So he didn't exactly hit me or punched me or jerk me or do anything physically harmful. But he did stab my heart, does that count for anything?
As I was still slowly dropping my spoon down, silent mode, all hell broke loose.
"Everyone," he announced without any effort as the place was quiet enough, "what has been rumoured throughout the school is just a rumour."
I managed to smile, as to agree with his sentence. But deep inside, it really stirred me. Okay, so I've really regretted that, but I didn't want it to end. Not this way, at least. But I have to do the right thing, don't I? To let go, I mean.
So yes, I stood up slowly, the chair squeaking under my weight and I cleared my throat and glanced around nervously. I was going to say the 'It's-not-true' speech, but I ended up saying, "Is Andrew here?"
And everyone started whispering among themselves. I guess I said something wrong. Someone stood up too, and sure enough, it was the one and only Andrew. "Yes, I'm here."
I nodded happily, and gave him the look. He got it and went outside, and I followed. I walked past Ian, who looked as if he'd just gotten out of a forest after being stranded for 100 years.
As Andrew and I were outside, I blurted everything out. "Look, I didn't know what I was thinking but it was a complete lie!"
"Oh really?" He put his hands over his mouth, trying to look utterly surprised, but it didn't work.
"You knew?!"
"Well, duh. But it's just that, it's nice hearing those words out from your mouth. Everyone knows you now." he said casually, rolling his eyes like it was just a small deal I could handle with. It actually is, when I punched him until there were no teeth left in his big liar mouth.
"D'you believe if I send my fist across your face?!" I clenched my teeth, maybe because I wasn't as angry about him as I was about myself. Okay, chill. This whole situation doesn't end up being finished when you get him all blooded and pulpy.
"You told him I kissed you?!" Someone behind me said. And of course I recognized that voice, Ian.
I whirled around gingerly, delaying the time."Hey hey, private conversation here!" I tried to stall, but his eyes narrowed and shifted from me to Andrew. Then it landed on mine. If it were for another reason, I'd say his eyes were soft and romantic, but today, it was hard as rock. And you could already tell he was furious, and I didn't blame him.
"Shut up, Vinnie."
Vinnie?! It's Winnie, I thought you knew!
"It's Winnie."
"Oh really, oops I guess I just got so blinded by all these lies I kind of forgotten who you were."
And then he walked off, meaning the world between us has crashed. No future, no bright bright future.
I know what he was saying, he didn't forget my name. He just didn't know who I was anymore, but you know, if you've double-checked - I thought he liked me?
So why is he smooching another lady? Which is, as much as I'd like it to be, not me?
"I thought you liked me." I murmured under my breath, as I silently fade. Now I know what I felt, I felt disappointed, crestfallen. I felt so utterly used.
I crashed into the cafeteria again, and asked, "Who was the girl who actually smooched him?"
One girl stood up and she grinned.
Yup, Lynette.
Guess this school's full of maniacs, me not excluded.
*
Today I read Twilight, book number one. But as I read on, I repeated the same line over and over again. Edward Cullen was somehow my dream to exist, but Ian could be close. And you know what I did? Of course you do, I blew it.
And out of all, Lynette smooched him. So what does that make him? A jerk? I'm not sure.
"I heard what he said," Samantha, one of the Asian girl remarked, giving a little smirk,"It was harsh."
I nodded, "Yeah thanks for the reminder."
She chortled. "Did you not know that Ian was already a beef?"
A beef?
"Yeah, sure." was what I replied. Who wanted to know if her crush was a beef or not anyway? I sat up on my chair as I wait for the others in the class to finish their classwork. "Winnie, have you finished?" the teacher asked, looking slightly concerned. I nodded.
The class faced me, and I heard some trying to fight back laughter. What was it, anyway? Just because I've gone through a little admitting, doesn't mean they haven't. In their whole life, they must have done something terrible. At that moment, someone knocked the class' door. It was Ian, standing behind the door, looking as he was before he ditched me. Or left me, either way.
