I clear my throat.
“Excuse me, may I sit -”
The boy turns his head, and my stomach plummets.
Whyme?
Marlon’s eyes bear into mine, his lips twitching into an amused smirk.
“Oh, it’s you.”
My brow pricks upward.
“Yes, it’s me. Now, can I sit?”
Marlon’s head tilts, feigning a mock cluelessness.
‘I don’t know Garcia,canyou?’
I roll my eyes and grab at his tote bag with one hand, lifting it. I try to toss it over to him, but it’s a bit more of a struggle thanI thought because whatever is in there isheavy. The bag hits his knee instead.
“Ouch!” he moans dramatically.
“Oh, suck it up,” I sneer, taking the seat and perching my bag atop my knees. For a moment, we sit stiffly side by side, unsure of what more to say. If there evenisanything we need to say. It’s funny really, how our Mum’s are so close knit, joined at the hip, yet their kids can’t stand each other.
The last time Marlon and I properly ‘hung out’ outside of family gatherings and impromptu play-dates was probably during Year 11 trial exams. Marlon and I didn’t go to the same high school, thankgoodness, but our Mum’sdidattempt to get us to study together.
It started in eighth grade. Back then, we were meant to try and help each other with homework once or twice a month. Marlon would speed ahead with his own questions just so he could run upstairs and play on his Playstation, without helping me out. I hated it because I always wanted to play the new games on his Playstation but he never let me.
By the time I finished my homework, it was time to go home.
It continued like that until around Year 11. We’d just started HSC trial examinations, and from the first study session with Marlon I knew it was useless. I told Mum I’d rather study on my own. I was getting absolutely nothing out of Marlon and I’s study hangouts. Thankfully she listened to me then, because of course, studies and grades were way more important than my love life.
The train starts moving, and Marlon and I still haven’t said anything further. There’s genuinely no need to, really.
That’s one thing he and I can agree on, that we weren’t really friends. I’m pretty sure he likes me just about as much as I like him.
I sit back, and close my eyes. Sea green eyes fill my thoughts and my lips twitch as I remember the sound of bookstore boy’svoice. My whole body tingles with anticipation as I daydream what our love story will be like. Marlon shifts beside me, breaking me out of my delusions.
On instinct, I open my eyes. My gaze flickers slightly to the left to sneak a glance at what he’s doing.
He’s watching something on his phone. It’s an anime, one I recognise.Death Note.
Excitement rises in me, and I try to push it down but it’s a little hard when he’s watching my favourite anime.
I continue to linger on the screen, immersed in the high-tension scene playing out. I lean forward just the slightest, when Marlon’s eyes accidentally meet mine through the reflection. I turn my head away immediately, but the damage has already been done.
“Using me to scab my CrunchyRoll are you?”
His neck swivels toward me, and there’s that stupid smirk again.
“For the record, I’mnota scammer and I actually have my own account, thank you very much,” I retort, matter-of-factly. Marlon just chuckles. Howannoying.
“So… have you seen Death Note before?” he asks, after a moment, “Since you’re leaning so heavily on me.”
I lurch back, my face contorting.
“I amnotleaning on you,” I grunt, “And yes. It's one of my favourite animes.”
