The Dorm Guard 32 Chapter Thirty-Two: Morning Routine

*

I slowly opened the twins' door, peering my head in and trying the soft call approach. "Amada?" I called in a hushed tone. I could see the outline of the furniture in their room. Despite there being two of them, their room was the same size as mine.

The window was blocked by the curtains, obstructing almost one hundred percent of the morning sun. I ventured into the bedroom and approached the beds, looking from one to the other. It was 6:00 am on the last Sat.u.r.day of the holidays, and I was dressed in my jogging clothes. Amada had been avoiding my attempts to make him run for the past week. Today, I wasn't going to budge.

I remembered Amia slept in the left most bed, so I picked up one of the many pillows thrown on the ground and whacked the twin in the right most bed. They yelped in surprise, waking the other twin.

In one swift motion, the curtains were drawn, sending the purple-gold light into the room. Both twins grumbled as they sat up. "What you do that for?" the twin I whacked asked.

"To wake up Amada," I informed looking to both drowsy twins, "I was unsuccessful. Come on, we're running."

I was correct as to which one to whack, as the other cursed at Amada and covered their head with the blanket. Amada tried to lie back down but I caught his head, "Nope. Not today, get up."

"Why so early?" he complained.

I laughed, "The track team meets at 7:00am on the school grounds. May as well start early, cause that's gonna be your life for the next three terms."

"I haven't even got on the team yet," Amada whined as he hung his head, even in the dim light I could see him pouting.

"Just get up!" Amia snapped sitting up and throwing a decorative pillow at him. It ended up hitting me in the back.

Amada continued to complain, eventually planting his feet on the ground and standing. He wobbled for a moment before finally widening his eyes and waking himself up, "I hate you."

I poked him, "Good for you. Now get dressed and put some shoes on, if you're not out of this room and in the kitchen in five minutes your running in your dinosaur pyjamas."

"They aren't dinosaurs," he a.s.sured stomping his foot.

"They're monsters," his sister's m.u.f.fled voice informed.

I rolled my eyes, "You. Dressed. Now. I'll be downstairs." I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

I was generous with Amada that morning. I decided to wait ten minutes before I would go up and get him. I started filling some water bottles, the day finally waking up with stronger light across the horizon, as I waited in the kitchen.

I was excited to go running, aside from cycling to school and around town I didn't have a regular exercise regime. I could feel my muscles practically deflating and getting flabby.

The wrong twin came to visit me in the kitchen, dragging herself onto a seat by the counter and leaning her head heavily on her chin. "I hate you," she announced in a similar tone to her brother.

"No, you love me," I reminded opening the fridge and placing a gla.s.s of grapefruit iced tea in front of her.

She considered the drink a moment before picking it up and taking a long sip. "Okay, you're right," Amia confessed, the cold drink alerting her, "Why did you have to get up so early? It's still holidays."

"I'm sorry for waking you, but I need to make sure Amada starts training," I informed.

"You actually got him to say yes to the track team?" Amia asked. She sounded impressed.

"Sort of. I have to try out too," I explained placing two water bottles on the counter. "I figured we'd start some sort of training until the tryout day next week so that Amada has a good chance."

"One week isn't a lot of training time," Amia stated.

"He's been dodging workouts with me all week. But no more."

Their Father's proposal still lingered in my head, 'I've put up with his cross-dressing fanatics long enough. Sooner or later, things are going to change, and people are going to notice. I will not have Amada cast shame onto his own family!" I shivered at remembering his angered voice, how adamant he was about de-feminising Amada. "I have one son, and one daughter, not two daughters."

Simply recalling that man's att.i.tude made what I was trying to do seem dirty. I had yet to do much with regards to Amada's cross-dressing, or at least nothing he wasn't already doing on his own. Was I failing? Did it matter if I was failing? I didn't mean to, but I stared at Amia, almost with a look of worry as she continued to drink her tea. I wondered what growing up with Andrea Romano as a Father was like for her. He didn't seem too fond of having a daughter.

She caught my stare, "You okay?" Amia reflected my concerned look.

I blinked away my stare and nodded, "Maybe I'm just up a bit early."

As if on cue, Amada stumbled in. His dark hair tied back in a tight bun, and he wore black shorts and a grey shirt. Despite his bland outfit, it frustrated me how feminine he still looked. Maybe it was because he was short, perhaps the hair, perhaps because I just spoke with Amia who is a girl, either way it took a lot of effort for me to see a young man fixing his hair.

"You ready to go?" I asked tossing a water bottle his way.

Amada barely managed to get a grip on it, eventually dropping it. I pinched between my eyes and sighed at his lack of coordination. Amia smirked, pressing the cup's rim to her lips as she sang, "Good luck," and left the room.

*

Amada panted like a dog, leaning heavily on his knees as his forehead dripped with sweat. I bit down on the lid of my water bottle and sighed as I looked down the road, our dormitory a little rectangle in the distance. I was barely out of breath, Amada looked close to having a heart attack. I found the moment ironic.

