation of Pride and Prejudice–”

     “Was that the classic story of enemies falling in love or something?”

     “Yup. And the recreation was the quote, ‘Every girl has three boys in their life. The one they love, the one they hate, and the one they can’t live without. Ultimately, they’re all the same boy.”

     A smile plays on his lips. He’s like a matchmaker. It annoys me how happily he’s giving a girl –the supposedly romantic species of all creatures– advice about romance. It also makes me wonder if he has a secret interest in men, and for the first time, I feel sorry for the lovesick Tanya. She has an unavoidable crush on my brother. Hmm. I’ll have to set them up somehow.

     Suddenly, the quote makes sense.

     The one they love –the one who I can tell my problems to about the clique and know that, deep down, he can relate with the self-conscious feeling.

     The one they hate –the one who has made me cry and watched me cry many, many times before.

     The one they can’t live without –the one who I write a zillion beginnings of apology letters to, but find none of them are good enough. Even in Canada, I use Alex to check up on him –just so he doesn’t completely disappear from my life.

     All those questions can be answered with two words –two words which can either be a curse or a blessing. My heart paces faster. Why is it pacing faster?

     If that quote has even the slightest bit of accuracy added to it, then it means the “one” for me is…

     …Jacob Taylor.

CHAPTER FIFTEENNudge, nudge. Wink, wink. Shove, shove.

     This is all Alex Russel has been doing to me every time Jacob’s around –which is too much for my likings. Quite frankly, it’s irritating me to no end. Especially since I’m living at his house and it triggers expressions of confusion from my once-worst enemy. Also, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out this puzzle.

     It seems everybody knows about my sudden feelings for Jacob Taylor but him. How does he not realise how I’ve been stumbling on words, going red in the face and making a complete full of myself in front of him? Is he really that blind?

     Apparently so. All of a sudden, my life is revolving around Jacob Taylor, which is definitely a terrible way to spend my youth. For all I know, this may be the boy I spend my entire pathetic lifetime falling in love with.

     Oh my. Did I really just use the “L” word?

     Getting ready to rip my hair out, my fingers stop in mid-air. With a more calm approach, I grab the brush off the desk and straighten out my hair with it. And, for the first time in my life, I apply lip-gloss to my lips when it’s not a special occasion.

     In a way, yes, I’m trying to seduce Jacob. But it’s not really for anybody else. All of a sudden, I feel disgusted in myself. Looking pretty isn’t suddenly going to make him realise how much we’re meant for each other.

     Did I really just say that?

     Feeling flustered, I brush my teeth with more force than needed. That’s when Jacob comes into the bathroom. Everything stops. Time stops for a minute, just letting me hang off the edge like a hopeless kookaburra. My heart flutters when he turns to me and gives me a weird look.

     “Nice bed hair, Freckle Face,” he says, a smile on his face.

     How can words that insulting and punch-worthy make my breath stop? Ugh. I hate being a teenager. I hate these teenage hormones which suddenly creep up onto me.

     Abruptly, I begin resembling a random quote some stranger made up and apply it to my own life. It seems as if every piece of logic has disappeared off my mind. This is the boy I’ve hated since prehistoric times, even before the dinosaurs roamed the Earth. And yet, all the reality has been thrown out of the window.

     I find myself falling for him. How did things end up like this? Even after one week, I’m still in a daze.

     “I hate you, Jacob Taylor,” I say half-heartedly.

     He seems to notice. “You ‘kay? You seem… down.”

     Yeah, well, finding out you might be in love with your worst enemy does that to people. And also, Jacob has never realised how attractive he really is. Not in looks, but the aura he carries around. We make up quite fast for

whatever fight –actually, we just find something else to argue about instead. But at the same time, no fight really lasts long between us.

     Ugh. No. No. No. No. What is wrong with me? Why am I falling for somebody like him? Spoilt, egoistic and just so pathetic. He smells buttons on radio stations, just like that time Alex’s uncle needed somebody to fill in for his audio channel.

     And yet… I can’t help but wish he was mine. Everything fits together like a puzzle. Especially my reaction to him and Estelle kissing. I’ve always liked him –I was just too stubborn to admit it to myself. But when somebody else pointed it out to me, I took it seriously for the first time.

     Look at me now; I’m pretty much drowning in the hope he may like me back.

     What am I thinking? He’s never going to like me.

     Gurgling and not caring about the disgusted faces he’s making, I put the toothbrush in the righteous position and go down to the kitchen.

     Leighton’s at the table, naturally giving me a smile. “Good morning, Cora. Actually, I take it back. It’s night. You and Jake are so weird…”

     “What’s weird with brushing our teeth and hair before bed?”

     “Before bed, understandable. But why before dinner?”

     “Because we’re much more sophisticated.”

     There’s footsteps approaching us. I find myself going red in the face as Jacob slides his arm over Leighton’s shoulder and pounces upon my brother’s sausages. He doesn’t even look at me. Huh. It’s wonderful to realise my value in a houseful of males. This is what I hate about my parents and Jacob’s parents having a “double date.” As if they even need one –they’ve been married, and now are old and grey.

     Their time of their life is over. Seriously over.

     Leaving me with a teenaged, possibly hormone-infected boy at home? What are they thinking?

     “How come you had bed-hair?” Jacob says, his voice uncaring. He stuffs some crackers in his mouth. “Like, it is before dinner.”

     “Nap,” I reply. “My summers are filled with them.”

     His eyes widen as he looks at me for the first time today. Properly. I watch his pretty grey eyes shine. If there’s one thing on his face which is the slightest bit attractive –to a normal person, not a biased and lovesick person like me– it’s the abnormal colour of his eyes. No, scratch that. His eyes are just grey. Colourless. Dead, to some people.

     They were once dead to me. Now, however, they’re the reason I wake up every morning. A pattern which has been repeating itself for the last week. Funny how they used to be the eyes which I plotted to destroy with ink-filled pens every night.

     “Same here. Summer was built for the naps. High five for the Core-Star.” He raises his hand.

     My heart’s racing. I swallow. But I manage to gather the courage to raise my hand feebly up to his. The minute he notices my sudden lack of enthusiasm to hit his hand as hard as possible –usually, I have him begging for an ambulance– he realises something’s wrong. There’s a whole uncomfortable silence.

     The windows are all blank. The dark sky is peering over us from outside. I begin to wonder if the Taylors ever bother to draw their curtains except for specific reasons. But I can’t be bothered thinking too deeply about the subject, seeing as how my archenemy is gazing at me with intensity. I gulp down a glass of orange juice, wiping excess liquid from my lips and pretending not to notice he’s watching me like a hawk.

     Finally, I crack. I turn to him. “What?”

     “I was about to ask you the same thing. What? What’s wrong?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, I’ve realised. You’re just too chicken to try out alcohol for the first time. It’s okay. We both know you’re–”

     “Who said I was scared?”

     “Uh, your ashen face?”

     “Quit using fancy words and watch me.” Stomping to the kitchen, I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and slam it down on the kitchen table.

     Jacob has an annoying smirk on his face. Every bit of my admiration for him has disappeared. We definitely share a love/hate relationship… well, unrequited love, anyway. One minute he’s the most beautiful thing to walk this Earth, the next, I’m ready to throw a brick at his maximised head. I wonder if his mother ever drags him along to the spa and does his hair in a perm.

     Maybe that shifts his hair into such terrible angles, it automatically sinks to his brain.

     He has his head resting on the palms of his hands, his eyes forced half-closed. Both of his elbows are clawing against the table, not losing grip.

     Taking a sharp breath of air, I take the bottle of wine and pour it into a glass. Leighton looks at me and then shakes his head, as if to say, “Wow. You’re still letting him get to you. You’re an idiot.”

     Trust me, that’s exactly what I feel like when I gulp the entire glass down. I don’t remember the taste. Somehow, I feel it was disgusting. But since I was too self-conscious on how Jacob was watching me –having somebody opinionated when I’m in love with them isn’t the best of plans. Especially when they happen to be somebody who really hates me.

     And then I find myself barely being able to last a day without looking at him.

     Stupid, stupid teenage hormones.

     Jacob’s eyeing the bottle of wine in front of me. But Leighton stops him with a firm hand on his best friend’s shoulder. My brother is so girly, he doesn’t even have to say words for people to understand the situation surrounding them. He’s telling Jacob via eye-contact: Don’t get drunk. If she tries to kill herself, you won’t be able to save her.

     And from what Jacob is replying, he’s saying something like: Why should I care?

     Before I can slap either of them for talking about me like I’m not there, I feel woozy. Suddenly, I’m sleepy. But have never felt this awake before. So this is what it must feel like to feel drunk. It feels a lot normal than I’d expect it to be.

     For some reason, seeing what other people get up to at their “drunk” states, I feel normal. Like nothing’s changed much. But the difference is already taking effect this moment. Because all of a sudden, I feel ready to talk to Jacob. Nothing awkward is interfering with my emotions, and he’s just a typical boy who happens to be sitting in front of me.

     In my first ever drunken state. What a lucky guy.

     “So,” I say, the word not sounding as clear as I’d hoped. I drop my entire head down. “What am I doing here?”

     “We’ll just wait until you go completely crazy.” This is Jacob. His voice is matter-oh-fact and killing me on the inside. My head spins around. “It’s only a matter of time.”

     I’m the one watching the clock tick by on the kitchen wall. The minute hand is very visible as it spins around. My lips are sealed for some reason. I can’t speak because my head hurts too much to do anything. Maybe this isn’t what the experience should be like, but my first ever drunken state is like this.

