Black And White [currently in a cover-scarcity period]

chapter four

natalie

Ryan is weird. It's not every day that you come across someone like that.

"You got a guy to ask for your number!" Des shrieked as she fixed her arms on her sides. She was sitting cross-legged on my bed as she contemplated on what color to paint her nails. She examined them carefully and finally plucked out the bottle containing a mint green tint.

I rolled my eyes at her. "You're such a girl,"

"So you're saying that you're a guy?" she swiped the brush on her nails.

"No." I said defensively.

"Okay then. But still, Nat. A guy."

I knew mentioning what happened earlier to Des and Lyla would be a bad idea. "It's not like he wanted my number. He slipped," which was indeed the truth, Ryan did slip. "You should've seen his face, mortified in humiliation."

"Uh-huh." Des said dreamily. She was a year older than me and Lyla. That doesn't make her mental capability lower than the others her age since she was just a junior, as supposedly a senior. She just started school late because her mom said that the early bird does not catch the worm.

Lyla was on the floor, reading a self-help book that she obviously does not need. "Cut her some slack, will you?" she mentioned unruffled.

Des ignored the comment and tried to make out the book in her hands. And once she already gave up on doing so, she asked Lyla what she was reading. Lyla held up the book in front of her face, still scanning through the pages.

"Help For Depressed Souls?" Des read aloud. "You don't need that. You're not even depressed."

"So?"

11:49 pm and I still couldn't sleep. Normally, I'd doze of the moment I sink into bed. I pulled out the hundred-dollar-phone-that-isn't-worthy-to-be-called-a-hundred-dollar-phone phone and scoured through the only data in it. Unintentionally, I landed on Ryan's mobile ID. Silly boy.

Since he didn't have my number, just the 911 one, I figured that I can phase a secret identity here. Smirking, I typed him a little message.

Natalie: meet at starbucks tomorrow, downtown branch, at 13:30 pm. we have a lot to discuss on. if you don't come, you'll never see your home in one piece again. -louissa

A few seconds later, he replied. Nicely written, with correct punctuations and all, but it was a little too formal?

Ryan: Lou, come on. You don't have to do that. I know that I was the reason that you flunked your chemistry test. I'm sorry for not bringing any extra pens with me the day of the test. I'll talk to you at school instead. Ps, did Kicker give you my number?

I picked the wrong name, again. Why did that girl blame him for not having pens? And who's named as Kicker?

Natalie: i am not that louissa. agree with the proposed plan and i will let you go unharmed. no, kicker is not involved in any of this

Ryan: Whatever. And stop trying to be a mysterious itinerant person; you're not good at it. Just pray it over that God may bestow upon you this talent before you sleep. Good night.

Who uses the word itinerant in a conversation? What does itinerant even mean? Midnights make people cranky and straightforward. And he's right; it was time to get some shut eye and pray that God will make me more pretentious.

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I hoisted myself in my seat as I tapped my pencil against a notepad with questions scribbled on them. Questions that will be asked if Ryan decides to show up. Even though I hate coffee, this was the only place that I can go to without my friends getting suspicious. I thought of meaningful (and not just catchy) questions.