Before I open my eyes, I hope that last night was a dream. I don’t know why I told the superstar of the whole school my whole sob story. I remember his reaction to my secret. He just casually walked me back to my dorm and bade me good night. I watched him from the window go to the opposite building- the West tower and climb the same floor as mine. If I thought too much about how I knew where his room was, my eyes fluttered wide open itching to open my curtains and stalk him to see what he was doing.
Chastising myself irritably, I fell asleep soon enough, but the prospect of another school day, however fun and easy, does not feel welcoming. I decide to skip some classes and spend some time writing poems and songs in tiny nooks and crannies of the school which I can’t believe exist. By the time I’m done, I feel a bit more happy, even though I’ve decided to shun happiness forever.
The next few days pass in a similar fashion. I go to whichever class I feel like, then spend time hiding out doing my work, composing the songs I’ve been writing and recording it on my phone in case I forget. I don’t eat much because I don't really want to see my classmates or roommates or anyone else. I take what I can when I arrive at the cafeteria at the crack of dawn and stash it down enough to last me the day. I leave my dorm before the sun rises and get back when I’m sure everyone’s asleep. It’s been peaceful. Other than a few texts and missed calls from Ema and Liv, it looks like no one really is noticing my absence. I know my attendance is important to Ms Sarah but I’ve been sending her notes saying I’m sick and resting in my room. As far as I know, she hasn’t come to check which is pretty good.
After nearly a week of hiding out, enjoying my vacation, I get a call from my dad. I feel a bit surprised but it’s quickly replaced with dread so I don’t pick it up. Unfortunately, some of the theater’s actors found me sitting atop the high roof of the auditorium building while they were checking the set design so now apparently, I have to go to their rehearsals tonight or else they’d tell Ms Sarah that I wasn’t doing any extracurriculars.
So now I'm back in my dorm room standing in the shower, my long hair plastered over the wall. Ema bangs the door in an effort to get me out, Liv blasts out popular pop music because she is an unbothered queen. Respect.
Anyway, when I get out, they're kind of looking at me curiously and demanding answers. Although they both know I'm lying, I tell them I was at the doctor's office and now I'm off to meet the irritating theater team. Hearing my evening plans, Liv and Ema get excited immediately and try to catch up to me as I power walk to the auditorium again. On seeing Ethan, Liv smoothly strikes up a conversation with him, leaving me alone with Ema. We look around and she spots Chris first jamming around on his guitar with a couple other guys. This is the first time I've seen him do music.
Ema swoons. “He's so cute!” She fans her face and goes forward to meet him. My ears burn as I watch them talk for a while. He has her giggling around and talking animatedly within minutes. A pit opens up in my stomach. It gives way to a void much deeper and darker. Chris is the only one in the whole world who knows my secret. The only one.
I had to let him know I wasn't effing around. I mean business. He tells no one.
When he goes to the back room to keep his guitar back, I seize the opportunity as he is finally alone. I stride up to him, hoping I look angry.
“Dude.”
He looks up at me questioningly and before he begins to smile, I cut him off.
“What happened that night? It's between you and me. It's not your business, yeah?”
“Why on earth would it be my business?”
“ You can take your smiles and sympathy, gambles and obsessions with you to hell. I don't give a shit. But that thing I told you, if I find out that you've told somebody, it's over for you, Christopher Ariti. That's right. I know who you are, impressive job hiding it by the way, but there are internet traces that never truly go away.”
“ No smiles or sympathy from me. Leave our gamble aside too.” He promises.
But there is a steely, malicious glint in his eyes. Like he was going to be angry after a long while.
Before I walk away, he grabs my arms and pulls me back. “You've got something on me. Not many people have.”
Some uneasiness erupts. I don't like this.
“Why aren't you angry? I just yelled at you, unreasonably when there were peaceful ways of asking you to shut your mouth.”
He takes a moment to respond, as if amused and hurt by my question but then the look passes so suddenly, I think I imagine it.
His expression is now replaced with a usual suave smirk,
“The only thing I would be angry about is the fact that you thought I might have betrayed you.”
YOU ARE READING
This Is Ours
Ficção GeralWhen her dad sends Kiara to a prestigious boarding school for artists in Singapore, she is determined to hate it. Just like she hates everything. But slowly, bit by bit, she begins to fall in love with the theatre, something she swore to condemn for...