     Or maybe I’m not drunk at all. Forcing my lips apart, I say, “Ohh.” Nope. The words are slurring. I’m definitely drunk. “Did you knoooow that there wuz a time were Leitz was two years ooooold and–”

     “Put her to bed!” I hear my brother’s voice call out distantly. His tone is full of horror, but I can’t face him. My entire neck feels like it’s cramping. “I’d take her, but my hands are full.”

     Liar! I feel like yelling, when my head finally regains strength to arise. Sure enough, he’s adding extra pieces of chicken on his place to prevent himself from carrying me upstairs. He knows about my sudden crush on my worst enemy and is doing everything in his power to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible.

     Wonderful. Simply delightful.

     “Come on,” says a grumbling Jacob. My heart races when he grabs me around my waist and then throws me behind his back. I wonder if he recognises how many breaths I’m holding for him. Just for him. He seems to be struggling as he’s heading up the stairs. “Lose weight, will you?”

     “Be strooooonger, will ye?” I retort, but it turns out more terribly than expected.

     Finally, I arrive at my room. But I just can’t be bothered hauling myself down. Let female independence go to waste, I just can’t be bothered walking by myself towards my room. It seems like something a drunk person shouldn’t have to face.

     So, naturally, I make Jacob do all the heaving and struggling. He finally reaches my bed and has a hard time not hauling me over to the other side of the room. But he probably realised how that may lead to physical abuse and he may be charged for something as severe as that. In which case he completely deserves punishment for the wrongness.

     He’s just about to leave, but something escapes my lips as he turns around. Something which I said makes him stop and turn to me. His face is frozen in horror. Both his eyes are so wide, I begin to wonder if somebody caught a handful of stars and shoved it in his eyesight. I said something right then, in my drunken stage.

     Something which made him gawk at me for a moment.

     But it’s too bad I don’t remember what.

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN    Getting the chicken pox was the worst of timing.

    Sure, I never got it before, but having it when I’m halfway through December confirms my Christmas is bound to be a disaster. And having Jacob Taylor walk in my room every hour to laugh like a hyena doesn’t help the situation much. It makes me wonder if he was a chicken in another life, just waiting to follow other people’s disasters and chasing them with his taunting.

    Or maybe it’s just a gift which works to his benefit.

    Unfortunately, this entire condition stresses my mother to an amazing extent. She skips going out with my father and the Taylors just so she can sit beside me. Also, she gets an entire tub of goo and rubs it all over my face. It all smells like grass and honey, so I decide it’s best not to ask –not unless I want the opportunity to have both a headache and a stomach ache at the same time.

    After a while, Mum leaves the room. This doesn’t stop my brother from coming in, who looks at me and titters like the immature person he is. “Wow, Cora. You’re looking a little green right now.”

    “Take pictures and you won’t live to see sunrise.”

    My brother’s grin fades fast. There’s fear in his eyes as he mutters something unintelligent under his breath and walks out of my room. Technically, it’s Jacob’s spare room –yes, the spoilt child has two rooms while I have to share mine when Leighton used to come around to Swan Hill– but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t use it.

    Taking another breather, I search through the drawers which are surprisingly filled. Normally, it’d be considered “trespassing,” but what’s Jacob’s is mine –he said it himself, I’m his sister now. But I’m definitely not looking at him in that way.

    What is with this impossible crush on him? My heart beats when he’s around, I feel jealous when he talks to a girl when buying groceries, but when it comes to actually speaking to him, I feel so empty on the inside. Like every bit of my body is exposing in sweat. Just drowning myself in my own bodily heat.

    Ugh. What was that thing I told him when I was drunk? I still can’t remember what made his entire face look like it was twisted manually. Maybe it was something about Leighton asking me to marry him when we were seven. He probably thought it was what happens between all the siblings in the Campbell family –we commit incest.

    Shuddering, I can’t help my hands searching through his drawer, despite having a sinking feeling it isn’t exactly righteous. Sure enough, I find something which makes all guilt vanish: a mirror. He keeps a mirror in pretty much every room, the egoistic boy.

    Taking it out, I flinch back at my reflection. I look like a bubble-wrap with all the marks and scars all over my once-delicate face. Right now, I’m a whole different person – a possible replacement for the bogeyman.

    The door opens. I have no place to hide the mirror, so I shove it under the pillow. When I look up with a desperate expression, I see the smirking face of Jacob Taylor. Who then leans back against the wall and faces me with a raised eyebrow.

    “Care to explain why you were going through my drawer?”

    Darn it. I knew I didn’t do something right. Muttering under my breath, I push the drawer back in. It was open so far, it’s impossible to not notice. Smiling, I look up at my “brother.” Well, actually, I don’t have much to smile about it –but nowadays, just seeing his face makes me smile goofily, against my will.

    This is what teenagers have to face. How do adults consider us “nuisances” when we don’t even have control over who we want to like/dislike? That’s what I really want to know. Why can’t I choose who falls in love with me and vice versa? Wouldn’t life be a beautiful, predictable and manageable place?

    Ignoring the mental protests in my head, I look up at my worst enemy –only to have my eyes linger on the floor. I can’t look at him without my cheeks reddening! Why, oh why must this happen to me?

    “So…” I say, not really wanting to stop talking, but having a mental blank on what to talk about. “Uh, are you ever going to tell me why Estelle broke up with you?”

    Immediately, I notice his arm muscles tensing. Why have I never noticed how tanned his body is? So many girls and boys go through millions just to get the same as his aboriginal beauty. Ugh. No, no, no!

    I just checked out my worst enemy: is there anything else which can possibly go wrong?

    “Not saying,” he replies bluntly. “Oh, and by the way, Liam’s on his way over. Apparently, he claims you guys weren’t really faking when dating.” There’s a bitter edge to his voice. He obviously doesn’t believe my “boyfriend.” Smart choice, because I’m sure I don’t trust my romantic partner either. “Cora.”

    “What?” I suddenly find the courage to look in his eyes. The minute I regain courage, it’s like all of his confidence has disappeared. Before I can blink, his head snaps to look at the ground. His feet are awkwardly shuffling. “What is it?”

    “How do I say this?” He scratches his head. “Get well soon. ‘Kay?”

    Surprised at the sudden softness in his voice, I find myself wondering if he’s a secret rock-star. Perhaps he was out the entire night just singing his heart out like Hannah Montana. Maybe he has a secret identity under the name Peter McCalistar, which also happens to rhyme. But why didn’t he tell me? Wouldn’t he trust his very own sister with such a secret? Surely I’ve hated (and loved) him long enough to count as his biological siblings.

    Or maybe he was just looking for the perfect moment to tell me.

    A shudder crosses through my spinal cords –the very second Jacob leaves the room. Here I am, his biggest fan, fantasising about how his horrible voice is even worth a secret identity. As if anybody would pay to hear my worst enemy’s screeching voice, unless they want a treatment to wake the dead.

    First of all, I check him out.

    Now I overestimate his talentless self.

    Kill me now.

    My mind’s too messed-up to deserve a place in this world.

    “Yeah, ‘kay,” I whisper, even though he left the room two minutes ago. But I feel my heart fluttering again. A feeling of hope. I can’t help whispering, “I hope you fall in love with me” to nobody in particular. Nobody is close enough to hear those words from me –especially not Jacob.

    Of course, he doesn’t realise my feelings.

    He never does.

    *

    “Hey, Core-Star.” Liam puts his hand up in a weak attempt at a wave.

    Without my permission, he sits on the edge of my bed. But I’m on in the mood for his games, so I keep my eyes narrowed and arms folded.

    “What do you want, Liam?”

    “For you to like me.” He looks down. “I… I really like you, Cora.”

    My heart beats a zillion times a minute. A zillion times a second. So many times that my body feels like it’s going to explode. What did he just say? But doesn’t he like Estelle? She’s the girl who should end up with him, not me. Especially since she’s still single while I’m deeply (cough) in love with somebody who doesn’t see me any more than a sister.

    Why does life have to be so complicated? Anyway, I could’ve worked through my problems better without his confessions. When I was fourteen years old, I wished for all the boy to notice me. But now, two years later, I’m wishing all the wrong people didn’t realise I existed. I just want one person to notice me.

    Just one person; is it really too much to ask?

    So instead of giving him an answer, I reply with a suspicious, “Really?”

    He looks up, his head snapping with the motion. There’s a huge grin on his face. “Nope. Joking. Don’t get me wrong, you’re cute–”

    “–In a pig-like way, right?” I say, putting a finger down my throat. “The stubbed nose and all.” He stares at me like I’ve gone psycho. I can practically see him shuffling away from me. This doesn’t make me feel good at all –just more desperate to prove I’m sane. “I’m sane! It’s just what Jacob said to me once…”

    “And this is why you two are perfect for each other.”

    Self-consciously, I fold my arms over my chest. It’s amazing how everybody in the world seems to realise my crush expect one very stupid idiot. Why can’t he just look around and see me, realise I’m falling desperately for him? Because he’s an idiot, that’s why. And he thinks of me as his sister.

    Heck, even the “worst enemy” stage was higher than the “sister”! He might have a crush on his worst enemy, but unless he likes the idea of incest, he’ll never be into me. Never. Not in a zillion years. So I might as well date Liam while the youth passes me like a very fast rocket. After all, don’t I at least deserve the chance to have my own happiness?

    This just makes me feel more depressed.

    “If you think we’re so perfect for each other, why are you insisting on dating me?”

    “To make him jealous.”

    “The only jealous he’ll get is ‘My sister is spending more time with her boyfriend than me.’ It’s no use. Thank you for trying.”

    I’m still under covers and Liam refuses to budge. My eyes narrow. “Why are you still here?”

