When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 17: 17 - Have you perhaps lost your mind?

School was over. People were rushing out and although I hated to admit it, I was rushing out with them.

I couldn’t remember the last time I was this eager to get out of school. Oh, the things a bad day can do

to a person.

I had woken up feeling tired. More so than when I went to bed. It was a relatively normal occurrence for

me every few months or so. It was nothing new but it still sucked. What was the point of sleeping if I

was only going to wake up feeling even more tired than I did before going to bed? That, added to the

cameo of daddy dearest’s alter ego last night, was doing a great job of making sure I was having a bad

day. More accurately, I was having a shitty day. The shittiest. ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

My mom couldn’t have picked a worse time to travel. My dad was nowhere in the ballpark of a good

mood with the city council exerting pressure on him to catch the culprit of the downtown robberies. I

was constantly walking on eggshells around him. No matter how drained I was, I had to be extra careful

and pay extra attention to him.

On top of that, I had school to worry about. I was becoming increasingly bored by it which, for me, was

big and bad. According to the education board adviser, people with my IQ needed to always be

challenged academically or things could go really bad for us. The last time I found school boring was

back in elementary school and truly, that hadn’t ended well. I had tried to drop out. Granted, I was a kid

then but who knew what rationalizations I would feed myself this time.

I needed less on my plate so I could concentrate on figuring out a solution to the school issue. It was a

bad time for my mom to not be around to curb my dad’s tendencies although, granted, she was

unaware of them. I tried hinting once that she should keep her cases within state and it blew up in my

face. She took it so personal that I got lectured on how women should support women and how I was

no longer a child and if Olly who was younger was fine with it, then I should be as well.

I ended up crying. That was how bad she made me feel for even suggesting it. I didn’t have the guts to

explain that missing her wasn’t the problem. I hardly saw her when she was in town anyways, asides

from mandatory family dinners and the occasional breakfast. I couldn’t explain that unlike Olly, I

wouldn’t be overlooked by our father. I’d be evaluated, appraised critically and found wanting no matter

what. It would be that I didn’t put the keys in the right place. Or heat the food up to his perfect taste. Or

most recently, that I had my earphones in. There would always be something that I hadn’t done well

enough.

I couldn’t tell her that though. What good would it do? Neither of them believed in divorce. I’d only make

things worse for myself. Like when she told him what I said about not taking out-of-state cases, to ask

his opinion on the subject. During her next trip, I paid dearly for that.

I sighed wearily, forcing a smile for the benefit of the seemingly endless horde of acquaintances who

needed to wave me goodbye. They all thought I was so cool. Freakishly smart yet social and

fashionable. Have-it-all Avy.

I snickered under my breath.

“Bye, Avy.” A junior whose name I didn’t even know called out.

“Bye,” I replied, smoothing my features into a bright smile.

The smile featured too much teeth. Anyone who really looked at me would’ve easily figured out that it

was fake. Luckily, no one paid attention to things like that anymore. Even if I had tears in my eyes and

said I was fine, I was almost sure everyone would believe it. After all, I was Avyanna Johnson, the

‘perfect everything.’ What problems could I possibly have?

I scoffed inwardly.

Ranting, needing people, wallowing and indulging in bouts of self-pity were for the weak, the voice in

my head chastised.

I finally made it outside, passing through the wide open double doors that led to the exterior of the

school building.

“What the actual f--” I swallowed the rest of my statement, forcing a more believable smile unto my face

as the curious eyes of a group of juniors turned my way.

You picked the wrong day, Masked Idiot.

I drew in a deep breath and sent up a quick prayer for patience and self-control before marching over

to the idiot leaning casually, basically draped against my car. In a parking lot full of people who could

carelessly mention it to my parents. The only redeeming bit about the image in front of me was that his

bike was nowhere in sight or he might as well as have just gone directly to my parents and said, “Look

me up, there’s something suspicious and bad about me.”

I couldn’t even bring myself to care that this was the first time he was showing up post our dinner

turned declaration of war. I came to a stop a foot away from him.

