A Message from Louis

A Message from Louis 2

What.

Did.

I.

Just.

Read.

I rub my eyes and reread the text all over again, to make sure that I didn’t just imagine it. Yet, no matter how many times I stare at the bright screen, the letters only seem to scream at me the same thing: It’s me, Louis.

Louis.

At the sight of his name, I feel my face flush up. I’m not sure if I feel happy or frustrated or whatever. I grab a nearby pillow and hold it to my chest, hoping that it calms down the nerves that have gone haywire in my system. I drop my phone and clutch the pillow so tightly, my knuckles hurt. I somehow form my body into a fetal position and gently rock myself back and forth while trying to exhale the air that I’ve somehow kept inside me.

When I do calm down and release the pillow I grab my phone and read the text all over until I stop feeling like I want the whole world to just eat me up.

With a sigh, I type back a reply and hit send.

Me: Yeah right.

I toss back my phone on my bed, partly out of disgust. Disgust on how a small text can affect me so much. I never had Louis’s number. No one did. He didn’t have a phone, like most of us in freshman year. But at senior year, almost everyone just had to acquire one so that we could contact each other always. I got one too because I didn’t want to be left behind. I guess I succumbed to peer pressure, but Louis didn’t. That was the great thing about Louis. He never felt pressured to do anything. He was his own being. Nothing could affect him.

I didn’t know he had a phone now though. Surely someone could have mentioned it in a conversation. But nothing. Not even Seth said anything about Louis getting a phone. But maybe they just didn’t see that it was worth telling the whole world.  But even if he did have a phone, I doubt I would have the nerve to even ask for his number, most probably because I am afraid that my intentions are too transparent, and he’ll see through the mask and know that I have harboured feelings for him.

If Unknown Number is really Louis, then I guess I’m just flattered, since he took the effort to actually get my number and talk to me. But at the same time, it’s humiliating because I feel so naked and exposed. It’s probably because it feels like he’s crept behind my back and caught me off guard.

Yet, at the same time, I’m happy that I get to talk to Louis. We didn’t really talk much before, but exchanging these playful text messages makes me feel closer to him. We can start over.

My phone vibrates in receiving a message from Unknown Number, or should I say, Louis.

Unknown Number: Well, if you don’t believe I’m Louis, then that’s pretty cool. I’m flexible.

I smile and change Unknown Number’s name to Louis in my contacts. I hesitate, then decide on adding a heart emoticon beside his name. Louis.

+

“Can you believe the nerve of that teacher?”Jean semi-screams as she ties her hair into a ponytail. We’re having our Graphics class, and since we’re freshmen, we’re just doing some drafting work. This day’s lesson was more or less about lines.

“I do my best in giving her a decent plate and then she has the face to write ‘Just try making a straight line.’ I AM trying!” Jean raises her palms in the air, partly for dramatics I think, and slightly slams herself down her chair. I sit in mine and roll my sleeves up to my elbows.

“Isn’t that the point why we’re here Clara? To learn stuff? I don’t remember going here to get insulted like a pig,” Jean continues her rant. Her eyebrows are meeting in the center, and what seems to be a deep crease forms between them. I nod my head, but not because I agree with her. I nod my head because I want her to think I’m listening when I don’t really care much about her situation. Which is sad because even though I’d like to consider Jean and I to be friends, there are times when I just don’t care about her and her drama.