    He sighs. “Okay, fine. I admit it. It’s to make Estelle jealous. Happy with the truth?”

    “Yes, I’m much happier. And you could’ve just said so. What are friends for?”

    “To deceive others into falling in love with ourselves by dating each other?”

    “Exactly.”

    We grin at each other. Unfortunately, this is the exact expression Jacob sees when he passes my room. His head cocks to the side, his eyebrows confused as if saying, “Am I interrupting something?” I feel like everything is going wrong. Why does he have to catch me when I’m smiling at Liam, out of all the possible death-glares I usually give him?

    Life just isn’t fair. It hates me with a passion.

    But Liam doesn’t seem to be in jeopardy. In fact, he looks perfectly calm and relaxed. There’s a smile playing on his lips. It’s a smile I don’t appreciate at all, and judging from the worried expression on Jacob’s face, he doesn’t’ approve of it much either.

    “Say, Jacob, if somebody told you a secret… could you keep it?”

    “Yeah. I’m loyal.” But even so, there’s a suspicious edge to his voice.

    “What if it was a secret exchange? Would you agree to it?”

    “…I guess.” There’s still hesitation in his voice. “Why do you ask?”

    My forehead is probably wrinkled for life with the amount of stressing I’m doing. Come to think of it, my heart’s probably going to stop beating any moment now. And it’ll all be my worst enemy’s fault. My eyes shift from Liam’s face to Jacob and then back again, but I can’t predict what’s going to happen next.

    It was probably for the best.

    “Jake, did you know Cora’s middle name is Helga-Ulga?”

    There’s horror visible on my face. My cheeks redden immediately, but I can’t help admiring Liam’s stalking skills. He uncovered something Jacob couldn’t in all the year he was my worst enemy for. Maybe he truly will become a great spy. Not that I know what he wants to be or anything, because that’d be creepy –though no more creepier than a total stranger figuring out my middle-name, which should be banned from applying to a human.

    It makes me feel like a witch.

    Naturally, I find myself snarling. “Why did you have to–?”

    But Liam’s already out of my bed, walking slowly towards my archenemy and putting a hand on his shoulder. His voice is quiet, however, it’s loud enough for me to hear. “Since we agreed to a secret swap, why not tell Cora the real reason Estelle broke up with you?”

    Suddenly, I love Liam.

    Getting as comfortable as a person with chicken pox can get, I turn to Jacob with a smug expression.

    Now this is information I’d love to blackmail him with.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEENThere are some things which I’ve always expected Jacob to be a little hesitant about.

     Maybe it revolves around fires, or some girl named London he used to fancy in his earlier years, but never did I imagine he’d be embarrassed to tell me the reason behind his breakup with Estelle. After all the years of enduring Jacob welcoming me to “check him out” while he changes his t-shirt or laugh like a maniac when I tell him my insecurities, he hasn’t exactly been “mature.”

     But now, with his cheeks as bright as a tomato, I feel a sudden tinge of slyness. There’s something he’s hiding from me, and I know it. We both know something big must’ve happened for Estelle to never talk to either of us. Liam seems to know the exact reason why, even if it meant he’s a complete stalker.

     Note to self: keep away diary from Liam Yvonne. He’ll probably hack into it with a knife, breaking the delicate key apart –he’s a monster, so it’s clearly in his capabilities. But all the same, he’s a wonderful and advantaged monster who, though revealing my deepest darkest secret (other than me suddenly finding my worst enemy attractive), has opened doors for me.

     A door for Jacob to tell me exactly what went on with him and that girlfriend of his. Feeling a goofy smile playing on my lips, I’m extremely excited to hear what he’s got to say. Oh yeah, it’s be big. Like, eating bananas and pears together while drowning them with a glass of mushed celery –gross, I know.

     “So, Taylor, tell me.” I stare at him.

     “Cora, uh, I don’t think you want to know…”

     “What? Scared that you’ve done something so big to screw up, I’ll tell the whole world?”

     He snorts. “As if I’m scared of you.”

     “Then what is it?”

     There’s a pause. A longer pause. A longer pause than the longer pause. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” says Jacob, looking down and getting ready to head out.

     “Chicken,” I whisper, but audible for him. “Chicken, chicken. Puck, puck, puck, puck.”

     “How mature.” But at the same time, it has him turning around with his eyes flashing. “You can’t get me to say anything with that attitude.”

     “Oh no? What about those times you made me light the Bunsen Burner in science?”

     His fist clenches. “I’m warning you, Cora. You seriously, honestly don’t want to know.”

     I’ve had enough of this. Here is a boy with dazzling eyes who’s telling me what I want and what I don’t want to know. What, does he think I don’t have enough of an intellectual level to figure out what I’m desiring? And since when did I describe his eyes as “dazzling”? Gross! Ew! Disgusting! I should be in jail for such a comment.

     Maybe I’ll even see Letitia there, the one who started this entire mess by pointing out how “attractive” Jacob is. Sure, it happened two years ago, but it’s still influencing the feelings I’m having for him right now.

     It still doesn’t change the fact he annoys me to no end.

     “I do want to know. Or do you want me to tell Leighton about how you were talking in your sleep about some girl, and how you wished to put everything behind you–”

     He gapes at me. Dumbfounded and definitely not attractive. Makes me wonder what I see in him in first place. “Y-You know?”

     “’Course I do. We both know it’s about Estelle, even if she was in America, and I’m going to tell her.”

     “Oh, for the love of peace! Estelle reckons that you like me so she doesn’t want to get in between whatever ‘relationship’ we have. I insisted that there was nothing in common with you and me, and then she pointed out a zillion things which makes me extremely mad.” He takes a deep breath, still not looking at my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.”

     There are so many thoughts buzzing around my head like bees. No, even worse –they’re wasps, hornets. Because bees only sting once or twice and die –but these thoughts of confusion, relief and anger are spinning around. They’re biting parts of my brain I never knew existed, making me feel light-headed, dizzy.

     Estelle was right. She was so, freaking right. And what angers me most is how Jacob’s too dumb to notice. He doesn’t even stop to consider I may actually have feelings for me. Why does this bother me so much? Because I do like him. I like an idiot. A complete, utter idiot. And the worst part? He’s too idiotic to notice.

     But it wasn’t until a few days ago I started feeling my heart race faster, every time I saw Jacob. And Estelle and himself broke up way before that. So if my calculations are correct, she knew what was coming before I did. She knew I’d end up falling for him, which would make everything complicated, so she did the favour of breaking up with him right now.

     Did she know, however, that he wouldn’t like me back? That he snorted at the idea of me ever liking him, easily making the assumption that he was repulsed by me. Why am I living in a fantasy world? We can never be together; us can never happen.

     Everybody saw it coming. Leighton, Liam, Tanya, Beth, Alex and even Claudia. Everybody but me and Jacob. We were the only ones who didn’t know I’d fall for him –and now that I do, I wish I could go back in time. Instead of throwing tantrums, act more like Estelle –the girl he really likes. But isn’t it too late? He’ll never like me. Just the end of a bittersweet love story.

     However, I’m not going to let him walk away like that. With my voice shaking, I say, “Wait.”

     Stopping dead at his tracks, he stands there for a second before turning to me wearily. “What?”

     “You –you think I could never like you?”

     There’s no shock, no realisation in his facial expression or in his tone. “No.”

     But trust me, the shock and realisation comes in an instant. My heart is pounding, my teeth are gritting against each other like a chainsaw to a tree. Everything is turning red –red in in anger and frustration, about a stupid little boy who can’t understand my feelings, despite knowing me longer than almost everyone.

     When I blurt out, “I like you, you idiot! Why can’t you see that I like you? You’re such a dumb idiot! You should rot in j-jail.”

     Uh-oh. Worst timing ever. Tears are streaming out of my eyes. Ferociously, I begin wiping at them with my sleeves, but they are endless. I feel like I’m drowning, with Jacob as the lifeguard. Note to self: Never let Jacob Taylor become a lifeguard. I grimace amongst myself, surprised at how I can find humour in the world while I, Cora the never-crier, is crying my eyes out.

     What’s worse, Jacob’s standing there with a dumbstruck expression on his face. His face. I don’t even want to see it right now.

     “Get out of my room, Jacob,” I say between sobs and gritted teeth.

     “I–”

     “I said get!”

     He exits the room with his head hung, clearly feeling dazed.

     *

     What have I done?

     Those are the words surrounding myself as I sleep. The alarm clock read one a.m., but I still can’t get to sleep. Shifting from one position to another, it has become one of those rare nights I just can’t sleep.

     What is he thinking of me right now? But really, I don’t care. This is Jacob. This is the boy who killed my baby rabbit in pre-school by stepping on it (well, he didn’t exactly kill the rabbit, but it had a cut from where his spiky shoes dug in) and yet, I’m willing to set everything apart? Let everything go just so I can be hopelessly in love with a boy who barely knows I exist? What kind of a person am I, putting aside all the cold hard facts and then, out of everything shameless I can possibly do, I confess to him. Who does that? Especially when they’re sick.

     Ugh. I hate myself so much right now. What a naïve little girl I was, just thinking there was a chance for “us.” There is no chance. Not for sworn enemies.

     Getting out of bed, I decide there’s no point hoping for sleep to be handed to me on a silver platter. Right now, nothing can go right for me. Opening my door, I slowly close it behind me. I’m welcomed into a world of darkness, with no lights to lead my way to Jacob’s room. But I know his house like the back of my hand.