“Sometime between right now and when I last saw you, did you perhaps lose your damn mind?”

My voice was hard, gravelly and low because I couldn’t risk having my not-so-subtly lingering

classmates overhear the subject of our conversation. The venom generously lacing my tone, however,

made it unmistakably clear that if we had been in a place with less prying eyes and twitching ears, I

wouldn’t have shown half as much restraint.

“Good to see you too,” he muttered drily, straightening up.

Clearly, he was here to test my limits.

“Good? When, pray tell, did I give you that impression?” Before he could manage a response, I

continued, “If you were to fade from existence right this second, I’d be all the happier for it.”

After our charity ball escapade, he disappeared for a full week. Not a single word. He didn’t so much as

drop by the library or sneak into my room which he used to be oh so fond of. The fact that his

disappearance coincided with the reappearance of the malicious gaze wasn’t doing him any favors

either.

“I didn’t bring my bike.” He said it like that was supposed to make it okay. Like I was supposed to be

grateful.

“Good. For. You.” Each word was accompanied by a sharp poke from my finger.

He had a sturdy chest which really shouldn’t have come as a surprise since he was, after all, an

underground fighting champion but my brain wasn’t at its finest so it did. My finger hurt as I lowered the

hand. I swallowed the pain in favor of protecting my pride.

“Good for me?” Annoyed incredulity coated his tone. His expression made it clear that from where he

was standing, he’d done me a favor and I was being ungrateful. Cue my infamous eye roll. Favor my

black ass.

“Yes,” I ground out, holding his gaze. “Good for you because otherwise, I’d have killed you.”

“Nothing pleases you, does it?”

“Nothing you do,” I snarled. “But by all means, seize to exist. That should do the trick.”

He started to snap back a reply, his mouth already open to do so but he inexplicably stopped, slowly,

almost comically, closing his mouth. A deep crease appeared between his brows as they furrowed.

“That was harsh. Over the top. Even for you.”

A completely irrational impulse to avert my gaze filled my mind as his eyes seared into mine. The

resemblance between the color of his irises and a cup of black coffee was uncanny. I loved my coffee

black and suddenly wanted some.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “What is it?”

If this was the universe’s answer to my craving for someone who could instantly read my moods, then I

take the complaint back. No thanks, I’d rather go through life alone than with Masked Idiot for a

confidant.

“Noth...” I didn’t get to complete my denial. The word died on my lips as three girls closed in on us.

My already ridiculously shitty day was about to take another hit.

“Claire, do you need something?” I demanded as nicely as I could manage.

It was not very nice.

“Not particularly. I just figured we should take care of the problem now before it gets any worse.” She

smiled sweetly.

The statement, as well as her winsome smile, was directed entirely at Masked Idiot, never mind that I

was the one the words were actually intended for.

I was great at not getting in trouble but the creature before me was great at getting everybody to

believe she had their best interest at heart so that they all loved her even when they didn’t like her. I

would’ve admired her for it if it all wasn’t an act.

“Very predicative of you.” I rolled my eyes before pasting an absolutely charming smile on my face.

I could act too.

She flashed me her patented ‘I have your best interest at heart’ smile.

“Emily,” was all she said.

“What about her?”

“You know what,” she hissed.

My smile wobbled for a second, a testament to how horrid the day had been thus far and worse,

Masked Idiot caught it. I practically saw his line of thought go from ‘oh, they’re friends’ to ‘ahhh, I see

what’s going on here.’ My hands fisted at my sides. My facial muscles conjured up the most amicable

smile in history.

“Call her over.”

Even my tone was all hearts and flowers.

I ignored the churning sensation in my stomach as Claire waved the girl over. Personally, I had nothing

against Emily. We were acquaintances at best, mainly from our connection to the debate club. She had

done nothing to deserve what was happening to her, what I was about to do. It was just unfortunate

that Aidan picked her over Claire and although all her ‘misdemeanours’ were petty things that had been

orchestrated by Claire, I was going cut her off anyway. Rules needed to be followed no matter what. I

hadn’t missed a single meeting or leaked any award categories despite all the shit I had been going

through so even though it wasn’t her fault, it was her fault.

