I checked the whole school that afternoon, with Guy Rude (he's not exactly rude...) a.k.a Tom guiding me through every single door.
"And this," he mimics Ryan Seacrest on American Idol, "is the toilet."
Suavely, he whirls around to show me two doors that had the toilet sign on them.
"Uhm, thanks, TOM, but I think I knew that." I said with a little attitude. His smile vanishes in a second, "Oh, and here I thought that the toilets in our school were more, sophisticated. Didn't know everyone knew it."
I nodded, just for the sake. He was pretty nice, as he had a nice accent and was probably the only one besides Becks that was talking to me, like a friend. And he was also helpful, suggesting to carry my books when I needed help. I guess some people would consider him 'cute', but mohawk just doesn't work for me.
Gulping another mouthful of air, he decided to walk ahead and show me another state-the-obvious room. "And this," he extends his arm to a door that hung the words 'MUSIC ROOM' on it, with the glass showing a few instruments that laid untouched, "is the Music Room."
This time, I pretended like I never knew better. "Oh my gosh, are you serious?!"
"You knew, didn't you?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
He stops in his track and look at me in the eyes, "Delia, right?"
I nod slowly, in case he wanted to ambush me for being such a pain in the neck.
"Do you need any specific guide to anywhere?" his eyes lit up, just for a nanosecond before realizing I was as new as new, and I didn't even know where I wanted to go.
"Mmmm, well, not really. But I appreciate your help, I do." I said softly, and he just stood there. "Come on, I'll get you an ice-cream later."
*
My fingertips tingle as I ran my finger along the neon pink paper stapled on the walls near the Gym.
DANCE CLUB:
Are you ready to get back on your heels and dance?
Open again for the third time in Zelcosh,
and our own Adam L. is leading the club.
Join us for the fun that never ends, because dancing is universal.
If you're interested, please do not hesitate approaching Ms.Jan.
Man, the words were corny.
I missed dancing. Missed feeling the vibe in my body, missed every single beat of a rhythm. How long have I stopped dancing?
I remember the last time when I had put on this baby pink chiffon dress and danced in front of 800 guests, for my aunt's wedding. My hands were clucthed tightly with my Dad's, and we danced gracefully, those moments when I really felt no one could hurt me.
But the imaginary walls I've built came tumbling down not long after. I never took dancing lessons ever after when everything went wrong for me. I didn't do it anymore, either.
And these words, that were literally sinking into me, were in front of me and virtually reminding me that I had to get it back.
Dancing was my passion. And I was good at it.
And I didn't even care what others thought, because I knew deep inside, I was a pro.
*grins wickedly*
"Dude."
My eyes batted open.
"Whooaaahoho, what are you doing? Meditating?" Becks voice rang into my ear. I cannot believe I had just closed my eyes and walked back down the memory lane. In school. I'm insane.
"Nooo, I was just, stuff. Anyway, what's your class now?" I asked, gibberish. Please, oh please, never mention that again.
"Hah, I'm having," she plays an air guitar and spins her hair around, "Music class, baby."
Ms. Cat's shoes were heard from a distance and Becks hurriedly summoned her composure again. "You?"
"Geo, ugh." I replied and glanced at my watch. "BECKS, WE'RE LIKE, 10 MINUTES LATE. LET'S GO!" I ran forward and after five steps, I noticed that she hasn't moved yet. I looked back and found her reading the same poster, then without any reason, she laughed out loud.
"MAN, THESE WORDS ARE SO CORNY!"
I continued running and laughed under my breath at how similar we are.
*
"Tom Gerard," Ms. Camillia ordered, "why didn't you guide Delia into class? She's 10 minutes late, in total."
I walked into class to find that out, that it wasn't my fault.
I turned around to face Tom, who looked sincerely apologetic. I dropped my bag on the chair and returned to face in front. "Uhm, Miss?"
"Miss Camillia." she answers in respond. "Now, don't worry, you're excused. I would change your buddy since the current one isn't really working for you. Poor you, walking down the aisle not knowing where your class is."
"I'm sorry, Delia." Tom voices out. Oh my gosh, I feel so bad now.
"No, Ms. Camillia." I started, "It's not his fault at all. I, uhm, got too carried away with one program I was interested in." I was having difficulties doing this. "Uh, anyway, don't replace Tom. He's..."
Ms. Cam's expression turned quizical. "He's?" she prodded.
I shut my eyes. "He's great, really. I was wrong for..." and I turned to face him again, "shutting him out."
The whole class laughed after a second. "Delia likes TOM!" someone shouts over the laughter.