     Walking blindly, my hands fumble around for a doorknob. When I find it, I tug it open and enter it. Sure enough, I see him sitting up, clearly awake. He has his blankets wrapped around him, surprised when he sees a figure. And when he sees me, his eyes widen like watermelons. That look is enough to say he wasn’t expecting me; I guess he probably thought there was a limit to how much a girl is willing to embarrass herself.

     Unfortunately, for Coralie Campbell, no limits are set. With a smile tugging on my face, I walk right up to him. He shuffles backwards on his bed, making room for me. I sit down.

     “Would you believe me if I said I was joking?”

     “I don’t think you’re the kind of girl who’d deliberately embarrass themselves. And even if some of it was made up –which I highly doubt– there’s still some truth to it.”

     There’s a pause.

     “So…”

     “…Yeah.”

     How did things become so awkward? Feeling a little embarrassed by how I’m sitting here –alone– in his room, I continue to fumble with my fingers in the darkness. There’s moonlight shining through the window, so it’s not complete darkness, but it’s still black enough for an uncomfortable silence to occur between us both.

     I’m about to say something about the weather when Jacob interrupts me. “I… I don’t like you in that way. Sorry.”

     A tight smile plays on my lips. But it hurts. All this time, I knew there was no chance for “us.” However, having somebody I like reject me in such a straightforward, cool manner cuts me right down to my bone. Makes me wonder why I’m even sitting here in first place, especially when I could be curling up into a little ball and sleeping for the rest of eternity.

     It cuts me deeply. A mental scar. Why did I ever confess to him? Why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be dying in a hole somewhere? Rejected. Unloved. Hurt. Three words which can describe me, three words which anybody can use to describe me, but it won’t make them feel the hurt. The pain I’m suffering this very second, just knowing he clearly rejected my feelings –that he doesn’t accept them.

     I’m about to fake a smile and say something when Jacob, again, interrupts me. “You’re too late, Cora. That’s what really annoys me. You were just too late.”

     “Wait… what?”

     “Back in ninth grade. I had a massive crush on you. You know, that entire summer I stayed over at your house? I used to tease you and everything. Even back then.”

     I blink. “Wait, so you teased me–”

     “…So I could get your attention. Yeah.” His white teeth are gleaming underneath the moonlight. “It worked, right?”

     “Oh yeah. Very well, in fact.” I find myself grinning. “So, wait: you were really angry about me recording you and exposing you because you liked me?”

     “Wow. You catch on fast for a straight-D student.”

     I stick my tongue out at him. He starts murmuring something about going through my drawers and checking through all my reports. That’s when I lose my cool and lean forward to strangle him. Unfortunately, Jacob sees the ploy coming (he knows me too well) and shuffles backwards in his bed, purposely making me agitated at how he’s not dying yet.

     Finally, I grab hold of his shoulders. We both are on the floor, his head resting against the side of his bed. His legs are sprawled out on the ground, while I’m on my knees, planning my revenge. I think of ruffling his hair, which will make me his number one victim for the rest of his life, but he surprises me with what he says next.

     “So this is how you treat the guys you like?”

     I’m in shock. But it’s only for a second. “You know how I liked Oliver King before he went to America?”

     “Yeah, everybody knows that…”

     “…Let’s just say he never made it there.”

     I wink and leave the room.

     But not before hearing several screams of “Call the police! Lovesick murderer on the loose!” from Jacob’s room. And judging by the way his voice is quavering so many times a minute, it’s obvious he’s having a spastic attack. I consider going back and helping him up, but then realise against it.

     And that, Jacob Taylor, is payback for not liking me back.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEENHenrietta and Ursula are beside me, their mouths twisted in a maniacal way.

     Their eyes are shining like somebody took the sun out of the sky and plunged it in their glinting eyes. I feel the urge to spray their eyes with some sort of acid, just to stop them from sparkling the haunting way they’re doing right now, but it’s no use. I’ve been captured and now I’ll be paying for being so easy to prison.

     Oh no. What’s in their hands? A pair of tweezers? Oh great, it’s like my entire world has turned upside down. Especially since Henrietta and Ursula aren’t the best of people I’d expect to ask me what I want. I don’t get a say in whatever they’re doing.

     Watching that tweezers in their hand makes my entire stomach clench. Something tells me they’re not exposing such a dangerous equipment for themselves to use. They’re going to use it on me.

     Before I can protest, I feel Ursula’s arms wrapped around my head. Almost in a headlock. Despite looking so feminine, she’s strong! Henrietta ignores my wriggling and my urge to scream as she bends forward and plucks the hair in between my eyebrows. One at a time.

     It doesn’t really hurt –actually, it shouldn’t really hurt– but she’s plucking at them so quickly, I feel as if my entire eyebrows have been shaved off. What is with this world? Aliens are surely to blame for this. Curse you, evil monsters from outer-space! What have you done with with the “normal” Henrietta and Ursula?

     Finally, I open my eyes only to see Ursula having a maniacal grin on her face. I gulp. She grabs a lipstick and smudges it on so quickly, I can taste it going into my mouth. She gets eye-shadow and applies it over both my eyes.

     She grins at me. “Done.”

     What exactly have you done? Made me turn into another version of Chrissy the Clown? Surely even Chrissy would laugh at such a terrible make-up job. Why is my life this terrible? Have I done anything extreme to deserve such terrible friends, who simply refuse to listen to any of my requests?

     Shouldn’t they be rotting away in some chimney, being fed to cockroaches living up in there? Maybe this is a disturbing thought, but my anger for them has grown so much, I feel the need to slap them well on the cheek. Just watching them fall to the ground, defeated. The urge to make this dream come true appeals to me, but instead, I just sit there.

     Ursula gets a mirror and forces me to see my reflection. She looks proud. I simply resist the urge to puke.

     “What on Earth? I look like a monkey!”

     Henrietta looks hurt. “You look beautiful.” The hurt expression fades, instead replacing itself with a sly one. “A beautiful monkey.”

     “It suits her, don’t you think, Hen?” Ursula grins, elbowing her best friend in the ribs. “Who knows? Since Leighton got us tickets for that Christmas party, you might ‘fit in’ with everyone else.”

     “I’m not about to be–”

     “We both know you like Jacob.”

     “…How do you know that?”

     Henrietta snorts. Ursula shakes her head in disgust. I simply sit there, waiting for an answer. There’s a pause. A long pause.

     Until finally, Henrietta says, “Um, everybody knows.”

     “In fact, Jacob was the last person to know.” Ursula adds, “After you, of course.”

     Well, that’s just wonderful. Two people who might as well become strangers know about my future romantic intentions before I do. Why is this such a depressing thought? Maybe it’s because if I don’t manage to seduce Jacob with my oh-so-attractiveness, people will mock me forever. And if there’s something I can’t stand, but have to face anyway, it’s mockery and bullying.

     I’ve lost enough of my self-confidence already, thanks to the guy I’m in love with. I don’t have to give up any more of what I don’t have –I can’t afford to do something so daring. My heart pounds a zillion times a second, but it doesn’t matter. Because no matter what happens, I’ll always have Leighton on my side.

     And Liam. Liam’s always going to be there for me. Maybe even Estelle.

     Now that I’m looking up properly, there’s more chance of Henrietta and Ursula supporting me than letting me fall.

     Even the clique is more likely to back me up!

     For the first time, I notice I’m not alone in this world. I shouldn’t end up hating people because I can’t get close to them, not because of what Jacob did so many years ago. Those pieces of details belong to the past –there’s no reason to bring them to the present. I need to keep these emotions locked up inside.

     Because there’s no need to release them.

     No matter what Jacob says, I’m going to hold my breath for him. Because ultimately, he’s going to have to let me breathe. He will have to follow me.

     I’m not sure how long I’m capable of metaphorically holding my breath, but it doesn’t matter. Because when it comes to Jacob Taylor, he won’t leave me hanging on for my whole life.

     Feeling a new spur of confidence, I stand up and feel the urge to break into his room. The sound of rock bands is coming from his room. Which is weird, because it makes me realise how much has changed in two years. Because two years ago, that stereo of his would be blaring out classical music into everybody’s innocent ears.

     I want to rush straight into that room and make him realise he needs me. And then, I want to escape that “friend” zone. Or is it an enemy zone? I can imagine exactly what his rejection speech would be.

     “Cora, I like you and everything, but… I think it’s better if we were just enemies.”

     Wouldn’t that be the most original twist to the typical “I think we should be friends” line many people use to reject another? My lips twist into a smile. He’s not going to be able to resist my charm.

     Nobody can resist the Cora charm. Well, not Ian, anyway. That guy was pretty much obsessed with me for his entire pathetic life. It makes me wonder when he’s going to find a female of his species, but then I realise there aren’t any aliens in this world –and even if there are, I’m sure they limit their options to things with brains.

     Why I’m rambling about aliens, I have no idea. Maybe this is one of the side-effects of rejection. Just sit around blaming somebody else for the unfairness of my life. Even if the accused doesn’t’ happen to be human –but isn’t it better to point my finger at something which may or may not exist?

     I believe in aliens, though. They do exist. Somewhere deep in the solar-system. And they’re probably watching me getting rejected this very minute. My hands form into clenches. But then I let them go, realising that Henrietta and Ursula are staring at me, their mouths wide.

     Henrietta speaks up first. “Uh, what are you doing?”

     “Trying to hit those aliens who mock me,” I reply casually, only to realise how insane it sounds.

     Maybe there are times in life where it’s best not to tell the truth. I find myself clenching my hands into tight fists again –only this time, it has nothing to do with creatures which are “out of this world.” Instead, this applies to Henrietta and Ursula having a “secret” conversation about understanding why Jacob rejected such a strange and peculiar girl like me.

