by Shaine Lake
I wasn’t thinking properly anyway. By logic, I should scamper as far away from him as possible.
However, no matter how disorientated I was, my old habit of going for the seats at the back of the bus remained intact. Alas, the single-decker bus didn’t allow another inclination of mine to act up.
After sitting down with Jareth joining me, I stared blankly ahead and murmured, “Thanks.” It should be the fourth time I had said that.
What else could I say to him? It was nice of him to help me, so I shouldn’t be saying potentially hurtful things to brush him off. Even though I wanted him to leave me alone … sort of.
He exhaled deeply. “Okay, I get it already. Can’t we talk about something else …”
What else could we talk about? Gymnastics?
Then he leaned towards me while staring at me, menacingly. “Are you really okay?”
I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that question again. It was the third time already … the pot calling the kettle black. The dude should reflect on his own actions before pointing fingers at me. On top of that, his dark brown iris looked like evil orbs that could cast malicious spells. I didn’t feel at ease to be within their attack range.
After a patronizing nod, I turned away to focus on the scenery outside instead.
“What is it that you’re pissed off about?” Jareth interrupted my quiet time.
“Nothing,” I stated, still looking out of the window.
“It’s obvious that’s not the case. Is it something I had said?”
I refused to answer. Why should he care about what I thought of him?
He shifted closer to me and stretched over to use his head to block my view. “Hey, it’s unfair to me when you don’t tell me what’s wrong and sulk about it.”
The guy was seriously getting on my nerves. I was grateful for his help, which I would repay in other ways. Did I have to go through the grilling by him?
“Don’t worry,” I said, hoping that he would let it rest.
He shook his head. “It’s hard to understand you. You’re not saying anything, but your face is telling me so many things.”
“Then don’t look at my face,” I snapped under my breath. Wouldn’t he feel better if he stopped analysing my mug?
The chap backed off and straightened his back. “Well, I couldn’t help … I’m not staring. Uh, I’m not a creep.” He coughed once before continuing, “Just trying to figure you out … okay, I’m sounding creepy right now.” He made a loud sigh.
Perhaps he didn’t mean to sound creepy? I understood how it felt to be wronged. Somehow, many regarded my actions as creepy when in reality, I had none of those creepy thoughts. Or was I being creepy without me realizing it?
Anyway, would the confident Jareth behave like that when facing the principal?
I felt bad about throwing him into that awkward situation, thus I attempted to redirect the topic, “How did you handle your principal?”
His eyebrows arched up. Then he chuckled. “Let that old geezer nags until he has nothing else to yak about. It’s always about balancing schoolwork with sports. What does he know about my passion for gymnastics? I worked hard to get into St. Andrew in order to join its gymnastics team.”
Strange that he took the roundabout way to chase after his dreams. “Can’t you join the National Youth Team instead?”
He sighed softly and raised his shoulders for a second. “Objection from dad. Obviously, gymnastics is not going to help me to manage his trading company. I still went ahead …”
“Then?” I was a little curious about his background. Getting Jareth to talk about himself would distract him from interrogating me.
He seemed very upset when saying, “Got a major muscle tear just before enrolment into the National Sports Academy. That needed a year to recover. Couldn’t be waiting around, doing nothing, so I decided to get into St. Andrew first and move on from there.”
“It’s great there, isn’t it?” I uttered in hopes of cheering him up.
It appeared to work since his eyes brightened up. Honestly speaking, it wasn’t difficult to decipher his thoughts based on his expressions. To think that I, a person who couldn’t read faces, could say that about someone.
However, right after that, he groaned. “It’s not great to get lectured on bimonthly basis. So bored that I started to count the number of times he used the word ‘actually’. Best record: a whopping thirty in an hour!” A sly smile spread across his mouth. “He was jumping mad when I informed him of that.”
I pressed my lips tightly together to prevent their ends from curling up. Feeling that it wasn’t working, I decided to conceal the smile by talking. “No warning?”
“Nope.”
How was it possible to get away with such insolent retort?
Jareth seemed to know what I was thinking because he added, “That’s not enough to warrant a warning. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s my uncle. The old guy is impartial.”
“No wonder.” I bowed my head in downheartedness. I would be counting my lucky stars if the principal stopped picking on me. Having a family member as the principal—that was a benefit that only few like Jareth could have.
“What’s up?” He went into deep thoughts for a short while before asking in an undertone, “You got warnings before?”
I bobbed my head with great reluctance. It was a shameful matter to converse about.
“What?” he exclaimed. “How could a girl like you get it? I know your principal is a fierce and self-absorbed show-off. Didn’t expect she’s this bad.”
His words made me felt slightly better. “You know her?”
“Saw her during the combined sports day. She looked like a witch decked in jewelleries, who cawed non-stop.” Jareth held up his fist in front of his mouth to pretend that he was talking into the microphone. He began to mimic my principal by cackling in a hoarse, high-pitched voice, “My husband, the minister of Home Affairs, is an old boy of St. Andrew. Blah, blah, blah.”
Then he switched back to his normal voice, “As if we give a damn about it.”
