It Never Rains in Colombia (9 page)

             
“A little bird told me your phone broke, so I thought you might need this. I put my number in. Call me : )  – R.” As if she hadn't been confused enough, now she didn't know what to think.

             
What does he think, it's like 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?,' phone a friend?

             
That Thursday, her group met in the library, classes were cancelled to allow for group preparations. She'd swapped groups. Harlow made her way to the library, and for once she was on time. She found Mei and Jonathan sitting in the oak-panelled group study room around the giant mahogany desk at the centre of the room. It took up almost all the space. Mei and Jonathan were already deep in conversation when she came in.              

             
“Hey, guys.”

             
She took a seat next to Jonathan on the left side of the table. “Where's Patrick?” she asked absent-mindedly.

             
Jonathan scoffed, “I don't think he's coming.” Harlow was not surprised and she knew she wouldn't miss him. From what she'd seen of Patrick, she'd gathered that he was lazy and normally quite arrogant.

             
They began brainstorming for the history presentation and Patrick came barrelling in halfway through Harlow's idea.

             
“Sorry I’m late,” he said in a lilting Irish accent. He turned to Harlow, “Hey, Champ. Sorry, did I interrupt you?”

             
Ever since the Heavenly Ball, she'd been referred to as Boxer, Prize Fighter, One Punch, and K.O. as well as Assassin. 

             
“So what's the plan?” Patrick asked taking a seat across from her.

             
“Well…” Mei said, and she began explaining their ideas.

             
He listened politely, then shouted; “Snore. Scrap that! If we want to send people to sleep then that's what we should do,” he continued, cutting her off mid-sentence. Mei was left open-mouthed, like a fish choking on air.

             
“Do you have a better idea?” Harlow asked.

             
“Yes, Assassin, I do, and it will blow your mind.” He simulated the explosions with his hands and added off-putting sound effects.

             
She rolled her eyes at him, giving Mei a look.

             
After the group meeting, Harlow left the library with Mei.

             
“Don't get the wrong idea, it was nothing,” Harlow said. Mei had been trying to find out what was going on between her and Roberto.

             
Mei nodded slowly, “Well, as long as you know that. It's always been like that with Roberto,” Mei said carefully. “He's so nice to everyone that girls usually get their wires crossed.”

             
“Yeah, well, my wires are well and truly uncrossed.”

             
I really thought he liked me.

             
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Mei said, linking arms with her. “Don't worry, it could have been worse.”

             
“How?” Harlow asked unable to stop herself. “How could it possibly have been worse?”
He's the first person I ever liked enough to write a letter to. It seemed romantic at the time, now I just feel stupid.
“Why does every one love him so much? He's a complete asshole.”

             
Mei laughed. “I think you just chose the wrong day. I've never seen him like that before. Maybe he was in a bad mood or something.”

             
“Vicious,” Harlow said, feeling annoyed at the very thought of him, “you know, he tried to buy me off with a phone.”

             
Mei stopped in her tracks, dragging Harlow to a halt, making her feel that she'd said the wrong thing.

             
“Amy's not going to like that one bit.”

             
“What's it got to do with her? What is she, the Godfather or something? I'm tired of this school Mafia and their sinister hierarchies.”              

             
“I'm just telling you she'll give you hell for it. They've been going out for a couple of months now and she can be, well—let's just say she's the jealous type.”

             
Mei looked around the crowded hallway nervously, as if Amy would jump out and punch her in the stomach for conspiring against her. “Come on, let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

             
Harlow was reeling. “He has a girlfriend?”

             
Mei nodded, “Yup. You didn't know?” she surmised. “I thought it was brave of you to tell Roberto how you felt like that, but maybe next time do some reconnaissance. You know, ask around. Didn't he tell you?”

             
Harlow shrugged, “He said he wasn't seeing anyone.”

             
“Hmmm,” Mei considered, “maybe they broke up again. They're like the resident power couple, it was inevitable; Roberto fell for Amy the first time he saw her.”

             
“She is beautiful,” Harlow remarked grudgingly. It was hard to deny that Amy was attractive; she had an allure that proved irresistible to most of the boys at Rutherfords. 

             
“On the outside,” Mei said, clearing her throat surreptitiously.

             
“Sounds like they're made for each other,” Harlow said, trying to dampen the flicker of jealousy that had lit in her heart.
Friends,
she reminded herself,
just friends.

Chapter 8 - The Legend

                  As Christian rushed out of the college, he began to sweat.

             
I have to get myself together
, he thought, hooking his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. He walked slowly down the roads, unevenly, going only as fast as his heavy textbook-laden bag would allow. He heard the distant sound of angry shouting that became louder as he turned the corner. The shouting was coming from a large group of people across the road.

  
              “Shut up,” a girl shouted.

  
              A male voice cut in, “you need to watch your mouth.” 

