When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 6: 06 - Criminal versus Cutie

“So,” I smirked, revelling in the completely bored and put out expression on his face, “shift’s over. You

proficient in pottery yet?”

After re-shelving and updating the log, I spent the rest of my shift scrolling through my phone while

pretending to be studying a really boring book on ancient Chinese civilisations so my coworker wouldn’t

ask about Masked Idiot. It was obvious she was dying to but for the time being, I didn’t have a proper

explanation for his presence. Oh, he’s just a criminal who’s stalking me, ignore him wouldn’t have

worked for obvious reasons. Until I had a workable reason, the plan was to avoid any such questions.

He grunted an unintelligible sound, snapping the book shut as he lazily forced himself to his feet.

“Where to now?” he inquired.

“Home but first, I have to see a few friends.”

“Fine.”

I would never admit it out loud but I was decidedly the worst person to stalk. Not in the ‘she’s so

spontaneous it’s hard to keep track of her’ way but in the ‘she’s so routine it’s unbelievably boring’ way.

My life was the definition of mundane. Boring. If there was an award for most boring lifestyle, I’d win it.

My after school jobs comprised of tutoring, working at the library, volunteering at an elderly home -

though I said my goodbyes to them a few days ago-, and the highlight, writing articles for a family

owned digital magazine. The magazine was the only remotely fun job I had and even then, all I had to

do was write my articles and send them to my aunt, the editor-in-chief.

The magazine started out as a childhood project between my mom and her sister but it ended up

getting a lot more popular than they expected so they expanded, and expanded, and expanded. Until it

grew so big it became my aunt’s full time job. My mom contributed for as long as she could but, as a

high powered attorney, she wasn’t exactly swimming in free time. She was no longer actively involved

in running in the magazine thanks to her tasking job. It was, in many ways, a blessing in disguise. As

soon as I was old enough, I got roped into writing for the younger audience and I didn’t want to imagine

how much harder that would be if my hard-to-please mother had to sign off on my articles too. Olly also

got roped in a few years after I did but unlike when I started out, she got to choose her own topics and

theme right off the bat. I was kind of jealous. She got to write on most of the interesting things. Tattoos.

Biker jackets. Piercings. The grunge wave. I was stuck with the more mundane topics like hair care,

how best to style plaid, wedding dos and don’ts. You get the picture. Anyway, the point was, Masked

Idiot was going to be bored out of his mind following me around. My life was as interesting as a senile

eighty year old with five cats. He’ll figure it out soon enough.

“My car is out back. Did you drive here?”

“Bike,” he muttered.

“Tail me.”

I didn’t wait for a reply or nod of agreement. If he couldn’t, that was his problem and honestly, I’d prefer

it that way. I wasn’t exactly leaping with joy at the prospect of being stalked so I definitely wasn’t going

to make it easier for him. I was being stalked. Stalked. S. T. A. L. K. E. D. By a criminal. A legit criminal.

A criminal who I knew was a criminal. The kind that under normal circumstances I would’ve turned over

to the cops. The kind I normally would never be associated with. Not that I would normally be

associated with any type of criminal. I was the poster child for all things good. The ace of good kids all

over the world. Well, I used to be. Now, I was covering for a criminal. Harboring one. There was

something really wrong somewhere. This was not how my senior year was supposed to end. This was

nowhere close to how it was meant to go. It was meant to be smooth sailing with no surprises

whatsoever. I hated surprises. Olly and I were supposed to go to the arena, watch a couple of matches,

get boxing out of Olly’s system and move on. Never look back. Never be reminded of the escapade. I

was not supposed get lost, get home late and to top it off, get my own personal criminal/stalker.

With a wave at the guy taking over from me, I exited through the backroom.

It wasn’t until I was in my ‘respectable’ sedan that I realized how wound up I was.

I didn’t need this. I couldn’t afford Masked Idiot and all the trouble he came with. I didn’t sign up for this.

