Wong Place at the Wrong Time - Part 1

“Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three…”

Marco was quietly keeping count as he hopped each fence in the rough direction of his house. He was simultaneously keeping a tally in his mind of the number of dogs he'd avoided, seven; with a footnote for the number cats judging him, four.

He was hopping these fences alone, Star was nowhere to be found; the collateral damage from their most recent fight could only be described as ‘a whole lot more than usual’, so they had agreed to split up to minimise the chances of being caught. Any cost incurred would have been justified he felt, as they had spent a good part of the night fighting something that Star had suggested “really shouldn’t be here”; however the aftermath was slightly more than magic could fix in the given timeframe, so a tactical retreat seemed like a smart idea, especially after crowds began to gather and the sirens got a little too close.

“Twenty four."

Landing roughly in a flower bed, he got up and dusted soil from his extremities, then began to muse about how he had managed to convince himself this was the best course of action. He always found explaining magical happenings to people physically draining, such a laborious exercise given the human penchant for disbelief. Even when a magical girl was standing right next to him, it felt as if they were waiting for him to show them where the cameras were, or for him to produce a large joint from his pocket, then ask if they’d like a hit.

Weariness began to creep into his joints as he made for the other side of the sizeable yard, the adrenaline of the fight and escape was gone, and his body was beginning to remember the few good shots the monster got on him. He reflected that twenty four was actually an impressive number as he slowed to a walking pace and strolled toward the next fence, which seemed taller now than when he last looked.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind him. He whirled around in time to see a figure leap gracefully from the top of the fence and touch down in a catlike crouch. It stood up slowly, rolled its shoulders and began moving in the direction of the house. In his direction. Marco tried to shuffle behind a large ornate stone fountain placed in the center of the yard, when he saw the shape catch sight of him and tense up.

For a moment, the air was filled with nothing but the sound of softly gurgling water; neither he nor the figure dared make a move. After a few moments, Marco decided to be proactive; perhaps if he just told the dark stranger that he was only passing through, he could continue his yard-hopping misadventure without being part of two fights in one night. This initial interaction between himself and the figure was quite brief, and for the most part friendly. It began when Marco uttered the words “I’m just-“ and ended when two small hooked barbs shot outwards from the figure with a sharp sound and embedded themselves in the front of his hoodie.

What happened next was difficult to describe. He had been hit with many of Star’s spells in the past, several of which he could potentially place in the lightning family, but he had never been electrocuted, not in the traditional sense. However, even with his limited knowledge, he knew for sure that the issue here was electricity. As the jolts began to surge through his body he thought that perhaps he could overcome this force through sheer determination, by tapping into some inner reserve of manliness; an unspoken well of strength that all men silently, but knowingly carry within themselves. He searched deep within himself, mustered all the strength he could, then hit the ground and began the most convincing fish impression that he’d ever done.

It was impossible for him to do anything except produce a series of teeth-gritted grunts and ride it out. This was for two reasons; the first reason being his two new and exclusive settings of movement: flip and flop. The second, more pertinent reason was simply the pain. It was more painful than anything he'd ever experienced, even worse than the time he'd accidentally delivered a crushing blow to his own testicles while playing air guitar in the shower.

After several hellish seconds, the electricity stopped, and so did his performance. He let out a painful groan as he lay on the ground and tried to collect himself, his muscles feeling as if they’d been wrung out like a towel. He dragged his limbs back into useful positions and began to stand up in order to attempt to defend himself against his zap-happy attacker. As he did, a slender-wristed hand grabbed Marco by the collar of his hoodie; his vision was briefly obscured by large amounts of what appeared to be long, raven-coloured hair. This long-haired assailant used his momentary unsteadiness to push his still confused frame toward the low lying wall of the garden fountain.

As they let him go he caught a scent in his nostrils, coming from the person's wrist. He knew that smell. It was from one of the more recent shopping trips his mother had shanghaied him into, he’d spent the afternoon smelling of it after being maced by a woman offering free samples at a perfume counter; he didn’t know what it was called, but he knew it was popular with the girls at school.