  
He continued on the way to the train station passing the group.
This has nothing to do with me,
he thought.
I need to leave it alone.
As he walked, he heard a scream and knew something was not right. He had to find out.
Curiosity killed the cat,
he thought, then turned around heading toward the raucous noise.

 
              He saw a large gang of students dressed in Rutherfords’ uniforms but he didn't recognize their faces from where he stood at the edge of the road. They hadn't noticed him. A bus passed by. A girl jumped out of the way in time to avoid being punched.

   
              Christian rushed forwards.

  
The hands in the crowd pulled at her blazer.

   “
That's the one,” he heard a shrill voice call as he closed in on the group coming to its edges, he unhooked his thumbs from the bag straps. Pushing his glasses back on to the bridge of his nose, he saw Amy and almost walked away.

 
              “Let her go,” Amy shouted.

  
              “What's it to you?” the man asked.

  
              “I'm a prefect,” she announced indignantly. She spoke as if she were Judge Dredd and she'd said “I am the Law!” expecting the man to fall back in fear.

  
              The mysterious men and women laughed. One almost keeled over holding her stomach.

  
              “Oooh.” The man taunted her. “What you gonna do, give me detention?” He grabbed the struggling girl by the neck, as if to make the point,
What can you do? See? You're nobody.

                Christian tried to see who was being held through the crowd of heads in front of him. He gasped unintentionally when he saw her. Those nearest to him began to stare strangely at his face as he burst through the crowd, shrugging his backpack off as he went and shoved his way through the crowd to the centre of the group.

  
              “That's enough!” he boomed angrily.

  
              “Who the hell's this guy?”

  
              He looked older than Christian and towered over him menacingly. He was well built. His rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed the tightly clenched muscles of his forearms, twice the size of Christian's arms. Christian had the build of a gangly seventeen-year-old, tall and athletic, somebody who had yet to grow to his full potential.

  
              “This has nothing to do with you,” the man said eyeing him, giving him a reprieve. Christian knew he couldn't leave.

                “Let her go.”

             
   Christian shoved the man aside and he lost grip of Mei's neck. She stumbled backwards coughing and brought a hand up to her throat. Christian took a hard blow to the head. Reeling in shock from the punch, he relied on his instincts. The tall man took a fresh swing at his face. He ducked just in time, tackling him to the ground before he could get another hit in. They struggled against each other, slamming punches into each other's bodies. A few seconds was all it took for Christian to gain the upper hand. He sat on the guy's chest, pinning him down, raising his fist to punch the guy he drew his elbow back. He saw the look of confusion and fear on the man's face before he raised his hands to protect his face. Suddenly the face seemed so familiar, made younger by fear and vulnerability. It was a student in the year above.

  
              “Please don't,” Vincent cried. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

  
              The sound of swift footsteps approaching reached him. Christian had a feeling of foreboding and jumped up just as something cracked on the back of his head. The hollow sound of glass smashing reached him only a millisecond later. His vision was blurred by dark spots and blinding stars. Rough hands dug into his shoulders. He stood up unevenly, staggering, almost tripping over the body of the gang leader. His head was knocked back by a swift punch. A pack of five men closed in on him.

   
              Hands grabbed him from different directions. He felt a surge of fear when he realised he was outnumbered, being pulled in different directions, kicked and punched. Pain coursed through him. Waves of adrenaline washed through his veins and he fought for his life. He struck out wildly as someone's foot dug into his rib cage, then a fist crunched into his neck. Another hand grabbed hold of his shirt. Christian grabbed onto the nearest body he could reach aiming a hard punch, at the overweight boy's head, then another and another. He shoved the boy back into his two friends, making them stumble backwards. He felt a kick in his lower back and turned around, swinging, fists first. His bony knuckles caught the jaw of the kicker, leaving him dazed. Another gang member lunged toward him. Christian rugby-tackled him; this time he remained on his feet when the large man fell to the ground, escaping the melee whilst confusion reigned. Dizzily, he became aware that one lens of his glasses was cracked all the way down to the frame, making it harder to see his attackers.

             
Mei grabbed his arm pulling him forwards. “Are you okay?” she asked, looking as stolid as always. Bruises in the shape of finger marks had begun to form around her neck, darkening into a hideous purple colour. They ran back the way he had come.

             
“I'm fine,” he replied breathlessly. Crowds of students on their way home began to pour into the road. Amy was gone. Christian looked back hastily. He found his bag on the road where he had left it and snatched it up. The gang members had dissipated into the crowd once Vincent had fallen. He could still see some lurking nearby, eyeing him wearily. Like a snake without a head, they lost their violent energy and milled through the road mixing with the other students, he began to forget their faces. Vincent staggered away from his five friends; pushing away the one that had come to his aid. Christian turned around, fully, eyeing Vincent's back wearily as he walked away.

