04 - I'm not eloping with my boyfriend

I woke up the following morning with an unshakable feeling of impending doom which wasn't exactly hard to understand given the way my life had been going recently. I was really starting to give credit to the idea that someone somewhere had a voodoo doll of me they were poking all too liberally because this much bad luck just wasn't natural.

Fortunately, I got through breakfast without incident. Well, mostly. There was a slight problem with my mom but I was unwilling to pen that down as an incident. It was too early in the day for that. She had a number of complaints about the listicle I had written for the online magazine -owned majorly by my aunt- that I worked for. It was about the top things to do over summer break. Sure, it included a less than PG 13 getaway with your boyfriend but it wasn't like I was going to do it. I was just informing the readers of their options. Contrary to her belief, it wasn't my way of indirectly telling her that I planned on eloping with my boyfriend. For heaven's sake, I didn't even have one at the moment. If she could get off my case for five minutes, she'd see that the response to that particular article had been really good. I made the article witty, quirky and sarcastic in that light-hearted but darkly humorous way that people, judging from their response, loved. Aunt Diane loved it too. So did Olly but then, Olly most likely loved it for the wrong reasons. After all, she did make us go to an illegal fighting arena. Yes, she was never going to live that down.

School passed by without any real event. There was a minor hiccup but it was perfectly manageable. One of my debate partners fell sick with the flu which meant I was down one person for the debate but it wasn't such a big deal. I was determined to have a great day to make up for the really bad one I had yesterday and nothing -not disapproving mothers or sick classmates- was going to ruin that. Thankfully, it was only an internal debate and not an inter-school one so I could just take her place along with mine but the teacher in charge wanted a fourth chair to do it since people that low on the list rarely ever get to actually participate. It wasn't a big deal at all. Hardly worth mentioning even.

Eric and Ralph from the opposing team were gunning for me Ralph plain and simple hated me for being better than him at everything while with Eric, it was good old fashioned sportsmanship- but I could beat them even in my sleep so I wasn't the least bit worried. I would never lose an argument. I was going to be the best lawyer this world had ever seen and losing arguments, no matter how inconsequential wasnt how I would get there. Not to brag but for as long as I could remember, only my mom could stand against me in an argument. And I was still a kid. She happened to a senior partner at the biggest law firm in the country.

In a few years, I'd be virtually unstoppable.

The only bothersome part of my day that intensified the feeling of impending doom I woke up with was that I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched. The creepy stalker kind. I could've sworn someone was tailing me after I left school but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pinpoint any suspicious vehicle or shake the reasonable doubt that it was all in my head. Given all that had happened recently, I was well within my rights to be imagining such things but then again, I wasn't one for dramatics. My observations and deductions were almost always, if not always, spot on.

Then, there was Masked Idiot. He knew where I lived. He had broken into my house once already. Who was to say he wouldn't stalk me too? Last night, I threatened him out of my room so he could be wary of confronting me up close and personal again, and have decided that watching me from afar would have to do. I would like to think now that he'd had time to think it over he could see the wisdom of my actions. That he understood that the idea that I was somehow interested in his identity was laughable. At best. I wasn't a boxing enthusiast. I didn't at all want to go to the arena. Left to me, I never would've stepped foot there and honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know how Olly found out about that place. Unfortunately, he was a criminal and no matter how I looked at it, stalking me wasn't so farfetched. Heck, it seemed like the next viable option from his point of view; follow her around, make sure she isn't talking to anybody she isn't supposed to be talking to.

On the other hand however, given his suspicions about me, being able to listen to my conversations and follow me up close had to be more attractive than doing it from afar so he wasn't a particularly strong suspect but other than him, I couldn't think of anyone else stupid and jobless enough to actually go through with stalking me. It could just be me imagining things that weren't there. But then again, I wasn't an expert on what criminals would or wouldn't do. It could just be Masked Idiot.

Either way, I wasn't liking my options.

So I did the only sane thing I could do given the circumstances. No, telling my parents wasnt it. That was tantamount to signing a death warrant. I called a deputy I was close to. Parker was one of the youngest at the precinct and probably the person I was closest to there. He wasn't bad looking -not that it mattered, I wasn't going anywhere in that direction seeing as I didn't want my dad to kill us both- and he used to be one of my main sparring instructors back when Olly and I first started learning how to defend ourselves. Now, we mostly just sparred to work out frustrations.

I called and told him I wanted to train. No matter how cool he was, I definitely wasn't spilling the beans about Masked Idiot. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take but given the circumstances, I figured brushing up on my self-defence couldn't hurt.

After my shift at the library ended, still no sign of a creepy stalker, I made my way to the gym we usually trained at. The owner was a friend of pretty much all the cops at the precinct. He used to be a professional boxer back in his day. He was a man of very few words -it took three months for him to say a word to me- but I liked him anyway. To be apt, I liked him because of it. Having my business kept quiet whether or not I was doing something my parents approved of was just so much safer. No news is good news and whatnot.