This was not part of any plan whatsoever. If my mom, with her millions of spies that a select group of

mothers seem to have, found out...

I shuddered, cutting off that line of thought.

“Shit,” I hissed quietly, slapping my palm against the steering wheel. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Each word that left my lips was accompanied by a slap on the steering wheel. Needless to say, my

hands were now smarting. Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“Okay.” I exhaled optimally. “Stop it.”

I steeled my spine and straightened my shoulders. Time to move on. Then, as though three seconds

ago I wasn’t exhibiting less than sane behaviour, I started the engine and backed out of the parking lot.

I could do this. I could totally do this. I had to. There was no other choice. I had to roll with the situation

and hopefully, find my way around it in time. Bring an end to it. I could do it. I was me after all. I was

smart, a fixer. I would fix this soon enough. For now, I just had to breathe. And think. Think, Avy. What

now?

Leverage! I needed leverage. Something to hold over his head. Something strong enough to get him to

back off because if it wasn’t good enough, a failed blackmail attempt would only make him more

suspicious and more determined to stick with me. Until I had something of that calibre, the only thing I

could do was keep my plan under wraps and let him have his way. Show him I was in no way a threat.

That the last thing I wanted was to be involved in anything even remotely sketchy. Let him think he was

in control.

I hated my options. Option blackmail didn’t suck so much but I had nothing on him besides the fact that

he was a criminal. I couldn’t use that without implicating myself. Besides, that particular info had

already proved to be useless on the blackmailing front when I tried to get him to leave with the threat of

calling the cops. I needed better, more concrete material before going down that road again. Option

two, on the other hand, sucked for all the obvious reasons. It involved me opening my life to a criminal,

basically welcoming him with open arms. Giving him way too much sensitive information about me.

While I didn’t think he was a murderer, one could never really tell. He beat people up for a living. Killing

them was only a step away.

I sighed wearily.

Nothing was going my way these days. I needed to play it safe for the meantime and subtly fish for any

information I could use against him. I had no other choice.

I was meeting two friends at a diner to finalize our plans for an upcoming debate. I was to be the main

speaker, obviously. Unfortunately, Masked Idiot managed to follow me despite the traffic and my sharp

turns. I watched as he parked, eyeing his bike with both curiosity and disdain. Daredevils and

delinquents rode bikes. The exact opposite of the type of people my parents would approve of. He

really was tailor made to ruin my life.

I sighed, wiping my face clean of the disapproving expression as he walked up to me. Without a word, I

spun on my heel and walked into the establishment where the two girls were already waiting at a table.

“Hey.” I slid into the only free seat at the table and gestured for Masked Idiot to pull up a chair.

“Hi.”

“You’re right on time.”

“Is it ready?” I asked, getting straight to business.

Even though I was asking, in my mind it was a forgone conclusion that it was ready. Sure, I only made

the corrections earlier today and gave it back but it had been a few hours since then. More than

enough time for them to rework it. I’d have them replaced if it wasn’t ready. They knew that.

With a curious appraising glance directed at Masked Idiot, the two girls wordlessly slid two printouts to

me. In my mind’s eye, I pictured what they were seeing; his tousled ‘I styled it at some point but it won’t

stay put’ hair, the expensive looking jacket, the plain white tee shirt he had on underneath, the not

aesthetically unpleasing face and his light shadow of a beard. It was clear when their expectant gazes

turned to me, practically salivating for an introduction, that where I saw ‘criminal’ in big bold block

letters, they saw a relatively cute boy with passable fashion sense. Yes, I was that petty.

I ignored their gazes, pointedly scanning the words on the printout while they tensely waited.

“Better.” I gave my verdict, sliding the printouts back to the respective owners. “Based on what I’ve

read, Emily should go second. Martha, you’re last.”

They shared a look that was both relieved and worried.

“I’m usually last,” Emily ventured tentatively.

“I’m aware.” I nodded. The ‘so?’ was wordlessly but loudly implied.

