I can’t concentrate on my lessons. I kept looking at the rose he left on my table. The bell rang and I can’t remember anything Ms. Salmonte talked about today. I can’t let this happen in my next subject, few days from now, we’ll be having our final examination. So, I breathe deep, clip the flower on my journal and went to my next class.
On my way to Room 44, Gino came from my back.
“Hey Gab, you still have classes left?”
“Yep, two more. You can take your lunch now, I’ll just buy mine later,” I replied quick.
“Nah, I’ll just wait for you,” he insisted.
“No, I’m sure I’m fine. Don’t starve yourself. Ok? Bye,” I insisted too. I just realized, we can’t really fight the awkwardness between us so maybe Gino was right, we need space.
***
Days went so fast. But when Gino is around, minutes were like hours and hours were like long nights. Still, awkwardness is there, but tolerable by this time. He still sends me one rose everyday. But that is not my concern by this time. Another semester is approaching and the excitement drives my nerves. Another step in fulfilling my dream- to become a real professional writer.
***
First day of class for my sophomore year. I am excited to meet new classmates and new teachers. For my morning class, I’ll be having English Literature II. And my professor?
Mr. Albert San Jose.
The most silent teacher I ever knew. I saw him many times in his class, and he really seldom talk. He always emphasize that he is a writer and not a speaker. But he is a teacher so I think he should talk more. He usually gave exercises and he will only talk if he needs to explain the answers in the exercise. I don’t know much about him. He is indeed a very mysterious man. And another thing, he is bald.
The bell rang and after a minute or two, Sir Albert came in.
“Good morning sir!”, we greeted.
He did not respond. As expected.
He gave us exercises and he rationalized the answers after. For a first meeting, my classmates didn’t like it. You know, no “introduce yourself” or “my rules” or “we’ll start the regular class tomorrow” thing. He is really weird. Our everyday class to him was like that. Exercises, rationales… Then when I think he ran out of exercises, he asked us to write essays about our life, our dreams, our friends, our country, something like that. One day after class when I’m about to leave the room, he called me.
“Ms. Castillo”
“Yes sir?”
“Can we talk for a sec’nd?”
“Yes sir, about what?”
“I can see that you have a potential.
But I want to know,
why do you want to be a writer.”
A short pause.
“I want to be a writer sir because I want to see my works with a hard book cover, I want my books to reach every corners of the earth and to translate it to different languages, I want people to recognize me as a very professional, unforgettable writer and someone that change their lives.”
He looked down. “You are wanting it for the wrong reason Ms. Castillo,” he said.
“What do you mean sir?”
He never answered.
YOU ARE READING
Another Way Around
Non-FictionWhat could have it been if you choose to do the one thing you thought is not right at that time? what could have it been if you're just brave enough to face the things you are afraid to take? and what if you turn right when all you need is on the ot...