     A “secret” conversation which all of Australia could’ve heard.

     “Would you three keep it down in there?” yells Jacob from his room, trying to fight over the blare of his music. “Your talking is louder than my music!”

     “Yeah, same here!” shouts Leighton. There’s a pause. “Okay, fine. I don’t have any music on right now. But I will! And when I do, all of you are gunna be interrupting it!”

     There’s a pause. Henrietta and Ursula are whispering, but this time, their voice isn’t that loud. It doesn’t go over the blare of Jacob’s speakers or Leighton’s… um… imaginary music. Instead, I hear them talking about how insane I must be going living in a house like this. They then talk among themselves about theories on aliens, forgetting I’m there in first place. Am I invisible or something?

     Finally, Ursula looks at me. But not before a genuine shocked expression on her face, which makes me mad. She obviously forgot I was standing there. “Anyway, did Leighton tell you about the Christmas party?”

     “Oh, is that the one we’re having in Melbourne?”

     “Yup. And that means we’re going to survive four hours in the same train.”

     “I can’t believe he invited Ian along!” Ursula has a bitter face on her face, like she has eaten a whole lemon. “Can you?”

     Henrietta quickly changes the subject. “Anyway, we’re going to come. So is the clique.” She turns to me. “You gunna be okay with them there?”

     I’m surprised. “Of course I am.”

     “Just asking. They used to be so dog-like before. But now…”

     “They’re not that bad,” Ursula adds. “Which is definitely saying something compared to what they were before.”

     A grin plays on my lips. So I wasn’t the only one who noticed how much they changed in the two years. But I can’t help feeling as if I’m missing out on something. How come Claudia didn’t go to wherever she was supposed to go? I don’t particularly remember exactly where she was supposed to go, but I’m confirmed she didn’t offer the position of the “leader” up for anything.

     I can’t ask so boldly–

     What am I talking about? Of course I can! They no longer have any control over me. Just like Jacob has absolutely no choice over how he hurts me. If he wants to, he can just die in a hole. No guy is going to hurt me without my permission –I’m somebody who simply won’t accept something like that.

     Going down to the kitchen and ignoring the loud music coming from Leighton’s speakers, I pick up the phone and dial Claudia’s number.

     There’s a ring. For some reason, my heart is pacing fast. I guess it’s a force of habit –every-time I feel the urge to call any members of the clique, I think of the many ways I can be abandoned. In the middle of nowhere without any support.

     And just like I discovered earlier, there are plenty of people who’re willing to help me. Who’re willing to spare some of their spare time just to support me when I need it. With a grin spreading across my face, I feel all the fear rush out of my body. There’s no need to be scared.

     “Hello?” It’s Claudia’s voice. She sounds tired. “Who is this?”

     “Ah, this is Cora. I was just wondering about something….”

     “Sure. Shoot.”

     “How come you didn’t move? I mean, I don’t remember where, but you were supposed to move.”

     “To Canada, right? Or was it Germany? To be honest, I don’t remember myself. I just made it up so I could see the clique’s true colours.”

     “Wait, what?”

     “I wanted to see what people were like on the inside. I knew it would create rivalry between you and Tanya. And I got to see your true colours.”

     “True colours?”

     “Yeah. I found out Tanya was self-centred, while you were just weak. Sorry. I guess it’s a fragment of the past. But I gotta admit, I love how everything went the way they were.”

     “Huh?”

     “You really sound dumb over the phone. I mean, face it, we got away with basically everything. That’s the thing about us. We told some people we were the ‘big thing’ and so many people believed us. The new kids, when they came to this school, would just get notified about how ‘dangerous’ we are.” There’s a pause. “Don’t you think we’re amazing?”

     I never quite saw it like this. I always supposed television was what impacted Claudia to create this clique in first place, but never did it hit me there could be other reasons. She just loved the idea of becoming somebody historical –somebody everybody could be afraid of.

     But when people want people to stay away from them, there’s always a reason. And usually, it’s not pretty. For the first time, I’m actually looking at Claudia. Not Claudia the Clique-Leader, but actually Claudia.

     There’s something about that girl. She was so confident, so undefeatable. But no human could remain that strong all their life. Obviously, she created her exterior poshness so people stay away from her, but then she realised she would be considered a “loner” without friends.

     Which is how the clique was formed. It was formed because Claudia was running away from people.

     My hands are shaking. My heart is racing.

     “Claudia, are you okay?”

     “I’m fine.”

     “Don’t lie to me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow on the train, okay? And you’re going to tell me exactly what’s on your mind.”

     I hang up the phone before she has the opportunity to speak another word.

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN    When I flaunt my “stunning” new makeover in front of Jacob, he doesn’t look twice.

     His eyes are glued into the pages of Jane Austen’s Emma which he’s reading like it’s some sort of impossible video game –one which he just can’t figure out. This alone makes my heart skip a trillion beats at the same time, but mostly frustration and loneliness. It’s like this entire world is out to make me suffer and feel pain like never before.

     For instance, if both of us were drowning on the beach, he’d save the book. No actually, I’ll give him more credit –he’ll save the book and then haul my death body over the sand while muttering casual, “Oops. Maybe a human life is more important than paper…” Which really irks me.

     I guess it’s a common reaction for any girl who suddenly realised she’s in love with her worst enemy, and realises how he cares about video games and books more than herself. Which is how I got stuck in my own little rut, where I’d talk minimal words and blame aliens for every tiny pencil dropping against the floor. I have myself convinced they’re watching me from above, swearing under their breath about how an earthling has figured out their existence.

     In fact, Jacob messed my already-damaged mind so much, I didn’t even realise what I was saying when Ian called up. I should’ve stayed cautious towards how hesitant and shy he was acting –after all, this was the boy who tongue-kissed me while “magically” forgetting to brush his teeth. And still to this day, I haven’t received a heart-felt apology.

     Or any form of a pathetic “Sorry.”

     But the whole point is, I said yes without thinking. No, actually, I did think –I just didn’t listen to what he had to say in first place, therefore making my answer an impossible one. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and I agreed without a second thought. It’s a disturbing input into my life, but it’s better than hurting his feelings by going back on my word.

     After all, telling a boy who’s been obsessed with me forever that, “I keep my limits to humans only” isn’t the most approachable way to reject them. Or dump them. Guess I’ll be stuck with that terrible-breathed Ian forever after.

     Immediately, it makes me want to become a nun. A Christian nun. And it makes me realise how lucky they are. Though I’ve never involved myself in a religion, Christianity sounds like a very peaceful and logical religion. And plus, they don’t have to survive stinky and smelly boys all at. What could be more rewarding than separating myself from these inhumane, idiotic creatures?

     “Idiot!” I shout out to Jacob, shaking my fist. He’s walking down the hallway. But he doesn’t even look up from his book, walking straight into a wall, rubbing his head for a couple of seconds, and then burying himself in literature once more. When he’s finally in the kitchen, I feel all hope fade. “I love you,” I murmur under my breath.

     Instantly, I feel my cheeks flush. Oh, how smitten I am! Falling for my worst enemy? Isn’t this the kind of thing which exists in literature and nowhere else? Maybe that’s why Jacob continues to read books, because so much more exists in them.

     Hang on. He’s reading Jane Austen. Isn’t that this really girly writer who writes only romance? And also, I may not recall correctly, but I believe she was the writer of that hate/love story Pride and Prejudice which Leighton told me about and then set an uncomfortable atmosphere all around the room.

     I snigger. And laugh. And cackle.

     Unfortunately, that’s exactly when Alex walks in. His horror-filled expression immediately tells me what he’s thinking of my sudden laugh-fits without saying any words. Cautiously, he waddles towards my bed, puts a ticket for tomorrow’s train, and walks out with his hand outstretched in surrender.

     “I’m not insane!” I shout out after him.

     “Sure you’re not. I’m just gunna, uh, talk to the local mental centre. And then you can kind of explain your sanity there.”

     I watch him as he steals glances at me. A lot of times in a row. Suddenly, he’s looking at me, but he bumps into somebody else. Crash! Right into Jacob Taylor, who is finally separated from his terrible book. Well, I can’t consider it “terrible” when I haven’t read it, but whatever separates my true love’s eyes from mine is enough for me to stab into pieces.

     Mentally, I contempt the idea of ripping a book to shreds and stepping on every page with my muddy books, and watching Jacob’s face shatter as he tries to pick up the remaining scraps of literature. I gulp. When Alex sends me to the mental centre –and though he’s joking, I have the assumption he’ll be looking up, “How to tell my best friend she’s mental” on Google– I have no clue how to explain something as drastic as this.

     Wait a minute –did I just call him “my true love”? What am I turning into? What monstrous personality will I now have, thanks to being completely in love with this character? Will I bury myself in salt and cover my bed with black drapes to let the “gloominess” set into my heart? Or will I be normal?

     I snort. Even the idea of being normal continue to strike me as strange. Somebody who falls into love with their archenemy is bound to have some abnormality in life. What if I stop believing in aliens? Will they be pleased that an earthling no longer recognises their existence, or will it be disappointment which crosses them? After all, maybe they’re planning to invade Earth, but I’m the only one to believe them.

     Feeling a little ridiculous, I can’t believe how illogically a simple crush has turned my thinking. Suddenly, I’m thinking of the many ways he can change me, and hating every second of it. What’s worse, tomorrow’s that trip for Christmas –our last trip.

     And after that, I’ll only have five days of staying in Swan Hill.

     Five days before leaving Jacob for another year.

     *

     We’re in the train, and my eyes are on Claudia and her only. She’s trying to avoid my stare by drinking down an entire glass of coffee, but with how her face is scrunching up, she’s loathing this kind of diversion.

