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24
Idon’t go back to my room like I was planning to do. Instead, I hook a left and take a walk past the classrooms on the same floor as Mr Burnside’s office. This is my free period and as far as I’m aware, everyone else is in lessons except a few kids who I’m not particularly worried about.
When I pass the open door of Ms Markin’s Maths class, I’m accosted with my usual greeting around here.
“Skank!” Monk calls, whilst the rest of his wolves’ howl. Everyone except Camden, who’s just staring at me, makes some kind of comment as I walk by.
“Fifty credits deducted for the whole class and you, Monk, can accompany me to Mr Carmichael’s office after the lesson,” Ms Markin says, giving me an apologetic smile as she shuts the classroom door. I catch a glimpse of Camden who’s leaning over and talking to Monk just before the door shuts. Neither look particularly happy.
When I get to the end of the corridor, I can either head towards the gym and swimming pool or outside to the back of the building and the formal gardens beyond. Whilst I’ve looked at the gardens plenty of times from Pink’s room, which is on the opposite side of the annex to me, I haven’t ever bothered checking them out. I’m a city kid at heart. Give me concrete and skyscrapers any day of the week. Today, however, after my session with Mr Burnside, I feel the need for air, space. The fact of the matter is, I’m itching for my cans. To spray paint something,anything. I need to switch off, I need to get rid of this constant unsettled feeling inside from being here, for all the weeks of shit I’ve had to endure. I miss home… I miss my little brothers, Eastern, Tracy and Braydon. I wish I didn’t feel anything, but I do.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I head outside hoping that this time the fresh air will blow away the cobwebs like Libby, my foster carer, would often say. God, if she knew I was taking a walk in the park (because, let’s face it, these gardens are practically a fucking park) she’d have a fit. She was always trying to get me to go out for fresh air with her. Now look at me.
After a couple of minutes, I find myself at the entrance to the maze. I’ve seen it countless times from Pink’s bedroom window that overlooks the gardens and not the car park like mine. Each time I’ve looked out of her window I’ve never seen anyone enter.
Peering into the entrance, at the high hedgerows and pathway that seems to end in another wall of green hedge, I chew on my lip. My gut, which is generally always right, is telling me to back off, but my sense of adventure and that familiar adrenaline rush that I usually only get when graffitiing is telling me to go for it.
I go for it.
For the next half an hour I lose myself in the maze, and I like it. My head is so preoccupied with finding the centre that I don’t think about anything apart from that. After taking several wrong turns and having to retrace my steps on a number of occasions, I finally find the heart of the maze. Except when I get there, I’m not alone.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer, completely thrown by the fact that Camden is sitting on a bench in the middle of the maze as though he’s been there the whole time.
“Skipping class,” he shrugs.
“I can see that. But how the fuck did you get to the middle so fast?” And more importantly, why is he here? Did he follow me or something?
He gives me a meaningful look. “There are two entrances, two paths to follow to get to the middle. I took one, whilst you took the other. We’ve still ended up in the same place.”
“Is that supposed to be significant or something? It’s a fucking maze, Camden. That’s all.” I turn around and stride towards the gap I entered by. There’s no way I’m staying whilst he’s here. Especially not since we’re on our own together, and I have no fucking clue what his agenda is.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and even though I quicken my pace he’s in front of me in seconds. I raise my gaze to meet his and to avoid the sharpness of his nipples beneath his thin grey t-shirt. It’s cold out, evidently.
Thing is I’m not cold… I’m the complete opposite of cold. I feel warm,aliveand I’m not sure I like it. Actually, what I should be saying is that I’m positive I hate it. though, truthfully, I’m somewhere in the middle.
“You’re running again… Isn’t that what you did at Sasha’s party that night?”
“Have you got some weird case of amnesia or something? Istayed,remember. Pretty sure I called you out too.”
He laughs, showing that pretty gold molar. “Only after I challenged you. Do you always follow people’s orders or just mine?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m going to my room. So, if you wouldn’t mind,” I snap, trying to step around him. He simply mirrors me, and I’m faced with a wall of muscle and a determined look. “Get out of the way,” I insist.
“Not happening,” he whispers as his topaz eyes glower with a mixture of challenge and… lust. There it is again. What the fuck? Inside, that flame ignites.
Spinning on my heel, I run to the other gap in the hedgerow on the other side of the central square. This time Camden isn’t fast enough to stop me and I hook a left sprinting as fast as I can, acting on instinct. I can hear his heavy footsteps right behind me and feel his heavy breaths as though he’s mere inches from me instead of metres. Following my gut, I race through the maze. I’ve no idea where I’m going just like I’ve no idea why I’m so intent on running from Camden. Is it because of the way he looked at me? Is it because I’m genuinely afraid of him? Or is it because of the way my heart pounds not in fear, but in excitement? This is a dangerous game I’m playing.
I might lie to others, but lying to myself? I’ve never done that until now.
When I turn the next corner, I’m faced with a dead end. Camden is on me in a matter of seconds. Like me, like most kids who live their lives on the street, he’s not even broken a sweat. Being a criminal keeps you fit. We might generally stay and fight for our honour and reputation, but we run to save our arses from the law. Except, I’m not running from the law. I’m running from Camden when I should’ve stayed to fight. In all honesty, I’m pretty sure I liked the chase.
“You’re quick, but I’m an expert at hunting, Asia.” He steps closer, crowding me. My back hits the sharpness of the hedge, little branches dig into my back scratching at my skin.
“Back off, Camden,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I hate you. Because you’re an arsehole, ruling over a bunch of arseholes. Because you destroyed my friend’s life. Because we’re enemies. Because you hate me. Because you confuse me…” I admit.