I knew that instant it would be something regarding me, so I purposely dropped my pen underneath my chair so he wouldn't know I'd be in class. The teacher reached for the door's knob and twisted it, I dreaded as I was thinking in my head the possibilities of his actions. He might come in and have another show-down, or just shout at me and humiliate me in front of the whole class, plus the teacher that I'd guessed would look bewildered at what he was blabbering about.
I peeked from under the desk. He was whispering to Ms. Roberts and she looked disapprovingly at him. I knew he spotted me already, so I sat straight again, putting my black pen on my table. Ms. Roberts snapped her finger at me, and everyone turned to look at me again. I blushed and walked cautiously towards her. I tried avoiding Ian's sharp and unforgiving glance and tried to focus on Ms. Roberts.
"You snapped at me, Miss?" I asked, ever so politely. But I don't think 'snap' would be the right word.
"Yes, I did snapped at you. Ian here needs a little talk with you." She strode back to her seat and I noticed her giving us a side-way look. And then not after long, she started the next question and the class gave back their attention to her. Really, their attention span is so short. I turned and closed the door behind me. At that moment, he looked softer. And I realized his same shade of hazel was in his eyes, deeply graved. Maybe I got dazed for a while because he snapped again and said, "Meet me at my house today, I'll explain."
He turned back and walked away, hunched a little bit, like he had very much in his mind. Then I shouted, "I don't know where." Suddenly, I felt pathetic from the scalp of my head to the tip of my toes.
He looked back, and then looked up, and then sighed. "Right, sorry." He dug into his pocket and fished out a small paper. He handed it to me carefully, the paper as fragile as glass and walked away. I walked back to class, a little confused and sat in my seat. I didn't exactly bothered anymore if anyone dared to look at me. I've realized at the end of the day, he'd explain everything.
Something I'd picture long ago if he were my boyfriend, something that sounds like this:
Winnie: So, you called me? (Which isn't exactly true, because in reality he invited me to his house.)
Ian: Yeah, so I just...*cracks up a bit*
Winnie: I'm waiting. (Another mistake because I'm not that assertive nor harsh or straightforward. I drag.)
Ian: I just wanted to say something very important in my life that I'd share with you. And only you.
Winnie: You want my Oreos?
Ian: Oreos? You mean the cookie?!
Winnie: Yes.
Ian: Oh, I love that cookie!
Winnie: *gasps* we have so much in common...!
Wait wait wait! No, let's edit the conversation. No Oreos this time.
Ian: I just wanted to say something very important in my life that I'd share with you. And only you.
Winnie: Oh, I'm...taken by surprise. Yes, what is it, my love?
Ian: Oh, how I think of you every night as I lay down on my bed...and think of running away with you and our hands intertwined...
Winnie: My dear, how I dreamed of that.
Ian: It will not be a dream for long, for I have made plans...
Winnie: Wait, Mum's calling -- Gotta go.
Ian: Well I hope you got me.
Winnie; Yeah, what's to get? You want to run away.
Ian: With you.
Winnie: You like me, let's not drag, I gotta go.
Ian: See you, my love...
Hangs up.
I opened the folded paper, creased with lines. He'd probably thought hard about this, that's why he'd been folding and unfolding the paper, evaluating if he should really invite a psycho into his house. Poor Ian...But whatever, I got to go!
I stared at the content blankly, and then I had a little surprise. It wrote the address, and it was near my house - not far from Benedict street,too. So I guess it's mostly in the middle.
At the end of the paper, he wrote in his -hideous- writing,
Sorry for what happened. I don't think I could make it up to you, but I'll try explaining. And it's not what it looks like.
IAN.
It's a little surreal, but nothing is impossible, is it? So he added, it's not what it looks like. And what it looks like right now is, that he's probably never talking to me again. Which is a sad thing. And it's NOT going to be what it looks like. It's NOT going to be that. He write so himself...
I smiled to myself silently as Ms. Roberts continued her boring history.