Also he let me train anytime I wanted even though I wasn't officially a member at the gym.

"Hey. Been a while." Parker grinned, holding out his hand for an enthusiastic high-five.

I obliged.

"Last I heard you've been busy." I smiled back, stashing my spare clothes in a corner.

"Not too busy for the sheriff's daughter," he countered.

"Never mind that I'm also your friend apart from the fact that my dad is your boss," I teased, rolling my eyes so he knew I wasn't really offended.

To be fair my dad was nowhere near friendly so I understood where he was coming from. More than he probably knew. I mean, I lived with the man. I knew better than anyone how important pleasing my dad was.

"So how's school?" He smiled, falling into position.

"Fine."

"Still the uncontested queen?"

"Really?" I scoffed, mirroring his pose.

"If the crown fits."

"It doesn't." I rolled my eyes, smoothly sidestepping as he feinted.

Claire, though I wasn't fond of her guts -translation: I hated her guts-, was more of a queen than I was. Actually, she was more a princess, your regular nightmare dressed as a daydream kind while I was the misunderstood evil queen who reluctantly redeemed herself to the side of good. If we were Harry Potter characters, she'd be Umbridge, full of pink scratchy fabrics and snake venom. I'd be Snape. Not the tortured unrequited love part but the misunderstood part. With a slightly more colourful wardrobe.

"And you," I deflected, throwing a punch, "how's the coolest deputy fairing?"

"I'm doing okay for myself."

I dodged his powerful kick but had to take the punch that followed.

"Shit," I cussed as the force of the punch caused me to stagger backwards.

"Should I go easy?" he suggested, giving me a moment to right myself.

I shot him a dark look and went for his pretty boy jaw. Pull his punches like I was some weakling? I'd much rather get beat up, thank you very much.

He rolled his eyes exasperatedly and dodged my attack. "I swear you and your sister are the most competitive females I know," he panted, swinging his knee out for a kick.

My eyes narrowed as I fell into a crouch. This was the part I liked about fighting. When I finally get into the rhythm of things and time seemingly slows down. When my brain starts working with my fists. It took only a few seconds but it felt much longer. I caught his leg as it came at me and used the momentum to throw him off balance. I followed with an elbow jab just under his ribcage. Air whooshed out of his lungs as he toppled to the mat.

"Females?" My voice came out in a breathless pant but there was no mistaking the smugness.

"Fine," he grunted, shielding his face as I straddled him and continued my assault. I didnt give him so much as a second to catch his breath. That was what he got for suggesting something as condescending as going easy on me. "People," he conceded, managing to flip us over so I was the one on the mat.

Now it was my turn to struggle for a breath while he tried to pin my hands above my head. This was the part of sparring I wasn't so fond of. It was too up close and personal. Too in your face for my taste. Not to mention, years of clichéd movies and romance novels had pretty much painted this scene in a romantic time to kiss the girl light in my head.

"You almost had me." He grinned, exertion coloring his skin with a flattering flush.

From my position, I had an all too close view of his pretty boy jaw, his silvery eyes framed by annoyingly pretty lashes and his five oclock stubble. I really should've picked an uglier sparring partner.

I shook my head lightly, dispelling the unwanted thoughts.

He was straddling my midriff. A knee to the groin wouldn't have worked and he knew it, hence the victorious smile he was sporting.

"I still have you," I bit back, irritation coloring my tone. I hated losing. It just wasn't my thing. Not that losing was anybody's thing but I was even less compatible with the concept.

I forced my body to go lax and drew a deep breath, bidding my time. I returned his smile with an innocent one of my own then without warning, threw my leg up in a kick that extended past my waist, bending my knee just before impact to centre the attack.

Air was knocked out of Parker and his grip slipped enough for me to free my hands. It was more the element of surprise that made the tactic work and I knew that was as far as I was going to get. He had more muscle, was bigger and more experienced. He was a cop after all. Any more and we'd have to seriously harm each other. It'd be more than just friendly sparring.

"How did you manage that?" he inquired, drawing in a noisy breath.

"You should take up yoga," I advised, unable to keep the smug grin off my face.

"You've never done yoga."

"I don't need to." Also my parents didn't believe in it. "I'm blessed. You're not. Take up yoga."

He rolled his eyes.

Normally, we'd go for it, take it beyond friendly sparring, no holds barred. We'd fight it to the end but that meant being sore for the next few days and right now, I couldn't afford to limp around my house for the next few days. My dad would figure out that I had gone sparring. He wouldn't be fond of the fact -he would downright hate- that I had gone sparring instead of studying for my upcoming finals. Not that I needed to but he staunchly refused to believe that school came easy to me.

Then there was Masked Idiot. I didn't even want to try to guess where his overactive imagination would take this.

"Truce?" I offered.

He smiled like a proud teacher and got off me, offering me a hand up.

"How were your SATs?" he asked, falling into stance once again.

It had really been a while since we got the chance to catch up. Our version of it anyway.

