The Last Kiss

Chapter 8

A jumble of words was bouncing inside my head, refusing to travel down my arm, through my pen, and onto the paper. I was staring at the ink spot made by my pen, enjoying as it slowly became bigger and bigger until I pulled the pen away.

             The black spot of the ink was messing the white paper. Like Lance, messing my oh-so-perfect life.

            I examined the mangled end of my pen. I had no idea an hour had passed; the ringing bell was a total surprise. I’d just shoved my sociology book back into my bag when Mr. Harrison called my name. I grabbed my notebook and pen and hurried over to his desk.

            “How are you?” he asked, smiling warmly as if were old friends.

            “I’m okay. I’m good.” I said quickly.

            He lifted an eyebrow at me.

            “Well, I suppose I have a problem.”

            “Of course you have. You failed the quiz yesterday. Something bothering, eh? Tell me. Maybe I could help you.” He paused, waiting for me to answer. When the silence kept on hanging in the air between us, he continued. “Riley, you’re one of the brightest students here in Crustville. It’s just so tragic witnessing your performance fluctuating down.”

            I didn’t respond nor meet his gaze. I just stared at his desk, hugging my notebook onto my chest. I chewed on my lip, wanting to vanish into the thin air. The last thing I needed now was to have someone (especially a teacher) to slap into my face the realization of what a moron I was turning into.

            I took a deep breath before I said, “I gotta go, Mr. Harrison before I’m late with my next class. I’m okay really.” I flashed him a big smile. “Thanks, anyway.”

            I dashed out of the classroom after that. No matter how much I tried not to admit it, I know Mr. Harrison was right. I mean, yeah, it’s tragic. My performance was fluctuating down. I used to be so studious and conscious about all of the matters in my schooling. But now, it seemed like those matters didn’t matter to me anymore. And that was because of an utter moron who’d promised me love, but in the end just broke my heart. Okay, maybe it was also my fault. But still. It’s not like I had broken my promise. It was him. Always him. Sometimes, I’m asking myself why I still bother to love him when he’d always hurt me. I had always given him chances. Maybe that was really it. When you’re in love, you’d be a fool. Or maybe it was just I who turned into a fool when in love.

            I was halfway down the hall, hurrying to keep up with Kirsten when I realized that I left my bag in the Soc room. Great. Now I am out of my mind.

            “Kisses, you go first. I left my bag.” I motioned towards the way to the Soc room.

            “Oh,” she rolled her eyes. “What a stupid bag.”

            She craned her neck to peer over my shoulder. She smiled and waggled her brows at me, teasing. So I turned around and saw Rolf approaching, my bag on his left hand. I sighed in relief.