chapter 15/

“What in the wold d’you think you’we dowing? Maryam appears behind me, her fists sternly on her hips, imitating mum’s almost too annoying tone. I grab the remote control by the side of the couch and scowls, “What are you doing? Trying to be Mom?”

She walks around the couch and sits on top of the side, “No, I just wanted to ask.” I looked to her and she gives me the smile that closes her eyes entirely and leaves her dimples appearing out.

“I’m watching American Idol, so please, shhhh!” I said, my voice growing impatient as the commercials were reeling nonsensical products.

What about Head-To-Toe shampoo? Drives your dandruff free from your hair! And if you join this competition and won, you get a free meal with our mascot, Head-To-Toe, the star!

And it conveniently drops and image of a man, dressed as a toe, forcefully smiling and fades away, before the next commercial came about. Maryam stayed silent, but not before long.

“Get ova Adam Lembard aweady!”

“You can’t tell me what to do! Not when you made me clean off the mess you made that day, remember?” I asked, giving her my death stare.

She pretends to ponder and slowly lets her feet touch the ground before running away as fast as she could to avoid my lecture about how little kids shouldn’t throw cakes everywhere because the Cake Fairy might just one day smother them with cakes, to death.

I know it sounds stupid, but Maryam bought it anyway.

And now, the last presenter of today… Ryan Seacrest pauses, Adam Lambert, everybody!

The whole house came to cheers and I myself couldn’t help but starts hollering, “Go Glambert!” over and over again. “Oh shuttup.” Mom orders, her footsteps heard from the staircase. “I’m having a bad case of headache.”

Killjoy.

*

7:15 pm.

The numbers on my radio clock blinks back, urging me to scream. If only I could ask numbers to shut up, I would. I was in my room, pondering about nothing in common, when Marcus semi-shouted my name.

“Adam?”, his voice cracking and his voice got louder when he finally reached the doorway, “What’s going down, man?”

I lay on my stomach now, previously on my head. Marcus didn’t get the message that was radiating: Get out of here.

“DUDE! You hear me?” he asks rudely, but never really succeeded to budge me out of my trance-like mode. I had been feeling gloomy ever since school ended. Partly because of Delia’s absence. Okay, completely because of her.

I so wished to see her again, her angelic, flawless face. I wanted to get to really know her. (Poor Adam didn’t have a clue that Delia left because he was 15 minutes late. And he didn’t plan on getting it, because he was so freaking crushed that she didn’t show up.)

Marcus, my 14-year-old brother, suddenly shuts up and really looks at me with a smug expression. His silence immediately caught my attention and for a brief moment, I turned my attention to my brother. Marcus was not smart in his academics, but he certainly knows what’s going on, because he’s just such a ‘mind reader’, quoted Marcus himself.

“It’s about cash,” he enunciates the word one by one like I was a pre-schooler, “or…a girl.”

I sat straight and composed himself. What was that? Did I just jump up when Marcus said ‘girl’? What was wrong with me? I, fortunately, remembered that I was a solo man, and I shouldn’t ever, EVER, think about the category of girls.

Girls, to me, or was to me, hard to tame, hard to get, unsatisfied, complicated, overly sophisticated, weird, gross and lame sort of specie. Some specie I didn’t want to find out about just yet.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Marcus brushes his hair out of his face as his hair was similar to mine, the flippish sort. Marcus’ thin lips twitch at the end and broke into a smile and his eyes twinkle with the I think I got it wink, which I would never ever acknowledge. I always wondered how Marcus could do the eye twinkle thing, it was such a charm. I mean, to the girls.

And then unconsciously, I lied, “It’s the cash.”

“Mmmm….so what’s the crisis, bro?” he asks suddenly, with a tinge, suddenly becoming Mr.I-know-it-all. I shrug, “Just outta cash lately.”

He sits cross-legged on the bed, making himself comfortable. I grab a pillow by my side and embraces it tightly while contemplating what he’d ask next. Okay, so yes, I was embarrassed about having a crush (if you would call it one) and I really don’t want to tell my brother that. For all I know, she might be in the same class as Marcus and as far as I, as big brother, knows, Marcus has a huge mouth. Not big, huge. Not in terms of words, but he really can swallow up 3 slices of pizza in his mouth. I’ve seen.

He eyes me suspiciously and crosses his arms now. “I don’t think so. It’s about a girl.”

I tried to keep my cool and shook my head not too anxiously or too vehemently. Just…chill…he could never find it out…,Adam, you’re a excellent actor…

“Yeah, it is. I can tell.” Marcus added.

“No it isn’t.”

“Liars go to hell.”

My fists tightened around the pillow and out of control, I threw that pillow at him, hard. “Owww!”

“Ooops, sorry! I didn’t think it’d hurt thaaaat bad.” I tried to pull off an angelic face. And then my face goes back to my serious look. How the heck did this stupid brother tell?! “Just, shut up.”

“So I’m correct?”

“Noooo…just partially.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, a ‘girl’ could refer to a 9-year-old or even a 65-year-old and it does not have to implement that I have a crush. I might probably be thinking of the unfortunate 100-year-old hobo down the streets, and you might never know.”

There was an awkward silence.

“The hell! I didn’t even notice we had an 100-year-old hobo down there? I’ma check it out!” And with that, he ran out and slammed my door hard.

Pheww….That was a super close call. Good thing Marcus had Attention Deficit Disorder, or more known as A.D.D. Back to the subject – I knew I missed Delia terribly. I just didn’t know if it was right, and if I really should.

My cell phone beeped twice and vibrated so I spread my arm to grab it, laid neatly on top of the duvet. There was a message from Jennifer Dane. Weird, I thought, Jennifer Dane never texts me. How’d she even get my number?

Hey Ad, I know it’s weird I’m textin u but wtv. Just wanted to

check with you if u know anyone that’s going to go against me

for the C.P election. – JD.

Sheesh! How would I know? So I text her back.

JD,

I honestly don’t care.

Adam, NOT AD.

And I sent it, and wasted a few seconds watching the screen. Imagining it would be great if suddenly it vibrated again, but the letters would turn out to be ‘The Goddess Of…’ (I’ll think of that later), Delia.

Bzzzz.

I glanced at the screen, delaying, because I knew it couldn’t have been her.

ADAM,

Just so u know, u don’t stand a chance. –JD.

Oh yeah? TAKE THIS, YOU BIG FAT HEAD OF COW FATS.

JD,

Have fun in your lame contest 2 see who’s the best in choosing the color of our school uniforms for next year. But most likely, u’d be tooo busy ‘reinventing’ the cheerleading team – which the whole school seems 2 pay much attention to. (: PS,Don’t bother texting back.

And she didn’t.

But I don’t mean it when I said it was a lame contest. It wasn’t. She just fought so hard for it, that it sort of sounded lame. Like, THE CLASS PRESIDENT ELECTION, and all you hear from students is, “Oh here we go again”.

But honestly? I hope someone really gets to go against her. I think the school’s gotten enough of her poseur-like and fake masquerade around the school grounds already. Just a pity the teachers can’t seem to get it.