Half-glass full and cynical Calista Dames can sketch out her life in a series of plans, predictions and preparations. She's the girl who knows what she's doing and where she's going, the girl with all the questions answered, the girl with a foundati...
disclaimer: the lyrics used in this chapter is not mine. it belongs to Paramore, the property of that beautiful band and the lovely Hailey Williams.
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CHAPTER THREE
Grey-Eyed Soul
My whole body felt like it was on fire. There were clanging sirens in my head, ringing as if the whole roof was on fire, so loud, so noisy, so rambunctious, too much, too congested like some lab coats were repeatedly stabbing two steel rods in my brain. My ever-rational brain continued to not work. For once, tough and independent Calista Dames had no idea what to do, overwhelmed by cluelessness, crippled by helplessness and mocked into humiliation.
This would be the joke of the whole year.
Stupidly trembling like some weakling, I shook my head incessantly, declining the opportunity. Of course, my sister didn't miss the chance to swoop in, shrieking until our eardrums bled and died.
"How about me?" she was waving her right arm up and down, TRYING to get his attention, hopelessly and spectacularly failing when the boy ignored her, something I almost laughed out at if it wasn't for my current situation. "I don't mind!"
"I'm looking for Calista?" The grey-eyed guy said clearly, sonorous and loud for everybody to hear, my amplified by the mike and spoken by his smoky tone. He was still looking at me, despite my no, despite my sister, and tilted his head, as if he hadn't heard anybody else. "Calista, get up here and sing a song with me."
UM.....HOW ABOUT NO? I seemed to break out of my shocked trance because I folded my arms, regaining some sort of ground against him. This was what I was good at, accustomed to. "Couldn't you take the hint?" Goddamn, I sounded bitchy. More so than usual. "I don't want to sing."
He didn't seem to waver, neither did his optimistic thousand watts smile. It was one of those rare, genuine light-up-your-whole-world smiles like he was so happy that his happiness just bestowed upon everybody to feel elated as well. It was a smile that was communal, meant for everybody, but when it was wholly and pure concentrated on you, every fibre, skin molecule grew hot, because it seemed like I could almost cascade into love with it- if it wasn't for the shreds of common sense holding me back.
"It's just one song," he persisted earnestly, a playful smile coiling up his lips. "Why? Are you afraid?"
No, I was Calista Dames. I wasn't afraid of anything. I leapt from the spindly stool fiercely and strode up to the stage, authority clanging clear from the loud stomps of my combat boots slamming the wooden floor. Everybody's gazes burned holes at the back of my thin blonde head. I felt put on the spot, pressured.
"No," I scoffed, even though my hands were trembling.
There was a spark of mischief in his eyes; pure amusement. He moved his pink, pouty lips from the mic to circumvent eavesdroppers. "Then come on up."