"Out of the park. I set a new best record at school." I allowed myself a small self-satisfied smile.

I was thirty points ahead of the previous highest SAT scorer. It was close enough to a perfect score for Harvard but far enough so my parents wouldnt have as much ammunition to pressure Olly when it got to her turn. If I got a perfect score, they would make her feel like she absolutely had to get one too but Olly wasnt as great as I was at dealing with pressure. It was better this way.

"How's your dating life?"

He smiled. It was a smile that promised retribution. "You just had to?"

"Yup." I grinned, unperturbed.

Parker's dating life wasn't just dead, it was non-existent and as his friend who knew how great a person he was, I was constantly hammering him to get out there. He had no family as far as I knew. He was always alone every policeman's ball. He spent holidays alone too, with the exception of whenever Olly and I visited. It was sad. He never explicitly said anything but I was almost entirely sure he had been scarred by an ex. His level of apathy for dating and romance was just unnatural. Also, I knew he had taken it easy on me the first round. At the beginning, not the end. The end I won. Sort of.

Regardless, I didn't want him doing it again.

Dinner was a tense affair. Beyond tense. Mom got held up at work unexpectedly, an emergency she said. Unfortunately for Olly and me, before the emergency came up, she got our dad to agree to come home in time for a late dinner. He wasn't in the best of moods when he arrived. To be honest, even on a good day, my dad wasn't all that pleasant. It was always walking on eggshells with him. Olly and I preferred to just stay away. It was easier. He was rarely around anyways.

Today, unfortunately, happened to be one of the few days he was around.

Olly finished her food early. She practically inhaled it and scurried off. Unfortunately -and fortunately-, it was my day to cook. If it had been hers, I would've had to volunteer. She was even more wary of being around him than I was and as we already established, I was a great older sister like that.

"Harvard, huh?" he began.

I instantly knew it was going to end well for me.

"Yes," I answered, scrubbing the plate like my life depended on it shinning. Anything to keep my mind from sinking into the conversation.

"With your SAT scores?" The way he sneered it you'd think my scores couldn't get me into any college much less an Ivy League one.

Objectively speaking, I knew my scores where good, even by Ivy League standard but I couldnt help the trickle of doubt that pierced my mind at his words. Like I said before, my parents knew just what buttons to push to get me to dance. I hated it.

"For law?" he continued. The skepticism in his voice was clear for all to hear. "Harvard law," he repeated as though I didn't get the insinuation the first time.

The cup I was washing slipped from my grip, gently splashing the frothy water in the sink. My eyes drifted close, a wave of anger, resentment and doubt mixed into one strong cocktail washing over me. Was it too much to ask that he be happy for me like a normal father would? Why did he have to constantly belittle me to satisfy his complex? But what if he was right? What if my grades actually weren't good enough and I just wasnt seeing it? Harvard was one of the most competitive schools in the world and I decided I didn't need perfect SAT scores to get in. The smartest of the smart applied to Harvard. I could actually not get in. Oh God.

I felt sick to my stomach. Harvard was the dream. I had no idea what I was going to do if I didn't get in. I had never even considered the possibility. Shit.

"Let's just hope less people apply this year and the bar is lowered." He walked away, shuffling from the dining table to the stairs.

I blinked, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest and stinging in my eyes. Damn it, Avy. You're not allowed to cry.

"And even if by some miracle they let you in, its doubtful that you'll survive, he remarked, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “You can't keep up." He threw me a you poor thing sneer over his shoulder. With that parting shot, he disappeared up the stairs.

The first fat drop slipped down my cheek. Why are you even crying? He didn't hit you, you stupid girl. Grow up, I mentally berated myself.

I wiped the tear away on my shoulder since my hands were occupied with washing the dishes. You are being such a drama queen right now. What's with the water works?

I would never ever voice it out loud -ever- but in darkest weakest parts of my mind, there were days I wished I was adopted. Or a child from an ex-lover of my mom's. Or anything similar to that because then, there would be a reason why he felt the need to constantly put me down and the ridiculous child in me could hold on to the fairytale that one day, she'd be rescued by her real father who would be richer, better and most importantly, kind. However, I had it on good authority that I looked quite like my paternal grandmother. I was his kid. It couldnt be that I wasnt lovable. After all, I'd had my fair share of boys. Even players who ended up falling for me after getting to know me. According to them, I was 'chill, fun and real'. To be fair, that was probably just a case of them wanting what they couldn't have. That, and my eyes were a little to blame. They were a little too big, too doe eyed, too come-and-save-me like but regardless, it meant I wasn't unlovable.

I sighed wearily, wiping my tears on my shoulder as I refocused my attention on the dirty dishes. There was no use going down that road.

It wasn't until I was getting ready to go to bed that I realized I had all but forgotten Masked Idiot. If only he could have seen me at that moment, he'd realize that I was just a regular kid with regular clichéd problems. I wasn't interested in his 'identity' nor was I some sort of spy.