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Damian counts all the way to three before he spits out, with all the spite he can muster, “This is all your fault, you—you idiot!”
He watches as Anya starts wriggling on the spot, push broom in hand. Hmm. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to be calling her names when she’s holding something that could be a weapon.
“Oh!” Anya exclaims, instantly dropping the broom. “My fault? I—um… you—you’re right.”
Huh? Damian wasn’t expecting her to agree with him. He’d had a whole list of other insults to add on to that, but now it doesn’t really seem right. He lets out a huff and turns away from her to study their surroundings.
This is so stupid. If it weren’t for Ewen going too far to call Anya names, and Damian stepping in to take the blame for it for some unknown reason, none of this would’ve happened. And to avoid getting a Tonitrus Bolt, they’d had to stay for cleanup after gym. Except George Glooman, of all people, had sprung toward the storage room probably too eager to go home, then before either of them knew what was happening, the door had rumbled shut, plunging them into near-total darkness.
Why did he jump in to defend the Forger girl in the first place? Really, what’s wrong with him? It was such a stupid thing, and yet it seems like that was all it took for Damian to get himself in such a… a mortifying situation with that little—
“Stop staring, you—” Damian starts, but when he turns, it’s like his tongue stopped working completely. Anya is staring at him, tilting her head curiously with her eyes all big. She bites her lip and Damian is kind of mesmerised by the sight, but then he gets a grip on himself. Good grief! What’s he doing, noticing something like that at a time like this. “Quit it!”
“Wasn’t staring,” Anya says firmly, and her eyes shoot downward. “I… can’t really see anything.”
Right. It’s kind of dark in here. “Whatever. Just keep to your side, got it? They’ll realise soon enough that we’re gone.”
Anya does the exact opposite—she sidles up to him even more closely. Her shoulder is practically digging into his left arm, and her ridiculous hair is prickling at the skin on his neck. Damian finds himself clenching his fists, and his face is burning all of a sudden. His heart is pounding so loudly that he thinks she might actually be able to hear it. For some reason he still can’t find it in him to move, and he’s about to tell her to get off him when he notices her shaking.
“H—hey!” Damian blurts. “What’s with you?”
“It’s kinda hard to breathe,” Anya mumbles. “Is all the air gone in here? Is it like in space?”
Damian takes about three seconds to process what she’s just asked. “Are you claustrophobic?”
“Claus-what? You mean, am I Santa Claus? I don’t think so.”
“No, it’s a type of fear.” Damian’s trying very hard not to laugh. “Like, you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared!” Anya shoves him roughly. “Sy-on boy, you’re the one who’s scared!”
Damian seriously doubts it, because right after Anya pushes him, her hands are quickly scrambling around to grab onto something. By now, the strip of light from underneath the storage room door is just bright enough so that Damian can see her face, contorted with an actual terrible fear, and it takes him aback.
“Don’t freak out,” he says, and then feels super lame right after. “Just, uh, breathe.”
Anya starts to laugh, but it comes out a lot more like a strangled sob. Her breaths are becoming shorter, and okay, Damian is the one who’s kind of freaking out now. He tries pushing the door with his foot, but it doesn’t budge one bit. Where the heck is everyone? How has everyone already left? Didn’t anyone notice they were gone at all?
“Am I gonna die?” Anya asks, and her candid tone pinches something in Damian’s chest. “Sy-on boy, I can’t die yet! My Papa and Mama need me!”
“Shut up, you’re not gonna die!” Damian retorts. “Don’t be stupid!”
He walks past her and starts pounding on the door. It’s met with silence, and Damian very seriously considers kicking it down. (At this very thought, he thinks he hears Anya chuckle.) Now with every passing second, the air in the room starts to feel hotter. And the more quiet it gets, the louder Anya’s breaths sound, and the more he’s freaking out. If Anya actually faints and loses consciousness right here in the storage room, he wouldn’t know what to—
A sudden gasp breaks his thoughts. He glances over at Anya and notices her eyes watering. Oh, no.
“I don’t wanna faint!” Anya cries out. “I don’t wanna lose my con-shush-ness! You gotta help me!”
“Okay, okay, geez.” Damian holds his palms out to try and calm her down. “Look, it’s gonna be fine.”
“You sure?” Anya steps closer to him, only a little bit, and does something that throws him—she reaches for his hands and grasps them in hers. Her hands are kind of sweaty, and her fingernails dig into his knuckles, and they’re really, really warm. “You sure we’re gonna be fine, Sy-on boy?”
Damian forgets his name for just a moment, and fully believes it’s Sy-on Boy Desmond. He gives her a stiff nod. “Y—yeah. Promise.”
At once, Anya brightens. Her eyes light up and she gasps again, cheerfully this time. She starts muttering a string of excited yays and thank-yous, like he’s just told her he’s found a way to break down the door. She’s practically bursting, like an explosion of energy—like the whiz she had been at their dodgeball game—and it dazzles him. Only a little bit.