Before I could tone down my reactions, my mouth broke into a wide beam.
“You look pretty when you smile,” commented Jareth.
Why did he say that? It wasn’t convincing since the universal opinion was that I was Ugly Netty—a nickname given to me by my elementary school classmates. Only the two top boys stayed out of the name calling. Maybe Jareth wanted me to reciprocate in kind?
“You’re handsome,” I remarked.
His jaws slackened. “Am I supposed to feel happy about it? It’s hard to …”
That was true. One only felt flattered if complimented by gorgeous girls like Kelly, Fiona, and maybe Mandy.
“Especially when you said it with that expression. Like someone is pointing a gun at your head,” he grumbled.
“Isn’t this impossible?”
“What do you mean?”
“Firearms has been outlawed in this country since 1966,” I pointed out. “As part of a series of reforms implemented by the Democratic Coalition Party after they took over the government through winning sixty-three percent of the seats in Parliament. Others included elimination of pension for civil servants, abolishment of compulsory conscription—”
The rude guy cut me off, “Hey, that was just an analogy.” He looked as if a bomb had just dropped onto his head. “When do facts and history come into the picture? Wait a second, those are not in the first year’s syllabus.”
“I know the entire history of Accastle.” Though my interest lay in subjects related to wars, I thought that the appropriate approach to the study of history was to first learn everything about my own country’s history before going on to read up on the others.
After blinking his eyes once, he howled in laughter. “That’s cool. Unbelievable. You can tutor me in history.”
Uh no, I had said too much already.… It was the first time I had the chance to talk about history, so I guessed I got carried
away with it.
“You’re blushing,” he teased.
That particular comment of his was absolutely not needed. He really should stop looking at my face. I paid no heed to him and took out a Mathematics textbook to hold it up before my eyes. He couldn’t see my mug anymore.
After I had read five words on the page, the book was snatched away from my hands.
The obnoxious boy flipped through the pages, pretending to show great interest in its contents. “Let me see if the syllabus is still the same. You won’t mind, yes?”
I did mind, a lot. With my eyes on my textbook, I was thinking of amicable ways to get it back.
“I know I’m hot. But you don’t have to stare me,” cooed Jareth.
Rendered speechless, I clenched my fists and immediately looked away. Upon noticing my reactions, he began to make a nuisance of himself by asking all types of intrusive questions about my school life and hobbies, edging me to answer them and challenging me on the knowledge of history—he lost to me, naturally. He didn’t cease to frustrate me when we were reaching my bus stop, which was about fifteen metres away from my apartment. And he even insisted on alighting from the bus with me when I told him that it was fine not to.
That was the final straw. I refused to budge after we had gotten off the bus. “My mum will scream at me if she sees me with a boy. So you can go back now.”
He shrugged. “Fine. I stay here and watch you until you get into your apartment building.”
“It’s broad daylight,” I argued in a hushed tone.
Safety was definitely of no concern. Mainly due to the low crime rate of my humble but clean little neighbourhood, full of willow trees, rows of well-maintained shrubs and reasonably spaced buildings that were painted in mismatched, fruity colours. Actually, all the areas in the west of Accastle reported considerably lower homicide rates as compared to the rest of Accastle, not counting in the uninhabited north. I figured that my parents’ insistence on staying there was attributed to the safer environment despite the higher property price and lack of amenities in the west.
“I want to make sure that you get back home safe and sound,” he explained.
Feeling exhausted from the ordeal I had just went through, I had no strength left to banter with him. “As you please …”
Getting ready to walk off, I remembered how Jareth had saved me and actually bothered to send me home. He had no obligation to do all those. Clasping my hands together in sudden nervousness, I said, “Thank you so much.”
He smiled. “No problem”—he paused—“uh, how about exchanging our numbers? To stay in contact.”
“My mum forbids me from exchanging numbers with anyone outside my school,” I replied without thinking. It was embarrassing to disclose that I was still a mummy’s girl. He must be assuming that I hadn’t weaned off milk yet.
The guy rubbed the back of his neck while laughing in an uneasy manner. “Okay … it’s okay.”
“Bye.”
“Yeah, bye.” He waved his hand.
With my head bowed, I turned to march away, not looking back once.
When I finally got back to my little haven, my mind began to replay those moments spent with Jareth. He irritated me to no end, but the feelings of irritation were easier to stomach than the others: sadness, isolation and hopelessness. At least, it displaced some of my blues.
The more I thought about it, the more determined I was in showing my appreciation for Jareth’s help. The prospect of being stuck with Jareth for an hour to give him tuition sounded daunting. So I decided to give him a gift instead. Something that was not expensive and practical.…
An idea hit me. I rushed to my study table and pulled out the last drawer to rummage through the piles of A4 notepads. All were the plain type meant for jotting down notes, except for two that had fanciful designs on them. I brought them during my elementary school years, for the purpose of writing letters to my friends. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any friends to put those notepads into use.
Spotting a blue triangle among the stacks, I pinched it to drag out the notepad. It was a blue one with cute pictures of dolphins lining the left and right sides. Holding it to my chest, I pulled out a gel-based black pen from the pencil holder, all set to start writing.