"You okay?" I asked placing a hand on his back.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he confessed.

I chuckled, a.s.suring him he was fine and to just breathe. He went to sit down, but I held him up, "No, no sitting, you'll never get up."

Amada groaned, "I don't want to get up."

"It's only been five minutes," I laughed, "And you sprinted from the house to here without slowing down or warming up, of course you're going to feel sick."

"I was just trying to keep up with you," he panted.

"You ran ahead of me," I reminded straightening and crossing my arms. I admired Amada for listening to me, he stood on his own and eventually managed to stand straight. I messed up his hair, "I had to catch up to you."

There was a moment of pride in Amada's eyes before his skin paled and he looked close to vomiting. "Gra.s.s!" I exclaimed gesturing to the side of the road. Amada obeyed, running to the side of the room and bracing himself against one of the pine trees as she retched, nothing coming up but the gagging still there. I walked over to him and patted him on the back as he hunched over, when he finished dry-retching I held a water bottle to him. "Little sips," I instructed when he took it from me.

"My ribs hurt," he informed taking tiny mouthfuls of the water.

"We'll walk for a bit then," I said, "When you feel better we'll start jogging. This time I'll explain running rhythm to you."

Amada looked defeated, like the day Amia tried to make him pa.s.s the ball around but he wanted to go back inside to play video games. I was about to cave, say we'll start walking back, but he straightened and started walking away from the dormitory, saying he'll try walking out the stiches in his side.

I couldn't suppress my smile as I jogged up to and walked beside him.

It only took us an hour to get to the town, pa.s.sing by other joggers and early morning cyclists doing their routine workouts. Amada picked up a comfortable stride for him to run in, able to match my speed without exhausting himself. Amada was remarkably nimble, while we couldn't have much of a conversation because of his constant panting, his stamina was greater than I antic.i.p.ated of an introverted gamer.

We made it to the park in the middle of the town and I let him sit down on the metal park bench. Amada was next to me leaning forwards, his skin glossy with sweat as he tried to catch his breath.

"For track… they'll probably have you… do sprints and… stuff," I panted, taking a long drink of my water bottle, "But knowing how to long distance run at least is handy."

"Not just for track either," Amada gasped.

I coughed, "What do you mean?" I pressed my fingers to my pulse.

He wheezed slightly, taking a long gulp of his drink to drown it. "Well I can't fight people," Amada confessed, his breathing coming under control quickly, "So I guess it's better to know how to run away." He was referring to when he and his sister almost got kidnapped at the start of the school year.

"You'll get better," I a.s.sured grasping his shoulder, "Like I promised, I'll show you some self-defence techniques. You won't have to worry about what happened again."

Amada smirked at my claims, "It's not just that," he said, "It's just me in general. I was completely useless on that Platform when the girls got attacked, I practically let them attack my friends."

"No. Don't do that to yourself, buddy," I shook my head, "That wasn't your fault."

"That seems to be the catchphrase of the group, huh?" Amada countered, "It's none of our faults. Only there's." He sounded irritated. "Just because it wasn't my fault doesn't mean I can't feel bad for doing nothing about it."

I sighed. "Everyone reacts differently, Amada," I said.

Amada's hands scrunched into fists as he exhaled through his nose. "I just…" he managed to lift his head, watching as a corner shop started opening its doors, the small doorbell ringing when the owner brought out the sign, "I just want to stop disappointing people, ya know?"

I gulped upon hearing the fragile tone in his voice. I recognised it, and realised I needed to just let him talk. "My Father, my sister, my family… you," he wiped at his face, whether it was sweat or tears I couldn't be sure, "I just can't do anything right when I'm being myself."

"Amada," I cut off, "You can't disappoint me, or your sister, or any of our friends." I stood up, crossing my hands, "And anyone who does see you as a disappointment shouldn't matter to you."

"Like my Father?" Amada answered, "Like Zietta? My whole Italian heritage bad-a.s.s gun dealer family?" He pushed himself off the bench and took a step out onto the road, had it been busy I would've stopped him, but there wasn't a car in sight. "The last time my Father even took me seriously was when Mum died," he stated, "And I didn't cry because I was comforting my sister." I watched his jaw clench, stepping away from me to hide his tears of frustration. "Real men don't cry; they make others cry."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking out.

"I'm sure you've wondered," he said, more to the air then to me, "Why I wear dresses? Or don't feel comfortable with people knowing I was a guy." He crossed his arms and sighed, rocking on his feet as he finally faced me, his eyes red from trying not to cry. "I don't know," he blinked, allowing his tears to drip down his face, his teeth gnashed against each other as he tried to resolve himself, twisting his face into a scowl as he angrily brushed away the tears, "I… I don't know if something is wrong with me, if I want to be a girl, if I want to be a boy, whether its to retaliate my Father, or my Mother, or if I just-" Amada had started pressing his hands against the sides of his head and managed to hit himself twice before I caught him.

"Amada…" I pulled his hands from his face, somehow significantly stronger then him. When he relaxed I let him go.

