She's My Proof

What Are The Chances?

I woke up early that Saturday morning to an alarm that I forgot to turn off. Once I stood to shut the clock up, I get my sleep anymore.

Today will be a busy day. Last week, Ms. Zelia told me that she'd be attending this journalism seminar and wanted me to come with her. She specifically wanted me because for some reason, whenever I made essays, compositions, and articles, faculty staff and students alike develop some sort of love for it. They say it was talent that I was able to form sentences and paragraphs with ease. "I'm just speaking my mind," I'd reason out, but they'd dismiss it as modesty. To them, most of my work were thought out and practiced, but everything I write is just from personal experiences; I just put it into words. They say it was easy for me, but on the contrary it wasn't, because no words can express a human thought.

Needless to say, I agreed to come with her. And besides, she's Zelia Radloff, for God's sake. The Zelia Radloff. How many men would kill just to have Ms. Zelia to themselves for one whole day?

The seminar would start at around 1 pm and would end at 5 in the afternoon. I looked at my clock and it was still 6 in the morning, which meant I could still catch a few hours of sleep.

I woke up at around 12 noon, to the sound of my phone ringing. I was receiving a call from Ms. Zelia, so I immediately answered it. Our talk wasn't much, though, because she just reminded me that the seminar will start in an hour, and asked if I could pick her up at her house. Man, if she weren't a teacher, I'd really think she's in to me.

I took a short shower just to feel a bit refreshed. I got dressed and picked Ms. Zelia up at her house, which was not anymore farther than the school I go to everyday.

Of course, I had to forget to bring anything to the seminar. No notebooks, no pens, nothing. I didn't think we'd bring anything. It was a good thing Ms. Zelia was there to back me up. She had extra everything-extra notebook, extra pens... She was a walking bookstore.

We went to Rosehill, the same town my friends and I went to last night. The seminar was held at the Rosehill College, where almost all the attendees were old and aspiring journalists.

-5 hours later-

This journalism seminar was the most torturous five hours in my entire life. I mean, I didn't even have plans to become a writer so I immediately regretted coming here. It started getting boring once the guest speaker stepped on stage and greeted us a "Good Afternoon," so basically, it was boring right from the very beginning.

After five long hours of resisting the urge to sleep, I was able to breath triumphantly. Only the older people actually got something from this, and those people that didn't were only me and Ms. Zelia as well, surprisingly.

"Well, that was the worst 5 hours of my life," Ms. Zelia remarked as we exited the building. "I am sorry I put you up to that."

"No, it was okay, I guess," I said, in a very sarcastic tone. "I have enjoyed every second of it."

She grinned at me, shoving me playfully.

"Anyway, my cousin is having a volleyball match tonight. At this same place. My boyfriend couldn't come so I have one spare ticket left," she offered. I never knew Ms. Zelia had a boyfriend. I always thought she was this independent woman who need no man. But I guess that boyfriend of hers wasn't around and it just so happens that I am free tonight, so what the hell, right?

"You'd have to repay me for that murderous seminar," I said, smiling at her, "so I would say yes."

We ate at Oscar's Pizzeria, the same place Isabella and I ate at last night. It never crossed my mind to tell Ms. Zelia about what happened that night because I doubt that that Isabella girl still remembers me. It won't move forward between us, I guess. It's just a 'one night stand' per se, but that one night stand was just the two of us awkwardly talking to each other with an open box of pizza sitting in the middle of our table.