Evil Maybe

Chapter 7- Max

I’m really starting to hate that Ree.

I can’t get her out of my head. Her golden eyes pierce my every thought, her name is like birds singing, and her simply existing is ruining my life. I immediately think of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18:

¨Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? “Thou art more lovely and more temperate”- NO!!

I can’t think of her as pretty-or at all for that matter. She’s the enemy. I can’t let her get into my head like this. I’ll go mad. But still…

“MAXIMUS!”

Sigh. Another miserable day, another piece of my soul gone. But in a way, I’m happy for the distraction from… her. I get out of bed, change into jeans and a shirt, and stumble into our small kitchen.

I sit next to across the table from my brother (who is still talking to me as little as possible). He’s already eating. As usual, dry toast. I go to the cupboard for my bowl of cereal. I catch my brother looking up at me for a fraction of a second, only to look away just as quickly. I sigh and eat as quickly as possible so I can avoid the tension and the lecture that was inevitably bound to come.

I drink the remainder of the milk, chuck the plastic bowl in the garbage along with the spoon, and sprint to my room to grab my bag. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before I pick it up and sprint out the door. “Goodbye, Father!” I yell as I haul it to the front door. In my peripheral vision I see my father open his mouth to say something, but by then I’ve already run out and slammed the door.

The warm post-summer air enveloped my face as I walked to Facility 2. EVIL headquarters is divided into 4 buildings (EVIL stands for the Extraordinary Villains Initiate League, and is extremely ironic in my opinion considering it spells E-V-I-L). I start to go over the buildings in my mind to pass the time of the walk.

In the first quadrant, Facility 1, are the living quarters. Each building consists of 40 floors, and I happen to live on the 39th. Sigh. Just one more floor and I could see the world.

The view from the 39th floor of Facility 1 is blocked by a city building, and I can’t see very far. It’s slightly lower, so that you would be able to jump it. With a superpower boost, that is.

But the 40th floor? There’s a perfect view of the whole cityscape. I always loved the view of the city from that floor.

I suppose it’s not as impressive now, after the battle.

Facility 2, where I’m heading, is the school quadrant. It comprises 30 floors, and it is the second smallest building of the four.

It’s sort of like a regular school; we have arithmetic, Literature, and History, but we also have classes like Weapons Construction, Alchemy, and Creative Torture. I don’t particularly enjoy that last one.

Facility 3 is the training sector. It is the front of EVIL, and it has a large curve on the top. There are 37 floors- one for each type of chosen weapon, and a few floors for each “group”. To get a relative idea of the layout, I count by fives.

Floors 2 through 7 are one handed weapons (swords, daggers, and the like). 8-13 are two handed weapons (axes, maces, and bows). 14-19 holds fist fighting, wrestling, and hand-to-hand combat. 20-25: Elemental magic. If you can control water, or produce fire, here’s where you’d go. Floors 26-31 are the floors for other types of magic- telekinesis, shape-shifting, and whatnot. Finally, 32-37 is for the Displaced.

These are the people who don’t have a special power. Everyone (except them) does, some villains just don’t use them because they have a different preferred weapon. In some cases, when a villain uses their power, it drains their life force. The Displaced don’t have powers supposedly. Some of them are outcasts, some as normal as anyone. But all share the same burden- being powerless.

And I’m their longest resident.

Finally is Facility 4. This is basically the rec center for EVIL, and it is the smallest building. There are 25 floors, containing everything from ping-pong tables to vending machines to wrestling mats.

Lost in thought, I almost missed the school, but luckily my train of thought was interrupted by a football hitting me in the head.

“Sorry mate,” said the thrower of the ball, snickering. I mumbled my apologies too, and handed back the egg-shaped death machine.

He ran off, holding it high in the air to show his buddies, as if in triumph, and I dragged myself into the school, rubbing the side of my head and praying not to fall asleep.

“And so, as you can see, x+39=47. Now, to go over the process again…”

I blew out a puff of air as the lecturer spoke, forcing a lock of hair out of my eyes. Arithmetic. AKA Nap Time for 4/5 of the school. For me, its You-better-pay-attention-or-you’ll-fail-the-test-and-be-more-of-a-disgrace-than-you-already-are Period. I knew I could always just record it and play it back later, but actually being present in the lesson quite helped.

Although…

This lesson was making me want to tear my own hair out. Maybe if I just looked away for a minute…

I hit record on my Listen-Pen. The lecturer, Miss Areto, droned on but I couldn’t hear her. I looked down at my paper. My thoughts drifted to that stupid golden-eyed girl again. Her image was already starting to slip my mind. Good, I think to myself, it’s best if I forget about her anyway. But before I know it my pencil is touching the paper and I’m starting to draw in the empty space.

