THE private EDGE

“So, you punched her, she slapped you then you pretty much kicked her ass?”

“Yea, sort of.” Kayla laughed hysterically.

“And you got to meet the famous Mr. Jefferson Williams?”
I nodded and scanned the study. Nobody bother to sit at the end we’d claimed, and nobody
bothered to tell us to shut up.

“He’s such an Oompa-Loompa,” she continued. I looked at her and she snorted. “It was the only expressive name I could think of.”

“What are you up to?”

“You’ve started?” I tossed a book at her. I sat up and stared at the unfinished homework spread out between us on the desk, whishing it would complete itself. Kayla groaned, obviously having the same thoughts, and dropped her head on the closed Ancient History book in front of her.

“Oh, I reattached the satellite dish on the teachers’ dorm last night too.”

My eyes ran over her. “Good.”

She raised her head, eyes vacant. Her head tilted slightly, listening. Her phone vibrated next to her, she snatched it off the desk and pressed it to her ear. I shuffled in my seat, my stomach still full from lunch.

“Ye’low?... thought it was you... were down the back.” She hung up smiling like a loon as James appeared at the end of the closest shelf of history books, with his I’m-such-a-hot-teenager-and-I-know-it walk, he approached us... well, approached Kayla, since she was the only one he was looking at...

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head I actually found motivation to finish my homework. At some point they disappeared to my utter disappointment (cough, cough) and Hayley replaced the empty seat in front of me. She stared after James’s back leaving the library. I eyed her.

“I knew that fucker was up to something,” she stated, turning back to me. Her fringe was covering half her eyes, and the length was resting on the table; reminding me to cut it one night when she was asleep so it would be finally shorter than mine.

“Explain.”

“If he hurts her I’ll singe his butt hairs.”

My eyes widened, fearing my own safety. She noticed my silence.

“Chil-lax, ya dweeb,” she laughed. “Why the hell are you in here doing this boring crap?”

“Someone has to do it.” She stood up and shut all my books, piling them up, she stacked them in my bag and slipped it over my shoulder.

“Not right now.” She pulled me out of the seat and led me, powerlessly, out of the library. “Chelsea’s dad sent her a Wii and a stack of games for Easter, so we’re going to test them out.”

“Typical,” I mumbled.

“Yet, without ‘typical’ you’d be boring, OCD, fat, unloved and an unwanted waste of space.” I stared daggers at her back. Hayley only dragged me on, my body battling to keep up with her naturally long strides.

My eyes slowly started closing, sounds around me blurred into one, decreasing as my body tuned out. My limbs were numb; no thoughts ran through my head, I was empty...
Until something hit my head.

“Oi, open your bloody eyes.” My senses snapped back on, I stared at Hayley blankly.

“Sorry, for a minute there I swore you nearly bored me to death,” I explained sincerely. Her expression darkened, and she appeared hostile. I rolled away from where she was on the couch.

“It’s your serve,” she said through clenched teeth. I leaned forward and snatched the Wii remote off the coffee table, my eyes on Hayley the entire time. I studied the television screen, and then started the eleventh game of table tennis on Wii Sports.

My movements were mechanical. Having memorised strategies, I won within a few minutes.

“Fuck!” Hayley threw the remote at the couch. “Rematch.”

“No, no. I can’t take anymore,” I wailed, sinking to the floor. She continued ranting and raving on how the game was rigged, and I was cheating, etcetera. Chelsea popped her head out of the bathroom door.

“Shut up, will ya?”

Hayley flipped her off without looking.

“Gently remove your tampon and take a few deep breaths, ok?”

I laughed as Hayley glowered at the screen where my Wii-me was doing a victory dance.
Just as I was memorising the moves my phone rang. I slid it open.

“Yes?”

“Hey, I cannot find you. Your whereabouts would be appreciated.” Kayla’s chirpy voice rang through my ears.

“I’m with Chels and Hail.”

“Have you forgotten about gym?”

“I’ll be ready in a few.” I hung up, and found my way to a lift. Once I was at our dorm room I chucked on a sports bra, a loose tee, shorts and sport shoes.
As I pushed my way out of the lift I saw Kayla standing impatiently at the door. I walked to her, when I reached her shoulder she turned and we headed to the rec hall.

“You’re late.”

Kayla pointed at me. “Her fault.”

“Sorry, Marcus,” I apologised. He shook his head and led us to a training room. The gym was a building attached to the side of the rec hall, it had recently been updated.
“What are we doing today?” I piped up. Normally when it came to Marcus you didn’t ask, you just did it.

“Fun stuff.” His eyes glittered. Marcus was Russian; at twenty seven years of age, he had the pronounced, intimidating features, dark eyes, dark hair and a kickass Russian accent. When Kayla and I had first signed up here two years ago, we were given the choice of our personal trainers, once we saw Marcus’s name we knew he had to be Russian.

We loved Russia.

“Warm up.” He clapped his hands together. Kayla sat down and started stretching; I just eyed the indoor running track. Dropping to the floor, I fell into the stretching pattern with Kayla.

After our stretches were finished, Marcus took us around the track explain what he wanted us to do. Like, run, push ups, run, sit ups, so on.

“Understand?”

“Marcus, I said I was sorry for making us late.” He only smiled and blew his whistle. Kayla and I begun, keeping in time with each other.