     It’s only a matter of time before she spills her guts to me. There’s only so long a person can survive without feeling the need to tell somebody her secrets. And anyway, I’m already onto her case –I’m not giving up on

finding her confidential past. She’s going to expose herself to me whether she likes it or not, and I’m clearly not giving her any choice in the matter.

     Alex is trying to balance a spoon on his nose but epically failing. I smile as I watch Jacob’s eyes read across the pages of Sense and Sensibility by that same, girly author. But at the same time, I can’t help a great deal of admiration. No matter how long Liam keeps pestering him about being “sissy” and telling him to “man-up and read what the dudes are reading,” Jacob still doesn’t take his eyes off the book.

     Until now.

     “Hey, Jacob, are you homosexual?”

     Oh great. My hands form into clenches. It’s just Ian and all his terrible jokes. He thinks the idea of “gay people” is a joke, but quite frankly, I don’t find it funny. It shouldn’t be a joke –they’re people too. Unfortunately, he’s sitting right next to me as my “boyfriend.” I can’t believe Leighton invited him as well.

     Jacob, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed at my romantic interest’s “smart” retort. “Why’re you asking, Ian? You keen?”

     There’s a pause. And suddenly, everybody’s hiding their mouths to stop themselves from sniggering. My own lips are fighting a smile, and though I know I should defend my “boyfriend,” I don’t believe in going against society. Ian, on the other hand, look flustered with his ears turning a deep shade of red.

     “Cora, I think you have pretty eyes,” says Ian loudly, turning to me. “And I’m so glad you’re my girlfriend.”

     This startles everybody. Jacob’s eyes flitter off the page for the second time in ten minutes, staring at me in horror. I feel ready to bury myself in shame. But instead, I respond to his shocked expression with calmness.

     Leighton, on the other hand, looks as if he’s about to faint. Alex is muttering about how he should’ve sent me to the mental department years ago, and Tanya was scolding Claudia for not telling me any better when I joined the clique.

     Ian smugly returns everybody’s glares with a grin of his own. An impish one. Henrietta has her jaw dropped, and her expression teary. Wow. She must really like me for such an expression. And then there’s Ursula, who’s trying to speak but no words come out. Beth, on the other hand, is holding Alex’s hand and burying herself in his t-shirt while yelling mockingly, “This cannot be! Save me from this nightmare, Mr Russel.”

     Ah, life’s back to normal.

     Estelle returns with a lopsided grin. The grin fades when she sees the horrendous looks on everybody’s faces. Her hands are around a bowl of caramel ice-cream, which she went to get from the train shack. She clearly misses a lot. “Uh, anybody mind filling me in?”

     “Me and Cora are dating,” says Ian proudly.

     It takes all I have not to put in into an unconscious stage.

     Estelle drops her bowl of ice-cream. I hear sound of plaster dropping on the floor, although it’s a faint one. I guess the entire part of our carriage is so silent, even the slightest of sounds can create the most dramatic effects.

     “I’ve gotta go,” I mumble, mostly to myself than anybody else.

     I can feel their haunting stares following me. Carving themselves into the back of my neck. I almost tempt myself to march back there and yell, “Carve your stupid name in a tree! It’ll last longer!” But I don’t. Instead, my mind is focused on getting through this day without crying. Waterworks is something I never used to do, however, this summer seems to have different plans for me.

     All thanks to Jacob Taylor, I resist the urge to cry every single day.

     Walking with a slight shake to my leg, I head to the café on the train. My hands slide through posts along the way, keeping myself from falling on this moving vehicle. With my heart pounding, I find a small shack with an old man serving at the front. He grins at me as I approach him.

     “What’ll it be?”

     “Uh, vanilla ice-cream, please.” Why can’t I stop my voice from shaking? “Thank you.”

     I take the small plastic bowl of ice-cream goodness and clutch my purse with my other hand. Walking back, I hear the familiar sound of my friends laughing, yelling and making a huge amount of racket. I smile. Glad to know everything’s back to normal.

     Everybody’s having fun. Everybody but Ian, who’s cradling himself with only Henrietta sitting beside him. She’s patting him on the back, but there’s something in her eyes as she’s doing so. Oh no. Don’t tell me she likes him?

     “Hi, Cora,” she says, her voice as cold as steel as I sit down beside her. “How are you?”

     “Ian, what happened?” I decide to cut straight to the chase.

     “Jacob said you’re dating me on the rebound. His exact words: Ian, she’s never going to love you. She just needs a break from liking me. So get it through your head she likes me. Oh, and you’re just a rebound. Nothing more.’”

     My hands clench. I walk over to where Jacob is laughing along with the rest of my friends, joking about some character in one of Jane Austen’s books. I feel oddly lonely for not reading any of her literary works, but now’s not the time to feel sorry for myself. Because as I walk up to Jacob, I watch him look at me.

     I slap him across the face. 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY     I glare at him. A second passes. Two second pass.

     It’s like the entire train has stopped, watching me with their gawking mouths. Although at any other time I’d be planning ways to make myself less noticeable, trying to be invisible, today was an exception. How dare Jacob be so cocky about my feelings! But that’s not the worst part –he used honesty to hurt a person. How dare he! What a nerve he has!

     Estelle is grinning uncomfortably, blabbering on about the weather. But I’m not listening to anything she’s saying. Her droning voice inserts in one ear and escapes through the other. Everything is setting down in a buzzing noise, like a million hornets stinging me at the same time. I wonder if I’m allergic to those creatures, because the sting is making me feel insecure. Even if they’re not real, and all a figment of the imagination in this situation.

     Jacob has an unreadable expression on his face. He puts his book down. I don’t know why it makes me feel a little more victorious. Even if he says something which leaves me speechless –probably another honest comment about how stubbed my nose is– I still have this disgusting theory he put the book down because I was more important. Although it’s obvious Jacob Taylor, the Jane Austen fan, could never do such a thing.

     Anyhow, I distracted him from his book. Somehow, though, it doesn’t make me feel completely victorious. It’s like a pie chart, and though ninety percent of the triumphant has been won, there’s still a ten percent left to claim. Ten percent which I really need to win over.

     I can’t help flashing back to Ian’s pouting face, even if he’s a little weird and hideous, it’s still pitiable. The poor, wretched soul. He’s be crying to his teddy bear tonight, all because of me. Why didn’t I just tell him the truth? Oh wait, that’s right: I’m an idiot. And also, then there’s Jacob who never should’ve opened his mouth.

     Which is why he needed to be slapped. Hard.

     “What was that for?” he says dumbly, putting his hand tenderly over the spot I slapped.

     “Idiot. Saying those kinds of things to him! How dare you!” My anger grows as I watch him lean forward, as if he didn’t quite catch what I said. Everybody around me is silent. It’s like they’re watching some sort of rare circus, and unfortunately, I’m the performer. Jacob’s the entertainer. But he’s not going to be entertaining for long –not alive, anyway. “Sleep with one eye open, Jacob Taylor.”

     I begin to walk away, but Jacob’s voice stops me.

     “Maybe you can wash your hands next time? Thanks to you, I’ve got the scent of vanilla ice cream all over my cheeks.”

     I lose it. Completely and utterly. If Jacob thought what I said before was out of full rage, boy was he wrong. Stepping forward, I glare at him. He stares back. A couple of seconds pass and he’s the first one to look away. Feeling triumphant and a little smug, I turn to everybody else who’re watching me wordlessly.

     Alex opens his mouth to say something but then closes it. What an intelligent decision. Who knew Beth and her sometimes-smart-self could actually be beneficial to him?

     “And anyway, my hand doesn’t smell like vanilla ice cream.”

     “Does too!”

     “Does not!”

     “It smells like you’re working at an entire factory of ice cream!”

     “Does not!

     “Does too!”

     “I hate you!”

     “I hate you more!”

     “Yeah? Well I hate you–”

     “That’s enough hating,” says Claudia, putting her hand in the middle of both of us.

     Jacob and I turn to Claudia, mutually blinking in confusion. Everybody else is giving Claudia secret “Oh my gosh, you’re a hero” brainwaves, but she seems to ignore it. Instead, she’s just shaking her head and muttering something about us growing up. We honestly didn’t know what to do right then. Neither Jacob nor I could escape from the clique leader.

     But instead of making anything more difficult, she gives both us a small smile. Oh no. Why is she smiling? And then, suddenly, I detect the sadness behind it. The sad edge of it is barely visible, but it’s there. Only people who’ve known her for a long time can tell there’s something wonky about this certain smile.

     Which is why Jacob is aimlessly brushing his hair with his hands, talking to himself about buying gel. He doesn’t notice anything different about the usually-terrorising Claudia. Something’s different about her, and I don’t need to be a member of the clique to figure that small detail out by myself. I made her promise to tell me.

     I just hope she keeps it.

     *

     I’m sitting beside Claudia at the train station, waiting for Jacob’s aunt to pick us up. She’s dropping us off at the Christmas party.

     We’re alone, leaning against the wall. Everybody else is out buying pretzels, but Claudia shook her head and said she wasn’t going. Which is why seized the opportunity to sit next to her, and make her expose her inner-most deep secret. There is nothing but silence –even the slightest pin-drop can be heard.

     The moon hangs in the sky. It’s so late now. Somehow, I still manage to see Claudia’s face underneath the dim streetlights decorating the station. She’s trying to avoid my gaze. But I keep my eyes fixed on her.

     “Are you going to tell me? Why you started the clique?”