“We’re... It’s our... system. It’s the way we work,” she voiced, an unsure smile on her face.

I rarely ever participated in internal debates. Everyone in the club liked to joke that it was because I

was proud and it probably was true but also, I didn’t really see the point. I was only taking part in this

one as a favor to the teacher in charge of the team. It was to be the last debate for the session and he

claimed really wanted to see me in action one last time before I jetted off to college. Emily and Martha,

on the other hand, most likely only ever got to see the light of day during internal debates so they have

a ‘system’.

“Worked,” I corrected. “Past tense. Eric is gunning for us. It’s flattering. He’s never beaten me before

but now that he has Ralph on his team, he’s convinced it’s his chance.” I met their gazes squarely.

“We’re better off with my arrangement.”

“You’re the boss,” Martha acquiesced, struggling to wipe the dissatisfaction off her face.

“Okay. If you say so.” Emily nodded slowly.

I allowed myself a small smirk. There was one reason they didn’t contest my judgment. One reason

they didn’t argue to vote despite outnumbering me. One reason everyone always deferred to me.

Because I was always right. I always won. I was Avyanna Johnson. I was just that good. At least, I still

had that going for me now that my other superpower had failed.

I flashed a scowl in Masked Idiot’s direction. Asshole.

“Who’s he?” Martha asked, smiling coyly.

“Hmm?” My eyebrows furrowed reflexively as I tried to smoothen out the scowl that thinking of Masked

Idiot had put on my face.

She flashed me a quizzical frown.

“Right!” I pasted on a smile, nodding emphatically to cover up my blunder. Of course, she was referring

to the source of all my current headaches who was, at the moment, sporting an amused smirk that I

somehow knew had nothing to do with the request for an introduction and everything to do with the

conversation prior to it. If we didn’t have an audience, I’d be seriously tempted to slap the look off his

face. Heck, I might still give in to the temptation, audience or not.

“These are friends from the debate team, Martha and Emily,” I said, gesturing to one then the other.

“And this is...” I trailed off, a frown marring my face as I realized I didn’t know his name.

I more or less agreed to let him stalk me but I never thought to ask his name. Wow. That was a dumb

move for me. You’re losing your touch, Avy. I wondered apathetically, in a distant part of my mind, if his

stupid was rubbing off on me. The thought made me shudder. That was the last thing I needed.

Anything related to him, besides his sudden -and preferably violent- death, was the last thing I needed.

“Ian,” he supplied, leaning forward as he flashed an all-encompassing smile that was so obviously

supposed to charm the pants off them.

It worked. I couldn’t not roll my eyes. It was so typical, so clichéd I could barf.

“Ian,” I echoed, with a smile on my face as though I’d known all along. Now all I need was his last name

so I could start investigating. I had a female friend who could track down just anybody on social media

platforms.

“Very, very nice to meet you.” He beamed, laying the charm on really thick.

I tried not to let my face scrunch up in repulsion. Was the second ‘very’ really necessary?

“I have to run,” I said with the smile still firmly in place. “Memorize your debate.”

“Let’s go,” I said to Ian as I rose to my feet.

The second we were out of the restaurant and more importantly, out of their line of sight, I stop and

faced Masked Idiot.

“What was that?” I demanded.

“What was what?” he parroted warily, sporting a startled look.

I wasn’t buying the act.

“You clearly have something in your head about Martha and Emily. Spit it out.”

“What makes you think so?” He leaned back on his heels, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans

as he tried and failed to seem causal and uninterested. To goad me. Like I was that easy.

I rolled my eyes.

“It was all over your face. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” I hissed.

“I’ll hold my peace.” He glared.

“Fine.” I matched his glare. “I’m heading home to study. For my finals. Or do you plan on coming along

for that too?” I sneered. “Should I add possible child molester to your already very colorful rap sheet?”

