Blue Flower

Chapter 14

-Chester-

“Chester, catch!” Naomi screamed shortly from a distance as she tossed a newspaper to my direction. I was holding my fresh cup of coffee from the counter. The newspaper landed on my face, and people in the cafeteria looked at me.

I picked the paper up and headed to where she was.

“What the hell.” I cursed under my breath. I hope she didn’t hear me.

“There’s an advertisement written there. Just check it out. You might want to join.” she said.

I scanned the paper to the classified ads section, and there was indeed an advertisement of a poem writing contest. It was open to people of all ages, and submission of entries should be one week from now.

“Naomi told me you’re one good writer. It’s a big break for you, Chester.” Sam said and sipped her milk.

I glared at Naomi while she was eating her burger.

“Don’t tell me you read my journal again.” I said.

She smirked. “I love your poems there. I even copied a dozen of them.”

My best friend’s crime made me smile in an unknown way.

“You’re talented, and I believe in you.”

I looked at the newspaper again. Maybe, if I wasn’t too lazy to scan on my journal, I would definitely join. But I still have many things to do.

“What, are you joining?” Sam asked.

I nodded, half-heartedly.

“Yeah. I’ll submit this Saturday.”

I copied the address when Naomi spoke up.

“Take that. I’m sure you’re gonna win.”

I smiled to myself as I put the paper in my bag.

“I have to go.” I said and stood up. I had some conflict with the librarian about the book that I borrowed.

“Okay.” Naomi said and waved goodbye.

When I headed outside, I saw Andrew and Reese sitting on two chairs with an empty table located strategically beside the glass wall. My eyes laid on them for a minute, while they held hands and talked intimately.

The pain I felt last night resurfaced in my heart again.

Grand Central Publishing*. I didn’t know what to make of myself. With the hard copy of my poem in my hands, I made my way inside the tall gray building. (Note: Grand Central Publishing is a real publishing house, a part of Hachette Book Group.)

“Excuse me, do you know where Michael Norton is?” I asked a woman whom I encountered along the lobby.

“Yeah. His office is at the third floor.” she said.

I thanked her and ran to the nearest elevator.

The steel doors opened and I stepped in. A man in his mid-twenties joined me inside. He pressed the button and the doors closed.

“Going up?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Obviously.

He was dressed casually, but in a manly yet chic style. His aura, though we were the only people inside the ascending elevator, seemed so strong that it bounced on all four corners. The sweet scent of his perfume assailed my nostrils.

“Perfume, huh?” I asked in a spunky way. I was sensitive to the smell, so I began to cover my nose.

“Yeah. You’re sensitive to it?” he guessed.

I was too obvious. I nodded at his response.

“Sorry.” He said simply and kept quiet.

The elevator made a clicking sound when it hit the third floor. We both got out of that place and strangely, we walked on the same direction.

I trailed behind him.

“Hey, do you know where I can find Michael Norton?”

He turned and smiled at me.

“I am Michael Norton.”

I froze in my position as he walked away from me.

“Chester, somebody’s looking for you.” My classmate, Edward, told me as he approached my seat.

“Really?” I said, creasing my eyebrows in curiosity and confusion.

“Yeah.” He turned around. “Oh, there he is.”

Michael Norton entered the classroom without giving a care to all the eyes staring at him.

“Come with me. We have a lot of things to talk about.” he said, the tone of his voice was somewhat authoritative.

“Huh?” I asked, unable to blink my eyes.

Michael rolled his eyes, he was a bit irritated.

“Okay, I have to say this straightly. You won the poem writing contest and your name is all over the papers nationwide. Got it? Now you have to go with me.”

He grabbed my wrist and almost dragged me out of my classroom. My classmates were clapping their hands and congratulating me. I couldn’t bring my eyes back to them and thank them. If I could, I would’ve hugged them and kissed their cheeks, one by one. Michael almost pulled my arm out as we walked through the corridors.

Andrew came by with his friends. Upon seeing Michael, he shot him a cold, yet a longing glare. For a while my gaze shifted from him and Andrew. I couldn’t understand what was happening at first. It didn’t hit me when Michael began dragging me again.

There was an unsettled feud between them.

“Hey, can we at least stop for a while? You’re going to kill me.”

He stopped, and I let go of my wrist.

“Why are you looking at Andrew a minute ago?” I asked.

Michael remained calm, composing his thoughts just to answer me.

“He’s my brother.”

That put me into real shock. If that’s the case, how could they be connected?