JANNAT'S P.O.V
I STORMED AROUND THE CORNER, my eyes frantically searching for the scrawny kid. Finally after what seemed like forever, I found him tucked away in a dark corner of the library, reading some book. I peered a little to catch the title written in bold gold letters — The Secret History.
"Heard you thrashed a guy."
He finally tore his gaze from the book, his steely gray eyes boring into me. I continued, eyeing the bandage on his chin. "Heard you got beat up in return too. He got you on the chin, huh? How did it feel being punched by someone who was not me?"
His lips crooked up ever-so-slightly at the corner, like he wanted to smile — but didn't give in. I grinned. "Ah. Missed me that much, huh?"
"Shut up, Divagirl." He shook his head, whipping out a bookmark quickly from his pocket and slipping it in between the pages before pressing the book and tucking it underneath his arm. He motioned for me to sit down.
"It's dirty. I will not let my skirt get ruined."
He rolled his eyes, then took out a mat from his backpack. My eyes widened. "You casually run around with a mat in your bag?"
He gave me an incredulous stare as he bounced the mat to me. I caught it in time, and then crouched down, spreading it on the floor before sitting down on it quietly, instinctively getting into Lotus position. Sinclair's eyes followed my action, and then tried to copy it, but gave up — scrambling back to his initial position — legs stretched forward, out on the dirty floor.
"Well, a mat is one of my necessities. I like sitting on the floor."
"Weirdo."
"Not as weird as you, miss ma'am, you casually carry around a hairdryer in your purse."
I frowned at him. "I mean, duh, do you think I am barbarian or what?"
"See what I mean?" He said, his mouth twisting in a smirk. "We all have our, er, differences which set us apart. Just so happens, yours are the weirdest ones."
"I really really want to punch you," I said.
He let out a low laugh. "I bet you do. Must have hurt you to be informed that someone else other than you actually had the audacity to inflict violence on me, yeah?"
"Shut up weirdo," I said, rolling my eyes. "Also, wait, before I forget it, I was here to ask you something very important."
"Ask me something important?" He repeated, cocking one eyebrow. "If you're already asking me for prom, which is ages away — with a heavy heart I have to deny because as much as I love being around you—"
"Ah, ah, ah," I interrupted before he could do more verbal shitposting. "I wanted to ask — how do you know what my perfume smells like?"
His face contorted into a confused expression at first, but then the confusion vanished away and a smirk crawled up on its way towards his mouth. "Essential oils."
I scrunched up my nose. "What? That doesn't answer my question."
"You don't use perfume, you use essential oils," He said, grinning at me. "You mix essential oils with your body lotion. Remember, during our school captain election campaigns, to get back at you for gluing my favorite flip-flops to my feet — I snuck in your room and mixed itching powder in your essential oils? You had to give your speech on stage with your whole skin itching. One of my fondest memories, truly."
My mouth twitched. I did remember that. I had stumbled into the house, my skin itching all over and and first comment that Baba said when he offered me a long, incredulous glance was — ah look, I don't know what new fashion strategy you're applying but if the mission was to look like a monkey, you have definitely succeeded. Congrats.
"You remembered," I said slowly, not knowing what to make out of it. "If I didn't know any better I would have said that you're obsessed with me."
He gave me a lazy grin. "Just keeping my friends close and my enemies closer. Nothing much."
"Nice ideology, twat. Too bad your attire isn't, though. So 1930s."
"Hm, it must seem extra nice to you because you don't frequently stumble upon ideologies just like that — do you? What was the last time you actually picked up a book? Oh wait, maybe 1930? In your past life, yes?"
I shook my head, slumping against the bookshelf behind me. "Oh no, you have insulted me! What ever shall I do? I will be emotionally and mentally scarred for years! Ah! What a pain to bear."
"You know, if this whole fashion designing thing doesn't work for you—" He commented, brushing out the hair from his eyes. "— you should try out for theater. You'll fight right in."
"What a good news, and you know this reminds me—" I murmured, training my gaze on him. "You know, yesterday I was driving by this place and it reminded me of you.."
