The sky is blue like my hair. Not a speck of cloud in the air. The sun is vigorously spewing organic vitamin D. If I stay out long enough, my hair might turn green. Dang it! Maybe I should dye my hair green, that would be dope. What am I thinking? Oh my gosh, it feels like I’m inside a toaster oven.
But I gotta suck it up and channel my inner-Ellie Goulding, “…and I’m gonna let it burn, burn, burn.” I look around, and my mates take off their tops, showing off their lean muscular physique. These fellas are as much as surfer dudes as they are footballers. But of course, they have to be; we’re in Australia. Sydney, Australia to be exact.
It’s getting so hot; I’m getting so hot, and as much as I wanna take off my top, I can’t. I’m a girl. And even if I did, none of them would dare look at me. They know the consequence they have to face if they dare try to touch, or worst look at Ed’s prize possession.
Being a possession is probably not the right thing to say because my boyfriend’s not possessive or controlling. I mean, sure he gets crazy jealous at times, and he doesn’t like it when guys stare at me. Even a quick glance and Ed fusses about it. Things always happen for a reason, and I’m not saying that I’m giving Ed a pass because of his behavior, but I’m saying I do understand why he’s acting the way he does. He just wants the rumor to die.
What is the rumor?
Well, the widespread rumor in my secondary school is that the reason why I spend a lot of time on the football field with these future Chippendale dancers’ because I’m a football that gets passed around. Like I want to be around these hot guys knowing that my boyfriend gets cray when a guy cranes his neck to check out my naturally tanned physique.
Meaghan Starr, the senior class queen badass, and bully started the rumor. She used to date my boyfriend, Edgar Hardden.
After Ed caught Meaghan passed out nearly naked on a bed with a rugby player, Ed ended their relationship. They were childhood sweethearts. The kind that’s so sickening come to think of it.
Ever since they were in first grade, up to eleventh grade they were inseparable. You can’t blame Meaghan, Ed’s family kinda owns Sydney. Ed’s father, Eddard Hardden, is Sydney’s technology oracle. His gorgeous mother, Jewel, was a beauty pageant winner, slash model, slash actress in Australia. Being connected to the Hardden’s equivalent to winning the lottery, and everyone knows that the whole thing is just a scam.
But winning Ed’s heart, that’s the best thing that any young woman here in Sydney aspires to acquire.
As much as I want to get mad at Meaghan, I really can’t, because I swooped in when Ed was most vulnerable and had to get his attention. Well, I did more than that of course. I won his heart. I guess you could say the lottery’s not a scam after all, at least for me.
The truth is, I’m still a virgin. You could even ask Ed, and he’ll vouch for me. It’s not like I don’t want to sleep with the seventeen-year-old version of Australian Brad Pitt.
I vividly remember the first time we agreed to be together; he uttered this beautiful yet heartbreaking statement to me, “Lucy. I think I love you and I want our relationship to work. But, in order for it to work, I don’t want to have sex. Not just with you, even self-pleasure I wouldn’t even dare. I must remain celibate.”
Yup! I stared at him for a few seconds. A modern-day Adonis and he denies sexual pleasure, even self-imposed, “What the hell is this guy thinking, right?!” I said to myself. I cracked a nervous smile, gulped and responded, “Sure, Ed. If not sleeping with you proves that I truly love you, then I’ll do it.” Of course, I have to say that even if I don’t mean it.
But that’s not the worst part; he said, “Lucy. I’m glad. I want you to be a legend here at our school.”
That was a big-ass-steak-of-a-thought to digest, so I paused for a few seconds, then replied, “Just say it, Ed.”
He cracked the biggest grin, hugged me and whispered, “I want you to be the first girl shot-putter in this school. Also, I want you to prove that you’re no slut by practicing with the footballers. You good with that, Luce?”
I was mesmerized by his baby blue eyes. I wanted to say, “Hell No!” but instead I smiled half-heartedly and said, “If that’s what it takes.”
WTF moment to the max.
The funny thing about the whole thing was I wished I hadn’t nursed his aching heart. But since Mr. Hardden, also known as the Great White Shark of Sydney, fired Meaghan’s dad as his chef, my father begged me to charm my way into the baby shark’s heart.
I recall it was just like yesterday as my father caressed my cheek and said, “Your mother’s insurance money ran out, sweetie. I can’t pay for private school anymore. However, if you make Eddard’s son fall in love with you, then, I could pay for your private school.”
So, I did what I had to do to make Ed fall for me, and it worked.
I had to prove myself, even if it meant I had to dye my hair blue to match his blue eyes. I did it. If I had to be the first girl shot-putter in myself to be a legend, done.
So, it’s a no-brainer always to follow what Ed wants. I was afraid of rocking the boat, especially in Shark-infested waters of Sydney. My father prepares meals for the Great White Shark. And had I said, “No!” to Ed and he gets heart-broken again, his father would’ve fired my dad, and we would wind up as fish bait.
Sometimes I wonder if my life is just a big joke. Like every single one in this snobby school’s in on it and I don’t even know I’m the punch line.
There are times I want just to solidify my status in this town and hyphenate my name legally by birthing his child.
I’d be Lucille Chen-Hardden.
Not only known as a record holder in my High School for shot putting. Not that I’m the best, but because I’m a pioneer. A legend. No girl in my school would dare do what I do. Even big girls who would probably break my mediocre record.
Who would dare compete with an unusually strong petite Asian girl, right? Sure, I’m only five foot three or 1.6 meters and one hundred pound or 7.143 stones. But I’m a lean mean, shot-putting machine.
Yeah, you heard that right. My sporting event is when an athlete’s palm and cradle on their neck a heavy spherical metal or stone and throw it up in the air with all their might.
I can’t stand the heat much longer. I mean that figuratively and literally. I feel like I’m burning myself in this situation. Ed put my love to the test, and I can’t stand to be his puppet much longer.
So, I stare at these hot guys as they pass the football around using their foot, head, chest, knee. They remind me of a group of sweaty well-trained circus seals. And it would be a great honor to be their ringleader.
At least for once, I get to pull strings.
But I know I can’t. I’m a poor girl raised by a single father. I have to be loyal to the baby shark. My future is with the crown prince. I have to uphold my end of the bargain, and if he says no sex until he gets married, then the least I could do is join him on his journey to celibacy.
I hear giggling, and I see Meaghan and her clique. “Hey! Lucy Chow Fun! Heads up!” I ignore her.
And then, out of nowhere, in a split second, I see a football whoosh an inch close to my face. Despite watching that movie “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” it was too late to react.
The football hit me square in my face. I fall to the grassy field. Meaghan approaches me and says, “I hear you don’t get any action. Poor baby. I guess a ball in the face ain’t a bad thing to start off your day, huh, Lucy?”
Meaghan and her crew giggle as they strut off. The footballers left the scene of the crime, as expected.
I lie down flat on my back, close my eyes as I feel the burn; for a person who’s supposedly promiscuous, the only D I get is from mother person who’s supposedly promiscuous, the only D I get is from mother nature.