15-year-old Beatrice, with a heart full of unrequited love, believed that she had earned her place of always being by 16-year-old Patrick's side. Because Patrick was her neighbor and long-time crush, she worked hard to excel in everything, hoping to...
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"What will you do if the world really ends next year?" Chloe, our student council secretary and resident chismosa, asked the group as her feet, which were visible under the table in front of her, tapped to the beat of Britney Spears's Till the World Ends.
The room fell silent for a moment except for Britney Spears' song playing in low volume in the background, but it seems that Chloe is desperate to hear something juicy from the whole student council that she won't let the topic die down.
She called each student council member one by one, threatening to mark us absent from the meeting if we didn't respond. She started with the sergeant-at-arms until the mini-roll call reached me.
"Our dear vice president!" Chloe said as she clasped her hands and raised her eyebrows quickly and repeatedly, sporting an impish grin. "How about you? What do you plan to do?"
"Me?" I asked sheepishly. I felt as if all eyes in the room were on me, which made me uncomfortable, but I tried to regain composure and act as if this was no big deal.
"I don't know. Maybe I'll just sleep. Who cares?" I said while shrugging, hopefully adding to my facade of nonchalance.
"You're no fun as usual," Chloe said as she rolled her eyes, although I know her well enough to know that she didn't really mean the gesture. "How about you, Pres?"
I felt everyone's focus shifted from me to Patrick, which was a relief. Silence filled the air as everyone, including me, held our breath, and even the speakers remained silent as Britney Spears's song came to a close.
"I'm not sure..." Patrick said, looking at the ceiling as if looking for answers from above. "Although considering that possibility, then it might now be the right time to confess."
The room erupted in cheers and wolf-whistling at Patrick's answer. Chloe even went as far as performing a mini-dance of triumph, now to the beat of Beyonce's Run the World. I made an effort to participate in the fun, clapping my hands and laughing, although deep down, I felt a lump in my throat, and my heart ached as though it was being ripped apart to pieces.
"Guys, our dear president is getting uncomfortable," Chloe said, hushing the crowd. "I think we're being too much. What if he actually wanted to be a priest and confessing his sin was what he really meant?"
"Right, right!" Patrick said, joining in the playful banter. "You're being quick to judge."
The room erupted into a boo with what Patrick and Chloe said, which was disrupted when the door of the student council room suddenly opened, revealing a young, balding man in a printed cardigan and fitted slacks.
"Hey guys, what's all this commotion? I could hear you from the end of the hallway," our student council adviser, whom we endearingly call Sir Jake, chimed in as he raised his pointer finger to his lips.
We immediately hushed down as he said that. Sir Jake is known for his laid-back and friendly vibe, so we know he isn't joking, and we're already being too much by the time he calls us out. He then looked at his wristwatch and said, "Is your meeting not done yet? It's already 6:15 P.M., and you're the only students around now."
