(A/N): Oh. My. God. I haven't updated in like 3918390823 years! Okay, so maybe that's a BIT of an exaggeration. But it has been a really, really, really long time. I'm so sorry! I've been busy with school and such ever since I uploaded my last story, so I haven't had much time to write! I also had a case of writers block, so I'd only write like 100 words or so everyday-ish. Bah. This is what school does to you! :P Anyways, I'm so so so so sorry! Believe me, I haven't forgotten about this story, and I never will. :) Thank you to all of you who read and review, fave and alert it. It really means the world to me. And getting those little reviews makes me all happy when I read them! :D

Okay, so Rule 10. I hope it's okay. As I said, I was writing in between work and writers block. Let me know if you liked it or not, what to improve, or even how your day/week/month is going! I love to hear anything. :P

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade, or the song Misery by Maroon 5. :)

Tyson Rule #10: Take Chances

I feel around for the small zipper on either side of me. It's a little hard to find at first, but once my fingers run across the small metal tab, they mechanically tug at it and unzip the sleeping bag. Hesitantly, I open one eye, scanning the room quickly before opening the other. The room stares back at me, large, empty, and dark. Prying open my eyes fully, I fixate my orbs on the window. I can tell it's going to be another sunny day; the edges of the window are tinged with a faint glow.

I sigh, gingerly peeling away the navy-blue covers of my sleeping bag. I wish I could stay in bed all day, doing nothing but sleeping and relaxing. Sure, it's tempting to just pull the covers up to my chin and pretend like I have nothing to do. But I've been playing hooky for several days now. I know I can't ignore any of the commitments I made.

I loathe the fact that I always have to do the right thing.

Sitting up slowly, I run a hand through the dishevelled brown mess that is my hair. I have the compulsive need to smoothen my honey-brown locks; it slowly eats away at me, making me uncomfortable. It seems weird, but I get a kick out of having everything perfect. It's just the way I am; the perfectionist within me doesn't allow me to function properly without doing the right thing and doing it well. Sometimes I wish I could throw all of that out the window, and just live spontaneously, carelessly, precariously. I want to take a walk on the wild side.

Damn it, I want to live dangerously.

My mind somehow conjures up the image of this motorcycle, all shiny and new. It's mainly black with a couple of chrome accents on the handlebars and hubcaps of each wheel. The leather seats are matte, but the bike itself is coated in a glossy onyx colour. And although it's beautiful – in its own way, I guess – what catches my eye is the tall, dark and handsome guy sitting on this motorcycle, clad in a leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans. He sits there, looking all rugged and handsome, giving this gorgeous thousand-watt smile.

The bad-boy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look is kind of hot, actually.

I snap out of my daydreaming and notice my hand is still tangled within my chestnut curls. Sighing, I notice that I'm the exact opposite of what I'd like to be. No guy like that would want to get involved with someone like me, a girl who can't stray away from her normal routine. As much as I want to be that way, the thought of being edgy scares me. Closing my auburn eyes, I fight off my immediate instincts to flatten my hair and instead mess it up even more, letting a couple of strands fall on my face. Even though it goes against every fibre of my being, I let it stay that way. I can feel myself becoming less uptight and more relaxed by the second.

I rest in the aftermath of my dangerousness for a few seconds before I hear a knock. I let out a short breath and stare at the door, willing the person behind it to leave me alone. But to my dismay, a few seconds later, a muffled voice makes its way into my room.

"Open up."

I tilt my head to the side in confusion, trying to interpret the undertone to his voice. I want to be quiet and pretend like I'm still sleeping, much like I have for the past few days. I know it's wrong to be lying so blatantly to my friends, but I really can't face them. No, scratch that. I don't want to face them. Especially not—

"Hilary."

I groan loudly, letting him know that I'm awake and that I'm not happy about it, but I don't make any motion to go and unlock the door. I just pull the sleeping bag covers over my legs again and attempt to block out the noise of his fist pounding against the door. I feel a little uncomfortable, and my inner conscience is telling me to reply. I stop myself, though, by thinking of the person I want to be. I let out a deep breath and try to channel my inner…

Badass.

I complete the thought with a sense of finality, although I flinch as the word echoes through my mind. Even thinking that word makes me squirm. I can't believe I just swore. Albeit, it was in my head, but things like that never go through my mind. Still, I feel the somewhat hazy perfectionist, uptight and restricting veil lift a little above my head. I smile at my small progress.

"I know you're awake."

I snort, crossing my arms over my stomach. Well, duh.

"If you're going to be a part of this team, you have to get out of that room. You can't seriously be sick still."

I frown at the door, although I know he can't see my expression. The guilt is slowly starting to eat away at my sides, followed closely by my conscience. Keeping up a lie is harder than it looks; honestly, I don't know how those criminals do it. The uneasiness in my stomach is now so overwhelming that it has started to physically hurt me. I guess you have to have nerves of steel and almost no conscience to be a felon.

