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1 Mayhem
The sand beneath her bare feet threatened to rub her skin raw but Maybelle didn’t let up her efforts, she relished in the feeling. She was racing, flying down the beach bathed in morning light. The salty, sea air was a welcome aroma to her senses and a delight as it combed through her curls of honeycomb gold, whipping and tangling as she pressed forward. Her breathing was labored but she would do it, she wouldfly.
Legs pumping faster, muscles straining tighter, arms swinging and sweat dripping; she was going to do it.
“Maybelle!”
She couldn’t turn back now, no, she was so close.
“Maybelle!”
No no no.
Maybelle finally spun to answer the call only to find she was, in fact, alone and not on a beautiful, sandy beach. She was in the confines of her small bed, being choked to death by her comforter and sheets.
“Maybelle, if you are not down here and ready to go in the next five minutes, I am leaving your ass to walk to school!”
That voice, she knew that voice. Maybelle detangled herself from her bed sheets, rubbing a hand over her sleep riddled eyes to get a better view of the pink alarm clock that sat at attention on her bedside table. The damn thing was off and by the frantic shouts and threats of her brother, Maybelle had slept far passed her alarm and was late.
Of course.
“Sounds good.” Maybelle drawled back groggily as she accepted defeat and buried herself back under her bed covers.
Today ominously marked the last official Monday and week of their high school careers. With all this momentous hype brings a week of excuses for all the most popular kids toshineand for the rest of the commoners, Maybelle included, to bask in their amazingness. Hence, Maybelle’s extreme lack of enthusiasm to leap from her bed and into the day.
First off on the agenda of this week’s significant events was the big senior rally, which was today’s spectacle. The rally was only to serve as an opening, a prologue to set up the events of the week. There, they would be announcing the agenda for the rest of the graduation week, play a few cheesy games, and inform the students of the where, and when of the infamous Senior Last Dance.
It was a whole ordeal that Liam, Maybelle’s twin brother, Mr. “Hot Shot”, popular, superstud, extraordinaire of the school, was in charge of and currently the one threatening Maybelle with the shame of having to be pathetic enough to walk the five miles to school alone.
Liam… oh, amazing, remarkable Liam. The guy was quite the specimen of a human being, well, if you could consider him human, he wasfar too greatto be lowered to such a characterization.
For the last two years of high school Liam was named captain of the team, and star quarterback with no one to endanger his right to rule because he was justthat good. And to top off his fantastical high school football career was the fact that, Mr. “Hot Shot”, also had the role of student body president to include on that shiny, loaded high school resume. As student body president, Liam obviously had to give a crap about being on time for the rally, and thus, making him rush to get out the doorand more inclined to follow through with his original threat of making Maybelle ‘walk her ass to school’.
Jerk.
It may have taken every drop of Maybelle’s diminishing motivation to pour herself out of bed, miraculously pick up a pair of jeans from her bedroom floor, shimmy them up her unshaven legs, and then slip on her favorite, fitted, cotton, grey shirt she might have already worn that week, but she did it. To conclude her not very, in-depth ‘get-ready’ routine, Maybelle tied her long, blonde, ringlet curls into a ratty knot on the top of her head.
“T-minus two freaking minutes, May!” Liam shouted from what Maybelle guessed was the kitchen, which meant he was on the move and nearing the exit, her abandonment and impending long walk to the school.
She didn’t bother trying to answer her brother while she briskly brushed her teeth, spat the toothpaste into the sink, rinsed her mouth, mechanically swiped on some deodorant, threw on a pair of strappy sandals while simultaneously tripping and stumbling out the door, behind Liam, with about thirty seconds of his patience to spare.
Maybelle stepped up to their tiny family car the twins shared with their mom that sat parked in the short driveway.
“Hey May, we aren’t taking the car today. Mom needs it to get to work.” Liam absently stated as he swung his backpack over a shoulder and adjusted his football jersey, so it laid straight on his bulky shoulders.
“What? Okay, well, did you order an Uber or were you planning on walking your prissy ass to school with me?” Maybelle snarked, bending over to fix the strap of her sandal that had meandered off the back of her heel in her rush out of the house.
“Nah, no Uber and no walking. My buddy Trey is on his way to pick us up.”
Maybelle paused, mid-rise; palms suddenly sweaty in the sixty-degree, shady, morning breeze and the oxygen in the air impossible to breathe in. Her mind warred with wanting to be frustrated that she had been hustled this morning even though their ride hadn’t even arrived yet, but she was too preoccupied with the nerves that were now tightening and expanding in her chest.
Trey Turner.
Star running back on the football team, the senior heartthrob, and Liam’s best friend. Those two have been two peas in a pod since sophomore year when Maybelle and her family first moved to San Francisco and started at Harbor High. Maybelle didn’t know exactly how the two boys met, probably through football, but wherever Liam was, so was Trey. In all reality, the two were practically joined at the hip.
While Liam was the star quarterback of the team, Trey was first string running back and, of course, best in the state of California. Both boys shared the responsibility of being co-captains of the team and while Liam ran and won for student body president, Trey was his loyal and devoted vice president. Those twoownedthe school, everyone knew it and loved them for it. Now, Trey and Liam would continue their rule together in college since they both just signed to play for the UCLA Bruins starting in the fall.
Except, Maybelle didn’t just know Trey Turner for being her brother’s best friend, partner in crime and every straight girls’ romantasy. She knew him for the way her heart would nearly combust in his general vicinity, the way her palms drenched with perspiration at the mere mention of his name, and the way breathing becameunbearableat the sight of him.