Wait, WHAT?!
"And this," he mimics Ryan Seacrest on American Idol, "is the toilet."
Suavely, he whirls around to show me two doors that had the toilet sign on them.
"Uhm, thanks, TOM, but I think I knew that." I said with a little attitude. His smile vanishes in a second, "Oh, and here I thought that the toilets in our school were more, sophisticated. Didn't know everyone knew it."
I nodded, just for the sake. He was pretty nice, as he had a nice accent and was probably the only one besides Becks that was talking to me, like a friend. And he was also helpful, suggesting to carry my books when I needed help. I guess some people would consider him 'cute', but mohawk just doesn't work for me.
Gulping another mouthful of air, he decided to walk ahead and show me another state-the-obvious room. "And this," he extends his arm to a door that hung the words 'MUSIC ROOM' on it, with the glass showing a few instruments that laid untouched, "is the Music Room."
This time, I pretended like I never knew better. "Oh my gosh, are you serious?!"
"You knew, didn't you?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
He stops in his track and look at me in the eyes, "Delia, right?"
I nod slowly, in case he wanted to ambush me for being such a pain in the neck.
"Do you need any specific guide to anywhere?" his eyes lit up, just for a nanosecond before realizing I was as new as new, and I didn't even know where I wanted to go.
"Mmmm, well, not really. But I appreciate your help, I do." I said softly, and he just stood there. "Come on, I'll get you an ice-cream later."
*
My fingertips tingle as I ran my finger along the neon pink paper stapled on the walls near the Gym.
DANCE CLUB:
Are you ready to get back on your heels and dance?
Open again for the third time in Zelcosh,
and our own Adam L. is leading the club.
Join us for the fun that never ends, because dancing is universal.
If you're interested, please do not hesitate approaching Ms.Jan.
Man, the words were corny.
I missed dancing. Missed feeling the vibe in my body, missed every single beat of a rhythm. How long have I stopped dancing?
I remember the last time when I had put on this baby pink chiffon dress and danced in front of 800 guests, for my aunt's wedding. My hands were clucthed tightly with my Dad's, and we danced gracefully, those moments when I really felt no one could hurt me.
But the imaginary walls I've built came tumbling down not long after. I never took dancing lessons ever after when everything went wrong for me. I didn't do it anymore, either.
And these words, that were literally sinking into me, were in front of me and virtually reminding me that I had to get it back.
Dancing was my passion. And I was good at it.
And I didn't even care what others thought, because I knew deep inside, I was a pro.
*grins wickedly*
"Dude."
My eyes batted open.
"Whooaaahoho, what are you doing? Meditating?" Becks voice rang into my ear. I cannot believe I had just closed my eyes and walked back down the memory lane. In school. I'm insane.
"Nooo, I was just, stuff. Anyway, what's your class now?" I asked, gibberish. Please, oh please, never mention that again.
"Hah, I'm having," she plays an air guitar and spins her hair around, "Music class, baby."
Ms. Cat's shoes were heard from a distance and Becks hurriedly summoned her composure again. "You?"
"Geo, ugh." I replied and glanced at my watch. "BECKS, WE'RE LIKE, 10 MINUTES LATE. LET'S GO!" I ran forward and after five steps, I noticed that she hasn't moved yet. I looked back and found her reading the same poster, then without any reason, she laughed out loud.
"MAN, THESE WORDS ARE SO CORNY!"
I continued running and laughed under my breath at how similar we are.
*
"Tom Gerard," Ms. Camillia ordered, "why didn't you guide Delia into class? She's 10 minutes late, in total."
I walked into class to find that out, that it wasn't my fault.
I turned around to face Tom, who looked sincerely apologetic. I dropped my bag on the chair and returned to face in front. "Uhm, Miss?"
"Miss Camillia." she answers in respond. "Now, don't worry, you're excused. I would change your buddy since the current one isn't really working for you. Poor you, walking down the aisle not knowing where your class is."
"I'm sorry, Delia." Tom voices out. Oh my gosh, I feel so bad now.
"No, Ms. Camillia." I started, "It's not his fault at all. I, uhm, got too carried away with one program I was interested in." I was having difficulties doing this. "Uh, anyway, don't replace Tom. He's..."
Ms. Cam's expression turned quizical. "He's?" she prodded.
I shut my eyes. "He's great, really. I was wrong for..." and I turned to face him again, "shutting him out."
The whole class laughed after a second. "Delia likes TOM!" someone shouts over the laughter.
Wait, WHAT?!
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