I was the one thing that let Claire get away with deceiving everyone with her ‘Mother Theresa’ act.

Since everyone knew I never let emotions get in my way, it was almost always up to me to handle any

such messy situations because apparently ‘thanks to my clinical approach to things, I would be fair and

just.’ It was my job to enforce the rules. I wasn’t the judge, just the executioner and at the end of the

day, the executioner is the only bad guy, especially since it was almost always a closed trial where the

judge wouldn’t be made public. Claire was very good at capitalising on my unbending principles and

reputation to take out whoever she felt like.

If only anyone was brave enough to bring a case against her, I’d be more than happy to execute her

too but people automatically considered her untouchable. The princess of the school.

I heaved a sigh.

“Hey guys.” Emily smiled brightly. “You know I appreciate your hel--”

“Em,” I cut her off, the contents of my stomach taking a nosedive. If my guess was right and it pretty

much always was, she was about to thank us for a problem we -and by ‘we’ I meant Claire- created.

“You’re off prom committee. You shouldn’t have tattled to your boyfriend about his award category or

missed so many meetings without notice. And do yourself a favor, don’t sit anywhere near us

tomorrow.”

In other words, lay low until this blows over but I could tell from the way her eyes widened, rapidly

turning glassy that she took my advice as a sentence. One important thing about Claire Anne High

social hierarchy was where you sat for lunch. Like all private schools, we had our quirks and seating

arrangements was one of them. Everyone knew that. Just like everyone knew that being demoted from

the popular kid’s table was a huge smear. A scarlet mark. A black stain.

“What?” She blinked wide doe eyes.

You have to set standards and stick to them, Avy or people will undermine you, my mom’s voice

reminded me.

“You heard me. Have a nice life.” In other words, stay out of my orbit.

Swift and cold. I was in my car and peeling out of the lot before she could pick her jaw off the ground.

Masked Idiot had enough sense to jump in before I zoomed off.

My rear-view mirror showed Claire giving Emily a comforting squeeze while wearing a vindictive smile

the latter never saw. My stomach churned.

I floored it.

I have known Claire since she transferred to Claire Anne in middle school and she has hated me since

the minute I scored higher than her on her first quiz at Claire Anne merely a week later. The feeling has

only intensified since then because I kept doing it. Beating her. Claire came from money and was

smart. She was used to having her pick of whatever she wanted. Being the best in our year was one of

the few things she longed for but didn’t have under her belt.

“I think you hate that girl. You don’t hate me that much even though you think I’m a criminal and I don’t

think she likes you either. But you just did her dirty work,” Masked Idiot commented unsurprisingly. The

surprising part was that he managed to keep his mouth shut until I pulled onto the highway. “I’m

confused,” he finished.

“I don’t care for your analysis or the commentary on my life. You are neither my therapist nor my friend

so can it.” I hissed, eyes trained on the road.

My mother’s voice hummed her approval.

“You have a therapist?”

I shot him a flat look. Like my parents would ever go for that. How was that even the only thing he

picked up?

“You were pissed. Really pissed. Even before Charlie’s Angels showed up.” Frown lines creased his

forehead.

“Charlie’s Angels?” I arched a brow

For some reason, it sounded ridiculously funny and I found myself tamping down a sardonic smile. In

my defense, my brain wasn’t exactly at its best.

My shoulders relaxed unconsciously.

‘They have the right hair.” He shrugged unabashedly.

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. They did have the right hair colours, if nothing else.

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” I answered.

“I know a place. Take the next left.”

I glanced at him, sizing him up, then nodded.

“Fine, but if you take me anywhere illegal, say an underground fighting arena, you’re a dead man

walking. I will personally murder you.”

I felt, more than saw, him roll his eyes. My lips tugged into a grin.