"Amia… Amia never cared. She's my whole world, Landon," he panted, "I don't want her attached to whatever the h.e.l.l is wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you," I a.s.sured again, although I felt like my a.s.surance had fallen on deaf ears.

Amada straightened his posture, his nose crinkling slightly as he resolved himself. "I'm going to do my best," he informed, he held a fist to his chest as a spike of determination came over him, "I… I need to. And-and I know I can this time."

A part of me felt sick hearing Amada's words, an otherwise heart-warming set of words, they were laced with self-loathing and almost exhaustion. I was overwhelmed with the need to make Amada feel better, to hug him, to somehow make whatever pain he was in go away, and the only way I could help was to help him change.

I nodded. "I know you can, kid," I replied.

Amada sniffed, making a final wipe of his nose as he blinked away the fragile look in his eyes and playfully punched my shoulder, "Race you home." He sprinted down the road back towards the dorm, not even taking a glance over his shoulder to see if I was following.

It took me a moment to follow him, a long, stomach churning moment as I felt my heartbeat throb in my ears as a cold lump of guilt rested in the pit of my torso. Mr Romano's request still burned fresh in my mind, the money, the demands, the implications, the consequence. Would Mr Romano pay me for doing this? I worried that underlying my concern for Amada was the motive of money, that my reasons were not as genuine as I wanted. Was it better to let Amada think he wanted this at his own accord? Would it be better if I told him about his Father's deal with me?

These questions plagued me only momentarily when I realised Amada had made it to the end of the street, any further and he would be out of sight. I ran after him.

*

We made it back to the dorm by 8:00 am on the minute. By then everyone was up, and the kitchen smelt like breakfast and coffee, and was filled with old bubbly music.

Amada stumbled into the room and stole Mia's cla.s.s of orange juice at the dining table. She objected with a swift poke to his side, which succeeded in him spilling some of the juice but he didn't give it back.

I leaned on the doorframe, in a better state then Amada, who had run full-speed most of the way home.

Bonnie grimaced at Amada's orange juice theft as he clawed at a chair to sit down. "You look gross," she stated.

Amada had started sweating profusely, his grey shirt intensifying the dark sweat patches around his armpits and chest. The only advantage being now he looked like a boy. "I feel gross…" Amada coughed placing the now empty gla.s.s on the table and wiping his lip.

I glanced in the kitchen, noticing Robyn bopping her head to the radio's songs, one hand delicately resting against the amp while the other skilfully flipped a pancake. Ava sat at the counter, wilfully turning the pages of a magazine next to a steaming plate of half eaten pancakes. "I see you're not dead," was her greeting to me when I sat down.

"Sorry to disappoint," I replied taking a long drink of my water bottle, "What'cha reading?"

"I'm taking this personality test and I want to figure out how compatible I am to Brad Pitt," she explained flipping back and forth between the questions and the celebrity's answers. She bit the inside of her cheek, "Would you say I'm an Autumn or a Winter?"

"Definitely Summer," I stated.

Ava nodded as she produced a pen and circled the sun icon. "How was the run? You were gone for a while," she stated, still yet to lift her head from the page.

"Yeah it was good. Long way to go though," I added under my breath. Looking over my shoulder, I watched Amada and Bonnie talking, mainly Bonnie insulting Amada's sweaty look.

"He'll get there. The world was made in seven days," Ava replied, blindly stabbing into one of her pancakes and lifting the whole thing to her mouth. She was shocked by the size of the pancake and placed it back on her plate, trying to cut a smaller piece. As she continued eating, Robyn placed a plate of pancakes in front of me, offering me a smile as she did so.

I tried to be subtle, signing to her and not actually speaking while Ava was distracted. "Date?" I managed to sign correctly.

Robyn stole a glance at Ava, who was biting down on the end of her pen in thought, and leant forwards and signed with small gestures, "It was fun." Robyn's smile became shy as she pursed her lips and returned to the frying pan, adding more b.u.t.ter and batter for the next pancake.

"It's official," Ava announced pushing the magazine aside, "I'll never marry Brad Pitt."

I scoffed, "Oh, and there was such high hopes for you."

She smirked at my comment as she ran the tip of her finger over the maple syrup. "Have you heard from Estelle?" she asked, her voice low.

I shook my head, I hadn't heard from her since she left. "You?"

Ava mimicked my head shake. "I know there's no reason to worry. I mean, I haven't even heard from Simmons or Steven so nothing's going horribly wrong, I suppose." She licked her finger of the syrup. "I usually do these quizzes with her every Sat.u.r.day."

"Need a hug?" I offered, seeing her sudden glum expression.

"No. You're sweaty and probably smell," Ava replied eating her remaining pancake.

"All the more reason." I reached out and trapped her in my arms, prompting a squeal of surprise as I pulled her off her seat and lifted her in my tight hug. She exclaimed her disgust as everyone else laughed, managing to kick my shins and demand I go shower, eventually turning her wrath on Amada and telling him to do the same.