February 4, 2008
The key to a guy's heart is not a key. It's a hammer. You have to hit him hard on the head.
Only models could still look fresh, clean and beautiful after playing a tiring game of tennis. The last time Grace tried to play, she got exhausted after running around the court for twenty minutes. And her entire appearance was so disheveled that she might as well have been doing strenuous exercises for more than an hour. Rachelle Harlow, apparently, was not only beautiful and sexy but also athletic. I must have been sleeping when God bestowed all kinds of beauty upon the women of the world, Grace thought unhappily.
Guys who were attending club activities had stopped to watch when Rachelle started playing against the Tennis Club’s president. It was actually rare for Rachelle to stay behind long after school hours. She wasn’t part of any club and she was often scheduled to do pictorials even during weekdays. So there really was no reason to stay except that she probably liked hanging out with friends instead of going home immediately after class.
Grace walked over to a far corner where only a few people had gathered. She decided to wait until Rachelle was no longer being surrounded by her many friends and admirers before she actually talked to her. She had known this teen model ever since she got into St. James Academy four years ago. This young lady had always been admired by the boys, and the girls either loved her or hated her. She was popular not only because she was a model but also because her brother was the vocalist of a famous Heartlake band, Quarter To Five. The siblings were often thought of as royalty as far as St. James high school was concerned. Quite a different level from other students. No, a really different level from others. If Grace was a normal human being, she’d put those two in the gods and goddesses category. Right where she placed Nick Cleveland.
Now, why did her thoughts always seem to wander towards that mysterious guy these days? She knew of Nick Cleveland for as long as she knew Rachelle Harlow. No one in campus (except maybe, Rachelle and Matt Harlow) knew the real person behind that mysterious façade. Even the guys from the Judo Club where he belonged didn’t seem to know much about him. Or maybe, he swore everyone to secrecy about his personality. Either way, Nick Cleveland was an unsolved puzzle. Therefore, all kinds of rumors about him circled the school almost every day.
The worst by far, would be that gay issue. Girls had been trying so hard to catch his attention longer than she had known him. However, no one had succeeded. Ever. And so, people had speculated that maybe he preferred boys rather than girls. This, in her opinion was just plain rubbish.
One look at Nicholas Cleveland and the only word that stayed in your brain was “gorgeous”. He was not necessarily beautiful or even handsome in a smooth, perfectly sculpted way but his ruggedness had a way of piercing through all beauty standards. It must be his eyes. He looked so tough physically but his eyes had an angelic softness in them that would make you think that he would never hurt a single soul. A contradiction that made him all the more mysterious.
This was what had drawn Grace to him right from the start. She knew he would never notice her but somehow, she had always wished for it to happen that she ended up confused about her other possible romantic relationships. She would think that maybe this guy would be the one for her but her standards were always Nick-biased and the guy would often come up short. Logic told her one thing but her heart said another. Oh, the problems of a teenage girl.
*****
The people around Rachelle were starting to disperse. Grace waited until the last one had said his goodbyes before she started walking towards the owner of the brown journal. She caught her just before she entered the building where the girls’ locker room was located. Of course, she would need to take a shower.
“Hi, Rachelle. You probably don’t know me but I’m Grace Enriquez,” she greeted, extending her right hand.
Rachelle smiled in recognition and shook Grace’s hand.
“Hello. And I do know you. You’re from the St. James Chronicles, right? I remember you with Haley when she did a feature article about me.”
“Oh. That was more than a year ago. And I was merely assisting our features editor. You still remember?” Grace said with disbelief.
“Yes,” Rachelle replied with a small laugh. “I thought you were one of the production assistants and I asked you to watch over my bag. It was only when I was talking with Haley that I found out you were actually her associate editor. I apologized and you said it was alright,” she narrated while leading the two of them to one of the nearby benches.
Grace smiled, remembering. “I see. You must have a very sharp memory.”
Rachelle shook her head. “Nope. Not really. It’s just that you’re quite easy to remember. Especially since I also thought that you would have been a great model if you were taller. Long, black hair and amber eyes have a certain appeal after all,” she said, looking at the other girl with admiration.
Grace blushed. “Oh no. There’s no need to say that,” she said, embarrassed. Grace was only five feet four inches and never in her life had she thought herself beautiful. Pretty maybe. But nothing more than that.
Rachelle laughed. “There’s no need to be embarrassed about that. We girls should always think of ourselves as the most beautiful creatures ever made. If we don’t, who will?” she said with an arch of her right brow.
Grace decided then and there that she liked Rachelle Harlow. Probably more than she could like the entire female population of the graduating class.