He sat up up light straighter. "Hm?"
"Yes! I was driving by the place and I just got so overcome by the feeling that you would love that place and feel right at home there!" I said, smiling. "I took in the big bold letters at the entrance gate — which said — City Zoo — and thought of how I should drive you someday there and help you feel more at home, you know?"
He sneered at me, but by the way he swiftly turned his head around and his shoulders shook — I knew he was laughing. I sighed wistfully.
"You're a truly evil person, Walter."
"Funny that you say it," I said thoughtfully. "Because it takes one to know one."
He didn't reply with a snarky remarks like I had expected, instead just shrugged and settled more comfortably on the floor. I leaned back too, sprawling and straightening my legs in front of me, putting one foot over another at the ankles. Christian cleared his throat.
"Nice shoes."
I shrugged. "I know."
There was a pause. Then he asked the question that I was trying very very hard to dodge.
"Why did you actually come find me, Walter?"
I opened my mouth to answer but when no sound came out, I shut it back — willing my lip to dart out and wet my suddenly dry lips. I took a moment to compose myself, and thankfully Sinclair didn't interrupt, and I pulled my chapstick out of my blazer and applied it thoroughly before answering him.
"I came here to... thank you, I guess."
"For what? For showing basic humanity and standing up against a racist asshole?" He asked, playing with a loose thread of his blazer. I had the urge to slap his hand away and tell him that he was just further ruining the garment, but I restrained myself. Probably won't be a wise decision to do that, especially when he is not a friend, but my arch nemesis.
"No," I said, then paused for a second, trying to find the right words. "I think I came here to thank you for standing up for me and telling him that I smell like jasmine and sandalwood instead of curry. I take my fragrance game very seriously."
He kept quiet for a moment, and then actually laughed. He laughed! I sat beside him awkwardly, unsure of what was actually so funny — and then after a moment, when he finally ceased laughing, I continued. "And um yeah, that's that. Thanks."
"Well," He said slowly, still stifling small bursts of laughter. "I have had lots of people thank me for a lot of ridiculous things, but yours certainly takes the cake. Which I should have expected, by the way, because you are ridiculous."
"Shut up, Sinclair," I said, snarling at him. "And you are ridiculous! Huh. I am fancy and prim and proper and everything you're not."
"I am smart," He said. "So if you're everything I am not, you must be dumb."
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head and preparing to stand up and take my leave. "Screw you, Sinclair."
"At least take me out for a meal first," He replied. "Breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner — everything works. I am not a very traditional guy."
I blew out a breath, smiled and stood up — and then crouched down to fold the mat before placing it in Sinclair's outstretched hand. "Be at the auditorium at detention time. I have talked with Sawyer sir and he has agreed us to give us freedom from detention and let me judge you for your debate audition instead. He is okay with it as long as we stay in the same room and don't rip each other's throats out."
"I will be there," He said, giving me a sincere nod. "See you again, my dear Walter who just thanked me!"
I was already on my heels, walking away and away from that scrawny kid. I threw a last remark at him from over my shoulder before turning at the shelf and walking straight towards the exit. "Get stuffed, Sinclair."
● ● ●
DECIDING ON AN APPROPRIATE design of a dress for a party that we were to attend on the Saturday evening — which was more than two weeks away — seemed to be painfully difficult as Estelle and Adrienne and I peered into my sketchbook thoughtfully. My right thumb was carefully fiddling with the sleek gold ring that adorned my right ring finger, Adrienne's left little finger twitching dangerously against my arm and Estelle biting on her lip with such strength that made the action look almost painful — and were indicators and tells of when we were very serious and deep in thought.
"I find the glimmer on this dress very attractive," Adrienne mumbled, pointing at the sketch of a dress that appeared to be a long shimmery black dress which fell freely down the body, much like a maxi, and was one-shouldered, with a sleek silver belt to provide some balance for the fabric fluidity and a series of ruffles on the one shoulder band. "But it will be a tad bit inappropriate for clubbing, no? A bit too extra, I think."
