The Love Interest

The flare of defiance quickly dies, leaving a gigantic expanse of freezing-cold fear in my chest. A Love Interest is who I am, and it’s all I’ll ever be. Questioning that, or letting people like Kaylee know that I’m questioning it, will result in my death. I’m sure I’ll fondly recall my snarky comments while they march me to the incinerator. I rub my eyes. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”


She’s clearly not fooled. “Careful now, Caden. You’re doing well, but this contest isn’t over yet. Anyway, you actually do have a lot to be grateful for. At least you’re not a Solo.”

“Why is that?”

“They have to have the traits of both a Nice and a Bad. You think you have to act? You should see the hoops those poor guys have to jump through. Also, they have to be obsessed with their Chosens, like to the point where they don’t do anything other than obsess over them. At least this way you get some semblance of a life outside of your relationship with Juliet. Like your time with Dylan.”

My eyes widen and a queasy feeling builds in my gut.

“Oh, don’t look so scared, I get that you’ve become friends, and that’s fine. It’ll only become a problem if it interferes with your relationship with Juliet. Speaking of Juliet, is it working? Is she falling for you?”

“Um, I think so?”

“Well, are you falling for her? How does she make you feel?”

“She … she makes me the happiest man on earth.”

Kaylee raises an eyebrow. “I hope you’re more convincing with her. Now, it’s time for you to get ready for school. I’m going to get the costume and I’ll leave it under your bed. It’ll be ready for the party on Friday. Isn’t this so exciting?”

*

A huge banner that says MAPLETON ACADEMY COSTUME EXTRAVAGANZA is tacked on the wall. Beneath the words, a male devil and a female angel are posing and smiling. Beside them are the words GOOD VS. EVIL written in silver and red glitter respectively. Beneath that, Batman is punching the Joker and Harry Potter is casting a spell on Voldemort. It looks like a banner made by a five-year-old using newspaper clippings and a hot-glue gun.

Juliet and I are standing in the middle of the hallway, inspecting the poster. Around us, students rush past. It’s sports day, so everyone is dressed in blue polo shirts and gym shorts. It’s also freakishly hot, like to the point where my shirt keeps sticking to my back.

I turn to her. “I wonder what makes it an extravaganza.”

Natalie and Trevor are behind us. His arm is slung over her shoulder, and they’re making googly eyes at each other. Their obliviousness to the rest of the world has become a sort of joke between Juliet and me. Whenever we get a spare second, we pull stupid faces at them and wait until they respond. It usually takes a while.

“Don’t doubt this party’s extravagance, Caden. It’s going to be off the freaking chain! I’m talking streamers, I’m talking fruit punch, I’m even talking balloons of differing colors!”

I laugh, but it’s short lived. I’m lying to her. She’s hilarious and kind, so it’s easy to pretend we’re real friends. Then I remember who I am and all that comes crashing down. I’m not, nor will I ever be, her friend.

All I’ll ever be is the scumbag who manipulated her into falling in love with him.

She frowns. “What’s up with you? That sounded fake and you look tired.”

I can’t let anything show, but I feel like screaming. That’s two people today who’ve seen right through my act. I’m slipping, and I need to up my game if I want to survive. From now on, I’m going to be Nice all the time and I’m never going to let the real me show. Any thoughts or feelings that don’t fit the role need to be eliminated.

I rub my cheeks. “I can’t get anything past you, can I? You’re right, I didn’t sleep well for some reason.”

“Oh good, I thought you were sick or something. Because in case Trevor let you forget, the swimming carnival is tonight, and it would be fun to have someone of my own to cheer on for once.”

Be daring, Caden. Ask her if it’s a date.

Blood rushes to my cheeks. “Oh cool, yeah, sweet.” My voice is a pitch higher than it usually is, and it sounds frail. I don’t need to act nervous because I am nervous. If I ask her out too early and she rejects me it’ll be tough to make her like me in the way I need her to. “Sounds good.”

“Did someone say my name?” asks Trevor. “I swear I heard someone say my name.”

Juliet reaches her locker and opens it. “I was telling Caden about the carnival today.” She pauses. Sitting in the middle of her locker, in front of the perfectly organized books, is a single red rose.

“Caden,” says Natalie, slapping my arm. “You’re a sweetheart!”

“It wasn’t me,” I say.

“Oh.”

I press my fist against my locker. Dyl never told me about the rose. And unless Juliet has another suitor, one who hasn’t shown his or her face yet, he put the rose there. Yet he didn’t tell me about it. I can’t blame him, because I never tell him anything about what I plan on doing with Juliet, but still, this is noteworthy. He normally tells me everything.

Juliet shelves the book she was holding and closes the door. Good, I think. She left the rose in the locker, which must mean she doesn’t care about it. Or maybe she’s saving it for later? I wish I could just ask her how she feels about it, but that would draw more attention to the romantic thing Dyl did. I need to act like it isn’t a big deal, even though all I can think about now is that stupid red flower.

“We were talking about the swimming carnival,” I say. “You know, the one that I’m going to win this afternoon?”

Trevor chuckles. “Man, if you beat me, my dream would be dead, but I would still feel sorry for you. I have no idea what kind of punishment Natalie would dish out to whoever beats me, but I know it would be brutal.”

We move away from the locker and turn the corner, and then we walk through the double doors into the gym. It’s a big, open room, with white walls and timber floors covered in blue mats. Plastered on the walls are posters of sweaty, half-naked men and women with body builders’ physiques surrounded by phrases like YOU CAN DO IT and LIVE YOUR DREAM.

In a messy circle in the middle of the room is the rest of our class, as well as a dark-haired man in a white martial arts uniform that looks tough and uncomfortable. The fabric doesn’t fit together properly, revealing some of his pale and hairy chest.

Behind him is Dyl. He’s stretching his arms, his face set in his Bad sneer. He raises his arms above his head and stretches, showing a sliver of the V-shaped muscles of his stomach. As always, his hair is messy and there are dark circles under his eyes, but they somehow make him look good. Tortured, as he would say.

The instructor claps his hands together. The sound booms around the room, making me flinch.

“First up, we’re going to do some sparring. Break into pairs and face each other on the mats. And no going with anyone you’re dating—this is Self-defense, not Hand-holding One-oh-one. Now go!”

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