Fairytale Love? Kiss My Ass!

Episode 8

Eight

There came a point in time when I was really euphoric with what I had. But before all that, I had to become a pushover and have someone save me all the while. That saviour was Rylance, by the way, if you didn’t get it the first time. And when someone had done something which was even relatively close to bad, Rylance would abruptly come to the rescue.

I think the greatest thing Rylance did for me was save me from humiliation when my extreme crush before, Matthew Evans, called the whole eighth grade in the field just to make a public announcement: that I confessed my undying (okay, so maybe not) love for him and he…well, he didn’t accept it.

I could still remember even now the cruel laughter that came from the crowd when Matthew said those words, that simple “You’re not ‘hot enough’ for me” with that matching looking-down snort that downright ruined my ego. It hurt, it really did. And when I felt hot tears on my eyes and was prepared to sit there on the field crying whilst everyone had formed into a circle around me with their snickers was when I felt something–a jacket–cover me and strong hands pull me up from my low position.

And when I looked up, it was Rylance.

However, that only made me cry more. But not tears of sheer shame and utter mortification, but of joy. Joy because at that moment I knew I wasn’t alone, and that I wasn’t that horrible for not having even one person in school care for me. And then something hit me. I wasn’t supposed to let people do that to me, because when Rylance said that I had to learn to stand up for myself was when I realised that he wouldn’t always be there to help me. What if Rylance went away? What would I do when someone bullies me again? I think I wouldn’t survive.

And somewhere along the way of asking several questions such as those, I came to figure out inside of me that my feelings for Rylance became stronger.

And then…well, you know what happened next.

All these were floating inside my mind third thing in the morning. And by that I meant in my third class. Why so, you ask? It was Chemistry time and we were having a little experiment, and my lab partner was none other than Matthew Evans himself.

That wouldn’t be so awkward, really, except that in order to do this experiment, we had to brush our hands against each other’s. And the lingering fact that he was still holding grudges on me because of what I did to him didn’t exactly help ease the awkwardness either.

So when he said, “Stop holding my hand!” All I could think of was to reply with, “But we need this for our damn experiment, you idiot!”

And that, my amigos, was how we ended up in the principal’s office. Well, not exactly, because after I said he was an idiot, he grew really red and smashed his gloved fist down the table which brought several beakers to shake, drop, break and spill its liquid, resulting into only a very little explosion. Take note, very little.

But still that wasn’t enough to bring mercy to our chemistry teacher, for when he saw that explosion right in front of his eyes, we were immediately (yes, immediately) sent to the principal’s office. Luckily, though, when the principal finally called us to enter his office, both Matthew and I weren’t drenching wet anymore with a plethora of liquid colour.

However, there was a downside. Of course there was.

“Well, Ms Falls, this is the second time I’ve seen you here due to a teacher’s complaint this month,” remarked Principal Noggin, a man with greying hair in his early 50s, a deep frown in his face. He was sitting opposite Matthew and me, his hands clamped together on the desk in between us. The room, with its dark brown glossy walls and carpeted floor and neat achievement records everywhere assured me being in the principal’s office sure was intimidating.