Monday, was epic.
"Hey, you and bass huh? Good for you,"
"You're so lucky. He's such a great guy!"
"Eric really? That's sweet,"
"You went on a date yesterday?"
Tuesday, was worst.
"She's not even pretty. I don't see why Eric liked her,"
Wednesday, wasn't pretty. Believe me.
"Okay guys, I can't take it anymore,"
My gaze landed upon a falls of long, black curly hair owned by my friend Jel, sitting on my left; as I sat down at the table we've been staying at during breaks for the past weeks. Jel, beside me, was completely excited about seventh period. All because she and Dea had themselves transferred from Ms. Blohowiak's class to Mr. Ross' since Monday. Why would they even want to be in it? It's social suicide.
I was still somehow wondering how I had survived those past weeks in this new town with everyone wearing new faces and names, plus a bonus of an insensitive, malevolent devil of a teacher who may or may not despise me besides the favor I had done for him.
"All these inappropriate comments are really getting into my nerves," I continued as I opened my milk pack. I started to get use to the habitual activities for the past weeks. And it wasn’t actually bad.
"Have you cleared the misunderstanding?" Dea slurred.
"Obviously not Dea," Jel interjected, "AJ's an ineloquent speaker. She's too shut to do that,"
"Wait. Inappropriate comments?" Selene asked, interjecting between the two arguing parrots.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Like what?"
"Like the usual 'She's not even pretty' stuffs,"
"I think I know where that came from," Jel commented.
"Yeah, from Luke's venomous, plastic-surgeried beak," Dea fretted in annoyance. "She's really being a troll. How dare she put it on you? Eric would be furious about this,"
"Speaking of my twin brother, why did you blow him off?" Dea babbled."Not that I care,"
"I-I... He's not exactly my type. I mean, he's cute and all that but... I-I... I don't know," I stammered, lowering my gaze to my tray. "I'm sorry, Dea," Then I made the mistake of meeting Jel's gaze, which was penetrating and somehow intrigued. The same look she gave me last Sunday at Gerry's. "Besides, I didn't want to ruin our friendship and all that. He's like a brother to me,"
"It's totally cool. No hard feelings. Not like I actually care,"
"I gotta go to the bathroom," Jel intervened, rising up from her seat. Dea nodded to her in approval, somewhat like Jel had asked permission from her.
"AJ, can I have your brownie?" Dea purred turning her bright eyes to the untouched chocolate-chip brownie slumped at my tray, patiently waiting for its predator.
I nodded vaguely, "Yeah, sure,"
"Hey AJ," a new voice called as the owner of it sat down at the space provided by Jel's absence. "Mr. Ross wants to see you at his office, now." Eric stated, emphasizing deeply on now.
I sighed, "What? It's only lunch. Prep period is still two periods after. What does he want now?"
"I don't know. I just happen to pass by his office then he asked me to tell you,"
I sighed again, groaning every last of the seconds I spent at the table. "I'm gonna catch up with you guys later," I said as I left the table.
I really don’t get this guy. Saturday night was far too pivotally awkward between the two of us and so was last Sunday. Now he’d wanted to continue with this sick, little, teacher’s-assistant game? But part of me wanted to see his perfectly-sculpted face badly.
An indistinctive commotion abruptly ripped my thoughts off of my mind. And the commotion grew louder to my ears as I draw nearer to the room where my teacher would be; and where I should be going in now. I tried to listen carefully, but all I can make out of the indistinctive chatter was ‘No’, ‘Maybe we’, and a few insignificant prepositional phrases and conjunctions. But one thing I was sure, the voices were of a female and a male.
There were footsteps growing louder to my ears as they stopped speaking, and I figured someone—either the boy or the girl or even both of them—would come out anytime now. Using all the strength I could muster to prevent myself from falling or tripping down, I scooted over to the pillar just by the end of the room and hid my body as much as possible as it would allow.
After a few moments of controlled stuck-in breathing, Stacy Luke went pass by in-front of me, carrying a deep, disgusted frown on her painted face. Was she the one inside Mr. Ross’ office talking to him? It must be him. It’s his room. No one’s allowed to be in a teacher’s room when the teacher is not in or with them. So it had to be him.