After he hit the side of the fountain, the figure slunk up to stand over him in a domineering way. He stared up at the slender, long haired, perfumed girl and a mixture of shock and bewilderment crept across his features as he saw her face in the moonlight. A familiar sharp, authoritative voice sealed the deal.

“Wait, Marco Diaz?”

“Brittney Wong?!” He exclaimed, "What are you do-”

“Keep your voice down!” Brittney commanded, shoving her hand over his mouth to cut him off. After a moment of silence, she removed it and allowed him to continue.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re in my yard, idiot.” retorted the cheerleader.

Marco’s shoulders sank. Well that’s just great, absolutely amazing. What better way to cap off a Friday evening than to land in the yard of your school’s most vicious and popular student, then have them tase you? He stared at her for a few moments, trying desperately to think of something to say that would get him out of this.

Typically Marco never interacted with Brittney Wong unless he had to, they ran in vastly different circles and he didn’t enjoy the popularity rat-race that she seemed to revel in. His mother had always told him not to judge a book by its cover, to try and see the good in people. However he was fairly certain the cover of this book would read "Brittney Wong, by Brittney Wong, with foreword by Brittney Wong”. Its contents would most likely consist of images of herself overlaid with tawdry motivational quotes about inner beauty and success. The world revolved around her, she saw no points of view other than her own, she was vain, insensitive, and exerted dominance over people with a casual demeanour that he found incredibly unsettling. In the end, he admitted that he simply didn’t understand her.

He did concede that she possessed a dedication to her goals that was almost admirable. Whenever she wanted something to happen, be it new equipment for the cheer squad, or just first dibs on the cake selection in the cafeteria dessert window, she made it happen. This was commendable, he thought, except for the fact that she always pursued what she wanted in what seemed to be the most ruthless ways she could possibly conceive.

She stood there with her hands on her hips and stared at him, waiting for an explanation. The wind picked up and began to whip the off-the-shoulder long shirt that hung loosely on her body, briefly revealing rather well fitting denim cut-offs and setting her jewellery clacking like a wind chime. She looked casual, but he had no doubt that she had coordinated with military precision. She reached down and grabbed the front of his hoodie in a motion to pull him closer to her face; however, Marco being heavier than Brittney resulted in them meeting half way. Marco was sure that her intent was to intimidate him into talking, however the effect this had unknowingly achieved caused him to lock up momentarily, as he was given a full view straight down her shirt. He sputtered as her face and her expensive looking purple bra played a game of tug of war with his eyes.

“Focus!” she hissed while shaking him with one hand, "Unless you want another shot of taser, Diaz, you’ll talk! What the hell are you doing in my yard at this time of night?!"

He wasn’t one hundred percent certain how tasers worked, but given who he was dealing with and what he’d just experienced, he knew better than to ask for another dose. He held up his hands in a resigned gesture and smiled awkwardly, attempting to set her mind at ease. “Okay, okay!” He said painfully, “I’ll tell you.”

Marco had hoped at hearing his compliance that Brittney would relax a little and back away from him slightly; she didn’t, instead continuing to hold his hoodie and eye him distrustfully. He resolved to do his best to keep his eyes on her face, then began to explain how he came to be in her backyard. He told her about the creature, about he and Star's long fight and about how, for reasons he tried to play down, a quick escape through back yards was necessary.

He explained all of this while staring down her shirt.

As with any person who wants to look at something but is trying not to, Marco’s subconscious had attempted to devise ways of looking in a “not really looking” kind of way. On the way from her face to his hands, looking from right to left, to the ground and back up, and because he didn’t want the hole in his vision to be noticeable, for the briefest of moments, directly in front of him. Brittney was listening to him intently the entire time, her wary expression softening as he revealed information, shifting to a mild look of surprise when he mentioned the police presence. However, as the story reached it’s finale, her face had returned to a look of suspicion. Marco didn’t realise it, but he had executed his plan too well; he began to look rather stupid as he finished his tale with the final tallies of dogs and cats with sweeping hand gestures and almost manic eye movements. The cheerleader’s eyes widened as she watched him and began to realise something was up.