And you probably have to be immune to butterflies.

My insides do a flip, and I tighten the grip of my arms against my tummy in an attempt to stop it. Damn those stupid butterflies. Damn them all.

The sound of the shallow knock against my wooden door resonates around the room again, breaking the momentary silence. I growl, narrowing my eyes at the entrance. Then, before I can stop myself from speaking, I blurt out, "You're acting like Kai!"

"Ouch. That hurts," I immediately imagine Ray placing a hand over his left side as if an imaginary bullet had gone straight through his heart. I smile, still not bothering to get up and open the door for him. I'd trust Ray with my life, but I know he's probably got something up his sleeve. After a few moments of silence, he picks up on this. "So…aren't you going to open the door?"

"Nope," I reply, somewhat wincing as I say the word. It triggers a series of memories that I'm trying to avoid altogether. A rough layer of goosebumps starts to form, washing over my skin like a wave starting just under the sleeve of my t-shirt. I shiver and rub my arms frantically, trying to remove the oddly cold feeling.

"Just tell me the reason you've been in there for the past week."

"Did you not go to health class? When it's a girl's time of the month—" I'm cut off by a loud thump on the door, which I can only assume is Ray's head pounding into the wooden surface in a frantic attempt to shut me up. "Okay, okay, I'll shut up. Just don't give yourself a concussion. God, guys are so immature."

"Speak for yourself," he finally murmurs in reply. "You're the one cooped up in there in the dark. Max and I think that you've become some sort of soulless vampire." He pauses for a second, so I assume he's finished his thought. But soon enough, his muffled voice drifts into the room once again. "Prove me wrong and come outside, Hilary."

"You're the one with fangs!" I snap, and immediately I feel bad. "Sorry, Ray. You know how it is during this time—"

"Uh, no I don't," The twinge of hurt in his voice is evident, but I can hear another subtle undertone mixed in with it. Disappointment. "Because A), I'm not a girl," he states, "and B), I don't think that's your real reason for staying in there for so long."

So now he's a mind reader. Just freaking perfect.

I choose not to answer him, instead opting to fall back into my sleeping bag with a loud sigh. I pull a nearby pillow over my face and scream into it, letting out all my frustration. The noise comes out sounding like a gurgle. Who cares if people get suspicious? I'm not coming out of this room anytime soon. I'd rather sit here and starve to death than come outside.

"Is this about Tyson?"

It's like he's in my head. So damn scary.

"No…" I say, listening to the sound of my muffled voice through the pillow. There's no way he's going to get to the bottom of my issues. So maybe he has a few suspicions. No big deal. There is no need to tell him that those suspicions of his are right.

For several moments, he doesn't respond. I hear the subtle creaking of the floorboards through the door, the thumping of footsteps, whispering voices. I'm guessing that one of the other guys is talking to Ray, and by the annoyed tone to their inaudible murmurings, I'm guessing that the news being shared isn't good. I sigh, glad that Ray finally decided to let the issue go. I curl up under the layers of covers, even though it's boiling hot within the room. My eyes come to rest on a bright aqua-coloured tuft of fur peeking out from one of the sheets. I pull out my teddy bear very gently and hug it to my chest. I know it's childish, but hugging my bear always made me feel a little bit better. And I don't care how immature it seems, but I take her everywhere, though I'm sure to hide her when I'm at sleepovers with friends or when I'm training with the boys. It's my only secret…

Well, I guess it's not the only one anymore.

I'm about to drift back to sleep, my stuffed animal in my arms, when I hear Maroon 5's Misery echoing across the expanse of the room. Noticing the ringtone of my phone, I sit up groggily and push myself up from the ground. I cross the room and reach my phone in a matter of seconds. I see my blackberry light up with the Unknown caller profile but I decide to answer the call anyways. It's not until I really listen to the set of lyrics emanating from the phone that my fingertips hesitate when they are just a fraction of an inch away from the screen.

I am in misery, there ain't nobody who can comfort me.

How eerily accurate.

My hand shakes as it hovers above the ringing phone. Misery is the perfect way to describe how I feel. I don't want to go out there and face the scrutinizing stares of Ray, Max, Kai, and Kenny. And I definitely don't want to be stuck having to answer to Tyson after the way I acted in the forest. I'm absolutely dreading seeing all of them. I stare at my phone uneasily as it continues to vibrate across the floor. I have no way of telling who might be calling since I don't have caller ID. It could be anyone, and the fact that it could be him scares me even more.

But the silence is slowly killing me.

"Hello?" I say, sort of breathlessly.

"Get out here."

"Ray," I sigh, rolling my eyes although I know he can't see me. "Why are you calling me? Why can't you just talk through the door? Or better yet…why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I will, if you agree to come outside," he chuckles on the other end.

