Blame It On Paperbacks

Page 6

The consistency of my audible heartbeat makes me want to puke out. Chills churning round in my stomach and at times like this, I'm thinking if this is how you feel when you're in love. Like you're running away from a predator named disappointment to save yourself. Or maybe towards it and you don't mind. I don't want to disappoint these people. Most of all, I don't want to disappoint myself in shame. I stood up and marched slowly, feeling every step of my feet on the ground as if they're the only thing that matters at this moment.

I scanned their faces. Mostly expectant, but nonetheless bored and impatient. My eyes met Red's and I found my comfort and the rage in my chest ceased. She nodded like she was saying, Go ahead, it's going to be all right. I glided my fingers through the frets of my guitar. Finding additional courage to begin by feeling something.

G came out. I was shocked at first. The thing is, if Red got a problem with her lyrics, I got problem with my music. I continued strumming, my head bowed down and my feet nipped around a support bar of the highchair. I'm on the second line of the song when I noticed a forehead peeping through the glass window of our exit door. It's a boy. My discernment isn't as strong as my mother's but I could pretty tell that there's someone listening to me other than my classmates and my English teacher. Maybe it's not me he's looking after, I'm not sure.

My song, as I expected, is about my mother. It contains the times I took her for granted and the good days I cherish her like she's the only woman who deserves all the kindness in the world. I wrote down what I will do if she stays, and what I will do if she decides to give up. Their eyes were all locked up to me as if I've been saying something any more different from the usual. When in fact, every child knows what and who their parents are. We just keep our eyes stuck in ourselves we often forget we still have people like them.

On my final verse, Red stood up and applauded in advance until my song ended. She's being embarrassing and thoughtful at the same time. The whole class clapped their hands along with her. Maybe, for the first and last time, I've contributed something to their entertainment. They were all smiling, their stares engaged to me even until I reached my chair.

"That was good. Good isn't enough to describe. You never told me you have a good voice, but then again good isn't enough to describe," Red told me in a very strange way.

"Thanks, but that was not something different," I answered.

"All good things are alike, so are the bad ones. You are good but like the Scarlet version," she said. "Ha," I replied. Compliments are like acids that burn my skin whenever they touch me. I don't know why but it's hard to accept people's opinions about you especially when they're saying good things they noticed. You know how bad you are, or maybe you don't know how good you can be. I'm torn between those two ideas of myself.

Red presented her work last which turned out to be a good situation for her since we've got time to polish her piece.

"That was grand," I commented when she's back to her seat. "Not as exquisite as yours," she replied.

"Watch your language," I joked.

"I will if you will."

"After this, can we play TouchStep?" I asked.

She looked at me as if I said something hilarious. After some seconds of watching her while her eyes are closed and her face peaceful, she finally said yes. The reason why it takes her a few time to decide whenever I ask her to play TouchStep is that this game is exhausting and she has asthma. She introduced the game two years ago. At first, I was worried for her but she kept on insisting and assured me that she has her inhalant with her.