Alexandra’s Point of View

Bloody hell.

It was the last day of school, and Principal Turner was making his final-assembly-speech. It was the last day, and I guess I should’ve—well, everyone should’ve braced themselves for some last-minute havoc, but there was no way anyone could’ve foreseen what those idiots cooked up.

I should’ve known. I mean, I really should’ve known. They had been meeting together for the past two weeks in the most isolated spots in the school to discuss—well, it was pretty evident now what it was that they were discussing, because in the middle of Principal Turner’s speech, Gabe and Isaiah came flying out of nowhere, secured by harnesses and rope tied to the ceiling, spraying water onto unsuspecting victims.

It was rather ingenious.

Our school hall has a balcony at the back for the lighting and audio teams during performances, and clearly, Gabe and Isaiah had leapt off from there and swung around in mid-air with water tanks strapped to their backs as they gleefully hosed down teachers and students. Eventually, the ropes that were attached to their harnesses stopped swinging around, and they remote-controlled the ceiling-apparatus to transport them towards the stage.

The rest of the school just didn’t know how to react. It was, of course, customary for the graduating class to pull a few pranks here and there, but nobody had ever tried anything this size.

Coach Rams evidently agreed.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING? YOU COULD’VE FALLEN TO YOUR DEATHS! YOU—YOU TWO IDIOT KINGSLEY BROTHERS!” Coach Rams bellowed as he stormed his way onto the stage, practically pushing a drenched Principal Turner out of his way.

Gabe and Isaiah mock-saluted before running backstage, which was rather intelligent of them, seeing as Coach Rams would have most probably pounded their bodies into the stage. Then, just when everybody believed order had resumed itself, half of the graduating class stormed into the hall and began spraying jets of green foam at everyone, throwing confetti and flour and rice and all sorts of questionable items at us. Some students opted to retaliate by chucking their shoes at the graduating class, which, unsurprisingly, initiated a small-scale war.

Principal Turner ducked as a Styrofoam cup went sailing past his head. “A-ASSEMBLY IS OVER! YOU ARE ALL DISMISSED! HAVE A GOOD HOLIDAY! AND—AAUGH!” he yelled as Fiona and Matthew emptied a bucket of purple slime over his head.

How pleasant.

Ming and Natasha looped their arms around me and dragged me out of the hall. “I cannot believe they did that,” Ming muttered to herself over and over again.

I snorted. “You are speaking about the idiotic trio, Ming. You might want to keep that in mind. Nothing’s too outrageous to them.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Didn’t they blow up a toilet?”

“Ah, our reputations overwhelm us,” Gabe and Isaiah chimed in together, appearing at our sides. Gabe leant down to place a swift kiss on Ming, whilst Isaiah looped an arm around Rosemary, who had approached us.

“Yes, Natasha,” Gabe began solemnly, “we did blow up a toilet. Technically, it was within the bounds of our project, but—”

“—we got a week’s worth of detentions for that,” Isaiah supplied, nodding sadly. Then, he snickered. “But damn, was it worth it.”

Natasha laughed, and then excused herself. “I’m going to go see if I can find Luke. Probably in the cafeteria getting a last-minute sandwich or something, the pig…”

Gabe glanced around the school. “Going to miss this place,” he sighed, a bittersweet edge to his voice. He pulled Ming to him, kissing her brow. “And you,” he whispered to Ming, who met his eyes hesitantly. “Can we talk in private?” he asked. When Ming nodded, he took her to a more secluded area of the garden.

I nudged Isaiah, who shrugged. “He’s been taking it pretty badly,” he said to me quietly. “Well, he’s been taking the prospect of not seeing Ming every day pretty badly. He’s fallen pretty hard for her.”

And that was when it really hit me.

He wasn’t going to be here next year.

“Alex?”

“What? Yeah, sorry. Just kind of… spaced out for a second, that’s all,” I murmured, forcing a smile.

No more last-minute homework sessions. No more midnight trips to the cafeteria store-cupboard. No more late-night conversations about completely random stuff in the common room. No more classes together. No more—

“Hey.”

—seeing him, hearing his voice, whenever I wanted to.

“Hello,” I murmured, facing my shoes. He tilted my chin up, meeting my gaze. The intensity in his eyes overwhelmed me. I had to look away.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, nodding to the others as he pulled me to the side. “You don’t look so chirpy.”

Despite myself, I cracked a smile. “It’s—” nothing, I wanted to say. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t nothing.

He wasn’t nothing.

He would never be nothing.

Not to me.

It was strange how I could feel so much for him, and yet place none of it into words.

I stood there, unmoving, for about a minute before throwing my arms around him and burying my face in his shoulder. I was always too shy to voice my feelings aloud, too timid to be as candid as others. There was always a silent understanding that existed between us, and I never felt the urge to clarify things. He always knew. I always knew. I never had to tell him how much he meant to me.

But now, silence wasn’t enough.

“It’s almost insane,” he laughed lightly to himself.

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“It’s almost insane,” he repeated, holding my gaze, “how crazy I am about you.”

I stared at him, taking in every curve of his jaw, every contour of his face, and smiled. There was a fear of jumping into confessing. There was a commitment there I had never made before. It was an entire world I had never experienced, and I didn’t know if I was ready enough to try.

There was a risk. But I didn’t care.

He was crazy about me.

It was terrifyingly, intoxicatingly exciting.

I smiled up at him and melted into his embrace. “I don’t know what I’m going to do next year,” I murmured quietly to nobody in particular. “It’s going to be strange without all of you raising hell everywhere I go.”

Damien grinned. “Aren’t you going to enjoy the peace and quiet?”

“Not particularly,” I confessed. “I mean, you’re speaking to the sister of Gabe and Isaiah—I haven’t had a moment of peace since I came out of the womb. And what am I going to do about you? Who am I going to verbally abuse if you’re gone?”

“Alex, I hardly believe that you won’t find some new innocent meat to terrorize. Don’t worry about that,” he assured me, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we made our way back to the rest of the group.

I shook my head. “I mean, I’m going to really miss you, Damien.”

“Well that’s a relief. Thought you still hated my guts after six months of dating,” he teased.

“It’s been that long, has it?” I scratched my head. “Wow, it really has.”

Damien grinned and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “What do you say to the idea of hitting the one year mark? Ten bucks says we’ll make it.”

“Ten bucks says we won’t!” I countered before stopping to think. Then, eyes wide with horror, I clamped my hand over my mouth. Damien just laughed and pulled me in closer. “I mean,” I said. “I mean… damn. Really can’t recover from that.”

“It’s okay. I know I’m the love of your life.”

“Is that so?” I said, arching an eyebrow at him.

He smiled down at me and leaned in so our noses touched. Warmth blossomed inside me and I smiled back at him.

“I’m sticking, Kingsley. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Okay,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I can live with that.”

We strolled towards the cafeteria, where everyone else was waiting, his arm slung across my shoulder, my arm tight around his waist, and just were.

A/N: Okay, so I dunno why it took me four years to post this up, but this is it. I have something new up too! Check it out if you'd like. It'll move slowly at first, and updates may not be as frequent, but I hope to get that finished. Thanks for sticking with this!