"Why did the English go through Malaysia to get to China?"
A few of the students raised their hands. I put my head on my palm, and waited for my brain to digest what the question was. Sure enough, I had no answer. Ms. Roberts looked pleased with the participation. Ms. Roberts' a slender looking young lady, a miss, and very lady-like.She tied her brunette hair into a ponytail and had worn a dark and gloomy maroon-colored blouse with a velvet skirt today. Though she's not very moody all the time, she was conspicuously moody at this moment. PMS, perhaps.
"Because China had something valuable to give them."
She nodded. "Yes, but I was asking why did they cross the country,"
No one knew that answer, and I felt a little more comfortable.
"Nevermind, next question. Why did they not take the road but instead travel by sea?"
Another hand shot up. And I got back to feeling far and drifted from how good the class was doing. I don't think I'm even good enough to be put into a class. I'm such a loser.
"Because it was a road! And there were many crimes involved and they eventually learnt that taking that way was very much more dangerous." Mary said, giving her explanation as if she were in a debate. She looked very cutely serious and I tried to fight my big fat grin.
"Very good," she complimented. Then she frowned deeply at Arnold, a boy whom is known as the brainer in our class.
"Arnold?" she asked, rather infuriated than worried, "why are you not answering?"
"Because I don't know the answer?" he admitted sheepishly. The whole time, I was still capturing the perfect dress to wear to Ian's or the perfect things to say. But Arnold was a little bit more enrapturing.
Ms. Roberts asked again, her hands now
balled into fists. "Well, you studied, didn't you?"
Arnold, noticing the mood change in Ms. Roberts, looked down and whispered. "I didn't have the time."
"What was the road named?"
And this was the perfect time for me to rescue poor Arnold. I shot my hands up, the other one clammy on my laps. I didn't know the answer, but I'll try. And everyone's attention on Arnold exchanged to mine. I took my stand, Arnold didn't deserve this - he'd studied more than all of the two classes combined, and he's one of the guys which were the most fun to hang out with. I'm not sure of that fact, but girls gushed over him when they have the time to. They described him as perky, funny and a nerd with an edge. Or they'd call it, Nedge. Though I'd never gone out with him (and probably will never) before, I could tell by his clean-cut looks -brown hair combed neatly, his dressing very casual yet smart and his smile genuine and real - he was a very nice guy. He greeted me once before, plus he knows my name. And he never made fun of it. This boy is God sent, I'd say.
"What?" she faced me abruptly, a sharp tone to her voice. It was so unlike her that I wanted to put my hand down and said something corny like I fell a pen above the sky, and that I had to try and catch it.
"I want to try..." I said, my voice quaky.
"Fine," she rolled her eyes, like she already guessed my answer would be a big joke. I stood up, my chair noisy under my weight.
So I thought in my brain, what road did they call it when they crossed one country to China. What country did they cross, anyway? Why does it matter anyway? She's asking for the road, not the country! And then I thought of Adam, Adam and his crap talks. And once I heard him revise his history, and I was singing loudly behind him to try distracting him. He tried so hard to focus that he had to leave. He read something about a road.
Silk Road.
"Silk Road." I said, rather confidently. Or snobbishly, because some faces turned away from me after watching me. So I guess it was a fault.
"That's..." Ms. Roberts hesistated, "positive."
I sat back down.
"Cool." I muttered. School was ending and I just had to get home, get dressed, think of perfect lines to say or cry or sing, and leave. With the possibility of Adam chasing me down the road for an explanation that I would never explain to him because it'd take eons for him to absorb. Don't get me wrong, I still appreciated that he'd worked his brain to suck up courage and stood up for me about the Lynette-Winnie-Arguthon. (Argue-Marathon, geddit?)
I just didn't like the way his brain works. And I grinned smugly again, when everyone looked at me for one last time before hurriedly turning back to their worksheet.
Really, is there something on my face?!
*
/catch geek chic 23 soon!/
