#23 Words Of Sincerity
She stood at the door, her luscious black curls still cascading down her elegant neck. She was holding on to a motorcycle helmet. Cool.
She opened her mouth and said, “Can I come in?”
“Uh.. sure, Teresa.” I stuttered a little, not expecting her visit. But then again, when have I expected her visit.
I noticed that she was also, at the same time, holding a bag in her hand. I casted a look on her bag and she answered, as though she was reading my mind. (Again) “Those are your clothes. I’ve washed them.”
“Oh you didn’t have to,” I told her politely.
Her gaze shifted to the floor. She looked confused, but at the same time she looked like she had expected it.
‘I, uh…got a little out of control.” I scratched the back of my head sheepishly, now that she had to look at my ‘masterpiece’.
“Umm, can I have a seat?” She asked, while bending down and picking up the cushions that were right beside her feet.
“Sure,” I stuttered again, feeling a little awkward. To end the awkwardness I told her I was going to make some coffee for her. Scratching my head, I walked towards the kitchen counter.
“Care to share?” She asked as she took a seat. She saw the book lying on the table because I took it out before she visited. “It’s a nice book. ‘ She commented, eyes not leaving the book.
I haven’t finished reading the book, so I replied to her second comment, a topic which I was more interested in.
‘Yeah, I’ve read three chapters of it.”
“I admire Jonas’s bravery. But he will soon discover that sometimes truths can be really harsh. Whether he likes it or not, he’ll be involved in it.” She said casually.
Whether I like it or not, I’ll still be involved. I pondered…
I made the coffee and served my guest. The sentence triggered. I was ready to talk about it.
And so I told her about everything that happened. I wasn’t sure why I confided in. I had only met her for two times, and I was telling her everything that has been troubling me these few days, or week.
After I’ve finished my rant, I was expecting her to say wow or something. But it didn't come.
Instead, she said, “I understand.”
She understands? No she doesn’t. Just because she’s a psychic she knows what happened doesn’t mean she knows what happened. She doesn’t even know the hate I felt.
Walking out of school, I was going to confront her. Nobody leaves unscathed after hurting people like this. Totally blasphemy in my words. So confronting her has been top on my to-do list. Mission to be accomplished: Talk sense to her until she complies under my subjugation. Or at least let her feel a little pang of guilt.
My eyes shone in an uncanny glint when I saw her car. She was by the side, about to enter her car and drive her way. “Hey you!” I shouted, trying to catch her attention.
“Oh look who’s here.” She smirked, typical of her. “I would like to entertain you but I guess your dolls at home do a better job. Oh maybe you can toy with Richard too.” She insinuated meanly. “Now get out of my way.” She continued, not giving me a second look. Yeah right, you're such a doll.
She slit into her car skilfully as she fastens her seatbelt. “Don’t go! You owe Richard an explanation.” I yelled loudly, standing in front of her car menacingly.
YOU ARE READING
Problems With The Hierarchy
RandomJocks, Cheerleaders, Goths, Nerds. These were just a few names we use to group certain people in High School. Who knew you could actually.. call it a 'Hierarchy'? Once in a while, she would be insulted by the ones who seemed to think they were in th...
