Prism of Equilibrium

Chapter 8: The Angel and The Jerk

We all sat on rows, facing the stage where an old man with the friendliest face ever, stood behind a podium.

"What is he talking about?" I asked Branson without looking at him as I munched on some potato chips. These chips tasted so good!

"Who?" he pointed at the man on the stage with his pointer while the rest of his fingers held a glass, half filled with reddish-purple liquid. "Him? Alfred? Probably about useless new facilities at the school again." he answered flatly. It's surprising that his mood changed so fast.

I remembered minutes before now, he was freaking out like his wife is bearing a child but suddenly, he just stopped like lightning struck his mind. We even got out of this place and headed to a nearby department store for some snacks after that.

I looked at him. "The school you are registering me in?" A lot of things are going on in my mind right now, and it's mostly about this school because I will be trapped in this school for years, and it could be worse than my old one. I don't want to meet another jerk that says, "Where did it land?" after he threw a spoon. Seriously? A spoon?!

I hope that this is my chance to get new friends like that boy earlier eventhough I am not good at making friends. But if I can't control my temper this time, I would literally got kicked out of this school.

"Yeah. It's a speci-" he trailed off. "Listen." he said and pointed at the stage.

"And each of the chosen mentors will only handle 5 students- 7 at the most. The enhancement lesson's frequency will be increased to 5 times a week, the competition will be held more frequently too." he stopped and looked at the yellowish paper on his hands for a while then continued, "And we've made the tests much more difficult. Also, the first, second and third graders can now apply for the quest and-" his voice was lost in the increasing angry voices.

I can tell the audience hate it when they started to chatter. Even one of them who wears a dark brown jacket got up and shouted angrily. "What is wrong with the elders?!"

"Please, be seated. I know that these may not be the wisest decisions we had made. But the decision, the rules, have been set. Let's just go with it for the best." the old man--Alfred, said.

Despite the negative responses from the audience, he is very calm. The two men looked at each other without saying a word then the man who shouted earlier took some heavy breaths and sat down. I directed back my attention to Branson. He's moving the glass around dreamily.

Is he drunk?

"Who made those rules?" I looked at the glass, too, when I asked him. The liquid inside it circled and splashed.

"The elders." he said, still looking at the glass.

Branson has really scared me. His swinging mood, his clumsiness, his anger.

A loud cough echoed. "The further information will be posted on the notice board at the first floor three days from today." Alfred walked away from the podium. "The group system will now apply to third graders and today will be the determination day for the first three groups."

Every person in this room gasped, except for me and Branson. I don't get a thing about what was being announced, but Branson... he was apparently daydreaming like a 5 year-old kid.

"Please come up to the stage if your name is mentioned. Members of the first group are Dylan Ryder, Jess Frey, Scott Fraser, Kevin Bernett, Tara Quinn and the mentor for this group, Beckett Thurman."

I clenched my fists tightly. That name. That jerk, he can't be here, can he?

Some teenagers got up on the stage. A muscular man followed them and stood beside them. The man and the five teenagers smiled proudly and high-fived each other while Alfred continued, "Now, the second group. Please come up here, Raziel Skye, Calixto Embers, Andrew Dean, Jessie Heather, Willard Heather, and Shaquille Myre as their mentor."

Then I noticed Branson finished his drink and straighten up when a voice of a boy was faintly heard. "Excuse me, please." Then the owner of the voice showed up; he is a tall boy with a very beautiful face. He is too good-looking to be called handsome. He's angelic. He's pure. I know I said I hate humans, but he is exceptional. "Sorry." he said and give an apologetic smile when he was in front of me. I can't breathe. My lungs are running out of oxygen. He's too good to be real.

He's perfect.

"Ah, s-s-sure." I gulped. He continued walking past some more people and got up on the stage while my heart pounded so hard at my chest I can hear it beats.

"Last but not least, please, Sean Hawthorne, Natasha Coleman, Simon Castello, Derrick Sanders, Selena Autumn, and Branson Maverick, as a mentor." Alfred finished with a big smile. I tried to stay calm, but the Selena he said can't be me, right?

Suddenly the worst thing I could imagine of happened. "Selena, let's go." Branson stood up and pushed my back as we walked to the stage.

What the what?! Selena Autumn? Me?

When I got onto the stage, my feelings were mixed up but they're like water and oil; these feelings can't mixed thoroughly. I'm shock because in my opinion the people who got into this kind of group must be the special ones and I have never expected myself to be considered special. Never.

Then I saw them, the boy earlier who gave me a drink, Ca--he must be Calixto and the breathtaking angelic boy whose name I don't know. I'm so happy I can see these guys again.

Another feeling surged in. I saw him. Him, that jerk, smiling proudly, Kevin. I took a deep, deep breath and let it out. My head feels like it is going to fly off in the speed of light and crashed the ceiling.

Breath in, breath out.

Breath in, breath out.

This last feeling I felt ate up all the other feelings because this is anger.

I'm angry.

~~~~

And finally, after a thousand years, I updated! muahahhaa

Sorry readers, I'm too busy with school, drawings, family, friends and my life. I have got a lot of things to do so yeah,

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