It was a trick that hadn’t failed me yet. It wasn’t fool proof but it worked on most people. I’d drive the

person up a wall and just when they’re about to decide they’d had enough of me, I’d imply that staying

was something that they would not only find boring but would also paint them in a bad light. It made

them feel like it was their idea to leave all along because all they remember at the end of the day is the

anger when they stalked off and the option of staying being on the table. It’s a trick I picked up from my

dad. I fell prey to it a number of times and later gotten in trouble for leaving or doing whatever it is I had

been manipulated into doing. It took me a while to figure it out and know what signs to guard against

but since then, it had come in handy a lot. It was a very effective way of making people believe they

came to certain decisions on their own even though I actively manipulated them into it.

“I do plan on following you home,” he said.

If I had been eating, I would have choked. Heck, if I had been talking, I might have still choked on air.

“What?”

“I do,” he asserted calmly, holding my gaze.

If we weren’t in a public place, I would’ve killed him. Or at the very least, maimed him. Broken his nose

a little. Dislocated a joint or two. Bruised up his face just a bit. Unfortunately, I had to settle for a well-

aimed kick to the shin. Thankfully, my shoes had wooden platforms that made it all the more painful.

His face scrunched up in pain as he crouched, hugging his leg.

“What the hell!”

“Let’s go,” I smiled innocently, all cherubic. “You know the drill, tail me.”

I took two steps towards my car before realization dawned me.

“You already know my address.”

Despite the smile on my face, I found myself suppressing a shudder. A criminal knew my address. I

wasn’t mentally prepared to handle any of this. He was a criminal for heaven’s sake. One who wanted

to follow me around for heaven knew how long. It was suddenly a little harder to breathe.

As I drove the familiar path home, I told myself to react better, healthier.

Objectively speaking, I knew how I had gotten into this mess but how did I get into this mess? I’d lived

my whole life as the good kid. The good student. The good employee. The good everything. How did

this happen? I had an actual criminal stalking me and I agreed to let him. Clearly, I was losing my mind.

A violent shudder ran down my spine shaking my hands off the steering wheel for a second. They went

back on immediately. I couldn’t imagine what my parents would say if I had an accident. I would never

hear the end of it. My entire driving career, I’ve had one near-miss and even now, over a year later I

was still bearing the punishment. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I actually

embarrassed them by legitimately being in an accident.

“What’s done is done,” I whispered in the silent car. “Adapt, Avyanna.”

I had to accept it and keep him away from anyone who could tell my parents about it until our

agreement was over. If I could manage that, this whole arrangement wouldn’t blow up in my face. I just

needed to keep him from my parents and family friends so no following me to the Davidsons’ or any of

the other tutoring gigs I landed through my parents and no going t-- Oh shit!

As I came to the chilling realization that I hadn’t given him instructions to hide himself from my nosey

neighbor, fear squeezed my heart so tightly that I wondered if I was having a heart attack. It wasn’t so

farfetched given everything else that had happened so far. The odds of accidentally bringing home a

known criminal who would then proceed stalk me were astronomically lower than that of a heart attack

but it happened anyway. While I was all for beating the odds, it was definitely not these kinds of odds.

I pulled into my neighborhood and parked along the sidewalk, taking deep breaths to calm myself as I

waited for him to pull up next to me. He did soon enough. He alighted from his bike and rapped a single

knuckle on my window. I drew in one more deep breath to steady myself before pressing the button to

roll the window down.

“Don’t let anyone see you. You snuck in successfully last night. Do it again. My neighbors can’t see you

or that bike,” I said in a tone that sounded hollow even to my ears.

I wondered in a distant part of my mind if this was how people passively became accomplices to

crimes. Objectively speaking, at this point, I qualified as one. If he got busted, he could name me as an

accomplice and I’d get locked up too. Think happy thoughts. Or at least, less depressing ones. Without

waiting for a reply, I pressed the button once more, on autopilot and restarted the engine.

‘Home sweet home’ was the farthest thing from my mind when I arrived.