"Pssh, this smooth clothed dress is it!" Estelle said, pointing to another sketch — this one was a short fuchsia number, with a carefully pleated skirt divided from the bodice with intricately designed pearls that crawled all the way up along the edges of the tapering neckline that the sweetheart neckline design had to offer. The dress was to be made of georgette silk, and the bodice was cut in the style of a straped camisole — and the back of the dress was made of see-through net fabric. "But it doesn't scream hardcore clubbing huh, does it? More like, prim and proper seductress."
"I can't say how wrong that sentence sounds," I said, and then concentrated on the design that had initially caught my attention. "Well, it seems like we are at an impasse. This calls for some help."
"Help from who?" Adrienne questioned, looking around at the bustling hallway. "We don't exactly have a ton of friends."
My eyes trained on a familiar person on the room. "Well, I sure can see a friendly face in the crowd. Hello Neil! Here!"
That boy snapped his head right towards me — and his face broke out into a grin as he stalked towards us.
"Hi, Jannat."
"Hi Neil!" I chirped and then gestured to my best friends. "This is Adrienne and Estelle, my best friends. Este, Adri — meet Neil, we have history together."
"Oh wait, you're the nice guy who gave up the parking space for us!" Este murmured but abruptly stopped when Adri elbowed her in the ribs.
Neil, ever-so-sweet, didn't seem to mind. He flashed both of them a grin, and then turned to me. "So... um, what's up?"
"Well," I murmured, stepping closer to him so that he could peek in my sketchbook. "Which dress do you think is the most party-crowd pleasing?"
He pushed his glasses up and with utmost concentration, peered at my sketches and took in the descriptions scribbled in, pages after pages. After what felt like forever, he pointed towards a dress and turned to me with a triumphant smile. "This is the one!"
I observed the dress he was pointing at, pleasant about the fact that he was pointing at the very dress that had been my very choice. It was fully black, with a wide, deep squared neckline and full sleeves — it had a series of buttons towards the left side which had a flap over it to give the illusion of it not being a buttoned-up dress and more like a wrap up dress. There were big golden buttons for show at regular intervals to give it the don't–bother–me look but the plunging neckline and the length of the dress, which ended mid thighs and oozed seduction and the well-known i–can–show–you–a–good–time thought. It was sleek, modern, fun and yet classy. Hence, a perfect choice. A pair of knee high black boots with matte-finished gold embellishments and I'd be turning the dusty roads into my own ramp.
"I just envisioned my whole look for the party and I think I cried a little. I am going to look good," I squeaked out, shooting Neil a smile and snapping my sketchbook close.
"Well, that's it then," Adri murmured. "Two out of three done. Only mine is left. I think you can do it on your own Jan, yeah?"
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Don't bail out on me."
"I am not," She said, grinning at me. "Just leaving the stuff to the expert."
"You—" I started but she was already hot on her heels towards the exit. "See ya'll later! Goodbye! Este, Jan, call me!"
"Well, that was swift," Neil remarked, turning to us. I shrugged.
"Well, I should get going too I think," Este replied, and then leaned in to press a brief kiss to my cheek. "Talk to you later, Jan. Take care. And don't kill Christian while taking his audition. Remember, removing the blood stains from the stage carpet wouldn't be a breeze."
"But at least it's red so it will be easier," I deadpanned and Neil let out a laugh next to me. I smiled. Este did too, and then walked towards the exit after bidding goodbye to both of us.
"So," Neil murmured after a moment. "Let me walk you to the auditorium?"
The walk to the auditorium was breezy, and we made small talk on the way and I recommended Neil better shoes on the way and had given him the shop address where he could find just the thing. But he was more sly than I had expected, and he didn't let go of me without making a deal.
"I will get those new shoes and better uniform if you promise to go to this new Asian restaurant with me."
"Like a date?"
"If you want it to be. No pressure if it's otherwise."
I had shot him a wry smile. "You're a good negotiator. But we will only go as friends."