Slowly, Anya lowers both their hands together, still smiling at him. Now Damian’s the one who can’t find his breath, and he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. His brain is all fuzzy now, and he’s not sure what it is, but he doesn’t really hate it. He’s just glad Anya isn’t freaking out anymore.
“Since we’re gonna be here for who knows how long, I got something to tell you.” Anya lifts one of her hands up to her chest and sighs all serious. “I… have a c—con-fesh-shun.”
Damian’s really freaking out now, thinking about all the possible things she might want to say. If she tells him she… she… argh, he can’t even consider it! He’ll have to say no. A girl like Anya Forger isn’t someone he should want, let alone have! After everything his dad has done to build Damian up… just for him to let it crash and burn for some common girl? It just isn’t right!
“I’m not age kwol-luh-fyd for Eden,” Anya mutters. “I’m not six years old. I’m… just a little kid!”
“Huh?” Damian thinks he hears something falling, somewhere in his chest. “What’re you talking about?”
“I lied ‘bout my age so I could go to this school!” She twirls a strand of her hair round her fingers nervously, staring at the floor, and it is suddenly all Damian can focus on right now. “I’m not just ugly uggo, I’m a lying liar too!”
“Tch. Who cares?” Damian says, scoffing. “Lots of kids lied about their age before to get in. If anything, it means you’re really smart, since you passed the entrance exam.”
The words leave his mouth first before his brain gets to catch up. Uh-oh. Too late. Damian hears the first ba-dump in his chest, and then it gets ultra topsy-turvy from there. His heart starts racing. Damian settles, cross-legged, hands on his knees, hunched toward the floor so he won’t have to look at Anya. His face is so hot that he feels it all around him in the air, too.
“SY-ON BOY!” Anya exclaims, and it only makes Damian grasp his knees more tightly. “You think I’m smart?”
“No!” Damian bursts, and his heart starts beating even louder. “‘Course not!”
Damian slumps forward and buries his face in his hands, willing his face to cool down. He can’t bring himself to look at Anya, probably ever again. He can hear the smug chuckle from her, and it sends his mind into a complete frenzy.
This is all that Forger girl’s fault! She probably tricked me into complimenting her… but that would mean she’s smart enough to trick me in the first place! Which she totally isn’t! Argh, what a pain! She’ll pay for this… I won’t let her think she’s won just yet. And then slowly I’ll work my way to win her heart… but then if she crushes it, I’ll go back to calling her names! So she knows how it feels! But… I don’t want to hurt her, and I don’t want to see her crying again! I can’t—
“Stop!” Anya cries out. Her hands are pressed up against her ears. “Just stop thinking!”
Damian blinks at her. Is this another sign of her claustrophobia? “Huh? Are you okay?”
“You’re so loud, Sy-on boy!” And with that, she sways a little, before toppling to the floor. “And I don’t get it at all! Are you nice or mean? Do you like me or do you hate me? Which one is it!”
“WH—WHAT?” Damian falls back onto the floor. His heart starts racing again, and he feels all the blood drain from his face. “How do you…”
“Um, I have another con-fesh-shun!” Anya mutters. She’s still lying on the floor, breathing hard. Damian notices that her face has broken out in a sweat, and it’s red all over. “I can read—!”
Time seems to stop then, and Damian feels kind of responsible to voice out his own confession, so in the same breath he mutters, “I… I like—!”
The storage room door slides open, and the outside air blows in like a calling from heaven. Coach Bobby throws a glance across the room, then three other heads—Ewen, Emile and the Blackbell girl—pop up next to him. Anya lets out a long groan, and crawls out of the room.
“Anya! Are you okay? Oh, I’m so glad you’re still alive!” Becky Blackbell says. “Mr. Forger was so worried sick, you know! So’s Mrs. Forger, but oh, you should have seen the look on Mr. Forger’s face when I told him I didn’t know where you were! He looked so-oooo upset, it broke my heart!”
“Becky,” Anya croaks, lifting a finger to her friend’s mouth, “shh.”
Becky looks stricken for a moment, then helps Anya walk across the gymnasium without another word.
Damian, on the other hand, is still processing what just happened in the last five minutes before Coach Bobby found them. Damian takes a deep breath, and stares after Anya as she teeters away. As soon as she and Becky reach the gymnasium doors, Anya turns her head round to face him. She gives him a smile, warm and wide—and not the least bit smug. And Damian nearly loses his balance all over again.
“Boss man, you good?” Emile asks, clapping him on the back. “Must’ve been torture being stuck with her, huh!”
“Yeah,” Ewen snickers, “did she cry like a little baby? Bet she did!”
“You guys,” Damian says firmly, “shut up.”