              A few seconds later, as they made their way home, the air exploded with the obnoxious sound of roaring engines. A bright orange sports car burst around the corner at speed, almost hitting its fender on the curb of the road. It raced down the road toward them, followed by three other cars, in neon blue, green, and purple, scattering the crowd of students in the road. A boy jumped out of the way of the orange car's bonnet, as it skidded to a halt at the end of the road. Christian paused. Turning around, he saw the car parked outside a house. Vincent sat on the low brick wall, his face dark with rage. Four burly men were packed tightly in the first car. Vincent jumped down from the wall as the doors opened, and they got out. “Him!” he screeched, levelling an angry hand and running toward Christian and Mei. Christian grabbed Mei's hand and darted down the road. There was a chorus of clanging, metal on metal as car doors slammed shut. The heavy tramp of footsteps gained on them. His heart boomed in his chest, like a drum being banged in a cave. He had never moved so quickly in his life. Mei was faster, more sprightly, and at the end of two roads, he slowed down, panting, unable to go any farther.

             
“Go! Run!” he panted in a panic, waving Mei away from him.

             
She clutched onto his arm all the same. “No, come on,” she pressed as he slowed to a stop.

             
“You're faster without me,” he pleaded with her.

             
“I don't care. Let’s go,” she insisted, pulling his arm wilfully. “We're almost there.” He looked up into her bright eyes and realised she was right. The train station was a few metres away. It was either struggle for breath for the last few metres or stay here and wait to be, pulverised, pounded into the ground by these lunatics.

              They ran through the park straight to the station. When they rounded the corner to the station Mei stopped suddenly. “Wait.”

             
Christian, breathing hard now, looked up like a rabbit who hears a fox. His ears pricked up, body ready to fly at any moment.

             
There was nothing.

             
“Never mind,” Mei said nervously. “I thought I heard something.” Rounding the corner to the station, he half expected to see the shiny orange car waiting for him outside the entrance. He exhaled as relief rushed through him and they strolled casually through the barriers. The station was full of Rutherfords' students and ordinary folk going home. His oyster card beeped just as he heard the roaring of engines being tortured within an inch of their lives. They both turned back. The road was clear except for a few parked cars. They rushed down the stairs to the platform not waiting to see what or who would come searching for them. The train was still lingering at the platform. The doors beeped, impatiently, closing as they jumped into the carriage.

             
On the train, Christian waited patiently for Mei to sit down next to him. Her fingers traced the bruises on her neck lightly, almost as an afterthought. She said, “I was walking home and I saw them ahead of me. When I walked past, Vincent tripped me up and I told him off,” her voice was shaking. “Then he grabbed me. I think—I think Amy heard me shouting and came.” Tears fell into her lap. Her hand smudged the tears across her cheeks in an effort to wipe them away. Christian put an arm around Mei in the same way he would a hurt child and let her cry. “It's my big mouth,” she muttered. “I'm sorry I got you into this.”

             
“No, it's okay. Don't be sorry,” he countered. “I wish everyone were as brave as you. What makes that guy think he can push people around? It's outrageous,” he said.

             
Mei gave him a watery smile. “You got that from Harlow,” she said matter of factly, knowing that it was one of the things Harlow had said about Roberto and Amy pushing her into the lake.

             
Christian blushed. “No, it just popped into my head,” he replied clearing his throat. “He has no right,” Christian continued seriously.

             
Mei said, “He thinks he can do whatever he likes.”

             
Christian nodded in agreement as the train arrived at her stop. “Fortunately, he can't.”

             
When Christian got home, he collapsed on his bed, leaving the broken glasses by his bedside table.

              By the morning, Christian's face had swollen up. When he examined his reflection in the class window, he noticed blue and purple blotches around his jaw. The teacher droned on in the background and he turned away from his reflection to glance at Harlow. Evidently his injuries had gone unnoticed; she sat calmly listening to the teacher. From time to time, she would hurriedly jot down notes in her notebook. When the class was over, he went over to speak to her and saw her deep in conversation with Sophia; he realised this was not the time. When he entered the bustling hallway, he felt someone touch his shoulder.

             
“Christian,” the voice boomed. Patrick and his friends faced him with satisfied smiles. “Hey, man, is it true you beat up Vincent?”

             
Christian shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.”

             
“I told you,” James whispered to two of the boys next to him.

             
Patrick continued, “Whoa! I heard you took down the whole gang...eight guys!?”

             
Christian laughed, “Not quite.”

             
They began to walk with him down the hallway. “I think it was only five.”

             
“Shit!” James cried out. “Only five! This guy's a joker. You're like a Rutherfords’ superman. Nerd by day, ninja by night. I heard you were doing some mixed martial arts out there, high kicking, bicycle kicks, serious stuff.”

             
Christian couldn't help smiling, remembering his training with his cousin.

             
“What's your beef with Snakes?” Peter asked.