"You know as well as I do that it's not happening." I tell him pointedly, starting to get a little frustrated.

"Well then, I'm calling to let you know that you have an ultimatum."

"Ultimatum?" I blink dazedly, confused as to his response. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he replies, and by the tone to his voice I can tell that his next words aren't going to be very pleasant, "that you have ten minutes to get your ass out here."

"And if I don't?" I challenge, raising my voice.

"I'm going to kick down your door and drag you outside."

"You wouldn't dare,"

"Try me."

The way he finishes his last comment makes me realize that he's not in the mood for playing games. Ray sure can be tough when he needs to be. If he makes some sort of promise – or threat, I guess, in this case – he's bound to follow through. It's one of the things I admire about Ray.

And one of the things I'm starting to hate.

Before I can think of some witty comeback, the phone line goes dead. I bring the phone away from my ear and clutch it harshly within the palm of my hand, staring at the time. 10:09. Resigning seems like the only option at this point; I see no other way to get out of seeing the team. I suppose my 'time of the month' excuse wouldn't have let me get away for much longer anyways. Sure, those guys were dense, but they knew the basics. It sort of sucked, actually. I might have been able to get away with staying in my room for the whole summer, had they decided to skip out on health class.

A small pitter-patter sound breaks my train of thought. It is a few moments before I realize that the noise is coming from behind the window drapes. Curiously, I make my way over to the window as the noise continues to erupt, faster and louder than before. The tapping goes on for a moment longer before I decide to pull aside the drapes. As I whip the curtains open, I'm met with the image of two huge auburn eyes and a mop of unruly navy hair. For a moment, my breath stops and I feel my heart drop within my chest.

But then I get over it. I think.

"Oh my god, Tyson. What the hell?"

"Oh hey, Hil," he gives a quick grin before his eyes come to rest on my messy honey-brown locks. "Uh, what's with the hair?"

I place a hand protectively over my curls, the small metaphor for my new, rebellious nature. "What do you want, Tyson?" I grumble, a little peeved about his comment.

He lifts his gaze off of my hair with a nonchalant shrug, and then turns to look at me in the eyes. "Let me in, Hil," he pleads through the thick glass barrier between us. "Quick, open up the window latch so I can climb in."

"Why should I? You gave me a freaking heart attack," I huff at him as he tries frantically to open the window from the outside. He claws at the slippery surface, attempting to break the glass. Sighing, I open the window open a crack. Tyson's face momentarily brightens, but when he sees me put the securing latch of the window on at its position, he frowns.

"Look, I'm sorry about that." He doesn't bother looking at me. All he does is stare at the fixed window latch in front of him longingly. "Could you please just let me in?"

"No." I reply, throwing him a glare. Sometimes Tyson is a real jerk. He says and does certain things that make everyone want to slap him. Especially like now. I have the strongest urge to smack him across the face. Of course, I'd have to open the window fully to do that, and I don't want to risk him being able to enter. God, I can't believe I have a crush on this idiot.

Had a crush, I mean. A very small, temporary, mostly insignificant one. Not one at all, actually. More like friendship. Yes, friends. Friends, friends, friends.

"Please," he begs, falling to his knees in mercy. I can slowly feel the anger start to die down. Damn him and his idiotic Granger charm. As Tyson continues to plead his case, I watch, with a bemused smirk settling on my face. "Max and Ray are after me. I need to hide someplace that they won't find me."

"What?" I ask, taken aback. "Why?"

"Why else?" he says in a monotone voice, "Training. Let me in."

"As much as I hope they catch you," I start, "I can kind of relate. Ray just gave me an ultimatum."

"An ulti-what?"

I sigh tiredly. Using big words with Tyson never works. It always goes through one ear and comes out the other. "He pretty much threatened to kick down my door and drag me outside if I'm not ready in ten minutes."

"When did he say that?" he asks.

"10:09. Why?"

He pulls out his phone from his pocket, pressing a button which illuminates the screen. He takes a quick look at it and then growls. "Damn it. We only have three minutes."

"Yeah."

After a couple of seconds of resigned silence, Tyson pipes up from the other side of the window. "So?"

"So what?"

"Aren't you going to get out here?"

I look at him, dumbfounded. Does he really expect me to climb out of the window in my bare feet and run around the campsite like a maniac? In my pyjamas? In my mind, I've made up my decision. There is absolutely no way that I'm going to escape from my room, like some sort of convict trying to break out of prison. Besides, the logical thing to do would be to head to practice and keep up the commitments I have with the team.

But then I feel a short gust of wind make its way through the crack in the window and ruffle my hair, blowing some tangled strands onto my face and others away from it. And then, in that moment, I know what I have to do.

I'm going to Take Chances.

(A/N): So how was it? Good or bad? Lemme know in a review, if you'd like. Until next time! Peace & love. :D