     “You won’t see me the same…”

     “Trust me, my dislike for you won’t decrease.” It was a joke, but I found her small smile vanish. Quickly, I add, “You broke up Jacob and my argument. I was about to win, and you knew it.”

     The smile reappears. I feel relieved. She finally looks up at me. “You confessed to him, didn’t you?”

     “What gave you the first clue? How he went on blabbing my feelings to– oh, speak of the devil.”

     Sure enough, Jacob comes up to us with a stupid grin pasted on his face. There are chocolate smears all around his face. I look away in disgust, but it still continue to make my heart pace. Oh no. God, no. When some random boy makes my heart flutter with the simple brown smearing all over his face, there’s something wrong with humanity.

     Suddenly, my dislike for humanity grows. Why didn’t cupid shoot both of us with that arrow? Stupid, stupid cupid. How much that one arrow could mean to me, but he didn’t. Instead, he lets me suffer alone. I need to get my alien friends and debate many different ways. We shall conquer what’s right and destroy the terrible-aiming baby once and for all.

     Feeling a little horrified about my sudden murdering plans, I gulp. For once, I feel relieved nobody can read my mind. How terrible it’d be! I’d be sent to jail without a second thought. And although the idea of living on a diet of a stale bread and water appeals to me, I’d rather not.

     Jacob narrows his eyes as if to say the war wasn’t over. Which I completely support. Because it wasn’t over, and I was about to win. He should’ve never said such things about me! Even if they were all true, he shouldn’t have ever said them. Ian was hurt, for goodness sake. It should never have happened.

     As if she heard every word of my inner-rant, Claudia laughs. “Indeed. Speak of the devil.”

     “Hello, Claudia!” he says cheerfully. He turns to me, his smile faltering. “Freckle-Face.”

     “Taylor.”

     “You like me.”

     My face burns. “I so do not!”

     “Do too.”

     “Do not!”

     “Can you guys just gimme a break?” Claudia interrupts. “What are you, five? Anyway, Cora, to answer your question… I’m not sure if you want to know.”

     “I do.”

     “She does,” Jacob blabs. “Especially seeing how nosey she is. Her nose sticks into everybody’s business –well, it would if it wasn’t so stubbed.”

     “Jerk!”

     “Imbecile!”

     “Wonderful, Jacob. You’re learned to use a thesaurus. Welcome to kindergarten.”

     “Ignore her.” Jacob sits next to Claudia, and I felt a pang of rejection strike me like lightning. Am I that unattractive? Would he rather choose a girl who controlled people like strings than me? Am I that terrible? Why am I so horrible? Tears sting my eyes. Oh no. Now’s not the time to get emotional. Blinking them away, I catch Jacob say, “I’ll listen, even if she doesn’t.”

     It makes me feel so empty. So unloved. Like the third-wheel. Why don’t Jacob and Claudia start dating? It’s a bitter thought, but right now, I can’t think of anything but that. Why didn’t they just snog each other’s mouth off? Why not just in front of me? Feeling jealousy increase every time I look at Claudia, I realise I’ve got a new problem.

     “Cora, you ready? For the truth, I mean,” says Claudia, a little vacillate.

     “Yeah, sure,” I murmur, not really hearing her.

     “I… I fancied your brother.”

     Both Jacob and my heads snap to look at her. She looks down, her cheeks reddening in shame. Despite my theory on something dark –maybe her long-lost brother died?– it was nothing but a silly crush. A sickening, haunting crush.

     My heart beats a thousand miles a minute. Did she ever imagine kissing him? Would she stare at my brother’s light brown hair and wish to brush it every time she saw it? I know exactly what it’s like to be in her shoes. To like somebody who may never feel the same way –who treats me like I’m invisible. But the idea of her thinking of my brother in that way… she was ten years old, for goodness sake!

     But then again, age didn’t stop her from acting like a total cow. So maybe age doesn’t have much to do with the personality. Once a complete lunatic, always a complete insane person. Doesn’t matter what happens in the middle.

     “…Sure didn’t see that coming,” says Jacob, reading my mind.

     “Anyway. So I liked your brother. But I didn’t have any qualities –I was terrible at sports, hopeless at studies and music and, well, everything. My father, however, said I was amazing. He said I would be a strong leader.”

     “Worst compliment of his life,” I mutter, and she laughs.

     “Tell about it. Anyway, I was twelve when I realised it was just a stupid idea. But think about it: for so many years, I was ‘the top dog.’ Am I really going to give it all up? Unfortunately, your brother left, so I didn’t have anything to ‘run the clique’ for.”

     “Tough luck.”

     “Yeah. It really is tough. But it’s not mutual love.” There’s a sly smile on her face as she puts one hand on Jacob’s shoulder and one on mine. “Not like you guys.”

     She walks away, ignoring the protests of both me and Jacob. No, we’re not!What are you talking about? We don’t like each other! Yeah, what she said! I hate her.And I hate him! He can’t even tie his shoelaces properly. I so can! So can’t.

     The argument goes back and forth for a while. Jacob’s the one to give up.

     “You know, we should really stop this.”

     “Stop…?”

     “Acting like a married couple.” To my surprise, he slides across the bench until the sides of our thighs are touching. “We’re gonna get dumped for it.”

     “Believe me, that isn’t the only reason why somebody would break up with you.”

     “You.” He shakes his head, but there’s a grin on his face. Underneath the streetlights, I see his eyes twinkling. Like the stars on the sky. “It’s funny how you’re still in love with me.”

     Something snaps. “Idiot! Why do you always bring it up? It was a spur-of-the-moment thing! As if I could ever like you!”

     “Then why are you overreacting?”

     “I’m not–!” I lower my voice. “…Overreacting.”

     “You never know what you want, do you?”

     “I do so! Who are you to tell me what I feel?” My voice lowers in volume. “And anyway, it’s not like it’s mutual.”

     There’s a pause. Jacob looks distracted.

     “Yeah. Pity that…”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE     We all enter the Christmas party with grins pasted on our faces.

     The entire hall is covered with decorations and shining lights. There are people mobbing around the place like a swarm of bees, heading towards their hive. Because this is a free-invitation, even the most sketchy-looking people have been granted entrance, so long as they don’t bring any illegal products with them.

     Something tells me they’ll find a way to hide them, anyway. Nothing separates them from their source of fun.

     All the flashing eyes are catching my eye in so many directions, it’s unpredictable what will catch it next. Will it be another bearded man trying to plait his beard? Or a woman who trips over and casually stands up, hoping nobody notices? But one thing’s for sure: there are romantic couples kissing and hugging around the hall.

     I feel like gagging. What is wrong with this cruel, terrible world? Why the large amount of public display of affection? Can’t any of these people see it makes surrounding teenagers lonely and gross on the inside? Obviously not –and if so, they’re not acting like they’re caring. Mistletoes are hung all around the halls, so it’s obvious sucking each other’s mouths isn’t fading any time soon.

     Alex pokes his finger down his throat. Beth grins. She approves of his reaction to humans sucking facial features off one another.

     But my main priority isn’t my brother or Claudia –it’s Jacob. I haven’t seen him from the minute I left his aunt’s car. He’s probably roaming around here somewhere, but I can’t see him. Nowhere at all. My heart skips a beat. What if he found a bunch of aliens and are having a personal debate with them? Why didn’t he invite me? Aren’t I the alien-fan-girl of the century?

     “Oh. Cora,” says Claudia, putting a hand on her shoulder. “About what I said about your brother –liking him, I mean… could you just keep this between us?”

     “Sure.” I shrug. “He has a girlfriend back in Canada, though. Sorry.”

     “Mandy?”

     My eyes widen. “How do you…?”

     “I’m Mandy. That’s why.” She grins at my dumfounded expression. “Leighton thought you might be angry if he associated with your old leader, so he kind of kept us secret. He doesn’t want anybody else to know –Alex and Jacob still don’t. And I’m hoping it stays that way.”

     “…Us?”

     “Yup. We’re dating now, didn’t you know?”

     “But –but I thought Tanya liked him!”

     “Harmless flirting. She’s obsessed with some guy she met at the circus.”

     Claudia walks away with her nose slanted slightly in the air. I stare after her, a little dumbfounded, but then I catch my breath. That’s right. It doesn’t matter. My brother and who he dates is none of my business. But I can’t help an air of uncomfortableness clench my stomach. There’s something extremely disgusting about having an old enemy and a beloved brother hook up.

     That’s when I see Jacob, his hair styled back with gel with drooping eyes. They’re so tired, it makes me wonder if he’s ever heard of sleep. His eyes rise a little, meet mine, and then his lips set into a grimace. Internally, I wonder if he truly is his age –because right now, he can easily pass as a three-hundred-and-sixty year old man.

     To break the silence, I say, “Did you know Leighton and Claudia are dating?”

     All of his tired facial expressions twist into a horrified one. “What?”

     “Yup. They’ve been dating for a long time.”

     “Eww,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll have to chat with your brother and his… unusual taste in females.”

     “I know. He has such bad taste.” I glare at Jacob, who’s giving me an innocent look which doesn’t fool me. We both know he’s evil within. “It runs in the family –the terrible taste of who we like.”

     “Really? I think you have wonderful taste.” He grins. “Come to think of it, what was that you said again? That you loved me? When I was pretending to be absorbed in my book?”

     The cool and collected expression slips right off my face. It’s like he has this magic wand and is mercilessly controlling every aspect of my body. Play it cool. How did he hear me? He wasn’t supposed to hear me! And what’s worse, that means he has the worst advantage over me. He’ll be able to use that kind of information to tear me apart.