The graphite tip swoops over the page, gently creating the shape of her face. Long, swishing lines form her long, silky hair, and soon, the confident shape of her nose. Her lips then took shape on the page, in the shape of the small smirk I left her in. I then started on her neck and her collarbone as the end of the portrait. I stared at the page. The only blank space left was the eyes. How, with just a simple no. 2 pencil, was I supposed to be able to encompass the leagues of beauty and depth in those golden eyes?

“I suppose actually having a space for eyes is a good place to start,” I murmured under my breath. I carefully stroked the pencil across the page Four long swoops, multiple short ones. Two empty eyes. Eyebrows. Lashes. I give the eyes pupils, alight with mischief. I knew the irises would be hard, but not this hard. I stare at them for some time. And then I make my risky decision- I pull yellow and orange pencils out of my pencil container.

Shade with orange, shade with yellow. Even it out. One stroke at a time. Gently now… Orange, yellow, orange, yellow, ora-

¨Mr. Corriner, if I may make a suggestion, take your colored pencils to the art room where they belong. I’m sure they’d be appreciated there.¨

Miss Areto hovered behind me, her cold stare piercing right through me. She glances over my shoulder to my desk to see my drawing. Her smirk made me shudder in fear.

“Well, now, isn’t this a work of art? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind putting it on display for us?” She snatches up the paper from under my elbow, ripping a small piece off the text at the top of the page, of which I hadn’t bothered to even look at.

She pulls out a roll of tape and hands me the picture. Oh no, I thought. Is she really..?

She was. With a smirk that could make our finest soldier tremble with fear, I take the items in my trembling hands and walk from my seat in the very back of the room to the blackboard at the very front. I ripped a piece of the tape off and stuck it to the sheet, trying to keep a straight face all the while. Defeated, I stick the “art” to the board. My fingers come away covered in white chalk dust. I wipe the side of my nose before I cry, but the dust just makes it worse. I choke.

No. I’m a Corriner, I tell myself. I won’t cry. Bravely, I walk back to my seat with my head held somewhat high. As soon as I get there, I sink down and put my chin in my hands. What was I thinking? Why did I draw a girl, especially a HERO on my page, of all people? What if they found her? Why would I do this?

Why do I care?

Still lost deep in thought, I almost didn’t notice the breathing on my neck. When I did, I turned around to see- of course- Lucy McGeller.

“Hi Max,” she sort-of whispered, but it sounded like “Hhhi Machsss” due to her braces. Lucy McGeller, for some reason, is extremely attracted to me. Why her of all people? Why not Sapphire Markson, who can control water? Or Maya Livero, who’s crazy with a battleaxe? Anyways, Lucy is only a few months younger than me, but she thinks I’m this big strongman dreamboat who’ll whisk her away to a palace of dreams. At least, she acts like it. She’s got frizzy red hair that she always pinned back haphazardly with clunky barrettes and freckles that crinkle when she smiles, kind of like me except more violently.

She has a regular tendency to wear oversize sweaters in loud colors with either boot cut jeans or a skirt. Her shoe selection is strange- she will wear literally everything, any day, not even considering the clothes she’s wearing, from sneakers, to flats, to actual stilettos (it usually ended at the end of the day with her obtaining some kind of injury, but she wore them just the same).

Today, Lucy’s selection was a huge sweater with a cat embroidered on the front. The sweater was so huge it almost completely covered her denim skirt. Her shoe selection today was platform flipflops with stripes on the sides.

She leaned even further into my personal space. Her breath now moved my hair. I could see all the flecks of blue in her olive-green eyes.

Still lisping aggressively, she murmured loudly under her breath, “I think your art is really good. That i***t might not appreciate it, but I do.” She smiled, and her lips curled over her braces. Batting her eyelashes, she said “Maybe you could draw me sometime.”

She drew back into her seat, evidently pleased with herself. I let out a breath and returned to my normal posture.

Mercifully, after another agonizing 15 minutes of shame, the class ended and I returned home.

I was staring at the ceiling in the dark, listening to Passenger, when I realized that that Ree girl was going to kill me one day.

Whether it be with her own two hands in battle (or not in battle, or with a weapon instead, or with poison…) or by driving me mad, the golden-eyed girl would be lethal to me somehow.

I roll over and my eyes adjust to the darkness. I grab a glass of water and I’m about to take a sip when-

tap tap tap.

The water spills all over. Quickly and hastily, I clean it up with a t-shirt on my floor and investigate the tapping noise.

tap tap tap. Again.

I wonder…

Could it be?

Don’t get your hopes up, Max, I tell myself, even though I shouldn’t be hoping at all.

I head out to my window, the one with the metal fire escape I call The Balcony. Slowly, just enough so I might see a pair of legs. I feel a rush when I do see legs- two perfect, curvy, skinny-jean clad legs and brown Ugg boots. Too excited to wait, I throw the window open all the way. My jaw drops.

“Ree?”