Morrie and Naven

Two

Morrie tried her best not to pull out her hair in frustration.

The entire theatre department is having their emergency meeting at the moment, and the faculty and staff are trying to console her. Her peers were not judging her or anything, it's just that she feels like she let them down. She felt like she wasn't capable.

"Ms. Salvacion, we will try to think of alternatives regarding the mishap—"

She banged her fist on the mahogany desk, her chair scraping the floor as she stood up. "Mishap? Mr. Robbins, you are a theatre instructor, and you know as well as I do that this is not some simple mishap!"

"Then what do you suggest we do, Ms. Salvacion?"

Morrie swallowed the growl in her throat, "I suggest we interrogate the students of St. George."

At this, her co-representatives looked at each other. As much as they wanted to support Morrie...

"No, no, no. Absolutely not!"

Morrie cautiously eyed Mr. David, the headmaster of the theater department. "Why is that, sir?"

"We cannot question the students of the neighboring school!" The man exclaimed. "What do you think will become of our school if people learned that we marched into their halls and started pointing at random students? For all we know, it could be the son of the president!"

"I don't care if it's the president. I want justice!" Morrie raised her voice just as much.

"And we want it, too, Morgen," Mr. David said. "However, we have no proof, no evidence. You cannot just point fingers because you simply know."

And she knows he was right.

She begrudgingly gave up on convincing her instructors to question St. George students and just contribute ideas to be submitted. They have to perform, as every department does, for the first recital of the school year. Sighing, she decided to just discuss her plans later.

וו×

Stefania Serafino was in the middle of doing her stretches when the door suddenly opened, showing Morrie as she stomped her way in the dance studio before planting herself in front of Stefania.

"So, what is it again?"

Morrie rolled her eyes at her friend's question. "Can you not see what the neighboring school had done?" Morrie asked, motioning to the entirety of the room, which was covered in glitter... and eggshells. The pungent smell of rotten eggs hung in the room. "Can you not smell it?"

Continuing her stretches, Stefania only hummed in response. "Yes, I can see what they have done. And, yes, I can definitely smell it."

"Well, aren't you going to do something? We should seek revenge! We should tamper with their equipments! I am thirsty for blood, Stefania, and I believe only you can help me."

The Italian beauty rolled her green eyes heavenwards as she sighed once more. "Bella, you are over reacting and I understand that. But please, please, not about revenge again. There is no way I will join you in climbing up the wall and tampering with St. George property."

Morrie stood up, trying not to gag as another wave of rotten smell forcefully hit her nose. "Please, Fanny, please. You see, you are very, very flexible and you are very, very thin. I need you."

Stefania stood up straight and stared at her friend in the eyes. "Yes, and you can also see that you are very, very dramatic. And that I am just a very, very ballerina."

And just as the words left Stefania's lips, she stepped on an eggshell. Which caused her to slip and fall right on her bottom. She bit her tongue to stop herself from cursing.

"Hey, Morrie," she looked up, some wisps of hair falling out of her bun, "about the revenge? Maybe you could discuss some to me."

Morrie happily beamed before helping the ballerina stand back up. Together, they exited the studio to look for their friends.

There was this place at the back of the Knightsbury buildings, wherein little to no people go to. It was actually near the high walls, so maybe that was why nobody goes there. But this was the place Morrie and her friends meet. It has a small gazebo where they can rest or look for inspiration.

As she stared at her friends, she can't help but feel frustrated again. She loves her friends, that's not rocket science, but when it comes to things like these, she really can't understand how she even became friends with them. For one, there is Stefania, that one friend who will make you look like Barbie's less that perfect friend. Second, there is Amelia, the violinist who dyes her hair in crazy colors every month (this month it's pink). And third, there is Nancy, the pianist who secretly really wanted to be a pharmacist, and whose eyes tend to disappear whenever she smiles. Morrie really loves them and all, but there are times when they just wouldn't take her seriously. And today is one of those times.

She started formulating the words in her head, thinking of how to catch her friends' attention. But just as she was about to open her mouth, a soccer ball hit her square in the face. And being the klutz-y person that she is at times like these, she fell. As in, fall down, hitting her head on the ground. (Thank goodness it was grass!)

Morrie heard her friends shouting her name, but she decided to tune them out as they fussed over her. Her eyes darted towards the high walls. She already suspected that whoever kicked this ball, he sure is doing a pretty good job at being terrible at it. She waited for a male voice to ask for the ball back, and true enough, she and her friends heard the call.

"Excuse me! If someone is there, please throw the ball back!"

And Stefania, being the good friend that she was, grabbed a bright red permanent marker from my pencil case and wrote, "YOU HIT SOMEONE IN THE FACE WITH THIS, YOU ASSHOLES!" before throwing it, with all the force she had managed, to the other side.

And maybe it was because of the ball, or maybe it was the fall that made Morrie's head clearer. But, somehow, she have thought of the best—childish, if she may dare say— 'revenge' she could ever give the St. George boys.

"Guys," Morrie said, standing up, "will you come with me to the stationery store?"