Wintercrest Academy

Recordings

Every last nerve Kaia had; Shira made sure to strike it with her passive aggressive statements. “Ugh, is it just me or is it stuffy in here? It feels like poverty.” “Hey, scholarship kid! Someone messed the bathroom up. Isn’t it poor people’s jobs to clean up toilets?” “Do my assignment and I’d give you $5. I know life is hard for you. Rich people are good people because they help the needy.”

           These words are like lead in her blood, poisonous. As much as they hurt, she avoids retaliating. That’d just start a drama and she’s determined to keep her school life routine and simple. But Shira was a charming magnet. She drew people to her side wherever she went. And most people at Wintercrest were metal and pliable to Shira’s demands. Kaia began to notice meaner behaviours from the students, it sucked.

           “Oh, I will break her in two halves! Who the heck is she?!” Cliché had been red with anger when Kaia told her about the situation with Shira.

           “The daughter of a hot shot real estate broker, that’s who.” Kaia sighed and slumped into the fluffy chair she got from IKEA.

           “I don’t care if she’s the daughter of Jeff Bezos! How can someone have such a filthy mouth? Forget about her, turtle. You’re not poor, don’t let her get into your head.”

           “She’s already there. She just . . .” Kaia paused to take deep, coordinated breaths. “she reminds me of her. And I don’t want to remember her.” Her last sentence was brusque.

           “I know. I’m sorry,” Cliché grasps Kaia’s hands. “Even though we both know you can’t exactly forget about her. You’re a part of each other. She’s your—”

           “I need dark chocolate. Works for my brain and helps me calm down so . . . two birds one chocolate.” She dashed out of the room unwilling to have any part of the conversation. She had managed to escape the dark shadows of her past that suffocated her. Right now, she isn’t sure if that escape is permanent. It’s slowly resurfacing with even sharper claws.

                                                                       ****

           Kaia shares the same love her Dad does for food, so of course, she joined the Baking Club. Their Club Counsellor, Mr Damien, who has the theatrics of a Broadway actor supervises keenly as they mix ingredients and grease pans in preparation for baking a flourless chocolate cake. “We can have junk, but the healthy way,” Mr Damien had said when he announced that they would be doing a lot of healthy baking this semester.

           They get to work, focusing on melting butter, stirring batter and preheating ovens. Maybe it’s the sweetness and the joy of baking that makes Kaia feel like this, but she’s a little at ease in the Baking Club. The students don’t stare at her awkwardly and pass snide remarks. They just ask her to pass the espresso powder, or whisk the eggs cause she’s proficient with baking. The entire thing is therapeutic for her. Kind of.

           “Okay, bakers! See you next week. Remember to come with different recipes for healthy ice cream next week! Thank you for coming to my class today!”

           Kaia coughs out a small laugh as she leaves the class. Why does he have to talk so loudly? As she fishes her bag for her trusted headphones, she bumps into someone. Or someone bumps into her? She looks up anyway. Shira.

           “SK, you’re just the peach I was looking for.” Shira’s smug smile sits on her lips like a facial feature and Kaia feels the light burn of anger inside her that only Shira can incite.

           “Don’t call me that.” Kaia keeps her voice levelled.

           “Why not?” Shira laughs. “It’s creative. Fun! Scholarship kid, SK. Give me some credit.”

           Kaia scans the hallway. Empty. Most people are still in one class or the other and her fellow bakers had just breezed past them. Shira is looking for trouble, she always is. but Kaia isn’t ready to give her the privilege of winning this one. She had been physical with her once, and that would be the last time. She was thankful Miss Celine didn’t send her to detention. Her almost perfect record couldn’t be tainted.

           “What do you want, Shira? If you have nothing to say, excuse me.”

           “Ouuuu, tough, aren’t ya? I’d be quick. You probably have some broke people thing to do. Stop doing too much in class.”

           The words are a hot slap on Kaia’s cheek. “What?” she manages

           “Answering all the questions, making teachers act like you’re some puppy, showing off how smart you are. Stop all of it. You’re a newbie. Bren has always been Wintercrest’s genius kid. You already broke his entrance record and that’s enough. Whenever you’re in class, keep your mouth shut. Don’t say more things than Bren does.  Don’t get all the attention. That’s simple, isn’t it?

           Ridiculous! Absolutely, stupidly ridiculous! Kaia bursts out laughing, sticking her forefinger into her ears to be sure she heard clearly. “What?” Shira opens her mouth to talk but Kaia cuts her right off. “Are you insane? Is this a joke? What are you? Bren’s servant? Did he ask you to do this?”

           Shira’s smug smile falters and a flash of hurt crosses her face briefly. “I’m his best friend.”

           “Hard to see.” It isn’t. Wherever Bren was, Kaia had noticed that Shira was there too. Sometimes with Rosco and the wild haired girl, but mostly just the two of them.

           “They should have been joined at the hips with how often they’re around each other. Shira becomes twice as ferocious when it involves Bren,” Love had remarked.

           “Yep. They’re pretty tight.” Alex agreed.

