Chapter 2
Albert's parents showed up in a flash.
As soon as they walked in, his mom started wailing, "My son would never do something like that. Don't listen to that little brat. She must've seduced him. My son is such a good boy."
His dad jumped in, "It's just kids messing around. I'll have my son apologize, and we can settle this privately. If you want, we can even pay you some money."
My dad stepped in front of me. "Your son is a good kid? He was out there slapping girls' butts when he was ten. Does that sound like a good kid to you?"
"That was just messing around," Albert's mom shot back.
"Oh really? So showing up at a girl's door in the middle of the night with a bunch of guys at eighteen—that's just playing around too?" my dad fired back.
Albert's mom was left speechless.
My dad looked down at me. "Paisley, are you scared?"
I shook my head.
He gave me a gentle smile and patted my head.
The live comments started flooding in again.
[Where is this story even going?]
[How did this cute romance suddenly turn into a law drama?]
[Weren't Paisley and Albert childhood friends? How did she end up getting him arrested?]
I looked at those floating comments and scoffed.
Just because we had met, he thought we were childhood friends?
Guess that'd make the whole country my childhood friend.
The comments first popped up when I was eight.
Back then, I was just a second grader, playing with a shuttlecock on the playground.
Suddenly, a wave of translucent text floated across my eyes:
[Aww, is this Paisley as a kid? So cute.]
[Isn't that Albert? See, they really are childhood friends.]
[He's just two years older than Paisley, and they're not in the same class. No worries—once Paisley skips a grade, they'll be together.]
I just stood there, totally blank, and didn't even react when the shuttlecock bounced off my leg.
What kind of nonsense was this?
I followed where the comments were hinting.
On the other side of the playground, a bunch of guys were messing around, chasing each other.
I knew the one leading the pack.
He was the biggest troublemaker in school.
He'd ditch class by climbing over the wall, yank girls' braids, and sneak caterpillars into people's backpacks.
Just last week, he got hauled into the dean's office for fighting.
The comments kept rolling in.
[Paisley spotted Albert. Go say hi already.]
I turned away without a second thought and walked straight back to the classroom.
Say hi?
Why would I even bother talking to him?
Footsteps suddenly rushed up behind me. Before I could even turn around—
A hand smacked me right on the butt.
I just froze, stiff as a board.
The comments went wild.
[Oh, their first real touch.]
[Albert's making the first move, I'm obsessed.]
[This is so sweet. I'm gonna die from the sugar rush.]
Sweet, my ass.
I whipped around and swung the mop at him.
Albert just dodged with a cocky grin and took off fast.
I chased him halfway across the playground, but there was no way I could catch up.
That day, both sets of parents were called to the school.
Albert stood behind his dad, wearing that disgusting grin. "I was just messing around with her. It's not a big deal or anything."
His dad chimed in, "Boys will be boys, you know? They're just a little mischievous. Don't make a fuss over it, young lady."
I let out a cold laugh. "Just messing around? So if I hit him back, is that just messing around too?"
His dad's face changed. "How can you talk like that?"
"Am I wrong?" I looked up at him. "He slaps me and it's just a joke, but if I hit him back, suddenly it's not okay? That's pretty double standard, isn't it?"
My dad put a hand on my shoulder, looked straight at Albert's dad, and said in a calm, steady voice, "Your son is eleven, not one. If you want to call that 'just messing around,' go tell it to the cops and see if they buy it."
Albert's dad's face went pale.
*****
The second time was during PE class.
Both our classes had gym together.
My class was running relay races on the east side of the field, while Albert's class was warming up on the west.
I was standing in line, waiting for my turn, when I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
Albert was locked onto me, staring.
It wasn't just a quick look. He was full-on fixated, neck craned all the way over, so zoned in that he didn't even hear his PE teacher calling for him.
The comments started rolling in。
[Albert's staring at Paisley like she's the only one in the world.]
[Ugh, the childhood friend vibes are killing me.]
Chemistry? Seriously?
I turned my gaze away, expressionless.
It was finally my turn.
I stepped onto the track, waiting for my teammate to hand me the baton.
But halfway through my sprint, I suddenly heard someone sprinting up behind me, not the usual footsteps I would expect during a race.
These were coming in from the side, cutting across the track.
I was just about to turn around when a sharp smack was heard, right in the same spot as before.
And it was the same hand.
I went rigid, the baton slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the track, bouncing twice.
Albert was already 15 feet ahead, shot me a cocky grin over his shoulder and yelled, "Man, you run so slow. I was just helping you pick up the pace."
His buddies were cheering him on, whistling and making a racket from the sidelines.
The comments went wild.
[Albert's such a tease.]
[This kind of playful banter in school is just too sweet.]
[Paisley, hurry up and chase after him.]
I stood frozen, my nails digging painfully into my palms.
The PE teacher jogged over. "What's going on here?"
Albert shouted from a distance, "Sir, I was just messing around with her."