Chapter 15 Tension?
While waiting for the rest of the cohort to each secure a seat in LT5, Mandy jumped at the chance to talk to me about her progress with Anton. Since I took an earlier bus to purposely avoid Anton, I didn’t see him in the morning to find out anything from him.
“He’s poised and intelligent,” Mandy gushed over him. “I was so nervous when I started talking to him.”
That was a real surprise. I couldn’t tell at all. How did she pull off the cool, confident look?
Her smile stretched wider. “Ah, he was friendlier than what I thought. We had a great conversation. But he’s all business during practice, ignoring everyone.”
The most important thing was that he accepted her as a friend. Given her outgoing personality, he would be attracted to her in no time.
Hoping that she didn’t spot my trembling hands, I tried to inject vibrancy into my voice as I remarked, “Getting gold is serious business.”
Mandy nodded with eagerness. “Yeah. I understand.” Then she drew in a sharp breath. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. Just now, a senior told me that she saw Jareth and you hanging out at Queen’s Street yesterday, and”—she raised her eyebrows—“he was holding your hands.”
I answered without hesitation, “Must be a case of mistaken identities.” Jareth had never held my hands, so it was impossible for that couple to be us.
Even the seniors knew that dude … he must be very popular with them. Though how did they know of my existence? I was just a nobody. Then I remembered the curious faces of my schoolmates when the principal was barking at me. So … I had gotten famous, in a bad way, after that incident. My heart sank at the thought of that.
Mandy furrowed her brows while staring at me in the eyes. “Are you sure? You left the place early, and he didn’t attend his training yesterday. Too much of a coincidence …”
I nodded furiously. “Very sure. I hardly know him. How could we be holding hands?” A second after I had said that, a fleeting flash of memory surfaced on my mind.
Right after the close brush with death, I had totally lost it. Trembling and burying my face in my hands, my brain was scrambling for answers and making sense of the situation. I was scared. I didn’t want to die. Death was more horrifying than what I had imagined. I almost died. Why did she lure me to it? Didn’t she regard me as a friend? My mind kept on repeating those thoughts and questions.
What was going on around me at that time? Someone seemed to be standing in front of me, constantly repeating my name and something else that I couldn’t recall. Was he holding my hands? Appeared to be so … or maybe Mandy’s words planted that scenario into my subconscious. Most likely the latter since that moment seemed so vague and unreal.
Mandy made a slight pout and shrugged. “Okay. I believe you. That’s what friends are for.”
I squeezed out a smile. “Yes.”
“Anyway, I got Anton’s number. Will message him later to ask if he’s free to have lunch with me on one of these days.”
If only I had that kind of bravery to pursue my love.…
“Good morning, Year One students. You are gathered here to attend the specially tailored lesson on Etiquette for Ladies,” announced Mrs. Clarkson—who was our Home Economics’ teacher—through the microphone located at the front of the lecture theatre.
Lots of girls groaned in protest. The teacher ignored them and continued, “This video will highlight the need for these lessons.”
After she stepped aside, away from the centre of the raised platform, the projector was turned on. The antique-looking device began to project the slideshow onto the huge, white screen in front of us. Displayed before us were pictures of girls sitting in various styles: cross-legged on the floor, pu
tting the feet on the table, knees not sticking together and Figure Four Cross position.
We laughed throughout the presentation. Most of us were guilty of unladylike behaviour. Without boys around, many of us were acting like boys. The vice-principal and the male teachers weren’t around. Should be because listening to that kind of topics was quite awkward for them. The principal appeared to be displeased with our lack of seriousness. I had to admit that I liked to see her frown.
Once the slideshow had come to an end, Mrs. Clarkson took the centre stage again. “All of you are girls. Girls representing the proud name of Lawson Girls’ High. What will others think of our school when they see our girls behaving like what you’d seen just now? Everyone will assume that we didn’t teach our students well!”
As if to spite the teacher, Angela, a student from Class 1/1, rested an ankle on the floored leg’s knee to demonstrate the Figure Four Cross. She actually looked quite natural in that pose due to her tomboy demeanour and looks—her hair was cut in boyish close cropped style. All of us knew who Angela was because she had appeared on the newspapers as the nation’s top student of my year. Mrs. Olsen must be very thrilled when Angela chose Lawson over other equally prestigious schools, such as Oxland High.
We couldn’t help giggling at her defiant ways.
“This is not funny!” shouted the incensed principal.
We immediately crammed up. The principal charged up one of the stairs running through the length of the auditorium. Noticing that she was glaring at me, I looked down at the stained, off-coloured beige table. I was regretting the choice of sitting at the far end of a middle row of seats, where she could easily spot me and get to me.
When the fuming old woman reached my side, she yelled, “You, stand up.”
I lifted up my head with trepidation, hoping that her command was directed at someone else. How naive I was to even presume that it could be anyone else but me. I was a good target for her to vent the anger on. Moreover, I was blacklisted already. So why would she choose another one who might retaliate?