I hesitated before going back to the door, uncertain whether to go in or retrieve my way back and pretend like Eric didn’t inform me that he’d wanted to see me when he ask later in Trig. But that would probably bring me to a punishment or a public class humiliation from him. So I decided to go for the best—or the best as what I know.
I knocked before sneaking my head in, wondering if Mr. Ross was inside the hollow room."Sir?" I asked.
"Yes, Ms. Fox please come in," a voice from nowhere suddenly filled the empty room, making me jump violently, my head hitting the Oak door.
"Ahh!" I winced, holding my hand up to my head where there was probably a big bruise by now.
"Ooh, should you be more careful with that?" he mocked, coming out of nowhere. "Try not to kill the door, please?"
I winced for a moment again before stepping in, looking like a complete idiot.
"Prep period's not yet up." I said the same time he slurred "How was last night's date?"
That's what he wanted? How my date went last night? He didn't even care about me yesterday. All he did was shock the heck out of me. Now he'd wanted an update? It’s completely none of his business.
It took every ounce of my courage to make my tongue and mouth move. I was still tongue-tied whenever I see his perfect face. I was well aware that my league and his' were spheres that did not touch and will probably never touch.
"It was great," I finally responded, gloom evident on my faltering voice. "I had fun,"
With the same amount of courage, I decided to shoot him a glance. His jaw muscle was tight, rippling every moment he swallows an empty mouth and every time he does, so his brows knit a second after the other.
"Why do you even ask?"
He shrugged as a response to me, rolling his sleeves to his elbow and went to lean on the teacher's desk. His face eased a little bit. But you could still see the lines on his brows caused by the simultaneous frowning.
"Sit. I won't bite," he slurred.
I sighed at the briefest moment, flinging my backpack at the nearest chair on my left. I realized I was still at the door, haven't had a seat. Well, that was still a mystery to me either.
"Are you two dating now?" he asked, his brows knitted together again, making the lines more visible. That explains Stacy’s appearance in here from a while ago. She probably updated him or something like she slipped.
My mind was spinning with confusion. What exactly was his purpose of calling me here and asking me all these? I had to speak; he was waiting.
"I believe that's none of your business sir,"
His facial expression toughened, "If that's the case then I apologize. I just thought that that was my business too,"
"As what?"
"As a friend,"
I hesitated for a moment before answering, "You're my teacher, I'm your student," I stammered, feeling like an utter moron.
He looked merely hurt and angry; unsatisfied in some way. I had to look away; it was getting awkward. I was in disbelief that I'd just answered the most stupid, cliché line of all to my handsome, almost-perfect trigonometry teacher who may or may not despise me. He'd seemed rather entertained in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was looking away from me too, his hands gripping the edge of his desk with unmistakable anger and tension.
"If there's nothing else then can I go now?" I stated, breaking the awkward, uncomfortable silence filling the air.
His eyes turned sharp, stabbing everything his eyes went passed by. He scooted over to his desk, shuffling through inside his bag. A black box was offered in front of me when he finished rummaging through his stuffs.
"I was asked to give you this," he said, handing over the box to me. "She had it personalized and done herself,"
"She?" I parroted, confusion washing through in every bit of nerve in my body.
"Grandma. She wants to thank you for coming last Saturday and this is her way of doing it. She kind of liked you," he commented as I took the box from him, sneaking a peek at what's inside the medium, black box after rolling my eyes at him.
The thing inside the box was beautiful. But it was the last thing I'd ever wanted to receive. I never wanted a gift from Mr. Ross' grandmother.
It has tiny round metal pieces connected to an endless chain. Hanging flatly at the center, binded to it was an oval crest or something, having the forge of a lion or something alike—all I could make up was that it has two sharp fangs and a fluff of hair—or fur—running down through the back of its head. It wasn't just a lion, I can see; more of a Merlion; because the lower torso was not something you could call legs but fins with big, round scales. Then just around it was an organic flower that doesn't look a bit like flower.
"A Merlion?" I asked, raising my head back to my trigonometry teacher, who I found out to be having a wonderful time staring at me and didn't even bother to remove his eyes even after I saw—or caught—him.
He nodded. "A Merlion; Represents Singapore and its roots in history and is used as its state's mascot. But it also symbolizes fortitude, power, and grace."
"Why Singapore? And what's the thing wrapped around it?"