     Luckily I didn’t fall for him two years ago. Because back then, he would’ve told the clique, and then I’d be torn off the face of the Earth all because of a stupid crush. But then that would mean he liked me back. He would’ve liked me back then, wouldn’t he? Then would the clique really have that much impact? Wouldn’t I have asked him out anyway?

     Ugh. Why am I thinking about this? Jacob and I will never ever happen. It’s just the way humanity works, and the way the world spins around.

     Suddenly, I’m reminded by how much I’ve changed. Two years ago, I would be under the control of those girls. And now, although Jacob knows my biggest and most embarrassing secret… I don’t care. In fact, I’m more than happy to slap him again. It doesn’t matter what people think of me; it doesn’t matter what he thinks of me.

     And it took me a whole two years to figure out something which is written everywhere. But it’s such a cheesy saying! Whenever I read something about “never letting people get to you,” I feel like slapping the author. Because humans are the most frightening things to others; we’re critical, we’re judgemental, we’re terrible.

     Though I’ll forever be the slightest bit scared of The Clique and have a soft spot for Jacob, nothing matters. They don’t matter in my life. I shouldn’t let them rule my life. Nobody hurts me without my permission.

     I say, in the spur on the moment, “Wait. What was that Estelle said to you? That we were perfect for each other?”

     “Let. It. Go.”

     Never. She broke up with you ‘cause she could tell you liked me.”

     Both of us know it isn’t true –which is exactly why it’s bugging Jacob so much. Hang on. Why is he seething? Surely he can’t go through life without handling alittle bit of friendly teasing? His teeth are bared, his eyes are half-closed. In short, he looks like some sort of zombie in the middle of the night. And I, admittedly, feel a little scared and concerned.

     “Jake? I was… joking.”

     “Whatever,” is the last thing he says before turning away from me and heading in the other direction.

     What’s with him?

     *

     Everybody’s dancing around the hall.

     It’s like a ball in a way. Just one of them which I find in the middle of fairytales, and then let them spark my brain. All the pretty gowns and dresses are swishing all over the place, mesmerising me. People are chattering, taking glasses of champagne from the table. There are men dressed in expensive suits, jutting their chin up high and making it look like they have a neck fracture.

     Somebody should really get an ambulance for those people. Neck fractures are the last thing somebody needs to tolerate.

     While I’m debating on whether to hit Leighton with a stick or metal rod for not telling me about his romantic history, I see Jacob. He’s all curled up in a corner, sitting in a chair and looking down. His fingers are interlaced within each other with such force, I begin to wonder whether he’s okay.

     Maybe I said something. Which is completely ridiculous, because I can never hurt his feelings. All my life, it’s been the other way around –what makes me think it’s all going to change at this minute? And anyway, if there’s one person who should be crying, it’s me –the victim on an unrequited love.

     But I still like this stupid, goofy boy –I really, really like him– so I make the effort of sitting down next to him.

     “You okay?” I don’t even sound bothered.

     He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stands up and moves to another seat. Since there are rows of chairs on the edge of this room, he doesn’t have to move much. This agitates me. Something snaps within.

     “Oh, for goodness sake! What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing…”

     “Then why are you sulking? If you don’t tell me, I’ll tell Estelle–”

     “Do whatever you want. I’ve had enough.”

     The anger dissolves. Instead, I’m confused and a little taken aback at the frustration sticking to his voice. “Had enough?”

     “Like you don’t know. You are annoying, self-centered, so easily angry.You let people take advantage of you, and then kick down the people who try to help you. At times, you’re a stupid whiny cry-baby –like that time we had that hockey tournament, and you were going on and on about how you lost something which you had a gift at.” He stops to take a breath. “And you’re not even pretty. More on the ugly side. You look like a horse with his nose hammered in.”

     Tears sting my eyes. Never have I been this humiliated. What’s worse: being told all this by the boy I’m in love with, or being told all this from someone who I expected this from? My heart’s pacing. He didn’t have to say those words. Why did he say them? I really want to sit back and act mature about it. I want to tell him, in a sophisticated voice, that he’s right. And that I’ll try to change because that’s how amazing I am.

     But the thing is, I don’t have that kind of capability. And Jacob doesn’t matter to me. What he thinks doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to let him get away with hurting me like this.

     So for the second time in the same day, I reach out my hand. Just ready to slap him. But he catches my hand firmly before I do.

     No. I’m not going to try. Struggling, I try to break free of his grip. But he’s too strong. He’s holding both of my hands tightly, disallowing me to move either f them. When did he get this strong?

     “But what does all of that matter? So what if you have the most terrible personality I’ve ever witnessed on a human being, the most dreadful face I’ve seen in the female race?” he says quietly. He gets his other hand and gently encloses them with mine. “It didn’t stop me from falling head-over-heels for you.”

     Wait. Hold on. Stop the world right there. What did he just say? Did he just –gasp– say he likes me? Or maybe it was a malfunction of the air. Maybe it was some sound miscommunication, or he thought I was Estelle. The idea makes me feel a little down, but it’s still more possible. More possible than him liking me.

     “I’m not Estelle, you know,” I say.

     “Yeah. I know. You’re Coralie Campbell. And I –ugh, remind me to stop reading Jane Austen books– have been fascinated with your charm which doesn’t appeal to anybody else on the outside. Under a terrible, horrifying light… you’re perfect. For me, anyway.”

     His hands still don’t leave mine, but now they’re holding them rather than ruining the blood circulation –for that, I’ll be forever thankful. Yay! The guy I like doesn’t want to murder me- there’s a first. Oliver King pretended to be sick the last time I tried to reach him in America, because he heard all the rumours. Lucky me.

Jacob looks up, as if he didn’t switch seats for the soul purpose of this. I can’t help a how-can-an-idiot-like-you-plan-something-so-romantic expression crossing my face. But he doesn’t see it- and if he does, he choose to ignore it. “Oh look. A mistletoe. What a coincidence.”

     “Yeah. What a coincidence indeed.”

     He grins. “Guess it’ll be a waste not to fulfil tradition.”

     And before I know it, he’s kissing me.

     The thing with love is, it never has a rule. So many words flash into my mind, one after the other.

     Hockey. Vanilla ice cream. Radio station. Skateboard. Letitia. Movies. Cinema. Little Sister. Best and Fairest. Jealousy. Liam Yvonne. Hatred. The Fact Jacob Likes Girls With Brown Hair. Video Games in the Middle of the Night. Teddy Bears. Sleep-Talking. Birthday Present. Hug. Friendship. Broken Nose. Tree. Tied. You Never Asked for the Key. Pretending to Ask Out the Worst Enemy. Fear of Fire. Piano. Reading My Journal. Lizards. Standing Up for Each Other. Kissing for Money. Chores.

     We had been through so much together without realising it. There’s something about us –us as a couple– which can’t compare to people on the street. I don’t think we’ll ever be the gooey couple, and will probably spend more time fighting than breathing. We’ll probably have food wars all the time, but in a more half-hearted way.

     There is no rule for love. Whether two people start off as friends, enemies or lovers is completely irrelevant. Whether a person prefers people from the same gender, has emotional feelings for their siblings or met somebody off the internet –a complete stranger. Love has the weirdest way of developing itself in a way nobody can argue with. Nobody can deny it once it has struck.

     I spent all my life thinking the two words “Jacob Taylor” were the source of all my problems.

     It’s funny how they turned out to be exactly the opposite.

EPILOGUE     Only one more day left.

     And after that day, Jacob and I will be separated. I’ll be living halfway across the world, and he’ll be here in Australia. We’ll keep in touch, of course, so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s still not the same. It wouldn’t be the same.

     Lying on the grassy hill with our hands balances on top of our arms. That’s where we are –the most comfortable we’ve ever been. It makes my heart shatter, my breathing stop to think there isn’t much time left. We don’t have forever.

     “You know,” says Jacob out of the blue, turning his head a little bit to look at me. “You should try reading Jane Austen.”

     “Seriously?”

     “Seriously. I’ll even loan them to you.”

     “You know, I find it weird how you’re not letting the ‘Jacob, are you queer? Why are you reading chick-lit?’ get on your nerves. I mean, when I say something, it usually agitates you.”

     “That’s because you said it. You’ve never seen me argue with another person, have you?”

     I shake my head. It’s true. I don’t ever remember seeing Jacob argue with people –well, people who aren’t me. And even if it was the start of an argument, it dies off pretty quickly. It never lasts.

     “No, I haven’t.”

     “Exactly. I’m really good at hiding my temper.” He sighs. “But with you… I don’t know. You’re just so annoying!”

     “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     “Good for you, ‘cause I didn’t mean it as one.”

     I punch him lightly on the arm. It’s weird to think we’re considered a couple –it’s like all the same. We’re both in each other’s faces, shouting when necessary and screaming and fighting when it’s required. And when the time comes and there’s food around, neither of us hesitate to throw bundles of edible goodness at each other.

     It’s sad to think it’s all over.

     “Oh, wait. That’s right,” says Jacob, more to himself. He takes out something out of his pocket. “Here.”

     Taking it, I find it to be a voice recorder. A shiny, silver one. But I still have the suspicion it didn’t cost more than ten dollars, regardless of how pretty it looks. I stare at Jacob with confusion, a little bit of guilt washing over me at the same time. Surely he forgave me for being such a cow and exposing his inner-most deep thoughts to the entire school?

     “What… what’s this for?”

     “Just in case you ever want to record somebody again. When you ‘exposed’ me to the school two years ago, one of the only things I could think about was how terrible of a sound quality the recorder was –and yes, I do take my sound seriously.”

     There’s a pause. A second passes. Two seconds pass.

     We both burst out into laughter.