           “They have something other than friendship. I’m very sure of it. Maybe they’re secretly betrothed to each other.” Charlie added, but Alex and Love dismissed her silliness.

           Kaia doesn’t care about any of that.

 “How can you ask me to tone down my contribution in class? Do you realize how messed up that sounds?”

           Shira’s about to retort and then her eyes flicker up. At the same time, Kaia feels an arm drape around her shoulder. The pineapple and musk scent are familiar. Adan.

           “Hey, Shira. Shouldn’t you be in class?” Kaia looks up at him in time to catch his million, no, billion-dollar smile.

           “I’m done,” She answers.

           “What about you, little K?” He shifts his gaze down to Kaia’s. “You’re done too?”

           “Yes.”

           “Perfect, let’s go to the gym. You promised to watch me practice today.”

           Kaia observes the seething rage on Shira’s face and now, it’s her to turn to serve Shira a smug smile. “Sure. Let’s go.” And with Adan’s arm still casually around her like a large, warm blanket, they waltz past Shira.

           “Is she bothering you?” Adan finally asks after shooting a couple hoops. He wipes his glistening sweat off with a face towel and takes a seat beside her.

           “No, student leader. She is not.”

           Adan watches her intently, as if reading a book. “You can tell me if anyone at all is bothering you. You know that, right?”

           Of course, I do. But she won’t. She’s very much thankful for Adan, but she doesn’t want him to always be a help. He kind of is a bubble of protection for her already, along with his friends. That’s enough for her. At least she has people to talk with at lunch. She doesn’t want to push it further. Adan would come to her rescue anytime she needed it, but she shouldn’t be leaning on him so much.

           “Don’t worry, I’m not going to punch her in the face. I only grabbed her collar, that’s the most I can do.”

           Adan scoffs. “Yeah, sure. I’m so worried that you’re going to beat her to a pulp.” His words drip with sarcasm and Kaia bumps his damp shoulders.

           “Shut up and go back to practice.”

           “You smell like sugar. And”—he sniffs her a little— “vanilla?”

           “Good boy.” She ruffles his hair, lovely and butter soft between her fingers, like a little pup. “Now go back to practice. Make me proud.”

           He tsks, but he does. And as Kaia records him on her phone, with his squeaking shoes, flexing biceps and eyes focused on the ball and net, she forgets about Shira for a little while.

                                                           ****

           Bren stops to change the song on his Spotify music playlist. Again. Sharp, short breaths rush out of his mouth, he’s been running for 30 minutes. He combs his hand through his silky dark brown hair streaked with caramel highlights and contemplates whether to listen to Justin Bieber or Jon Bellion. He’s not in the mood for anything, really.

           Hey kiddo! His older sister and only sibling, Willow sends a text with a face wearing sunglasses emoji.

           Running. Talk later. He sends back and she immediately replies with a running emoji. He slips his phone back into his armband and resumes his activity. His music is turned off and so his mind turns on. The guest of the day, Kaia Mahoe.

           His speculations were right. Shira handling Kaia today hadn’t gone as planned, because freaking Student Council President Adan came out of nowhere to pull her away. He had worked hard to be where he was. Nights and days of doing literally nothing but studying, never having much friends as a younger child because his parents said friends would distract him, hanging sticky notes everywhere in his room just so he can study at any time. His life, heck, his existence revolves around his academia excellence, and Kaia was taking that away from him. Not for long. He’d make sure of that.

           He takes a bend past the route that should normally lead him back to the café where he stops to rest before heading home. Coach says shaking up your routine is good sometimes. He might as well try it today. At least running is something Kaia isn’t competing with him for. Or is that something she can do too? He huffs. No way. He’s the best runner in school, and has brought home many medals: local and interstate. No freaking way Kaia can beat that.

           He slows down in front of a cluster of similar, brick red apartment buildings to catch his breath. Sitting on the stairs, he downs water and pours the rest in his hair to cool out. An hour, this is the most he’d run on a school night. Impressive. Dad would flip, but whatever. A delivery motorcycle revs, parks at the other side of the street and the rider comes down. He opens, oh wait, she­—those hips couldn’t belong to a boy— opens the delivery box, takes out something and hops up to stairs to knock. How hasn’t she taken off her helmet?

           A pang of jealousy hits Bren. He’s always wanted to learn to drive a motorcycle, but Mum had said “it’s too dangerous baby,” and Dad outrightly forbade the idea of it. Lucky girl, he mused. The door opens and she finally takes off the helmet. She hands the bag to the man who opened the door, collects payment and heads back to her motorcycle.

           Crap! Oh, crap, crap, crap! Kaia Mahoe. She is a delivery girl? Her powder blue shirt has the inscription ‘Big K’ like the one on the card Mr Ariel was holding when he walked in on them at AP Bio lab. She works part time at Big K as a delivery girl? Wow, he couldn’t imagine doing that, or anyone at Wintercrest for that matter.

           He watches as she stretches a little, smoothens out her full, honey braids and just before she puts the helmet back on, an idea hits him. He whips out his phone and hits record.