He had grinned. "Sure then, as friends. And hey, I take Economics, you know?"
I had smacked him lightly on the head at his response. I had bid him goodbye before walking into the auditorium, the place empty. I wondered if Sinclair had somehow forgotten about this.
"Wondering if I had forgotten the audition?" A familiar voice asked from the stage and I whirled around to find Sinclair sitting in one corner of the stage, partially hidden by the curtains. I walked towards him.
"You got me."
"I am not that irresponsible, you know?" He said, hopping off on his feet. "Was that Neil Malhotra I saw with you?"
"Maybe."
"Damn, you talking with the geeks? To what do we owe this pleasure?"
I rolled my eyes. "Neil is a friend. Plus, we are going out for dinner next week. He promised that he would upgrade his school uniform in response. It feels good to show people the right way to fashion, you see?"
He took a quick swig from the thermos he was holding before turning back to me. "Damn Walter, you two going on a date?"
"No, we are only going as friends." I huffed. "As friends. I made it clear."
"Only the two of you? Even though you two aren't like childhood friends or anything and you damn well know that he has a crush on you?"
"...yes."
"Sounds like a date to me," He said, before taking another sip. "Plus, if you don't have feelings for him, that trip to the restaurant is probably going to lead him on. Poor fella."
I stiffened. "Do you think I should cancel?"
"No, that too would break his heart," He said. "But I do sorta have an idea."
I looked at him warily. "What idea exactly?"
He smiled at me. "Well, Lucas and I could always tag along."
"Are you barking mad?" I murmured. "He didn't even invite you two! Only me!"
"But yeah, we could always coincidentally drop by and then accidentally join you two there to disrupt any ideas of a date. If Estelle and Adrienne showed up suddenly, he would know that you asked them too. But if my boy Lucas and I dropped in, it would feel like an unfortunate coincidence."
"But—"
"But, you could always refuse this offer if you two are on a date. Or if you want to get his hopes up and break his heart. Your choice, of course."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why would you do this for me? You hate my guts."
He shrugged. "I am not doing it for you, it's for my man Neil. Bros gotta have each other's backs."
I frowned, and then sighed. "Okay. I will text you the details."
"Yeah, send me on Twitter, okay? You ain't worthy enough for having my number yet."
I scoffed. "Like I would want your number anyways." I rolled my eyes. "And what is it that you're drinking anyway? You can't possibly be drinking water in little sips."
He paused for a moment. "It's beer. Chilled."
"What?"
"Just kidding," He said. "Or maybe not." And then he offered me the thermos. The audacity! "And hey, you can drink the mystery liquid too if you want, I am a good fella, I can share."
I all but growled. "Why are you drinking? During school hours?"
"Because I like it." He said, and then downed the whole thermos in one huge gulp. "Also, it was cola."
I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration before sighing and composing myself. "Well then, now that you're done, I'd appreciate if you went on the stage. You still need to audition, you see."
"Oh yes," He said, nodding and then fished out a glass bottle from his backpack before handing it to me. Seeing my frown, he quickly added. "Don't worry, it's not alcohol, or cola. It's mineral water, for you. The sparkling kind. I know you don't drink alcohol or soft drinks. Thought that this peace offering from me would last long enough for our time being here and you won't viciously attack me."
I rolled my eyes but unscrewed the bottle and took a sip anyways before making myself comfortable on the edge of the stage. "Whenever you're ready, Sinclair. But remember, we don't have all the time."
"I know, I know," He said, shoving his now probably empty flask inside the bag and then turned towards me, pointing towards his watch. "We still have thirty-four minutes and seventeen seconds left. But I was born ready, so let's do this."
I took another sip of the sparkling water. And as much as I wanted to throw the glass bottle at his smiling face, I restrained myself and offered him a fake smile instead, waiting for him to begin. But when he went on the stage and then started speaking, I daresay, passionately, to his make-believe audience — I suddenly didn't want to throw the glass bottle at the magnanimous twat that much anymore.