“Anyway,” Rachelle asked while trying to wipe her face with a towel, “I heard Haley’s editor-in-chief now. So have you been promoted too?”
“Yes. I took over Haley’s job,” Grace said with a hint of pride.
“Wow! Congratulations. I read the Chronicles once in a while and I know that you are a group of superb writers,” she said, still smiling.
A few tendrils of Rachelle’s long hair had broken loose from her ponytail and she was starting to look a bit uncomfortable due to her sticky clothes. Model that she was, she still tried her best to hide her discomfort. Grace noticed however and she figured the time for chitchat was over.
“By the way, I was in Central Park last night,” she said, taking out the brown notebook from her bag, “and I found this under the bench.”
Rachelle turned to look at what she was holding, and was not able to move. She obviously couldn’t believe it. “My journal! I called the park’s lost and found office during lunch break but no one had surrendered any brown notebook. It was depressing but I still told the office to call me if they ever got a report. So this was why they didn’t get any!” she rattled with a mix of disbelief and amazement.
She took the journal with unsteady hands and clutched it to her chest. And then, she threw her arms around a surprised Grace because she couldn’t help it.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said, hugging her journal’s savior tighter.
“Easy,” Grace told her. “I guess that diary is really important to you, huh?” She got out of Rachelle’s bear hug.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “More than all of my photos combined. Oh my god!” She shook Grace with her excitement. “How can I repay you? Is there anything I can do? Just tell me, please.”
“You don’t have to do anything. It’s not like I saved your life, anyway.”
“Of course you did,” Rachelle took her hand. “If this journal went to the wrong hands I wonder what would have happened to me,” she laughed. “I’d probably be the center of all embarrassment by now. A laughingstock. So you see, you did save my life.”
“Well, I guess that’s a different way of looking at it,” Grace replied.
After a short pause, “I read a sentence or two but that’s about it,” she said, feeling the need to tell the truth.
“That’s alright. I’m glad you told me.” Rachelle stood up and gestured for Grace to do the same.
“I’ll just take a shower and get out of my sweaty clothes but can you please wait for me at the school lobby? I want to treat you to something,” she shrugged. “It’s the least I could do. Ice cream maybe?”
Grace thought that Rachelle would insist on it no matter what so she smiled and agreed. “Ice cream, it is.”
*****
They had their ice cream at a nearby shop and an hour had passed before Rachelle noticed that it was getting late. Before they knew it, they had talked about almost everything St. James-related and even some personal matters that they felt were safe issues to disclose to each other. Rachelle’s journal had not only been brought back but with it came a new friend.
Rachelle didn’t have many girlfriends similar to Grace. Most of her friends were also models or the partying, wild and reckless type. Girls who had a similar description as Grace—short, simple and ordinary by society’s standards—seemed to either openly hate her or completely avoid her. She didn’t blame them though. She thought that had she been like them, she would probably have done the same. This made her admire Grace a lot more. Her new friend was probably as uncomfortable as she was during the first few minutes of their meeting but she was brave enough to step out of her comfort zone to talk to someone who was completely out of her league.
She stopped walking and turned to Grace. “Thanks for bringing my journal back to me,” her eyes softened as she took both of Grace’s hands, “and for being my new friend.” She smiled.
Grace was obviously not used to being called a friend by someone like Rachelle and she almost took her hand away. Rachelle’s sincerity was reflected in her eyes, however, and it made the other girl believe that they could really be friends.
“You’re welcome. I feel honored to be your friend,” she said, squeezing Rachelle’s hands as a gesture of comfort and friendship.
They continued walking along the sidewalk on their way to the train station. Not five minutes had passed however, when someone tried to pull Rachelle’s left hand—the one holding her phone. Thinking it was a snatcher, she reacted immediately by raising her curved right arm in an attempt to hit the man’s face using her elbow. Grace thought the same thing and decided to use her bag as a weapon to hit the man on the head. He was fast enough to dodge Rachelle’s elbow by moving a bit to his left but since Grace was there and ready to use her bag, he had not completely avoided being assaulted by these two eighteen-year-old girls.
The man tried to cover his face to keep from suffering any injuries due to a handbag being pounded on him. When he found an opening, he took hold of Grace’s wrists to keep her from moving. She tried to get away and when she couldn’t, she tried to kick him.
“Stop! Stop it, Grace!” Rachelle shouted over the noise and tried to pull her away from the man. “He’s not a snatcher.”
“What?” Grace cried out, adrenaline still rushing through her veins. She turned to face the man, ready to hit him again. “He tried to take your—” She finally saw his face and froze.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nicholas Cleveland barked.