“Stop fidgeting!” she huffed, “…and what are you staring at?”

Terror. Brittney looked down at the space she had seen his eyes occupying and froze, colour rapidly filling her cheeks.

“Ohoho!” she gasped, holding her shirt up with her spare hand, then wrenching him closer to her face; “You little perv! I’d hand you over to the cops right now, if…”, the sentence trailed off as a look of concern crossed her angered face.

“If?” he stared inquisitively, waiting for a response, but was met with an avoidant silence. Come to think of it, what reason did she have to be sneaking into her own back yard at this time of night? He was skulking around in backyards because he’d been punching evil and couldn’t muster the strength to try and explain himself to the police. He had assumed his heroic effort would be met with jail time and began fence hopping; but this was her yard, what was she doing out this late? A party maybe? He hadn’t heard of any. Visiting a boyfriend? He wasn’t aware she had one. He mused that whatever it was, it probably had to do with being a social butterfly, and definitely didn’t involve getting caught. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he asked her, genuinely curious.

“None of your business, Pervo Diaz!” she quipped angrily, shoving him back down and standing up.

Marco visibly winced at this latest take on his name. He tried to put the thought of it reaching the ears of his fellow students to the back of his mind and began to think of ways to argue against the accusation, but he realised that he didn’t really have much recourse, since he’d actually done it.

“You- I- Look, I’m sorry Brittney,” stuttered Marco, “I deserve that, I-I don’t know what came over me.”

“You know what? Whatever.” she scoffed, “I’d love to listen to you try and stammer your way out of this, but I don’t have time.” She raised an arm and motioned toward the fence. “You’re leaving. Now!”.

“Can I have a second to-“ he began, hoping to buy himself some precious recovery time, but a whip-crack from her hair signalled to him that she was done talking. Brittney Wong's words always had an air of finality to them and no matter how hard you railed against them, nothing would change her mind; especially if you had just dropped into her yard uninvited and copped an eyeful.

The boy sighed, then compliantly hauled his tired frame onto its feet and began to make his way to the fence, hoping that the few moments he’d spent resting there would give him the energy boost he needed to pick up where he left off. Leaping up the fence with all the speed and grace of a Romero-era zombie, Marco grabbed the top of the fence and began to pull himself up with his arms and legs, but his muscles were having none of it. He scrambled to keep hold but his leg slipped and the sudden shift in weight pulled him to the ground like a sack of school-grade meatloaf.

“What the heck are you doing, Diaz?” Brittney demanded, "Get over there!"

Marco shakily stood up and readied to make another attempt, then stopped, turned and shook his head. "I don’t think I can.”

"What?!” said the cheerleader, her voice raising an octave, “Why not?!"

"Because you tased me! I was already tired before, but now I feel like I’ve been charlie-horsed in every conceivable place on my body, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to climb fences now!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

The following argument had a dull exhaustion to it, like every second they’d been together in this yard had sucked precious life energy from the pair. They hashed the same bitterness over and over as Marco tried to convince her to help him in another way, then Brittney would spit bile and tell him she didn’t want anything to do with any of it. Their voices raised slightly after each pass until the fence that Marco had attempted to climb shook violently and a guttural barking cut the air between them. The flushed colour gained during the argument drained from Marco’s face as he imagined having jumped straight into a mouth he could only assume was large enough to accomodate himself and a few other small game animals. The pair stared wide-eyed and unmoving at the fence for a moment, as it slowly ceased its protestations.

Brittney turned to watch watched Marco briefly, her face shifting between a look of reluctant concern and tired frustration. "Damn it.” She muttered. “Alright, get inside.” she snapped, motioning him toward the house. "I’ll take you through to the front. Be. Quiet.”

“Thanks Brittney.”

“I just don’t want to have to explain to everyone how the safe kid got eaten in my back yard, alright?”

Marco chuckled, his face softening with relief. The pair turned and ambled the remaining length of the yard to the house. As they reached the door Brittney made to raise her hand to open it, stopped, turned to Marco and added “Shoes off, Diaz."