The shriveled logo crumpled up and in between his clawed fingers, black lettering folded in with the lines created by the forceful clutch as Wesley pulled on the shirt, knocking Mason forward.
Wesley pushed Mason with enough force to nearly fall head first on the black tiled flooring.
The Immediate Power That Was would not take blood spill delicately and with a circle full of terrifying rich tycoons breathing down the Headmistresses back the blame would go to the guilty parties involved and just by standing close to them I could get written up for a little stunt I had nothing to do with.
No snarky words were exchanged as Wesley left us behind. Not bothering to check on the state of Masons physical condition Wesley made a run for it and didn't look back.
Concerned, I went over to Mason, but really what could I do? I was one hundred and ten pounds on a good day and Mason topped me with all muscle. What was happening was terrible and sure I'd wanted to help but I wasn't fast enough and Mason was already plunging head first-
Stumbling, Mason braced both arms in front of him to crush the impact of the blow before his lips smacked the customized flooring, his butt raised in the air like he were four seconds into plank position when his locked arms took most of his body weight. The red tee shirt he'd worn now slid past his narrow taught back and hadn't stopped exposing his brown marbled torso until Mason's elbows finally caught the hem of the sweaty shirt before it had a chance to fall off his head, completely baring his upper body naked. Using the core muscles from his abdomen Mason curved his stomach, oblique's and lats tightening into a crunch and did a full bodied one-eighty.
Mason pivoted around and settled himself back on the track.
I ran beside him and followed his lead. And just like that nothing was awkward. I was still hanging out with Mason who didn't feel the need to explain anything to the new girl. Pumping my arms I ran with short quick strides.
Mason beamed at me, winking.
I was totally gone. In spite of the manner Wesley had left things, what took me by surprise was that I heed-hawed so rabid I saw an episode of comedy central roast sprout from memory. The only other time I'd ever laughed for so long and that hard was when I'd changed the channel and up popped Roseanne Barr doing a celebrity roast special with roast master Jane Lynch. For the final surprise of the night Barr chose to close out the show by legitimately singing the last two lines of The Star Spangled Banner, in an effort to finally redeem herself for her infamous and controversial rendition of the American anthem at a nationally broadcast game in 1990.
Laughing while jogging wasn't exactly my best judgment, especially when I was supposed to be loping around the court for reals, but Mason had this infectious laughter that bellowed deep from his underbelly and tickled your funny spot until you could no longer stand it. It made being concerned about Masons' wellbeing impossible. He didn't get hurt. Mason was fine. Finally, I could breathe.
Victim-less humor aside, Mason didn't say anything and I didn't ask what that was all about. We'd met on the basketball court. I hadn't known him for long, I wasn't his friend, so it was impossible to probe his mind for answers. And I couldn't just ask him what was wrong because I hadn't earned that privilege.
His sometimes blue but mostly green eyes focused on me. Already I could tell when he found certain things off-the-charts hilarious.
And, oh boy, when did he never. We would start to giggle and could not stop laughing. In the short time we'd met it was my sudden impression that through Mason's uniquely set of baby doll eyes, practically nothing was taken seriously. So when Wesley had started to get angry, Mason was being Mason. Telling jokes and sidelining the important stuff. Still, I could tell hurting Wesley was not his intension. That was why I urged him to forget about me and go take care of his people.
"Sorry about that. Wesley's having one of his moods. He'll be okay." Mason tells me.
I grin. "Don't be." I push him forward. "Seriously, I'm good. Go check on your boy!" I laugh at the silly expression he made. His slicked eyebrows landing on the middle part of his forehead. The tip of his tongue sticking out from his wide-spread smile. Saucer-eyed blinding orbs gazed into me.
I didn't say it right out loud but I could sense there was a lot more going on that wasn't being expressed. I was a sovereign state: the unbiased in-between factor that had witnessed the entire meltdown as it happened and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was tasting sour in my mouth.
I knew in my bones things would easily get fixed if both of them had worked on resolving their issues together instead of letting the moment pass them by, only to have had created more irreversible damage later on in the future. Which was way I'd opted to stay back and let them two figure things out.
Mason saluted me before he jogged ahead to console his more-than-upset friend.
I knew how lucky I was to have someone that could put me at ease with only a few sempahtic words of comfort. I was worried, though, because it was totally out of character for Chanel to just decide out of the blue not to come by and help me pack.
We were the best of friends I had thought, until time ran out and mom said we had to get going before the snow dropped and had blocked all roads. Still, I was convinced that surely no matter what she of all people would be there to help me say goodbye. That's why it never crossed my mind that she wouldn't. Maybe she was busy and forgot and simply lost track of time but it was me that couldn't stop wondering.
Why? What was it that Chanel was doing that had made her so thoughtless and insensitive to let me go just like that. Out of love I was ready to forgive Chanel and pardon her bad timing but when mom closed the trunk to her blue impala I knew that Chanel hadn't made it because she wasn't planning to.
The whole time I wondered just how tolerable the ride to Starkhouse could have been if only Chanel were there to lessen the tension with mom. The drive was a screaming match and whoever had finished their totally one-sided match got the last word. Our fights were only escalating towards the more hurtful scale so much so that neither of us had even cared to stop and actually listen to what the other person had to say. Chanel knew that. So how come she wasn't there for me?
Without pulling myself out of the race there was nowhere I could go to get rid of the pain I felt. I chocked on unformed tears. That complicated stuff lodged inside my chest, that spot right there in the middle of my sternum, that clogged matter that tightened my throat and constricted my windpipe from expressing true emotion wouldn't budge and made the feeling all the more real. There was no hiding from it now. I was deep in it....feeling things that I had no right to feel, thinking about dumb stuff from the past that, if I could, I would wipe out for good with one of Mr. Cleans magic erasers. And none of it helped my situation whatsoever.
Dr. Cambridge was still checking in on me as if I couldn't deal with life's circumstances. As if I was one minor step from completely loosing my marbles but I wasn't. I was at Starkhouse pretending to be someone other than myself. Laughing when it was convenient and smiling when I didn't want to. So maybe the motion wasn't supposed to Feel Right...maybe nothing was when you wanted something SO badly that was out of your hands.
I was dealing with it the best I could and under the circumstances I was doing a pretty damn good job of faking it, if I could say so myself. Six months and then I was free to sign myself out of Dr. Cambridge's care and move out of my parents house for good.
That crafty insidious voice retreated to the recesses of my awareness and hissed. Don't you dare. Of all the places not now. Certainly not in front of my classmates and teacher.
As much as I hated that cunning treacherous voice I knew without a doubt that if I didn't obey it, I would end up regretting it....and myself.
So I did the next best thing. I ran.
Without any hesitation, without any doubt, I used what leftover energy I could summon and kept running till my throat burned. There was no stopping now. Not when I could see Mya cheering my name at the finish line.
If I sat down now my over-used, worn out body would put a stop to it all: a reckless move I was confidant that would take more than a hateful look and a derogatory word from Ms. Pratt in order for me to scrounge up the willpower to urge my feet to push me off the floor and finish this race. I would need a harness with the help of a forklift and say what you wanted about the plush extravagant Academy, I was banking that Starkhouse hadn't saved up for commercial property coverage.
I couldn't afford to stop for a quick break. If I let that happen my weak unstable legs would collapse straight under me and I would fall over, violently throwing up chunks of the last meal I ate 12 to 18 hours ago.
Gasping for breath I crossed the finish line.
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