"Lavandula angustifolia; Lavender; sign of hope, patience and devotion. But at the same time, it also symbolizes feminity, grace, and elegance," he explained, curling his arms to each other, ignoring my other question. "That's the seal of women in our family,"
Seal? I'd guessed that Mr. Ross was rich, sure he was. Judging from the party we went to a couple of days ago, it was impossible he wasn't. But just how rich are they? How come their family even has this seal of 'fortitude and grace'? These are exactly the people you wouldn't wanna mess with.
"Women? How about for men?"
He chuckled, shaking his head from side to the other, his deep voice echoing through the room. But truthfully speaking, I couldn't accept this. I wouldn’t accept this. I'd never dreamed of being an heiress or something and even so, we weren't even truly dating in the first place.
Plus, even if he's my teacher, he might still have something else behind him or up his sleeves. I still don't know him completely, and judging from everything that has happened, he's far more complicated than what I think. Perhaps, a fugitive? Murderer of a rich man and ran away to hide? But what about his Grandma? The lookout? Or perhaps he's a thief of billions from a French gangster? I had to be sure. I had to keep myself away; invisible. That's what all I've ever aimed for my whole life. And I have strong feeling I wouldn't be when I'm around this guy.
"I can't accept this," I commented, closing the box shut.
"Why?" he demanded.
"It seemed expensive." I procrastinated, "And besides, it was just a front like... Like a play. We’re not dating. So I think you should give that to your real girlfriend,"
"Grandma gave it to you. Not to anyone else."
"She gave it to your girlfriend, not to me. I—I would just throw that away. So instead of getting into the trash, you should just give it to someone else,"
"Grandma might surprise you. She might come here any moment to check on you and if you're being grateful wearing that."
She might come to surprise me? That would be a nightmare. "I believe that's not my problem anymore, sir." I stated, closing the box.
“Who told her that we were colleagues?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh yeah? Unless you told her you’re my student.”
“I so didn’t. I just stayed quiet because I slipped that we met in school after the coffee shop thingy—as so she calls it and then she assumed that we were co-workers.”
For a moment I thought he was gonna get mad at me and punch me right through the face. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He burst out laughing for a good five minutes; and then another five.
I groaned, “Whatever sir, but it’s not my problem anymore when she comes here to check on me.” I quoted.
”Yes, you're right, it isn't. But it becomes your problem if it concerns your grades, isn't it?"
My eyes widened for a brief moment but then it subconsciously turned into a frown "You wouldn't."
"Hmm, sounds like an invitation to me." He smirked.
"That's blackmailing,"
He shook his head playfully, narrowing his eyes on me. "No, no, no, no." He sassed. "That was just a reminder. A reminder of how grateful you should be to me,"
What. Was. This. Guy's. Problem? "Why would I be grateful to you? Shouldn't you be grateful to me?"
"I don't see any reason why I should be."
I stood up and scooted over in front of him, looking at him with frowning eyes and pursed lips. "I accepted your sick little teacher's-assistant game job to help you work on tons of your job; I went on a Saturday to dress up as your girlfriend at ten in the morning and I faced stinking bachelors with my shoulders bare, letting the cold wind dig on it the whole night. I am very grateful Mr. Ross, thank you for the trouble!" I smiled, hoping he sensed the obvious sarcasm in my words.
He chuckled mockingly, but then furiously went to me and pushed me against the wall, his breath coming as a tempting scent to my nose. But his eyes were filled with uncertain rage.
“Look, no one here knows about my real identity and as you can see, it’s supposed to be kept as a secret. So you better shut about it if you don’t want something bad happen to you,” He warned. I can smell danger from his serious tone. “You wouldn’t want something bad happen to you, would you?”
“Neither do I know, sir.” I answered back, not trying to show any unpleasant emotion—or not showing I was terrified at the least. “And I’m not afraid of you,”
“You aren’t?” He smirked then chuckled through his nose.
I frowned in complete disbelief. “Jerk,” I pushed him off as hard as I could. And I can hear him from behind me that he was trying hard not to laugh.
