Chapter 7 #2
“For someone with the humor of a seven-year-old.”
Mason smiles in annoyance.
Callum cracks his knuckles and stares down at Mason with a serious face, like he wants to say something more but is holding himself back.
Mason’s face burns under Callum’s scrutiny and folds his arms even further. To a bystander it looks like he’s trying to keep himself warm like he’s standing in sub-zero temperatures.
“What was the funniest thing they said…” Mason says, trying to change the subject back, even though he knows what Callum will say. At least he got the upper hand.
Callum stares at Mason expectantly. “That they told me who wrote it. Guess who?”
Mason shuffles his feet and looks back at the ground as his face burns more. “Someone who’s probably a bit mentally unstable?”
Callum shrugs. “Maybe. But I don’t really care. It made me feel… good,” Callum says, his tone softening.
Mason quickly looks back up, and Callum is looking at him with this face that looks like he’s trying to understand Mason but can’t come up with a solid answer.
He’s probably wondering how Mason can hate him so much and avoid him for years only to gush about him for an entire thousand-word article. Mason’s wondering the same thing himself.
Mason sighs and tries to maintain Callum’s gaze. “Look, I really needed to get into the paper and that was what they had me write—”
Callum holds out his hands in the air. “You know, you don’t have to pretend that you were playing me up.
I could tell by the way you write that it’s genuine.
I don’t want to hear you lie about how you were doing what they asked of you or that you only did it to get on the paper. I won’t believe you if you do.”
Mason’s folded arms fall to his sides. Callum just read him like a book.
He’s ten steps ahead of Mason, like any good quarterback would be, predicting exactly what he was planning on saying.
Callum’s eyebrows are downturned now, like he’s expecting Mason to fight him back on it, but he isn’t going to.
Mason hates that he’s right.
Maybe he’s tapping into all the old feelings he used to have for Callum. He’s buried them ever since that day in the cafeteria and now that he has a positive place to put them, it’s all bursting out of him.
Mason shrugs and tries to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “You play really well… I have to admit.”
Callum smirks. “Well, I didn’t get into Montgomery on scholarship for nothing.”
Mason purses his lips. He feels stupid admitting that Callum’s actually a good player. Of course he is. He just hates having to admit it and sound like every other student or football fan. “I know. I just… never went to a game in high school. I had—”
“Better things to do than watching me throw a ball. I get it. Your nose was always in a book.”
Mason almost thinks it’s a disparaging remark, but it isn’t. Callum’s tone is more matter of fact rather than irritated. A strong contrast from how he usually refers to Mason’s proclivity for science.
“And that’s what got me into Montgomery as well, Brown. I know that you always hated that about me,” Mason says, now crossing his arms and looking down at the ground, putting his defenses back up on instinct.
There isn’t any fight in his voice, only insecurity. He feels much more vulnerable now, and he doesn’t know why. He even responded to Callum’s observation with defensiveness.
Callum shakes his head. “I never hated how smart you were or how much you read. I don’t get why you think that.”
Mason scoffs. He doesn’t know how Callum can be serious and pretend that high school wasn’t a part of their history. “I saw the eye rolls. I saw how you let your football friends talk about me and make fun of me.”
Callum’s eyes lower, and he blinks rapidly, like he’s been caught and is guilty of exactly what Mason is accusing him of.
Students begin to file out of the nearby classroom, filling the hallway with students running for the doors.
“Mason. I never—”
“Callum? What are you doing here?” Jenna says, walking out of the auditorium, the rest of her classmates pouring out alongside her.
He freezes up, wondering how he can possibly tell her why they are talking for any other reason than that he was singing Callum’s praises in the paper.
“I was just congratulating him on his game,” Mason answers for Callum.
Jenna squints at him. “You? Congratulating him?”
“He did it in a thousand words,” Callum says, taking his eyes off Mason and meeting Jenna’s eyes.
“Wait—how did you find out about that?” Jenna asks.
She looks at Mason. Then at Callum. Then back at Mason.
Then she gasps, the realization hitting her.
“Oh! Does that mean you got into The Goldberg?” she asks excitedly. Mason nods, with a small smile on his face.
She shrieks and gets a few bewildered stares from her classmates, but she ignores them. “Yes! I knew it. I knew it. I know you hate it when I say you have a talent for writing, but you do! This just proves it,” Jenna cries, putting her hand on his shoulder.
“Physics, writing, and living his truth, what can’t he do?” Callum asks, but not in a sarcastic or disparaging way. It almost sounds prideful, like he’s proud of Mason.
But Callum’s wrong. Mason isn’t living his truth. He’s pretending to under false pretenses.
Mason feels uncomfortable celebrating around Callum. He’s always felt like Callum perceived Mason’s successes as him showing off with how his friends made fun of him for being so involved in his academics, but he seems… placid.
Jenna smirks as she looks between Callum and Mason, like she can tell something else is going on between them. Mason doesn’t want to name it, but Jenna seems adamant about doing it for them and he wants to disappear again.
Callum starts backing away, accidentally hitting someone’s backpack. “Good job, Fanning. Uh—Mason. Look, I have to get back to my dorm and eat my post-workout meal, but congrats on the paper.”
“Thanks, Callum,” Mason says, nodding once, his voice strained, hating how much it pains him to be nice to him.
His hatred and his affection are battling with each other, waiting for the other to say “uncle” and he doesn’t know which will win in the end. It’s easier to hate Callum than to show affection for him, because liking him only means pain and disappointment.
Mason hopes that eventually his hatred will win, but the road not taken looks more appealing with each interaction he has with Callum.
Even if he does start to like Callum as a person again, as far as Mason knows, Callum likes girls, and that will just make things even more complicated. And he doesn’t need complicated right now.
Jenna looks back at him expectantly, like she’s trying to smoke him out and get him to admit to something, but he’s resolute.
“What was that?” she asks.
“Oh, nothing. I was waiting for you to get out of class before he accosted me, wondering why I wrote that article.”
Jenna squints. “Huh…”
She’s not completely convinced, and he knows she likes to press things, so he tries to distract her.
“Time for an apple chai latte?” Mason asks expectantly.
“Duh.”
Mason grins and interlocks his arm in hers.
“My treat. You just got into the school paper, so it’s the least I can do.”
Mason smiles and walks alongside her out of the biology building and across campus to their favorite cafe.
Jenna starts complaining about a girl from her class who hums songs during lectures and how much it distracts her, but he can’t stop thinking about what doing Sports for the next semester means and how much he will have to write about Callum.
What if he has to write about a loss? Or a good game? His pen is his to use, and he can cut Callum down or draw him with a halo, and he has all the power.
It’s all he wants—to finally have something over Callum, but for some reason, it’s only making something blossom inside him that makes him wish he had never been given the power in the first place.