"I'll see you later Mr. Ross," I muttered in complete idiocy, treading wearily out of the room, placing the box on his desk, not sparing him a glance. I couldn't concentrate on the people greeting me as I walked down the ominous hall. All the calculations in Physics didn't help rip the antagonistic thoughts away from my mind. Neither did Ms. Hembry's babbling. I was distracted the whole fifth and sixth period; and was anxious about the upcoming seventh period, watching the tic-tocking hands of my watch—seeming like I was being waited by death. But this was worse. I didn’t go to his office during prep period neither did I talk to him when we passed by him during that time.
Imaging hell, then don't change anything. That's how seventh period should probably go. And I think it would be best if I ditch this class. But I intuitively knew better than that. It would just make him sense—or see that I'm weak and scared to face him. Well, that's not completely false.
“Ms. Fox, would you care to give us the formula to be used in this question?"
I knew it. I should've ditched this hellhole and went home.
“O-of course sir," I stammered, bringing myself up using the courage left in me. "Area is equal to one-half multiplied to ab sine C."
"Good. Thank you. You may take your seat,"
"So, Area is equal to one-half multiplied to ab sine C; given two sides and the angle between the sides. Substitute, a, b, and C and then you’re ready to go calculate for the area. Simple, isn’t it?"
There was a slight disturbance at the corner of my eye. Something got caught in my hair for a moment before it instantly fell down to my lap.
‘I love how he discusses. He’s making it sooo easy to
understand. Unlike Ms. Blohowiak :x
-Dea’
The paper read; and I replied.
‘I prefer Ms. Blohowiak than him XP I couldn’t concentrate here :/’
She threw back a new paper.
‘Why? Too hot? Too handsome?’
I answered:
‘Lol, is there a difference? :p Why new paper? Save trees!’
This time, she threw back the same paper.
‘Admit it. He’s both. And it’s too much for your liking \m/
What, are you going political now?’
Again, I answered:
‘Okay, he’s a little bit of both :p And no, I’m not. Lezz go save trees \mm/
Horror and shocked washed throughout me as I failed to throw back the paper with not enough force to Dea; it fell on the ground. And a pair of legs bent down to scoop it up from the ground. I watched Mr. Ross read the paper with wide open eyes and jaw. I swear his face went a little red and mimicked my expression as he looked at me and then back to the paper. But then a smirk slowly appeared to his lips. How I wished to thank Dea for changing the paper after the other question.
Ring. My life savior.
"AJ... AJ. AJ!"
I turned around at the sound of my name, my eyes scanning the area for the caller.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm trying out for the swimming team, Jel. Today's the last day of the try out so I had to make in time," I explained as I kept walking, Jel keeping up with my pace.
"Would you like a company?" She cheered brightly.
"Would it be okay?"
"Of course! I'd love to see you do something you love and you're good at. I mean, we didn't see each other grow so it would be nice to see your best friend have some great time."
"Okay, I've got myself accompanied!"
"Okay, so where would be the try-out held?" she asked, looking at me expectantly.
"Where else could it be, Jel?"
"Right..." She beamed.
The poster I went passed by during prep period yesterday said today is the last day of try-out and they've been holding it out since Monday at four in the afternoon. I was too preoccupied by the Eric and I dating thing plus the war against Mr. Ross that I almost missed the most important try-out of all.
"Coach Kensworth?"
"You must be Aleea Fox," He said as he brought me into a hug. People really need to stop being so welcoming. I've been here for like a month now and everything seemed to be normal now and again... This? This is a bit overboard.
"I wanna try out for the school team, Coach Kensworth," I said as I got out of the frightening hugging machine.
"Of course, you are. Change and we'll start in ten; locker room is that door,"
"Got it, coach,"
Jel accompanied me inside the locker room, and she was jubilant.
"That was creepy," She stated which made me laugh.
"So, what is gonna happen in this try-out?"
"Probably, we'll do a few laps with different strokes and positions,"
"Sounds fun," She commented sarcastically.
"It'll be so much fun," I responded, following her with the tone and we both suppressed a chuckle. There were four of us who were trying-out to get into the team. And the try-out just lasted over half an hour.
"Ashworth, Fox, you're in. Goff, Chrysler, my office in ten," Coach Kensworth shouted.
My internal organs did a three-sixty degrees loop after hearing Coach Kensworth. Swimming was the one thing that can keep me away from everything; that can rip away every single thought from my mind. And as always, it did.